Page 29

"Lost control, Belva? You?"

"I believed he had betrayed me."

The room went deadly quiet for a moment, then, "A man cannot betray a woman unless she trusts him to begin with, chere. Did you trust him?"

"Nay. But still I was... incensed."

"And so you flew at him and stabbed him." Lady Madelaine sounded a bit baffled, but not nearly as bloody baffled as Gilmour himself had been.

Isobel cleared her throat. "Aye."

"Ahh well, one scar upon that bonny chest will do him no harm, will it now? Indeed, mayhap 'twill make it only the more appealing for the lassies, oui? Still," Madelaine continued, "would it not have been more sensible to try to escape since the opportunity presented itself?"

What a fine idea! Too bad Isobel had not considered that at the time.

"I was not thinking straight. I had been struck on the head, if you recall."

"Aye. The brutal bastards. Fortunately, you have mended well. The rogue here has a bit more healing to do since they wounded him on both sides of his pate."

Isobel said nothing.

"There is an open wound on the left side. Did they strike him with something? A club, mayhap?"

"I think perhaps... that wound was caused by meself also."

"You struck him on the head?"

"Aye."

"With a club?"

"A rock."

"While the brigands looked on?"

"Actually, the incident happened somewhat earlier."

"Afore you left Henshaw?"

"Aye."

"Beside the burn?"

"What?"

"When he saw you unclothed in the water?"

"How did you know I—"

"I well remember the months you spent with us at Milford House, Belva. Perhaps you did not realize that I knew you made a habit of swimming in the pond.

" 'Twas an intriguing habit of yours. And I made certain the lads did not disturb you, but mayhap it would have been wise to forestall it once you were no longer under my protection."

Nay, 'twould not have been wise atall, for of all the memories that drifted through Gilmour's hazy brain, that was his most favored. His mind wandered dreamily and below, his interest swelled.

"The lad here doesn't look the sort to miss that type of thing," Madelaine continued. "Go on with your story, chere. After you attacked him."

"I did not attack him... exactly."

"What would you prefer to call it?"

Yes. What?

"I was but protecting meself."

"From what?"

The silence was quite long now. Gilmour waited.

"I suspect it is possible that he was attempting to protect me," Isobel murmured.

"Ahh, so he followed you to the brigands' camp and when your captors realized his reason for being there, they beat the devil out of him."

"I'm willing to wager there is still a bit of devil in him," Isobel said and Madelaine laughed.

" 'Tis good to know you learned a bit about men while you were in my employ, Belva. What happened after they beat him?"

"We traveled, seemingly forever. MacGowan was unconscious much of the time."

"He seems to have a penchant for that," Madelaine said, but even in his odd, dreamlike state he could have sworn he heard a dram of humor in her tone.

"I planned and schemed, trying to think of a means of escape. But what could I do while he was unconscious?"

"Leave without him, mayhap?"

"But... I... he had planned to save me... I think."

"And so you hoped to do the same for him."

"I thought they had killed him." Isobel's voice broke.

"I believe you have already said that, lass."

Bel cleared her throat. "Then when he awoke... there was no time for apologies. I attempted to tell him of me plan, but when he spoke they..." She paused.

"They are evil." Madelaine's tone was softer than Gilmour would have thought possible, for it was clear she was not a women prone to foolish sentiment. "God shall deal with them if man does not get the opportunity, and the lad shall recover."

"Aye." Isobel went on, her voice brusque. "I had no chance to tell him me plan, but I convinced one of the brigands to untie me hands. I promised him..." She paused as if gathering strength. "I promised him meself if he would give me one chance at MacGowan."

"One chance?" #

"I had, ahhh... tried to kill him you know. They believed I hated him."

"Didn't you?"

"I... aye, I did. I do."

"Except for that one time."

"What time?"

"I think you know, chere. 'Tis a strange thing; men can be bumbling bastards their entire lives and then they touch you... just that once and you wonder why you never knew they were magical."

It had been magical. Gilmour remembered the feel of her skin, the whisper of her sighs. Sweet heaven, she had moaned like a goddess under his fingertips. Even now he was hard with the memory.

"We did not... it was not what you think," Isobel said.

“Truly?"

"I did not... give meself to him."

"Ahhh. And yet you felt the magic?"

"Nay, I—"

"Go on with your tale."

It took Isobel several seconds to continued, and then there was pacing again, the steps faster now. "Only a few of the brigands wanted to keep MacGowan alive. The others thought him too risky. The guard knew I would go for his knife. That much he knew, but he thought I would kill MacGowan."

"Instead of free him."

"Aye."

Madelaine sighed. "And so here you are, with the very man who has bedeviled you for so long."

The footsteps halted. Again it seemed that he could feel gazes upon him.

" 'Tis said he has been with scores of women."

"A goodly number."

"I would be just one more."

"Would you?"

"If I gave meself to him. But I will not."

"So that he cannot wound your heart."

"He cannot wound me!"

"Indeed? So you have no feelings for him?"

There was the slightest of pauses. Gilmour held his breath.

"Nay, I do not," Isobel said, her voice soft. "He has done naught but plague me since first we met."

"What do you mean, 'plague,' exactly?"

"Have I not just told you? He followed me everywhere. I could not be shed of him."

"Ahh." He felt the lady's hot gaze skim his body. "For shame."

" 'Tis shameful! He would not give me a moment's peace."

"Except that one time."

"There was no one time! He followed me home, is what he did, and forced himself—"

"He forced himself on you!"

Gilmour waited, breath held, but Isobel didn't speak. The room seemed suddenly quite cold.

"I am a patient woman," Madelaine said, but her tone was no longer husky and smooth, but hard and chilled.

"I am also forgiving, for I know that God will send justice on those who most deserve it.

My first husband, for instance. But some things should not wait for the Lord's judgment.

If he forced you, Belva then he shall pay the price this very day. Were you willing, lass?"

"Nay, I—"

"Then he shall dearly regret his actions." She was directly beside the bed now, and in that instant Gilmour felt the weight of fabric lifted from his hips. "Belva, fetch the knife," she said and Gilmour's eyes snapped open.