Ransom (26 page)

“You're afraid of—” Judith began.

Her husband interrupted with a question of his own. “But you climbed down to get Alec anyway?”

“I didn't have any other choice.”

“She had to fetch me, Papa,” Alec explained. “And she was just in time 'cause the rope broke right in half just after she grabbed me. She told me she was awful scared, but she didn't puke.”

The child sounded a little disappointed over that fact. Neither one of his parents smiled, for they were both thinking about the near miss their son had had.

They were also realizing that Gillian had saved him.

“I will force myself to be patient a little longer and wait until Ramsey arrives to hear your accounting,” Iain announced. “But at the very least, give me the names of the bastards who stole my child from me,” he demanded. “By God, I want to know who they are and now, this minute.”

“I've warned you not to take that tone with Gillian. Now I'm ordering you, Iain. I won't have her upset.”

Judith Maitland couldn't make up her mind who was more surprised by Brodick's angry outburst. Iain looked flabbergasted, and Gillian appeared to be incredulous.

Iain quickly recovered. He leaned forward and in a furious hiss said, “You dare to order me?”

Brodick also leaned forward. “That's exactly what I—”

Gillian, hoping to avert the budding hostility, blurted out, “Shouting at me won't upset me.”

“But it upsets me, Gillian.”

Gillian wondered if Brodick realized he was nearly shouting at her now. She looked to Judith for help, but it was Alec who inadvertently turned his father's attention.

“Papa, don't yell at Gillian,” Alec cried out as he ran around the table to Gillian and climbed into her lap. “She never shouted at me, not even when the man beat her. She tricked him good, Papa.”

“Someone beat her?” Iain asked.

Alec nodded. “She made him beat her so he wouldn't beat me.”

The little boy suddenly remembered the ring Gillian had given him and pulled the ribbon over his head. “Gillian said she was gonna be my champion, just like Uncle Brodick, and she told me I could keep the ring until I got back home. She promised me she wasn't gonna let nobody hurt me and she didn't. I don't need the ring anymore to remind me I'm safe, but I still want to keep it.”

“You can't, Alec,” Gillian said softly.

He reluctantly handed the ring to her. “Uncle Brodick said I could keep his dagger forever.”

She laughed. “I'm still not going to let you keep my grandmother's ring.”

Judith placed her hand on top of her husband's. “You do realize that if it were not for this dear lady, our son would be dead.”

“Of course, I realize—”

“Then I suggest, instead of shouting at her and treating her as though you hold her responsible for the actions of others, you thank her. I plan to get down on my knees and thank God for sending her to Alec. She was his guardian angel.”

The emotional speech humbled Gillian, and she shook her head in protest. Judith dabbed at her eyes with a linen cloth and then stood.

“Gillian,” Iain began, his voice hesitant. “I do thank you for protecting my son, and I certainly didn't mean to imply that I in any way hold you responsible. If I gave you that impression, I apologize. As difficult as it will be, I'll wait for Ramsey to join us to find out what happened.”

Judith beamed with satisfaction. “I do believe that is the very first time I've ever heard you apologize. It's a momentous occasion. And since you are now in such an accommodating mood, may I suggest that you and Ramsey wait until after the celebration to hear what Gillian has to say. Tonight is Alec's homecoming and our friends and relatives will be here soon.” Judith didn't wait for her husband's agreement. “Gillian will want to freshen up now.”

“Gillian likes to take baths, Mama,” Alec said. “She made me wash too. I didn't want to, but she made me.”

Judith laughed. “She took good care of you, Alec,” she said
as she clasped hold of Gillian's arm. “How would you like a hot bath now?”

“I would like that very much.”

“I'll find clean clothes for you and have these washed right away,” she promised. “The Maitland plaid will keep you nice and warm,” she added. “Though the days are warm, it gets quite chilly at night.”

Hearing that Gillian would wear the Maitland plaid didn't sit well with Brodick. Without thinking how his words would be interpreted, he said, “She'll wear the Buchanan plaid for this celebration.”

Iain folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Why do you want her to wear your colors? Are you claiming—”

Brodick cut him off. “My soldiers would be . . . upset. They would surely rebel if they saw her in your plaid, Iain. They've taken a liking to the lass and have become very possessive and protective of her. While she's in the Highlands, she'll wear our colors. I won't have the Buchanan soldiers insulted.”

Iain grinned. “You're worried that your men will be upset? Is that what I heard you say? For God's sake, they're warriors, not . . .”

He was going to say “women,” but quickly changed his mind when his wife gave him a sharp look. With a smile he substituted “children.”

Judith laughed, for she knew her husband was trying to be diplomatic for her sake. She started toward the stairs then, but Gillian paused to turn back to Brodick.

“Brodick, you did promise your brother, Winslow, you would see his wife and children.”

“I remember what I promised.”

“Then you'll be here when I return?”

Exasperated that she still couldn't get up the courage to ask him a direct question, he said, “Yes.”

She nodded before hurrying after Judith. She tried to hide her relief that Brodick would stay a bit longer, and then she became angry with herself for feeling the way she did. She was acting like a fool because she was letting herself become dependent on him, and she had no right to lean on the man. No, she couldn't ask anything more of him.

She diligently tried to put him out of her thoughts for the next hour as she bathed and washed her hair. Judith brought her a pale yellow gown to wear. It was a little too snug across her chest and showed a bit too much of the swell of her breasts, but Judith thought it was still proper. Brodick had sent up one of the Buchanan plaids and Judith showed Gillian how to pleat it about her waist. Then she draped one end over her left shoulder and tucked it into the belt, explaining, “It took me a long time to figure out how to do this. For the longest while I could never get the pleats straight. The only way to get the hang of it is to practice,” she added.

“The plaid is very important to the Highlanders, isn't it?”

“Oh, yes,” Judith said. “They . . . I mean to say, we . . . are a very fanciful people. The plaid should always cover the heart,” she added. “We wear our colors proudly.” She stepped back and inspected Gillian. “You look lovely,” she announced. “Now come and sit by the fire and let me brush your hair. It looks almost dry. Will you mind if I ask you a few questions?” She laughed then. “I'm terrible, I admit. I made my husband wait, and now I'm impatient.”

“I don't mind answering your questions. What is it you want to know?”

“How did you end up with Alec? Were you also taken captive?”

“Yes, I was.”

“But why? You're English and surely you could appeal to your king for help.”

“My king is fast friends with the men responsible for the trouble Alec and I were in, and in a way John is fully responsible for it all.”

While Judith brushed her hair, Gillian told her about Arianna's treasure. Judith was captivated by the story, and when Gillian told her about the death of her father, the dear lady looked genuinely saddened.

“Prince John fell in love with Arianna, and though it sounds quite romantic, 'tis the truth he was married at the time of his infatuation. It's tragic that Arianna was murdered, but I have no sympathy for my king. He betrayed his vows to his wife.”

“He's been married twice now, hasn't he? And it's my understanding his first wife is still alive.”

“Yes, she is,” Gillian replied. “John was granted an annulment from Hadwisa after many years of marriage. They had no children,” she added. “And they were second cousins. The Archbishop of Canterbury had forbidden the marriage, but John got a dispensation from Rome.”

“If John's first marriage was recognized by the church, how, then, did he manage to marry a second time?”

“The Archbishop of Bordeaux and the bishops of Poitiers and Saintes pronounced that the first marriage wasn't valid.”

“On what grounds?”

“Consanguinity,” she answered.

“Because they were too closely related as second cousins.”

“Yes,” Gillian said. “John immediately married Isabella and stirred up all sorts of trouble for himself because she
was already betrothed to another. She was only twelve years old when they married.”

“John takes what he wants,” Judith remarked. “Doesn't he?”

“Yes, he does,” she agreed.

Judith shook her head. “England has changed considerably since I lived there.”

“John is the culprit for all the unpleasant changes. He's alienated many powerful barons and there are whispers of insurrection. Worse, he's alienated the church, and our pope has retaliated by placing all of England under interdict.”

Judith gasped. “Has John been excommunicated?”

“Not yet, but I believe Pope Innocent will be forced to do just that if John doesn't bend, and soon, to the pope's decision. The issue centers around the position of Archbishop of Canterbury. John wanted the Bishop of Norwich, John de Grey, to be elected, and the younger monks of Canterbury had already selected Reginald and sent him off to Rome to be confirmed by the pope.”

“And the pope settled on Reginald, then?”

Gillian shook her head. “No, he chose his own man, Stephen Langton. John was so furious he refused to let Langton enter England and took control of the monastery at Canterbury, and that is when our pope placed the entire country under interdict. No religious services can be performed. Churches are closed and locked, and priests must refuse to bless marriages. They can't administer any of the holy sacraments, except those that are of extreme necessity. It's a black time in England now, and I fear it will only get worse.”

“I have heard that John acts out of anger.”

“He's well-known for his ferocious temper.”

“No wonder you didn't appeal to him for help.”

“No, I couldn't,” she said.

“Do you have family worrying about you?”

“My uncle Morgan is being held captive now,” she whispered. “And I've been given a . . . task . . . to complete before the fall harvest. If I fail, my uncle will be killed.”

“Oh, Gillian, you've had a time of it, haven't you?”

“I need your husband's help.”

“He'll help any way that he can,” Judith promised on Iain's behalf.

“The man who holds my uncle is a close adviser to the king, and John will listen to him, not me. I thought about asking one of the more powerful barons for help, but they are all fighting amongst themselves, and I didn't know who I could trust. England,” she ended, “is in chaos, and I worry about the future.”

“I'm not going to hound you to answer any more questions,” Judith said. “You'll have to go through it all with my husband and Ramsey later.”

“Thank you for your patience,” she replied.

A knock sounded at the door, but before Judith could answer, Alec came running into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted Gillian.

She stood up and smiled at him. “Is something wrong, Alec?”

“You look . . . pretty,” he blurted out.

Judith agreed. Gillian's long hair had dried into a riot of curls that spilled across her slender shoulders and framed her delicate facial features. She was a striking woman who was going to cause quite a stir tonight, Judith predicted.

“Mama, Papa bids you come downstairs right this minute. He says, ‘Can't you hear the music?' Everybody's here, and they're ready to eat the food. Gillian, you got to come downstairs too. Uncle Brodick said so.”

“Judith, you go ahead,” Gillian said. “I've gotten this bandage all wet, but I'm supposed to take it off, anyway.”

Judith wanted to help, but Gillian insisted she join her husband. Once she was alone, she sat back down and slowly unwound the bandage, dreading what she was going to see. The wound was more appalling than she'd expected, but thankfully it wasn't seeping, and the swelling appeared to be gone. The skin was puckered, blistered in spots, raw, and horribly ugly. She reminded herself it was a sin to be vain and she shouldn't care about scars. Besides, the arm would always be covered by the sleeves of her gowns, and no one other than herself would ever see it. The injury was still extremely tender to the touch, though, and she grimaced while she cleaned the area with soap and cool water. By the time she was finished following Annie Drummond's instructions, her arm was throbbing.

She patted the skin dry, pulled the sleeve back down to her wrist, and put the matter of her paltry injury aside. There were so many more important matters to worry about. Her thoughts turned to her Uncle Morgan. Was he being treated well? If his own staff had been allowed to stay with him, Gillian knew he would do all right, but if Alford had moved him . . .

She buried her face in her hands.
Please God, take care of him. Don't let him catch cold or take ill. And please don't let him fret about me
.

The sound of laughter intruded on her prayers, and with a sigh, she stood up and reluctantly went to join the Maitlands.