Ransom (24 page)

They were encircled by warriors, and their closeness became oppressive. They were at least forty in number, and every one of them looked grim.

One soldier broke through the line and rode forward to speak to Brodick. There was something vaguely familiar about the man.

She asked Liam, “Is that soldier angry with your laird?”

“No, milady,” he answered. “His name is Winslow, and he always frowns.”

“Winslow is Iain Maitland's commander in arms,” Stephen told her. “He's also Brodick's brother.”

No wonder he seemed so familiar to her, for now she could see the resemblance in the brother's coloring and piercing eyes. Winslow even frowned like Brodick, she thought, when the Maitland commander turned toward her, narrowed his eyes, and said something to his brother.

Stephen deliberately nudged his mount closer to Gillian on one side and Liam squeezed closer on her other side.

“Winslow wants to know who you are, milady,” Robert whispered from behind.

She watched Brodick shrug as though she were so unimportant to him he couldn't remember who she was.

And that's the way it should be, she thought to herself. She wasn't important to him; she was simply a means to an
end. For a short time, she and Brodick had a united goal of getting an innocent child back to his family. But now they were on Maitland land, and soon their duty would be over. Alec would be with his parents again, Brodick would no doubt go home, and she would begin her search for her sister. Her mind understood that their time together was over, yet her heart ached with regret. It was logical that Brodick would return to his duties as laird over the Buchanans . . . and it was right. Why, then, did she feel so alone? Gillian didn't need him, or any other man . . . except her uncle, of course. Uncle Morgan was her family, and when her quest was over, if she succeeded, she would return to him.

But she would never forget Brodick . . . or the spontaneous kiss he'd given her that had meant nothing to him and everything to her.

Winslow caught her attention when he once again glanced her way and frowned with obvious displeasure. She heard him say the word “English” and assumed he was angry because Brodick had brought an outsider to the Maitlands.

Brodick's response was severe, but he spoke so rapidly, Gillian couldn't catch a single word. Whatever he said seemed to placate his brother, though, because he backed down and reluctantly nodded. Then Brodick lifted the blanket away from Alec's face. Winslow was so stunned he let out a shout. Alec immediately woke up, pushed the plaid down, and sat up straight, smiling as the Maitland soldiers moved forward.

All of the men began to hoot and holler, making such a ruckus Gillian's ears rang.

Alec loved the attention. He gleefully waved to his father's soldiers, then turned in Brodick's lap to look back at Gillian. Alec's joy was wonderful to see, and she knew that
she would never forget this wonderful moment.
Thank you, God
, she prayed,
for getting this child home
.

Gillian's radiant expression took Brodick's breath away, and when she looked at him and smiled, she made him feel invincible. How could one woman have such an impact on him in such a short time? He felt as though his world had been changed forever, and, honest to God, he didn't know if he liked that one bit. Gillian was a disruption—

“Iain's on his way back from the training fields,” Winslow said, breaking into his brother's thoughts.

“You should prepare him,” Brodick said. “It's bound to be a shock having a son return from the dead.”

Winslow laughed. “A joyous shock,” he remarked before leaving.

The Maitland soldiers tried to press in on Gillian, which the Buchanan soldiers took immediate exception to, and had Brodick not put an end to the budding hostility, Gillian was certain a real fight would have broken out. Angry words and hard shoves were exchanged, but no real damage was done.

Brodick led the procession up the last steep hill. There were cottages of every shape and size nestled in the side of the mountain, some stark, others adorned with brightly colored doors. As they rode past, men and women poured out of their homes to follow them. They all looked as though they were witnessing a miracle, and several, Gillian noticed, made the sign of the cross and bowed their heads in prayer. Others mopped at their eyes to stem their joyful tears.

The Maitland home was at the top of the crest on a wide, flat plane. The gray stone structure was quite forbidding, as there was a wide black cloth draped over the double doors. The windows were also covered.

Brodick dismounted with Alec in his arm, motioned to
Robert to assist Gillian, and then put the boy down. Running to Gillian, Alec latched onto her hand, and started pulling her to the steps.

The crowd silently pressed forward. Brodick clasped Gillian's other hand, giving it a little squeeze when he noticed how uncomfortable she was with the sea of curious strangers gawking at her. He stopped at the entrance, reached up, and ripped the black cloth from the doors. The cheer that followed was earthshaking. He pulled the door open and stepped back so Gillian could enter, but she shook her head and moved close so he could hear her above the shouting.

“Alec's homecoming should be private. I'll be happy to wait here.”

He grinned. “I'll be happier to have you inside,” he replied as he gently shoved her ahead of him. She decided she would wait by the door until Alec had had a few minutes alone with his parents and no amount of prodding or pushing was going to change her mind.

The stone entry was poorly lit with a single candle flickering light on a low chest next to the staircase leading to the second level. On Gillian's left were three steps leading down to the great hall. A fire blazed on the hearth, and across the rectangular room was a long wooden table. A lady sat at one end sewing by the light of two candles. Her head was bent to her task, and Gillian couldn't see her face, but she was certain she was watching Alec's mother. The woman didn't look up, though surely she had heard the door open. She seemed completely impervious to the noise the crowd was making outside.

Gillian heard Laird Maitland's voice before she saw him.

“Who in God's name is making all that noise?” Iain demanded.

The voice came from the back hallway. Alec's father entered the great hall from the buttery, spotted Brodick, and demanded to know why everyone was shouting.

Alec had started up the steps to his parents' chamber, but when he heard his father's voice, he turned around and ran back down. He raced across the stone floor, jumped down the steps to the great hall, and threw his arms wide.

“Mama . . . Papa . . . I'm home.”

T
he shock very nearly did his parents in. For the first time in his life, Iain Maitland was completely undone. As though he'd just run headfirst into a stone wall, he staggered back shaking his head in disbelief. His dark eyes misted. “Alec?” he whispered hoarsely. And then he roared, “Alec!”

Judith Maitland leapt to her feet and let out a joyful cry, her forgotten sewing basket spilling to the floor. Her hand flew to her heart. She took a shaky step toward her son and then fainted dead away. Unfortunately, Brodick was too far from her to catch her before she hit the floor, and her husband was still too shaken to do more than watch her collapse.

Alec almost knocked his father off his feet when he threw himself at his legs. Iain tried to shake himself out of his stupor. Trembling, the mighty warrior dropped to his knees and, with head bowed and eyes closed, wrapped his son in his strong arms.

The little boy put his head down on his father's shoulder and worriedly watched his mother. “Shouldn't you pick Mama up, Papa?” he asked.

Iain stood but couldn't make himself let go of his son, and so he ordered Brodick to do something about his wife.

Brodick slipped his hand under her shoulders and gently lifted her into his arms. Her face was white, and no amount of shaking was going to get her to wake up until she was ready.

“You've given your mother quite a surprise, Alec,” Brodick remarked. “She had you dead and buried.”

Iain shook his head. “No, she still had hope in her heart.”

Judith opened her eyes and found herself in Brodick's arms. “Why are you . . .”

“Mama, you're awake.”

Brodick slowly lowered Judith to the floor but held her about the waist in the event she felt like passing out again. Suddenly overcome by the tide of emotions engulfing her, she began to sob uncontrollably. Iain reached for her and held her while Alec watched and fretted.

“You're not supposed to cry, Mama. I'm not dead. I'm home. Papa, tell her not to cry.”

Iain laughed. “She's happy to have you home. Give her a minute and she'll tell you so.”

Judith touched Alec's face with her quivering hand. “I prayed that you . . .”

Brodick slowly backed away. He wanted to give the Maitlands a few minutes alone, and he also wanted to find Gillian. He had thought that she was with him when he'd entered the great hall, but now he realized she'd stayed behind. He found her sitting on a bench near the stairs. Her hands were folded in her lap and her eyes were downcast.

“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning.

“I'm waiting for the Maitlands to finish their reunion. I felt it would be intrusive for me to watch. They should have a few minutes alone.”

Brodick sat down next to her and swallowed up all the
space the bench allowed. She found herself squeezed up against him. She had likened him to a bear before, and now the image seemed all the more real.

He took hold of her hand and gently pushed up the sleeve of her gown. “You'll need to take this bandage off before you go to bed tonight.”

“I will.”

He didn't let go of her hand, and she didn't pull away. “Brodick?”

“Yes?”

She stared into his eyes a long minute before she spoke again. “I want to thank you for your help. Without you, Alec would never have made it back to his parents.”

He disagreed. “I didn't get him home, Gillian. You did. I merely helped,” he added. “But if I hadn't, you still would have found a way.”

Iain called out to him, but she gripped his hand to get him to look at her again.

“Yes?”

“After you speak to Alec's parents . . . will you be going home?”

He stood up and pulled her to her feet. They were just inches apart, his head bent down toward her, her face upturned to his, like lovers about to come together. Damn, but he suddenly wanted to kiss her. A long, hot kiss that would lead to another and another and another . . .

The way he was looking at her sent shivers down her arms. “Will you?” she whispered.

“What are you asking me?” he demanded impatiently.

Startled by the sharpness in his tone, she stepped back, the back of her knees bumping into the bench.

“After you speak to the Maitlands, will you be going home?” She stared down at her hands as she added, “You
are a laird, after all. You must have many pressing duties.”

“There's much that needs to be done,” he agreed.

“Yes,” she said, trying to keep her disappointment out of her voice. “I must thank you, Brodick, for all you've done for Alec, and me, but your duty is finished now that he's safely home. I don't know what I would have . . . done . . . without you . . .” She knew she was rambling, but she couldn't seem to make herself stop. “Of course you must go home. I just thought . . .”

“Yes?”

She lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “I thought perhaps you would wish to see your good friend Ramsey Sinclair again.”

He nudged her chin up with his thumb. “I'll see him before I leave the Maitlands. He should be here soon.”

“What makes you think—”

He didn't let her finish her question. “I sent Dylan to warn him, remember?”

“Yes, but—”

“Ramsey will want to talk to you as soon as possible. He'll come here,” he predicted once again.

“But will you go home then?” she asked.

“As I explained, I have many pressing duties.”

Frustrated, she cried out, “Can you not give me a simple answer?”

Iain shouted Brodick's name.

“Come along, Gillian. Iain will want to meet you. He's had enough time to get over his surprise.”

“And his wife?”

“It's going to take her a good week to get past her shock. I doubt she'll let Alec out of her sight for all that while.”

Gillian brushed the dust from her gown. “I look a fright.”

“Aye, you do.”

She picked up her skirt to go down the stairs, but Brodick stopped her by taking hold of her arm. In a low voice he said, “You asked me if I would give you a straight answer. Now I'm wondering why you can't ask me a straight question.”