Page 25

He glanced up as if surprised by their wild assumptions. "Of course not, but me kin will be most unhappy if I turn up dead, and you do not want the clan MacGowan against you."

"Nay," laughed the brigand leader. "I can tell they be a fierce lot. Baron, take the bonny lad here back to the maid and bind his feet."

The one called Baron was slim and small and fidgety. He had not yet seen a score of years, but when he pushed Gilmour down beside Isobel, he did so with rough bravado.

Bel jumped and Gilmour jerked away.

From behind, Roy laughed. "You be gentle with him now, lassie." Taking his knife from its sheath, he made a show of cleaning his nails with it. "We would not want you maiming the poor wee lad."

Gilmour ignored him. "I meant no harm, lass. 'Twas just a bit of pleasure I was after," he said, making certain his tone was ingratiating, and Roy chuckled.

Baron knelt, but as he wound the hemp about Gilmour's ankles, his hands seemed to dally strangely on Mour's legs.

"Enjoying yourself, lad?" Roy asked and Baron tied the knot and jerked away.

As for Gilmour, he was never so happy to be securely tied in his life, and turned on his side as if to sleep.

He could feel Isobel's gaze on him, but there was no way to explain his strange words with their captors so near.

Indeed, there was nothing to do but plan in silence and hope they believed his lies.

They rode throughout the following day, keeping to the woods and making little time. Wherever they were going, they were in no hurry to get there.

That night they sat near a fire again, surrounded by elderberry trees and darkness. Gilmour's head felt fairly normal, and though the food was abysmal, he had eaten his fill.

"So you do not mind a good fucking, huh, lass?" Roy asked and brushed his knuckles across Isobel's as he handed her a mug. Gilmour stiffened, but Bel didn't even blanch. Instead, she took the offered drink between her tied hands and sipped immediately.

"What lies has he been spewing about me?" she asked.

"Lies?" The big man grinned. He was bearded and broad, with a chest like a wine barrel and hands like meat hooks. "Surely the MacGowan here wouldn't lie."

Isobel coughed over her drink, and Gilmour raised his brows. If her angry expression was an act, it was a shame and a pity women weren't allowed on the stage.

"What did he tell you?" Her voice was cool now, and as she lifted her chin, Gilmour saw the flash of her eyes in the firelight.

Bear man grinned. Apparently dental hygiene wasn't his fetish. "Not much atall. Only that you wasn't bad in bed... for a scrawny bit of a whore."

For a moment Gilmour was certain she wouldn't believe such lies, but suddenly she flung her mug with fierce strength.

He ducked. Still, it missed his head by less than an inch.

Stunned, he straightened slowly. Did she realize his ploy?

Did she know he hoped to make them believe that her presence was not worth the trouble?

That his ransom alone would be enough for all?

"You bastard!" she screamed and lunged.

MacGowan tripped backward. If she knew, she was a damned fine actress.

Roy caught her about the waist like a bawling calf.

"Hold on now, you wee wild cat," he said and chuckled.

"So you still got some of that vinegar left, aye?

" She wriggled in his arms, glaring at Gilmour, but her captor turned her easily and grated one hand down her waist. "Mayhap you should save some for old Roy here, huh? "

She stilled in his arms, her eyes seeming to dull the light of the fire behind her. "Cut me loose," she ordered, her voice low and hard.

"What's that?"

"Let me at him," she said, "and you'll not regret it."

Roy licked his lips and shifted his eyes sideways. "Finn wouldn't be none too happy."

She straightened, pulling regally out of his grip. "Does Finn cut up your food for you, too?"

"Don't get uppity, missy, or—"

"Hey!" Baron was suddenly behind him, shuffling about like a high strung hound. "If anybody's going to do her I get a share."

"Shut yer trap!" Roy said and swinging his arm back, knocked the boy away with casual brutality. He stumbled and went down, but Roy failed to notice as he leaned close to Isobel.

"Are you—"

"What's this then?" Finn said, and stepped with casual grace into the firelight.

"The merry baron was trying to prove himself on the lass here," Roy said.

"Is that so?" Finn's eyes were as quick as light, sprinting from the boy to Isobel and back again.

"Aye. It—" Roy began, but Finn interrupted.

"I was talking to the maid."

She nodded, her lips pursed. "Aye," she said. "And I'm not that sort. No matter what MacGowan says."

Finn smiled. "Unfortunately, we'll not be finding out what sort you are," he said and pulled his dark blade from its hiding place in his sleeve. "Do you understand me lads?"

"Aye!" Baron nodded jerkily.

Roy only shrugged as if uninterested, and the others remained mute. Finn nodded toward Isobel. "Sit down," he ordered. "Over there."

She did as told, moving past the fire and sitting on the turf. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she tugged her gown over her ankles with her bound hands.

"Tie her feet," Finn said, and as Baron did as so, Isobel glared over his shoulder at Gilmour.

Well, thought Mour nervously, she could damn sure play a role.