Ransom (63 page)

“She told you about Meggan?” Ramsey couldn't stop smiling.

“Son, I don't believe there's anything she hasn't told me about you. Have you stopped being stupid then and come to your senses?”

Ramsey didn't take insult. “It seems I have,” he agreed.

“She's a handful,” he warned.

“Yes, sir, she is.”

The baron straightened up. “Now then, I want both of you to listen carefully, because I'm going to give you my conditions.”

“Your conditions, sir?” Brodick asked. He nudged Ramsey to get him to stop grinning like an idiot and pay attention. “I could use some help here,” he muttered.

“My conditions,” Morgan repeated. “Do you think I want to be saddled with two lovesick women?”

“Then let us take them,” Brodick reasoned.

The suggestion earned him another glare. “I can see from the look in your eyes that you love Gillian. You might want to tell her so, son, and soon, because she's gotten it into her head that you don't care about her at all.”

“She's my wife. Of course I care about her.”

The baron snorted. “She's spirited.”

“Yes, she is.”

“And stubborn. I don't know where she comes by that flaw, but she is.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You won't be able to crush her spirit.”

“I don't want to, sir.”

“Good, because if there's any crushing to be done, she'll be doing it. I don't have to tell you to treat her well because knowing my Gillian, she'll make sure that you do. She's a strong woman, but she's got tender feelings.”

“Sir, you mentioned conditions?” Ramsey reminded him.

“Yes, I did,” he replied. “I love my niece,” he declared. “And I've taken a fancy to Bridgid as well. I won't have her thinking I'm tossing her out. I am,” he hastily added, “but I won't have her thinking it. The way I see it . . .”

“Yes?” Ramsey asked when the baron hesitated.

“You've got to . . . encourage . . . them to leave. I won't have you threatening them,” he added. “You broke their hearts; now you mend them.”

After giving them the impossible command, Morgan left the hall to personally fetch the ladies. Ramsey and Brodick paced while they waited.

“The baron reminds me of someone, but I can't quite put my finger on who it is,” Ramsey remarked.

“I swear my own father never talked to me the way Gillian's uncle just did.”

“Your father died before you were old enough to know him.”

“It was humiliating, damn it. He sure as certain wasn't what I expected. The way Gillian talked about him, I pictured a mild-mannered gentleman. She thinks he's . . . gentle. Is the woman blind? How in God's name can she love such a crotchety old . . .”

Ramsey's head snapped up, and he suddenly burst into laughter, breaking Brodick's train of thought. “It's you.”

“What?”

“Morgan . . . he reminds me of you. My God, Gillian married a man just like her uncle. Look at the baron and you'll see yourself in twenty years.”

“Are you suggesting I'm going to become a belligerent, foul-tempered old man?”

“Hell, you're already belligerent and foul-tempered. No wonder she fell in love with you,” he drawled.

“I'm not in the mood to fight.”

Ramsey slumped onto a chair laughing, then abruptly grew serious again.

“I cannot believe Bridgid thinks she's going to stay here.”

“I expected my wife to welcome me with open arms, and she hasn't even come downstairs. If I have to drag her home, I will,” Brodick said.

“You wished to see me, Laird?”

At the sound of Bridgid's voice, both Ramsey and Brodick turned. “Where's my wife?” Brodick demanded.

“Upstairs,” she answered. “She should be down shortly.”

“Could you give us some privacy?” Ramsey asked. “I was speaking to Brodick, not you, Bridgid. Come back here.”

With a sigh she turned around and walked to Ramsey as Brodick left the room. He leaned against the table, folded his arms across his chest, and smiled at her. She didn't smile back. She bowed her head so she wouldn't be distracted by his adorable dimples.

She was acting shy and timid, and he wondered what game she was playing now because he knew Bridgid didn't have a timid bone in her beautiful body.

“Baron Morgan said you wanted to speak to me.”

“Yes,” he answered. “I have something important to say to you, but first, I want you to tell me how you managed it.”

“Managed what, Laird?”

“Bridgid, look at me.”

“Yes, Laird,” she said, bracing herself. She looked up, and still her heart raced, and she got that familiar tingling feeling in her stomach. If he ever kissed her, she'd probably faint, she thought, and that ludicrous image made her calm down just a little.

“Have I said something amusing?”

“Yes . . . I mean, no, of course you haven't.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

She lifted her shoulders. “Would you like me to stop?”

“For God's sakes, Bridgid,” he said. “Pay attention.”

“I am paying attention.”

“I want to know how you managed to get all the way to England without being stopped or killed.”

She thought about the question a long minute before answering. “I used trickery and deceit.”

“I want a better explanation.”

“All right,” she agreed. “I tricked Proster into believing Gillian needed to see Annie Drummond, and when we were on our way, I told him the truth. I hope you don't blame him or Ker or Alan. Gillian and I refused to go back.”

“And because they're so young, they didn't know they should have dragged you back home no matter how much you argued with them.”

“They shouldn't be punished.”

“I have no intention of punishing them. They stayed by your side and did their best to protect you, and for that they'll be rewarded. You didn't make their duty easy.”

“I hope you won't blame Gillian either,” she implored. “She kept trying to get us to go home, but we wouldn't listen to her.”

“Why did you sneak away from the soldiers and follow her inside Dunhanshire?”

“I thought I could help by pretending to be her sister, but as it turned out, I became a hindrance. Laird, may I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“What happened to all of the soldiers and the servants at Alford's estate? Uncle Morgan's servants returned here, but what about the others?”

“I imagine they're back at the holding by now, waiting to serve a new baron. We don't kill the innocent.”

“And the soldiers?”

“They weren't innocent.”

He refused to elaborate and Bridgid didn't think she needed to know the gruesome particulars anyway. “Will you be going home soon?” she asked then.

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Good journey to you, then.” And with that she tried to leave.

“We aren't finished yet.”

“What more do you want from me?”

“More? I haven't asked anything of you yet . . . have I?”

She shook her head.

“Come closer, Bridgid.”

“I'm fine where I am.”

“Come closer,” he commanded, and there was a thread of steel in his voice now.

She wasn't going to miss his bossiness, she decided as she walked forward. She stopped directly in front of him. “Is this satisfactory?”

“Closer,” he ordered.

She moved to stand between his outstretched legs. “Is this close enough for you?”

“For the moment.”

He was obviously enjoying her discomfort, and she was thoroughly confused. Ramsey seemed to be toying with her, and that didn't make any sense at all. He couldn't possibly know what agony it was for her to be so close to him and not touch him. God, how she wished she didn't love him. It was misery. Just thinking about watching him leave made her want to weep, but she vowed she'd die before he saw one tear.

“Uncle Morgan said you wanted to tell me something. What is it?”

“Uncle Morgan? When did he become a relative?”

Her chin came up a notch. “I've become very close to him.”

He rolled his eyes. “You aren't staying here. That's what I wanted to tell you.”

“I've made up my mind to stay.”

“Then unmake it. You're going home with me.”

Bridgid was suddenly so angry with him for being such a stupid, obstinate man, her temper exploded.

“No, I'm not going back. I'm staying right here. Uncle Morgan said that I could. I like England, Laird. Yes, I do. You and all the other soldiers blatantly lied to me. You made England sound like purgatory, but I found out the truth. The land is as beautiful as ours, and the people are just like us. I'll admit they're a little difficult to understand because of the way they speak, but I'm getting used to it. Do you know how many Englishmen helped Gillian and me on our journey here? Hundreds,” she exaggerated. “Families who could ill-afford to share insisted that we take their food and their blankets. They even offered us their beds. They looked out for us, and we were strangers to them. All those stories were just lies. I like this country, and I like Gillian's uncle. He's kind and sweet.”

The last of her tirade made him laugh. “You think Morgan's kind and sweet?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “And he likes me too.”

“But you're a Sinclair.”

“There's nothing for me there.”

“What about the man you told me you loved?”

She took a step back, but Ramsey grabbed her and pulled her close to him. She tried to look everywhere but at him so she could concentrate.

“I don't love him anymore,” she declared.

“What the hell do you mean you don't love him anymore? Are your feelings so shallow, then, Bridgid?”

“No,” she answered. “I loved him for the longest time, since I was a little girl, but now I realize he's completely unsuitable.”

Ramsey didn't like hearing that. “What exactly is unsuitable about him?”

“Everything,” she cried out. “He's obstinate and arrogant and very stupid. Yes, he is. He's a womanizer too, and the man I marry will be faithful to me. I'm not going to waste my time on him any longer. Besides, he can have any woman he wants. They throw themselves at his feet,” she added with a nod. “And he's completely unaware of me.”

“Ah, Bridgid, he's very aware of you.”

“The man doesn't even care that I exist.”

Ramsey smiled. “Of course he cares.”

She pushed his hands away, but Ramsey caught her about her waist and began to slowly pull her up against him.

“What are you doing?”

“What I've wanted to do for a long time.”

She couldn't move, couldn't think. She was lost in his dark eyes, and as he slowly lowered his head toward hers, she whispered, “Are you going to throttle me, then?”

He was laughing when he kissed her. Lord, she had the softest, sweetest lips, and he felt such incredible joy and peace holding her in his arms. His mouth opened over hers, taking absolute possession. His tongue swept inside to lazily mate with hers, and he was taking his time savoring her taste, believing he was in full control, until she began to kiss him back.

She shook him to the core. Ramsey had never experienced
anything like it. His arrogance and his control vanished, and he was shaking with desire. It happened so swiftly, he had trouble catching his breath. His mouth slanted over hers again and again and passion ignited. He couldn't get close enough to her to satisfy him.

When he realized he was trying to justify tossing her on the table and making love to her then and there, he forced himself to stop. They were both panting for breath when he lifted his head.

She was having as much trouble regaining her senses as he was. She actually swayed when she took a step back. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I wanted to,” he answered, his voice as smooth as velvet.

“Were you . . . Was it . . . a farewell kiss? Were you saying good-bye?”

He laughed. “No,” he answered. “You're going home with me.”

“I'm staying here. I'm going to marry an Englishman.”

“The hell you are,” he roared, and he was more stunned than she was by his burst of temper. No woman had ever been able to get that kind of reaction from him, but the thought of his Bridgid with any other man enraged him.

“You're a Sinclair, and you belong with us.”

“Why do you want me to go back?”

For the first time in his life, Ramsey felt thoroughly vulnerable. It was a hell of a miserable feeling. “You want the truth, Bridgid?” he stalled.

“Yes.”

Their gazes held while Ramsey got up the courage to tell her what was in his heart.

“You make the Sinclair land a joyful place. I cannot imagine life without you.”

She shook her head. “No, you just want to marry me to some—”

He stood up and took a step toward her. “There has been a request for your hand in marriage.”

“Is that why you kissed me? So you could take me home and then marry me to a man I don't love? Who is he?” she demanded, emotionally spent now and uncaring that tears were streaming down her face.

He started toward her.

“Don't you dare kiss me again,” she ordered. “I can't think when you . . . Just don't,” she stammered. “And as for the offer, I decline.”

“You can't decline until you know who he is,” he reasoned.

“All right. Tell me his name, and then I'll decline. You're going to praise him first though, aren't you? That's what you always do to try to get me to agree,” she ended, and even she could hear the heartbreak in her voice.

“No, I'm not going to praise him. He's riddled with flaws.”