by Connie Mason
Ignoring the tightening in his loins, he lifted Gillian into his arms and placed her in the tub of hot water. Gizela pushed him aside and knelt to tend to her charge.
“Stay close,” Gizela told Ross. “I’ll need you to carry her back to bed.”
Ross watched a moment, and then retreated a few steps.
“Can you hear me, lass?” Gizela asked as she sponged Gillian with warm water.
Though Ross listened closely for Gillian’s response, he didn’t hear the words she murmured.
“Will she be all right?” Alice asked anxiously.
“Aye, though it was close. Fetch me some broth from the kitchen and ask someone to bring up a few bricks to heat in the hearth. Once Gillian is back in bed, we will wrap her in blankets and place hot bricks around her.”
After Alice hurried off, Ross joined Gizela beside the tub. He sucked in a startled breath when Gillian moved her head and stared at him.
“Ross ...” she murmured.
“Aye. How do you feel?”
“Cold. Did I make it to Ravenscraig, then?”
“We found you on the ground outside the gate. Why did you leave your lover?”
“Not now,” Gizela warned. “Wrap the lass in the blanket warming on the hearthstone and carry her back to bed.”
Ross did as he was told, trying to ignore how good Gillian felt in his arms and failing miserably. He grew hard, silently cursing his lust for the red-haired warrior woman lying helplessly in his arms. His lust retreated when he heard her teeth chatter and felt her shivering; she clung to him as if he were a lifeline.
This wouldn’t do at all, Ross thought as he placed Gillian on the bed. He shouldn’t feel anything but disgust and resentment. “Why is she still shivering? Can you do naught to stop it?”
Alice returned with the broth. Donald followed close behind, carrying several bricks, which he placed on the hearthstone to warm.
“Broth and warm bricks; there is naught more I can do,” Gizela said. Her gaze slid over Ross, as if assessing his worth. “There is something you can do, laird. Wait here while I try to get some broth down the lass.”
Working together, Alice and Gizela managed to get Gillian to swallow a few spoonfuls of broth. But she was shivering so hard much of it spilled on the cloth Alice had tucked under her chin.
“Take the bowl away, Alice,” Gizela ordered. “I will summon you if I have need of you.”
Once Alice left, Gizela turned a thoughtful gaze on Ross. “Are you willing to do what is necessary to save your wife?”
Ross glanced at the bed. It was literally shaking from Gillian’s violent shivering. “I will do what I can as long as you ken that the lass means naught to me. I reject her as my wife.”
Gizela narrowed her eyes. “You will rue those words, Ross MacKenna.” For some unknown reason, her voice sent chills down Ross’s back.
“Let me worry about that. What is it you wish me to do?”
“Take off your braies and shirt and climb into bed. Warm the lass with your body heat. You are the only one who can rekindle the flame.”
Ross drew back as if struck. “Climb into bed with Gillian? Nay, I canna. I have renounced her. She has sinned grievously against me.”
“Your faith in your wife disappoints me, laird,” Gizela chastised. She waved him away. “Take your ill-humor and leave. Tell Alice to send up more blankets. If we doona warm her soon, I fear for her life.”
Despite his hostility toward Gillian, Ross couldn’t let her die. He began unbuttoning his shirt as he strode to the bed.
Gizela took one look at Ross’s strained features and slipped from the chamber, closing the door behind her.
Ross finished undressing, pulled back the covers, and slid into bed beside Gillian. His arms went around her as he settled her against his warmth. The coldness of her body shocked him. How could anyone be that cold and still live? He chafed her back and arms, willing warmth into them. He heard her sigh and felt her burrow more deeply into the curve of his body.
“Ross,” she whimpered. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
Ross’s mouth flattened. She sounded as if she cared, but he knew her words to be false. The sickness in his gut increased each time she whispered his name and snuggled against him, seeking his heat.
Despite Ross’s resolve, his body reacted violently. Gritting his teeth, he turned his thoughts away from his arousal and forced himself to remember Sinclair’s hands on Gillian, his boasting that he and Gillian were lovers.
“Ross, I’m sorry,” Gillian muttered. “I didna mean it. I didna ...” Her voice faltered as she drifted off to sleep.
Hardening his heart, Ross endured the torture until Gillian stopped shivering and settled down to sleep. Then he retreated from the scorching flames that tempted him and climbed out of bed. For a long moment he stared at her, his eyes drinking in the evocative line of her nape, the splendor of her curves. Cursing, he pulled on his clothing with amazing speed and fled. Holding Gillian in his arms had been the most dif ficult thing he had ever done. Her betrayal had utterly devastated him.
Gizela met him when he returned to the hall. “She is all yours now,” Ross growled.
“The flame is yours alone; she always was and always will be your destiny. She belonged to you since the day she was born.”
“Enough! I will hear no more nonsense about flame and destiny. See to her, Gizela. The sooner she recovers, the sooner I can return her to her father.”
Muttering to herself, Gizela hobbled off.
“How does the lass fare?” Gordo asked as he handed Ross a mug of ale.
“Well enough.”
“Has she said aught about ... ?”
“Leave off, Gordo. We all know that happened, and that’s the end of it. As soon as weather permits, I want you to carry a message to Tearlach MacKay. ’Tis time he came to fetch his daughter.”
“That will mean—”
“I know what it means,” Ross said before Gordo could finish the sentence. “’Tis the way it has to be. ’Twas a bad bargain to begin with.”
Gillian slept through the day and night. She awakened the next morning wrapped in a cozy cocoon of toasty blankets and surrounded by the warmth of the fire dancing in the hearth. She raised her head and looked for Ross. His side of the bed was cold, as if he hadn’t lain beside her. But she knew he had. The remembered heat of his body still warmed her.
Ross understood and had forgiven her.
Gillian smiled, recalling that wonderful moment when Ross had climbed into bed and taken her into his arms. She was still smiling when Alice entered the chamber and opened the drapes, letting in a stream of weak winter light. Alice glanced at Gillian and grinned.
“You’re looking better, Gillian. Gizela said you were lucky you didna suffer far worse than mild frostbite. You’ll not lose any fingers or toes.”
“I feel better,” Gillian said, scooting up in bed to rest her shoulders against the headboard. “Where is Ross?”
Refusing to look at Gillian, Alice busied herself with straightening the chamber. “Gizela said you should stay abed until your strength returns.”
“What is it, Alice? What are you keeping from me?”
“ ’Tisna for me to say, Gillian.” She headed toward the door. “I’ll fetch your breakfast.”
“Alice ...”
But it was too late; Alice had already scooted out the door. What was going on? Gillian wondered. Surely Ross wouldn’t have climbed into bed with her if he hadn’t understood why she had pretented to disavow their marriage? Her relief was palpable when Gizela shuffled into the chamber.
“Alice said you were awake and alert,” Gizela said.
“Thanks to you, I’m sure. I feared I wouldna make it to Ravenscraig. Where is Ross?”
“Ah, lass, I doona know how to tell you this.”
“Tell me what? Is something wrong with Ross? Has he been injured or—”
“Nay, lass, the laird is well.”
“Then
what—”
“The laird has told me naught, but I ken the mood in the keep and doona like it. I fear it doesna bode well for you, Gillian.”
The blood froze in Gillian’s veins. She had fought against tremendous odds to return to Ravenscraig, almost freezing to death in the process. How could Ross turn away from her?
“I must think on this,” Gillian said with a sigh. She glanced up at Gizela, her face intent. “Are you sure I am ... well?”
Gizela gazed placidly back at her. “The bairn survived your ordeal.”
“What? I wasna sure I carried Ross’s bairn.”
Gizela merely nodded her head. If Gillian had ever doubted Gizela’s powers, she no longer did. “Are you sure, Gizela?”
“Aye. I looked into your eyes and saw the son you will give our laird.”
“A son? How can you ken such a thing?”
“I ken many things.” She stared deep into Gillian’s eyes, as if delving into her very soul. “You doona intend to tell him, do you?”
Gillian shook her head. “I canna. Not while he har bors ill-will toward me. If he doesna ken what I did to save his life, he doesna deserve to know about the bairn. Will you tell Ross I wish to see him?”
“Aye, lass, but I amna sure he will come.”
Gizela departed. She found Ross in the hall with some of the lads, discussing the weather and loss of livestock during the most recent storm. She pulled on his sleeve.
“Laird Ross, your lady wishes to speak with you.”
Ross turned and scowled at Gizela. “I have more important things to do.”
Gizela pulled him off to the side. “Mayhap you should set your bitterness aside and listen to your lady”
Annoyance darkened Ross’s brow “I have naught to say to Gillian.” He turned away.
“Doona deny the flame, for she fills your heart, whether or not you wish to admit it.”
“Stop that flame nonsense,” Ross growled. “Gillian is naught but a woman, with a woman’s weakness and a woman’s foibles. I thought she was different; thought she had a warrior’s heart, but I was mistaken. She betrayed me.”
He pushed the old woman aside. “Doona pester me, woman.”
“What should I tell Gillian?”
“Tell her naught, for she deserves naught from me.”
“The loss will be yours,” Gizela warned. “More than you know or can imagine.”
Ross paid her no heed as he wrapped himself in his plaid and accompanied his kinsmen out the door into the biting cold.
Gillian picked at the food Alice had brought her with little appetite. After Ross had refused to see her, she had never felt more alone in her life. But she wasn’t about to be ignored by him. As soon as she was on her feet, which she expected to be very soon, she intended to fight back, to right the injustice done to her and find her way back into Ross’s heart.
Gillian remained in bed but one more day. She arose the following morning at her usual time, dressed warmly, and wrapped herself in her plaid. Then she de . scended the stairs and entered the hall with her head held high. She had done no wrong.
The weather had broken, and the sun now pierced the windows, reaching into the dark corners of the hall. Gillian heard a collective gasp as she took her place at the high table beside Ross. Ross looked up from his bowl of porridge and glared at her.
“What are you doing here?”
“Breaking my fast. Have you an objection?”
“Aye, I doona break bread with those who betray my trust.” Deliberately he rose and moved to another table, taking his bowl and spoon with him.
Gillian swallowed hard. Once she found her voice, she said loudly enough for all to hear, “Your kinsmen sent me away for no reason. I was unjustly tried and found guilty.”
No one answered; no one even looked at her. Ross continued eating, though his expression gave Gillian the impression that his porridge tasted foul. Abruptly he pushed back his chair, gained his feet, and walked away. The hall emptied soon after, leaving Gillian alone and friendless. She waited for someone to serve her, and when no one did, she rose and walked into the kitchen.
Hanna greeted her warily. “Are you hungry, lass?”
“Do you believe I betrayed Ross, Hanna?”
“I doona know what to believe. The story I heard from the lads doesna bode well for you. Did you really tell Laird Ross that you love Angus Sinclair? I didna want to believe it, but Gordo assured me it was true.”
“No one knows the real story, Hanna, and Ross refuses to listen.”
“If you swear you didna betray Ross, I will believe you ”
“I swear I didna betray Ross,” Gillian said solemnly. “I wish Ross would listen to my explanation.”
Hanna grinned. “I knew you wouldna play Ross false. Sit down while I fix your favorite, eggs and ham, and some slices of toasted bread.”
Gillian was too hungry to pass up such a grand breakfast. She opted for warm milk instead of ale and sipped it while Hanna prepared her food. After she had sated her hunger, she returned to the solar to plot a way back into Ross’s heart.
For the next few days, Gillian languished in near isolation, ignored by everyone but Alice, Gizela, and Hanna. Ross avoided her like the plague. But Gillian didn’t let that stop her. She had learned where Ross slept. If Ross wouldn’t come to her, she would go to him. She would make him listen to her even if she had to tie him to the bed to do it.
Ross breathed a sigh of relief when Tearlach MacKay finally answered his summons and arrived at Ravenscraig. MacKay charged into the hall, stomped the snow off his boots, and bellowed, “Where is your laird?”
Ross got to his feet and strode forth to greet his father-in-law
“What happened, MacKenna? Do you need my help extracting my daughter from Sinclair’s clutches? I or fered to ride with you, but you said Gillian was your responsibility, that you would rescue her without my assistance. What went awry, lad?”
Ross squared his shoulders. “I have bad news, MacKay Sit down by the fire while we talk.”
MacKay stiffened. “Has Sinclair hurt my lass? I will tear him limb from limb.”
Ross guided MacKay to the hearth and pulled out a chair for him. The older man sat but remained wary. His voice rose on a note of panic. “Where is Gillian? Do not tell me you left her with Sinclair!”
“Gillian abides at Ravenscraig ... for now”
MacKay visibly relaxed, although his eyes remained narrowed with what could only be described as suspicion. “Mayhap you should explain why I am here, lad.”
Ross took a deep breath and related everything that had happened, including how Gillian had abandoned their marriage and taken Sinclair for a lover. When he finished, the taste in his mouth had turned as sour as his disposition.
“Let me get this straight,” MacKay said slowly. “We both kenned that Gillian sought out Sinclair to kill him. Why in God’s good name would you think they had become lovers?”
“I but repeat the words she spoke to me. Ask anyone who was there.”
“And you believed her?” MacKay shook his head. “You doona know Gillian if you think she betrayed you with Sinclair.” He assumed a thoughtful look. “What is Gillian doing at Ravenscraig? Apparently she didna remain with Sinclair.”
“She showed up at our gate four days ago,” Ross explained.
“You opened your gates to her?”
“I did, MacKay but only because I didna wish her death on my conscience. She had traveled from Sinclair Keep in a snowstorm, wearing but a thin cloak to ward off the cold. If I hadna let her in she would have frozen to death.”
“Did she tell you why she left Sinclair after she refused to return to Ravenscraig with you? Was she being held prisoner? Do you know the facts?”
“I know all I need to know. I summoned you to take your daughter back to Braeburn with you. No one wants her here.”
A stubborn streak as wide as his daughter’s suddenly asserted itself in Tearlach MacKay. “If I have the right of it, your
kinsmen judged Gillian wrongly and sent her away while you were unconscious.”
“Ross nodded.”
“And McHamish told me she left his keep with the intention of killing Sinclair, am I correct?”
Again Ross nodded.
“But no matter what she told you, she did return, did she nae?”
“You’re not going to change my mind, MacKenna,” Ross maintained.
“Are you anxious to resume the feud, then?”
“Gillian broke the truce when she refused to leave Sinclair.”
“One could say you broke the truce when your kinsmen forced Gillian to leave your keep.”
“We are at a stalemate, then. Take Gillian and let the feud resume.”
MacKay rose, looking down his nose at Ross. “Bloodshed isna the answer. Gillian was forced to leave Ravenscraig and then returned of her own free will. The terms of the truce havena been broken. Gillian is yours, Ross MacKenna, for better or worse. I suggest you calm yourself and listen to her explanation.”
He resumed his seat. “Fetch ale and food for me and my men. ’Tis a long way back to Braeburn. And tell my lass I want to speak with her.”
“I amna your servant, MacKay,” Ross snapped as he motioned to a servant and relayed MacKay’s needs. “I doona want to spill blood any more than you do, and I promise to honor the truce if you take Gillian back to Braeburn with you.”
“Och, you are a coward, MacKenna. I never thought I would see the day a mere lass would defeat you.”
Ross leaped to his feet and reached for his clay more, which, of course, he didn’t carry inside his own home. “You go too far, MacKay. Truce or nay, you are treading on dangerous ground.”
MacKay sighed. “Verra well, I will say no more. As soon as I sup and see my lass, I’ll be on my way. You’re going to have to find a way to settle this on your own, MacKenna. I wash my hands of the whole business.”
“Da!” Gillian cried from the doorway. Alice said you were here.”
MacKay held out his arms, and Gillian flew into them. “What mischief have you gotten into now, daughter?” he whispered into her ear. “Your husband told me an incredible story”
