Perfect Strangers (The Scots) - Page 42

Gabrielle nibbled her lower lip and mirrored his frown. Oh, if only she could pretend she was unaware of who was to blame for this entire mess! Herself. Who else? If she hadn't been so stubborn, hadn't surrendered to what she felt was her moral obligation and convinced Ella to help her rescue poor old Mairghread...

A stab of guilt sliced through Gabrielle. "What will happen to us now, m'lord?"

"We'll be ransomed, of course. What else?" It was Ella who answered.

Gabrielle glanced back at the girl. "Ransomed?"

Ella nodded. "'Tis when a family pays the person who stole ye to give ye back, don't ye ken?"

"Aye, I think I, er, 'ken.' " Gabrielle's frown deepened thoughtfully.

"Spending any time amongst Maxwells isnae something to be looked upon fondly," Ella agreed. Her tone softened; if she didn't know better, Gabrielle would have sworn the girl was trying to comfort her. "Dinny worry, we'll be with them but a short time, methinks. Gilby will see to it the ransom is paid posthaste."

"Aye, for you and Connor mayhap."

The girl scowled at her. "Eh?"

"Until I wed, I'm a ward of the English court, Ella. Nay, don't frown at me like that. I can see exactly what you're thinking, and I'll tell you right now, you're wrong. Elizabeth's purse strings are tighter than her corset laces. She won't pay so much as a shilling to get me back."

"But—"

Whatever Ella was about to say was cut short when Roy led the horses toward them.

The one named Magnus passed out strips of rope to the men who'd been standing guard. Gordie gave a brief nod, and the men stepped over to the prisoners and began tying their hands in front of them.

"Ouch! have a care, mon!" Ella snapped. "Must ye be so rough?" The man binding her was Roy; the fierce scowl that creased his brow said he was in no mood to be gentle.

Luckily, the guard who tied Gabrielle's wrists with the thick, rough, scratchy piece of rope was not so cruel. The knots were competent but the binding was not so tight as to cut off circulation to her hands and fingers. She chanced giving the guard a quick smile of gratitude, and was surprised when he blushed before turning hastily away.

Binding the women had been a chore easily carried out. Tying up The Black Douglas was something else again. Two men approached him warily for the task. Connor did not hold out his hands in resignation, the way Gabrielle had done; instead, like Ella, he kept his elbows locked and his arms held down rigidly at his sides. Roy had forced Ella's arms in front of her. The hard set of Connor's jaw and even harder look in his eyes challenged the men who'd approached him to do the same.

The two men hesitated, exchanging an uneasy glance. Neither looked willing to commence the struggle it would undoubtedly take to get the ropes in place.

Roy was leading Ella—no, make that dragging Ella—over to her horse when Connor, who'd been glaring at the two men standing nervously in front of him, shifted his attention to Gordie Maxwell. "Is this necessary?"

"Aye, 'tis." Gordie smiled coldly. "Ye're a slippery fox, Douglas, and well e'eryone on both sides of the Border kens it. Surely ye dinny think me so daft I'd let ye ride free! Were I in yer situation... untied, the potential for escape would be maun too great to resist. 'Tis something I dinny dare risk."

The hard square of Connor's jaw lifted at a proud angle that was reflected by the glint in his gray eyes. "What if I offered ye me word I'd not escape?"

"Do ye think I'd believe that?"

"Do ye have a reason not to? Is yer memory so short ye've already forgotten last winter?"

"I've forgotten naught," Gordie replied, his tone vaguely insulted.

Connor nodded briskly. "Then ye remember the Day O' Truce? Ye remember me taking yer word for repayment of fines owed for yer worst raid on Bracklenaer ever, when instead I could have demanded a pledge?"

"Aye," Gordie answered thoughtfully, "I remember. I maun admit, I've always wondered at yer reasoning, Douglas. 'Twas a foolhardy thing to do."

"I disagree. Ye may be a Maxwell, and therefore me bitter rival, but ye're also a Scotsman, and Scotsmen are men of their word. As a rival, ye've proved yerself maun worthy of respect. Against me own men's advice, I trusted ye word then, and ne'er once did I doubt ye would pay the shillings owed in the spring, just as ye promised ye would."

"And pay them, I did."

"Exactly."

Gordie's frown deepened as he lifted his chin and scratched at the thickly red-bearded underside. His gaze raked Connor assessively, then shifted to the two men who awaited his orders. "Put the ropes away and let him ride free. But"—he glared at the two men to drive the point of his next words home—"ride close and guard him well. Seamus, ye ride close to me newly discovered kin. If the mon even thinks about trying to escape..."

The unfinished threat hung heavily in the air, more potent for what it didn't say.

Tags: Rebecca Sinclair Historical
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