Ransom

by Julie Garwood

  “There were four soldiers and father,” Christen answered. “Tom and Lawrence were to go with me, but I don’t remember the names of the men assigned to take you to safety.”

  “Liese told me their names. They were William and Spencer, and they died trying to protect me. I pray for their souls every night.”

  “I don’t know what happened to Lawrence and Tom. I was given to one of Tom’s relatives and told that Father would come for me. Both he and Lawrence left me, and I can only guess that they returned to our father. I never saw them again.”

  “Did you have the box with you then?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Then what happened to it?” Gillian asked, gripping her hands in frustration. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down, and then said, “Tell me exactly what happened after Father gave you the treasure.”

  “I dropped it,” she said. “I was so afraid I’d broken it and I’d be scolded, but Liese’s husband picked it up. Father wrapped it and gave it to me. Then he left.”

  “Ector was there?”

  “Yes, that was his name. He was there, but only for a minute or two. He must have died that night too in the battle.”

  Gillian shook her head. “No, he didn’t die, but he lost his mind. He frightened me,” she added. “I heard stories about him over the years. He lived like an animal in the corner of the old stables, and he carried an old knapsack filled with dirt. Liese told me it was cowardice that broke his mind, and she didn’t cry at all when she heard he died.”

  “And Liese? What happened to her?”

  “She lived with me and Uncle Morgan, and I think she was very happy. She died in her sleep,” she added, “and she hadn’t been ill long at all. She didn’t suffer. She knew about the passage door between our chambers, but she never let on that she did.”

  “But we didn’t go through that doorway the night of the attack. We were in father’s room, weren’t we?”

  “Yes, and the soldiers lit torches to take us out.”

  “We fell down the steps,” Gillian said then. “It was very steep. I had nightmares for years, and I cannot stand to look down from a great height even now.”

  “But we didn’t fall down the steps. We were pushed. I remember it clearly,” Christen said, her voice shaking with emotion. “You were behind me, and you were trying to get the box away from me. I turned around to tell you to stop, and I saw him then. He jumped out of the shadows and threw himself at us. I think he must have taken the box then too. The soldiers lost their footing and we went flying down the steps. There was terrible screaming and then I struck my head on the stones, and when I awoke, I was in Lawrence’s arms on his horse and we were well away from the holding.”

  Gillian’s nightmares came back to her with a new clarity and understanding. “In my dreams there were monsters who leapt from the wall and chased us. I must have seen him too.”

  “I never saw his face,” Christen said. “But whoever it was got away with the treasure.”

  “Then it must still be there . . . somewhere . . . unless whoever took it got away before the baron sealed off the holding. Oh, God, I don’t know what to do.”

  “Stay here,” Christen urged. “Don’t go back to England. You’re married to a laird and your life is here.”

  “Christen, could you turn your back on the family you’ve come to love?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Uncle Morgan is depending on me.”

  “He would want you to be happy.”

  “He raised me,” Gillian cried out. “And he was loving and kind and generous. I would die for him. I must go back.”

  “I wish I could help you, but I don’t know how. Perhaps if I put my mind to it, I can think of something I’ve forgotten about that night. I’ll try,” Christen promised.

  They continued to sit together and talk about the past until Gillian noticed how weary her sister was. She kissed her on the cheek and promised to come and see her again.

  “If I’m able to return from England, I would like to get to know you better. I won’t ask anything more of you, Christen. I promise, but now that I’ve found you again, I don’t want to lose you.”

  Christen slowly stood up. She couldn’t quite look Gillian in the eye when she told her how she felt about their reunion. “I remember you as a little girl, but now I feel that we are strangers with little in common. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I must be completely honest with you. Dredging up the past only brings painful memories back, and when I look at you, I’m reminded of a time I desperately want to forget. Perhaps I’ll change my mind one day. Now, however, I believe it’s best if we go our separate ways. I promise you, though, that if I remember anything that can be of help to you in your search, I’ll send word to you.”

  Gillian was devastated and quickly bowed her head so that Christen wouldn’t see how hurt she was.

  “As you wish,” she whispered.

  Without another word, she turned and slowly walked down the path. She didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Gillian desperately needed Brodick to put his arms around her and hold her. Marriage had already changed her, she decided, because before she had met Brodick and fallen in love with him, she had always felt that she had to face her problems alone. Now she had a husband she wanted to share her worries with, and her heartaches. At the moment she didn’t care why he couldn’t tell her he loved her. In her heart she believed that he did, and she certainly didn’t believe that he had made a lifelong commitment to her for any ulterior reason. No man would go to such lengths just to get revenge on his enemy, and Brodick would not have married her just to get the names of the Englishmen. Ramsey had simply jumped to the wrong conclusion, and Brodick, unwilling to give voice to his true feelings, didn’t bother to correct him.

  Brodick was stubborn to the core and so riddled with other flaws it would take her an hour to list them all. She still loved him, though, and she desperately needed his comfort now and his broad shoulder to cry on while she poured her heart out to him. How could her sister be so cold and unfeeling? She had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want Gillian in her life. For so many years she had dreamed of their reunion, and never once had she considered that Christen would reject her.

  Gillian felt ashamed and inferior, and couldn’t understand why. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, yet she couldn’t help feeling as though she had.

  Shaken from their meeting, her only thought to get to her husband and tell him what had happened, she returned the horse to the stable and, despite the soreness in her leg, ran all the way to Ramsey’s castle, hoping she would find Brodick there.

  Proster met her and gave her the news. “Your husband’s gone, milady,” he explained. “They’ve all gone.”

  “They? Who?” she asked.

  “The lairds,” he answered. “Iain Maitland and my laird, Ramsey, and Laird Buchanan.”

  “Iain was here?”

  “Aye, he was here just a bit after dawn this morning.”

  “Where did my husband go?”

  “With Ramsey and Iain.”

  “Yes,” she said, trying to control her frustration. “But exactly where did they go?”

  He seemed surprised she hadn’t been informed. “To the crest to join their soldiers. Surely you knew the call to arms went out days ago,” he added.

  “No, I didn’t know,” she admitted.

  “The lairds have gathered their fighting men and by now they should have all assembled.”

  “At the crest.”

  “Yes,” he said with a nod.

  “And where is this crest?”

  “A good ride to the south,” he told her.

  “Then they won’t be back until late, will they?”

  “Late? Milady, they won’t be back for a long while.”

  She still didn’t understand. Proster, seeing her confusion, hastened to explain. “They’re going to England, and surely you know the
ir purpose.”

  “I know they plan to go to England eventually, but you’re mistaken in your belief that they’re leaving now. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go back to the cottage and await my husband’s return.”

  “You’ll have a long wait, then,” Proster said. “He isn’t coming back, and tomorrow you’ll be leaving.”

  “Where will I be going?”

  “Home,” he answered. “I heard your husband give orders. There will be Buchanan soldiers coming for you tomorrow to escort you to your new home. Graeme and Lochlan are in charge of seeing to your safety until then.”

  Gillian’s head was spinning, and her stomach felt as though it had been tied in knots. “And who are Graeme and Lochlan?”

  “Graeme’s a MacPherson,” the young soldier told her proudly. “And Lochlan is a Sinclair. They’re equal in their duties and their standing. We’re all equal now, our laird has declared it so, and he says that we may keep our clan’s name and still live in harmony as one.”

  “I see,” she whispered.

  “Are you feeling unwell, milady? You’ve gone pale.”

  Ignoring his question, she cried out, “Proster, you couldn’t have heard correctly. When they go to England, they’re taking me with them. I was promised . . . he wouldn’t break his word to me. He knows . . . They all know that if the English see them, my uncle will die. No, you have to be mistaken. Brodick’s going to come back for me.”

  Her distress alarmed the soldier, and he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to lie to her, to tell her, yes, he must have been wrong, but he knew that eventually she’d have to accept the truth, and so he braced himself for her reaction, prayed she wouldn’t faint on him, and then blurted out, “As God is my witness, I heard them correctly. Everyone knows . . . but you,” he stammered. “They are going to England, and you are being taken to the Buchanan holding. Your husband was concerned about your injury, and he wanted you to have one day’s rest before riding such a distance. It was very thoughtful of him, wasn’t it, milady?”

  She didn’t answer him. She turned and started to walk away, then stopped. “Thank you, Proster, for explaining.”

  “Milady, if you still don’t believe me, talk to Graeme and Lochlan. They’ll confirm what I’ve just told you.”

  “I don’t need to talk to them. I believe you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go back to the cottage.”

  “With your permission, I’ll walk with you,” he offered. “You don’t look well,” he added. “Is your leg paining you?”

  “No, it isn’t,” she answered. Her voice was flat.

  She didn’t say another word until they’d returned to the cottage. Proster had just bowed to her and turned to leave when she called him back. “Do you know where Kevin and Annie Drummond live?”

  “All the soldiers know the Drummonds. When someone gets hurt, he goes to her for help. If he doesn’t die on the way, she heals him. Most times, anyway,” he added. “Why do you ask?”

  “I was just curious,” she lied. “In a little while, I would like to return to my sister’s home. Would you please accompany me?”

  Honored that the Buchanan’s woman would choose him to escort her, he squared his shoulders. “I would be happy to ride with you, but didn’t you just come from your sister’s?”

  “Yes, but I forgot to give her the presents I brought from England, and she’s most anxious to have them. When I’m ready to leave, I’ll send for you.”

  “As you wish,” he said.

  She closed the door softly, walked to the bed, and sat down, and then buried her face in her hands and wept.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  She moved with an urgency born out of desperation. Tearing the Buchanan plaid from her body, she threw it on the bed and reached for her English gown. She had already packed a small bag, filled it with the necessities she would need on her journey.

  Bridgid interrupted her. Gillian heard her call out, opened the door a crack, and told her friend she wasn’t feeling well. She tried to shut the door then, but Bridgid wouldn’t let her. She pushed it open and rushed inside.

  “If you’re ill, I’ll help you. Why are you dressed in those clothes? Your husband won’t like it. You should be wearing the Buchanan colors.”

  With her back to her friend Gillian tossed her brush into the bag and then tied it closed. When she turned around, Bridgid saw her face and knew something was terribly wrong. “What is it?” she demanded. “Tell me and I’ll help you any way that I can.”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Yes, I just heard, but not until tomorrow. Your husband’s soldiers won’t be here until then. Is that what’s upsetting you? Don’t you want to go to your new home?” she asked, trying desperately to understand.

  “I’m going home to England.”

  “What? You cannot be serious . . .”

  “And I’m never wearing the Buchanan plaid again. Never,” she cried out. “Brodick betrayed me, and I will never, ever forgive him.” The truth of it overwhelmed her, and she sat down on the bed before her legs gave out. “He gave me his word that he and Iain and Ramsey would wait . . .”

  Bridgid sat beside her. “They’ve all gone to England.”

  “Yes,” she answered. “Proster told me this morning that they had left. Brodick promised me that he would take me with him. I made him give me his word before I would tell him the names of the barons who helped Gideon take Alec Maitland.”

  “What was their reason for taking the laird’s son?”

  “They didn’t mean to take him. They thought they’d kidnapped Ramsey’s brother.”

  Bridgid’s mind was racing with questions. “Start at the beginning and tell me what happened. Then maybe I can figure out a way to help you.”

  “You can’t help me,” she whispered. “Oh, God, I don’t know how I’ll be able to protect my uncle now. I’m so scared and I . . .” Her voice broke on a sob.

  Bridgid patted her arm and pleaded with her to explain.

  And so Gillian told her everything, beginning with the night her father was murdered. By the time she was finished, she realized how hopeless her situation was.

  “If you don’t return to England with the box or your sister, how will you save your uncle?” Bridgid asked.

  “It doesn’t matter now. As soon as the lairds attack, Alford will order Morgan’s death.”

  “What makes you think your uncle is still alive? You told me that Baron Alford has never kept his word.”

  “Alford knows I won’t give him the treasure until I see my uncle is safe.”

  Bridgid in her agitation began to pace about the cottage. “But you don’t have the box.”

  “I know I don’t have it,” she lamented. “I had hoped that my sister would know where it was . . .”

  “But she didn’t know,” Bridgid said. “Tell me again who was in the chamber with your father the night he gave Christen the treasure.”

  “I already told you that there were four soldiers with my father,” she explained once again. “And the reeve, Ector, but he was only in the chamber for a moment. Christen told me he gave Father a message and then left.”

  Bridgid mulled the puzzle over in her mind, shook her head, and then asked, “The soldiers assigned to protect you were both killed?”

  “Yes, they were.”

  “You’re absolutely certain? Did you see them die?”

  “If I did, I don’t remember. I was very young,” she reminded her friend. “But Liese told me they died protecting me. She was certain.”

  “But your sister isn’t certain what happened to the soldiers who took her north. She’s only guessing that they returned to your father’s estate. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Bridgid interrupted her before she could finish. “Then couldn’t one of them have taken the treasure?”

  “No,” she said. “They were loyal and honorable men, and my father trusted them implicitly.”

  “Perhaps his trust was mis
placed,” she offered. “It has to be one of them, or the reeve, but you just said that Ector was only in the chamber for a very short while.”

  “Oh, it couldn’t have been Ector. He was daft.”

  “He was crazed?”

  “Yes,” she answered impatiently. She stood up then and went to the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I asked Proster to accompany me to my sister’s home, and I’m going to go get him.”

  “But you told me that Christen doesn’t wish to see you again.”

  “Yes, that’s true, but—”

  “Then why are you going back?”

  With a sigh she said, “I’m not really going to my sister’s. Proster knows where the Drummonds live, and once we’re on our way to Christen’s, I’m going to insist that he take me on to Annie’s instead.”

  “But why?” she persisted.

  “Because Kevin and Annie know the way to the Len holding, and I know the way home from there.”

  Bridgid was stunned. “My God, you really are going back to England. You told me you were, but I didn’t believe you.”

  “Yes, I am.” When Bridgid ran to her, she hugged her farewell. “I want you to know how much your friendship has meant to me. I’m going to miss you.”

  “But I’ll see you again, won’t I?”

  “No. I’m not coming back.”

  “What about Brodick? You love him.”

  “He doesn’t love me. He used me, Bridgid, to get what he wanted. I meant so little to him that he couldn’t . . .”

  It was too painful to talk about. Straightening away from her friend, she said, “I must get going.”

  “Wait,” Bridgid demanded when Gillian reached for the latch. “I’ll go hunt Proster down while you change your clothes.”

  “I’m never wearing the Buchanan colors again.”

  “Be reasonable. Everyone will know you’re up to something if you go outside wearing those clothes. You’ve got to change.”

  Gillian realized her friend was right, they would notice. “I wasn’t thinking . . . I was so angry, and I . . . Yes, I’ll change my clothes while you go get Proster.”