And so she did just that.

Chapter Seven

Brodick shook Gillian awake when they reached their destination.

She pulled herself from her slumber and rubbed the stiffness in her neck. It took some effort, but she finally forced her eyes to focus, and for a brief moment she thought she was still dreaming. Where was she? What was this place? Lush green hills surrounded her. A narrow stream gently meandered down the slope and in the center of the green valley sat a gray stone cottage with a thatched roof. The yard on either side was ablaze with wild-flowers of every color in the rainbow, their perfumed scent floating around her. Birch trees flanked the clear-water stream that flowed on the west side of the cottage, and to the east was a broad meadow blanketed in a thick carpet of grass. A flock of sheep, ready for shearing, clustered together at the far end of the field, bleating at one another like gossiping women, while a rather regal-looking guard dog sat on his haunches with his head held high, eyes ever watchful as he surveyed his charges. Smoke gently curled up into the cloudless blue sky from the cottage chimney. A faint breeze touched Gillian's cheek. This was a paradise.

A shout shook her from her musings. A tall, thin-faced man stood on the front step of the cottage and was smiling and calling to the approaching soldiers. As she watched the men disappear through the doorway, everything that had happened in the last few days flooded back to her memory.

Dylan had Alec on his shoulders and was bending down to go inside. Brodick had already dismounted but was waiting to assist Gillian. When at last she turned to him, he reached for her and she slid into his arms. For a fleeting moment their eyes met, and she studied the face of this man she hardly knew and yet trusted with her life. His piercing eyes made her think he knew all her secrets. She tried to shake herself out of such foolish thoughts. He was just a man, nothing more-and he needed to shave. His cheeks and jaw were covered with golden brown whiskers, and she had the insane urge to find out what it would feel like to run her fingers down the side of his face.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asked.

"The same reason you're staring at me, lass."

From the sparkle in his eyes, she guessed he had a bit of the Devil in him and she simply wasn't up to the task of being clever or flirtatious. She wasn't even sure she knew how.

She pushed his hands away from her waist and stepped back. "Why have we stopped here? And who was that man in the doorway? Alec shouldn't have gone inside until I-"

He cut her off. "This is the last time I'm going to tell you that Alec is safe with Dylan. He would be highly insulted to know you don't trust him."

"But I don't trust him," she whispered so the other soldiers wouldn't overhear. "I don't know him."

"You don't know me either," he pointed out. "But you've decided to trust me, and you therefore have to believe that what I tell you is true. My soldiers will protect Alec with their lives." The briskness in his voice indicated he was finished discussing the subject.

"I'm too weary to argue."

"Then don't. It's pointless to argue with a Buchanan," he added. "You can't possibly win, lass. We Buchanans never lose."

She thought he might be jesting, but she couldn't be absolutely sure, and so she didn't laugh. Either he had a very strange sense of humor or he was sinfully arrogant.

"Come along. We're wasting time," he said as he caught hold of her hand and started up the stone path.

"Are we going to spend the night here?"

He didn't bother to turn around when he answered. "No, we'll move on after Annie tends to your arm."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"She'll be honored to serve you."

"Why?"

"She thinks you're my bride," he explained.

"Why would she think that? I only told the lie to one MacDonald soldier."

He laughed. "News travels fast, and everyone knows the MacDonalds can't keep secrets."

"Oh, dear, I've caused you considerable trouble, haven't I?"

"No," he answered.

When they reached the doorway, he stepped back to let her go inside first. She moved close to him and asked in a whisper, "Do you trust these people?"

He shrugged. "As much as I trust anyone who isn't a Buchanan," he answered. "Kevin Drummond's sister is married to one of my soldiers, so he's considered kin of a sort. Anything you say in front of them will be held in confidence."

Dylan introduced her to the couple. Annie Drummond stood near the hearth and bowed low to Gillian. She was about her age and was heavy with child. Kevin Drummond also bowed and welcomed her into his home. Both of them, Gillian thought, appeared to be extremely nervous.

Their cottage was small and smelled of freshly baked bread. An oblong table took up a good deal of space in the center of the room and from the number of chairs, six in all, Gillian assumed the Drummonds were used to entertaining visitors. It was a home, warm and comfortable and inviting, the kind of place Gillian dreamed of when she allowed herself to fantasize about falling in love and having a family. Such a foolish notion, she thought to herself. Her life was consumed with worry now, and there wasn't room for such yearnings.

"It's a privilege to have you in our home," Kevin told her, but his eyes, she noticed, were fully directed on Brodick.

After formally greeting the laird, Annie suggested Gillian take a seat at the table and let her have a look at her injury. She pulled a chair out on the opposite side and waited for Gillian to get comfortable. Then she spread a cloth on the tabletop while Gillian pushed up her sleeve and unwrapped the bandage.

"I would appreciate any medicine you have," she said. "It isn't a serious injury, but I believe it's become a bit inflamed."

Gillian didn't think her arm looked all that bad, but Annie visibly blanched when she saw it.

"Ah, lass, you must be in terrible pain."

Brodick and his men moved forward to look at the injury. Alec ran to Gillian and pressed against her. He looked scared.

"How in heaven's name did this happen?" Dylan asked.

"I cut myself."

"It's got to be opened and drained," Annie whispered. "Laird, you're going to have to stay with us a couple of days at the least while I tend to this. She's a lady," she added, "and I must therefore use the slow method of curing her."

"No, I cannot stay that long," Gillian protested.

"If she were a man? What would you do then?" Brodick asked.

Thinking he'd asked the question out of simple curiosity, Annie replied, "I'd open the skin and drain the infection, but then I would pour mother's fire on the open wound, and though the special brew has cured everything I've ever used it on, it causes terrible pain."

"I've seen warriors shout during Annie's treatment with her mother's fire," Kevin said.

Brodick waited for Gillian to decide which method would be used.

She believed the Drummonds were exaggerating the treatment, but it really didn't matter. She couldn't afford to lose so much time just to avoid a little pain. Brodick seemed to be reading her mind.

"Do these warriors you've treated with this mother's fire of yours stay for days or do they leave?" he asked.

"Oh, they leave once I've put the healing salve on the wounds," Annie answered.

"The ones who can stand leave," Kevin interjected.

Brodick caught Gillian's barely perceptible nod and then said, "You will use this warrior's treatment on Gillian, and she will not make a sound while you're tending her. She's a Buchanan." He added the last as though that explained everything.

"I will not utter a sound, Laird?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement over his galling arrogance.