"I'm her family."

"I know," Bridgid whispered. She patted Gillian's hand. " Brisbane could come back with Christen tomorrow."

"But you don't think he will, do you?"

"She's remained hidden for years. No, I don't think she'll willingly come."

"Will you take me to her?"

"Yes."

"I want to go tomorrow afternoon."

"You've been ordered to wait."

"Not ordered," Gillian argued. "Brodick suggested I be patient."

"All right, then. We'll go tomorrow afternoon."

Gillian glanced at Brodick, then whispered, "I'm going to have to figure out a way to get rid of Brodick's men. They follow me like shadows."

"They didn't follow you to the lake."

"No, of course not. They knew I was going to bathe."

Bridgid grinned. "Well then? Simply tell them you're going to the lake."

"I hate having to lie to them. I've become quite fond of Brodick's guard."

"But if we do go to the lake first, then you wouldn't have to lie, would you?"

Gillian burst into laughter. "You have the mind of a criminal."

"What are you two whispering about?" Ramsey called from the table.

"Foolish matters," Bridgid replied. "Laird, Fiona has graciously offered to sew some new gowns for Gillian so that she won't have to borrow from others, but she needs to measure her. Could we see to this chore now? It shouldn't take long."

As soon as they were out of earshot, Ramsey asked Brodick, "When are you going to get the names of the Englishmen from Gillian? Iain grows impatient. He wants to move, and so do I."

"Tonight," Brodick promised.

"The women have prepared one of the new cottages for you and Gillian, unless you'd rather use one of the chambers upstairs."

"The cottage will afford more privacy," Brodick said. "But I'd rather we stayed outside."

"Your bride deserves a bed on her wedding night," Ramsey said, and Brodick nodded in agreement.

The revelry began with Father Laggan's arrival. Calling out his congratulations, he demanded supper, and while the servants saw to the priest's needs, Brodick paced and waited for Gillian.

In a very short while, the hall was filled with Sinclairs. Brodick's soldiers didn't mingle with the others until kegs of ale were carried in and a rowdy Sinclair boasted that he could arm wrestle any Buchanan to the floor without breaking a sweat. Black Robert meant to prove him wrong, and the game was on.

When Gillian came downstairs, for a second she thought she was back at the Maitlands'. The noise was certainly just as deafening. She stared into a sea of faces and spotted Father Laggan in a corner eating and drinking. He pushed the bench back as he stood to wave and beckon her forward. Gillian grabbed Bridgid's hand and threaded her way toward him.

Ramsey watched Gillian bow to the priest, then nudged Brodick so he'd turn around. "Laggan's with Gillian."

"Ah, hell."

"You really ought to tell her before the priest lets it slip. He's bound to say something."

Brodick pushed through the crowd to get to Gillian. One of the MacPherson soldiers was having a heated argument with a Sinclair, and just as Brodick reached them, the two men lunged with fists at one another.

Ramsey moved forward with lightning speed. "This is a celebration, not a brawl," he muttered in disgust as he grabbed the Sinclair by the back of his neck with one hand and took hold of the MacPherson's neck with his other. With the flick of his wrists he slammed their heads together, then shoved them apart and watched them crash to the floor. The blow rendered both men unconscious.

With a grunt of approval, Brodick continued on. Ramsey ordered the fallen men removed from the hall and then hurried after his friend. Nothing was going to prevent him from seeing Gillian's reaction when Brodick finally found the gumption to tell her the truth.

The priest was busy chiding Bridgid because she was still unmarried. "It's your duty to wed and have children," he said. "It's what God intended."

"I do plan to marry, Father," she countered, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks. "As soon as I am asked by the right man."

"She's in love, Father," Gillian interjected. "And she's hopeful that the man she's given her heart to will marry her."

"Does this man know you would marry him?" the priest asked. He took a long swallow of his drink while he waited for her to answer.

"No, Father, he doesn't know."

It was apparent from the way Bridgid was squirming that she didn't want to talk about marriage any longer, and so Gillian stepped forward.

"Father, I made a foolish mistake today."

The priest scowled. "It's a little late for second thoughts, lass."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. I asked you if you knew what you were getting into and you said… No, I believe it was Brodick who said that you did. You told me in your own words that you loved him."

He was becoming highly agitated. "It was just a misunderstanding," she said. "But when I asked Dylan, he cleared it up for me."

The priest cocked his head to the side. "What misunderstanding are you talking about?"

"It's silly, really, and embarrassing. You see, when you blessed Brodick and me, I jumped to the conclusion that we were betrothed. I told Bridgid that we were, but she didn't believe me, and so I asked Dylan to confirm it for her. That was the misunderstanding," she added, her voice trailing off, for she had just noticed how dumbfounded Father Laggan looked.

The poor man was choking on his wine. He'd taken another drink just as she'd said the word "betrothed."

His eyes bulging, his face bright red, he stammered, "You're telling me… you're saying you thought you were betrothed to the Buchanan?"

Gillian wished he hadn't shouted the question because he'd drawn attention to them. Brodick's guard was already moving toward her. She hastily smiled at Dylan to let him know everything was all right, then turned back to the priest. In a low whisper, she said, "I did think that, but Dylan cleared the matter up for me."

Father Laggan shoved his goblet at Bridgid and then folded his hands together as though in prayer. His gaze piercing now, he demanded, "And how did the commander clear up the matter for you?"

Gillian was thoroughly confused by the priest's behavior. He was acting as though she had just confessed an obscene sin. "He told me I wasn't betrothed."

"She isn't, is she?" Bridgid asked.

"No, she isn't," he snapped. Then in a whisper, he said, "Good Lord Almighty."

"Excuse me?"

"You aren't betrothed, lass…" The priest clasped one of Gillian's hands in both of his and gave her a sympathetic look. "You're married."

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said you're married," he repeated in a shout. He was so rattled he could barely control his temper. "That's why I blessed you. You said your vows."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did, lass. I asked you if you had been coerced, and you assured me you hadn't… and there were witnesses."

"Witnesses?" she stupidly repeated.

"Aye," he agreed. "Don't you remember? You and the others had just ridden to the rise above the holding… that's when I joined you, and the Buchanan took hold of your hand…"

"No," she whispered.

"It was proper and binding."

She frantically shook her head. "I cannot be married. I would know if I was… wouldn't I?"

"It was sheer trickery," the priest cried out. "Good Lord Almighty, the Buchanan tricked me, a man of the cloth."

The priest's explanation was finally settling in her mind, and with the realization came a blinding burst of fury that almost knocked her over.

"No!"she shouted.

A servant happened by with a tray full of goblets brimming with wine. Bridgid grabbed one and thrust it into Gillian's hand.

Before she could drink it, the priest snatched it out of her hand and gulped it down. She reached for another. And it was at that precise second that Brodick, with Ramsey hot on his heels, reached her side.