“You cannot know what her life is like unless you walk in her shoes,” he countered.
“Stop trying to be logical,” she demanded. “I’m simply trying to make you understand that I can’t ever have a life like Annie’s. I have to go back to England.”
Brodick suddenly stiffened. The truth struck him hard. He finally guessed her real reason for refusing to marry him, and he realized that even now she was trying to protect him.
“You believe you’re going back to England to die, don’t you, Gillian? That’s what you’re not telling me.”
She looked away when she answered him. “There is that possibility.” She burst into tears again.
“I don’t like seeing you cry. You will stop it at once.”
She blinked. Only Brodick could give such a ludicrous command. Did he think she was crying on purpose just to upset him?
“You are the most difficult man, and I will not marry you.”
He moved so quickly she didn’t have time to react. In two long strides he had her in his arms.
“You’ve already made your commitment to me when you admitted you loved me. Nothing else matters. I don’t give a damn how complicated it all becomes. You’re mine now. Do you honestly believe I’m ever going to let you go?”
Telling herself she had to remain strong and not give in to him, she shook her head and struggled to get free. She pushed against his chest with all her might, desperately trying to put some distance between them. When she was close to him, all she wanted to do was wrap herself in his warmth and let the world pass her by. She wanted time to stop . . . and that was impossible.
Her struggles proved useless. She couldn’t get him to budge. His superior strength was at least ten times her own, and after a moment she ceased squirming and bowed her head.
“What are we going to do?” she whispered, once again on the brink of tears.
She had no idea how telling her question was. She hadn’t asked what she was going to do, but what they would do. Content for the moment to simply hold her, he bent down, kissed the top of her head, and closed his eyes as he inhaled her light feminine scent. Her hair smelled of roses. She was unlike the Buchanan women, and he realized he was actually a little in awe of her. Her skin was as smooth and soft as he imagined a cloud would be, and her smile enchanted him. It was as beautiful as baby’s first, and just as pure. There wasn’t a hint of cunning in her. No, she wasn’t like other women. He remembered that when he’d first met her, he’d judged her almost painfully prim and proper, and frail, too frail for his way of life. Yet almost immediately he had seen the steel strength inside of her. She was courageous and honorable, and those were but two of the hundred or so reasons he was never going to let her leave him.
“I’ll give you a promise,” he said gruffly. “And then you will cease your worrying.”
“And what is this promise?”
“If you go back to England, I’ll go with you.”
“If I go back?”
“It hasn’t been decided yet.”
“What are you saying? I don’t understand. The decision is mine to make.”
He didn’t argue, and his silence worried her. She once again tried to get him to explain his remark, but he stubbornly refused.
“When I go back, I’ll go alone. You must stay here. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”
Her voice shivered with emotion, and the fear he heard surprised and pleased him. He’d never had anyone care about him the way she did. His only family was his brother, Winslow, but it was a distant, rigid relationship. They loved each other as brothers did, but never showed any outward affection.
“You will have confidence in my ability to protect you,” he ordered.
“You don’t know what you’re up against. These aren’t ordinary men. They have the king’s support and friendship, and surely the Devil’s on their side.”
“None of them have Highland blood running through their veins, and that makes them vulnerable.”
“Will you be serious?” she demanded. “A Highlander can bleed as easily as an Englishman.”
“You will have faith in me. I command it.”
She gave up arguing with him, feeling as though it would be easier to get a stone wall to understand.
“I do have faith in you, and I will try not to worry, but that’s all I will promise. You can give me as many commands as you wish, and it won’t change how I feel.”
“Every man has a weakness,” he patiently explained. “I’ll find theirs, I promise you.”
“Every man?”
“Yes,” he answered emphatically.
His hand moved to the back of her neck. Twisting her curls around his fist, he jerked her head back. His face loomed over hers, his breath warm and sweet as he stared down into her eyes.
“What is your weakness, Brodick?” she asked.
“You.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
He lowered his head and kissed her, effectively sealing any protest she might have made. It wasn’t a gentle caress of his lips against hers, but a hard, demanding kiss that let her know in no uncertain terms how much he wanted her. His tongue sank into her sweet warm mouth to stroke and caress, and within seconds she was kissing him just as thoroughly. Timid at first, the tip of her tongue touched his fleetingly, but when she felt him tighten his hold and heard him growl low in his throat, she grew bolder. His passion overwhelmed her, yet she wasn’t frightened, trusting him to know when to stop. He didn’t seem inclined to at the moment, though, and, Lord, his mouth was doing such magical things to her body. A yearning deep in the pit of her stomach burned for more, and as his mouth slanted over hers again and again, all she could think about was getting closer.
His hands stroked her back, then splayed wide as he lifted her up against the junction of his thighs so that they were pressed intimately against each other. Her breasts rubbed against his chest and his thighs felt like hot steel. He made her burn for more of him, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath as she frantically returned his kisses.
“Brodick, I want—”
He kissed her once again, almost savagely, and then he abruptly pulled back and let her slowly slip down to the ground. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, and he took several long deep, shuddering breaths as he tried to regain his discipline.
She didn’t want to let go of him, and when he began to nibble on her earlobe with his teeth and his tongue stroked her sensitive skin, she felt a jolt of pleasure course through her.
“Don’t . . .” Her voice cracked and she shivered in his arms.
He kissed his way down the side of her neck. “Don’t what?” he asked.
She tilted her head to the side to give him better access and with a sigh said, “Don’t stop.”
He gently lifted her away from him and would have let go of her if she hadn’t swayed. Displaying a wicked look of male satisfaction, he was arrogantly pleased he’d been able to arouse and confuse her in so little time. Her passion matched his own, and he knew that once he rid her of her shyness, she would be as uninhibited and wild as he planned to be on their wedding night. God help him, they’d better be wed soon because he didn’t think he could wait much longer, and he certainly didn’t want to disgrace her by taking her before their vows were spoken and blessed. But she was making it difficult. Just looking at her stirred a burning desire in him. Those incredible green eyes looked thoroughly ravaged now. Her hair was a riot of curls about her shoulders, and her mouth was rosy and swollen from his kisses.
Waiting for her to come to her senses and agree to marry him was out of the question. By the time she got around to making up her mind, they could have at least two children.
The world around them intruded, forcing both of them back to the present. Ramsey shouted Brodick’s name, and with a long, regretful sigh, Brodick stepped back.
“Go and collect your things. It’s time for us to leave.” He turned and started back toward the fields.
; She ran after him. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Understanding what?”
“That I cannot marry you.”
As he continued on his way, his hardy laugh echoed back to her.
By the time Gillian returned to the Maitland home, Helen, the housekeeper, had her things packed, and as Gillian was thanking her for her help, she remembered a promise she’d made. Fortunately, Helen was able to help and showed her a shortcut to her destination out the back door.
Ten minutes passed and then ten more, and Brodick, impatient by nature, was growing more irritated by the second as he waited for Gillian in the courtyard.
Ramsey and Winslow waited by his side, and every couple of seconds one or the other would glance toward the doors.
“What in thunder’s keeping her?” Brodick muttered.
“Maybe she’s waiting for Iain and Judith. Here they come now. Gillian surely wants to say good-bye to them.”
Ramsey was the first to see Gillian walking toward the courtyard from the opposite side of the hill.
“Here she comes.”
“She didn’t forget,” Winslow said, smiling.
His wife, Isabelle, was walking with Gillian, and Winslow’s two boys trailed behind. His younger son, Andrew, soon to be five years old, ran forward and took hold of Gillian’s hand. Winslow watched her as she smiled at his son and spoke to him. Whatever she said amused Andrew, for he burst into laughter. Isabelle was trying hard not to laugh.
“What didn’t she forget?” Brodick asked his brother.
“I told her Isabelle was upset with me because I hadn’t introduced her. She didn’t forget.”
Winslow suddenly figured out why his family was so amused with Gillian. “I don’t think Isabelle understands a word she’s saying. Your woman’s Gaelic needs improvement.”
Brodick nodded. “She has a quick mind. She’ll learn.”
“Are you going to keep her?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know it?”
“Not yet.”
Ramsey overheard the conversation and laughed heartily. “I assume you’ve considered all the problems, Brodick.”
“I have.”
“It won’t be an easy life for her living with—” Ramsey began.
Brodick finished his sentence for him. “Living with the Buchanan clan. I know, and I worry about her adjustment.”
Ramsey grinned. “That’s not what I was going to say. It won’t be easy for her living with you. Rumor has it, you’re a difficult man to be around.”
Brodick didn’t take offense. “Gillian’s aware of my flaws.”
“And she’ll still have you?” Winslow asked.
“As a matter of fact, she has refused to marry me.”
Knowing Brodick as well as they did, both Ramsey and Winslow began to laugh again.
“So when’s the wedding?” Ramsey asked.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Love wasn’t supposed to happen this suddenly.
Gillian spent most of the ride to Ramsey’s holding thinking about Brodick and wondering how in heaven’s name he had managed to capture her heart so completely in so little time. The man had all but robbed her of her senses. She was well aware of his flaws, most of them anyway, but she still loved him all the same, and how was such a thing possible? Love was supposed to be nourished. It was a slow realization that occurred after months and months of courting, and sometimes that awareness took years. Love certainly didn’t strike like lightning.
Maybe it was lust, and if it was, then how was she ever going to be able to tell that atrocious sin in the confessional without dying of mortification? Was it lust? Brodick was a handsome devil, and she would have had to be dead not to notice. Yet Ramsey and Iain were also handsome, and her heart didn’t race when either of them was near. Brodick had a mesmerizing effect on her, though. All he had to do was glance her way and she became quite breathless.
He wasn’t paying her the slightest bit of attention now. He and Ramsey rode well ahead of their soldiers and Gillian, and Brodick never once looked back to see how she was doing. She spent a good deal of time staring at his broad shoulders while she tried to figure out how she could regain her senses.
She didn’t want to think about her reason for going to Ramsey’s home, yet reality kept intruding, no matter how she tried to block her worries. What if her sister wasn’t there? What if she had married and moved away from the MacPhersons? Worse, what if Christen didn’t remember her? Her sister hadn’t had Liese to help her keep the memories alive the way Gillian had, and what if Christen had forgotten everything that had happened?
So caught up in her thoughts, Gillian didn’t notice that Brodick and Ramsey had stopped. Dylan reached over and grabbed Gillian’s reins, forcing her mount to halt. She and the soldiers waited a good distance behind the lairds, and just as she was about to ask the commander why they weren’t continuing on, she saw a horse and rider galloping up the hill from the west. Making a wide sweep around them, the stranger rode on ahead to join Brodick and Ramsey.
Gillian patiently waited to find out what was going on as she watched what appeared to be an argument between the stranger and Brodick. It couldn’t have been much of a disagreement, though. Even though Brodick was scowling and the stranger was repeatedly shaking his head in obvious disapproval, Ramsey, Gillian noticed, was smiling.
“Dylan, who is that man shaking his head at your laird?” Gillian asked.
“Father Laggan. He serves the Sinclairs, the Maitlands, and many others.”
“Does he serve the Buchanans as well?”
“When there’s no getting out of it, he does.”
“I don’t understand. Doesn’t he like the Buchanans?”
Dylan chuckled. “No one likes us, milady. We’re proud of that fact. Most of the clans leave us alone, as do the clergy, including Father Laggan.”
“Why don’t they like you?”
“They fear us,” the Buchanan commander explained cheerfully. “Father Laggan believes we’re savages.”
“Where would you get such an idea?”
“From Father Laggan. It’s what he calls us.”
“I’m certain he doesn’t really believe any such thing. You aren’t savages. You’re just a bit . . . intense . . . that’s all. The priest seems to be holding his own with Brodick now. Do you see how he’s shaking his head?”
“Brodick will still win,” Dylan predicted. “He always does.”
As though he knew they were discussing him, Brodick suddenly turned in his saddle and looked at her while the priest continued to argue with him. Obviously upset, Laggan was now waving his hands in agitation.
Then Brodick winked at her. She didn’t know what to make of his behavior. It wasn’t like Brodick to be flirtatious in front of others, and the silly little gesture warmed her heart.
“Do you know what they’re discussing?” she asked Dylan.
“I do,” he answered.
Father Laggan then twisted in his saddle to look at her. He had shocking white hair and deeply tanned and leathered skin. His lips were pinched together, indicating his displeasure, and for that reason she neither smiled nor waved to him. She simply inclined her head in silent greeting.
As soon as the priest turned back to Brodick, Gillian demanded, “Tell me what they’re arguing about.”
“You.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I do believe you’re the topic of their discussion, milady.”
“Surely not,” she said. “The priest doesn’t even know me.”
“Iain sent him to Brodick, and I do believe that now Laggan is acting as your guardian. He wants to make sure you aren’t being forced to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“But I want to go to Ramsey’s,” she countered. “Iain must have explained my situation to Father.”
Dylan sincerely hoped she wouldn’t ask him to elaborate on the priest’s motives. In his opinion, the less she knew, the better.
Brodick motioned for her to come forward as the priest, still frowning, nudged his horse to the side to give her room. Ramsey flanked Gillian on one side and Brodick on the other. Gillian smiled at the priest as Ramsey made the introductions, but that smile vanished in a heartbeat when she realized where she was. She had thought Brodick had stopped at the edge of a gentle slope, but now that she was only a few feet away from the edge, she could see the sheer drop below her. So forcefully did she pull on the reins, the horse reared, but Brodick’s quick action saved her from being thrown.
He had to pry the reins away from her hands. “Gillian, what’s come over you?”
She made herself look at him and only him. “I don’t like looking down at such depths,” she whispered. “It makes me lightheaded.”
Seeing the panic in her eyes, Brodick quickly forced both mounts to back up several feet. Ramsey did the same.
“Better now?”
She exhaled as she relaxed. “Yes, much better, thank you,” she whispered before turning to Father Laggan.
“Ramsey, I’ll need your help with this,” Brodick said quietly.
“I’ll do what I can,” his friend promised just as softly.
Curious, Gillian looked at Brodick. “Would you also like my help?”
He grinned. “Your help is a definite requirement.”
“Then tell me, please, what it is you need assistance with, and I shall be happy to help in any way that I can.”
He glanced at Ramsey, who quickly said, “The priest is waiting to speak to you. Do you want him to think you’re ill-mannered?”
The possibility that she might have inadvertently insulted a man of God made her blush. “No, of course not,” she said hastily. “Good day to you, Father. I’m happy to meet you.”
“Good day,” he replied with a hint of civility that was gone in the blink of an eye when he continued. “Now, I have a few important questions to ask you to satisfy the Church.”
“You wish to satisfy the Church?” she asked, jarred by his sudden abrupt manner and his strange announcement. Surely she hadn’t heard correctly.
“I do,” he answered emphatically. After pausing to give Brodick what could only be interpreted as an extremely hostile glare, the priest added, “We will not move forward until I know for a certainty that you have not been coerced.”