Father Laggan heard her. His mouth dropped open, his eyes bulged, and he stammered, "You dare to criticize Laird Buchanan?"

Embarrassed because he had heard her rebuke, she tried to justify her actions. "He dared to snap at me, Father. You heard him, didn't you? Shouldn't I stand up for myself?"

"Yes, of course you should, but, lass, most women wouldn't. They would fear his retaliation."

She scoffed at the notion. "Brodick would never harm a woman."

Father Laggan surprised her then by laughing. "I have heard it said that there is a special woman for every man, no matter how contrary and barbaric that man might be, and now I must admit that it is certainly so."

"Can we get on with this?" Brodick demanded.

"Yes, of course," Father agreed. "Lady Gillian, I ask you again. When was your last confession?"

She blushed. "It's been a long while."

Laggan didn't like hearing that. "And why haven't you partaken of this most holy sacrament?"

"I must answer these questions before I can continue to Ramsey's?" she asked.

"You must," Ramsey said.

"Father's waiting for your answer," Brodick reminded her.

Her head was beginning to ache. She seemed to be the only one who thought the priest's inquisition was strange, but when she got Brodick alone, she was going to demand that he explain. For the moment, she decided to placate all of them. "I haven't gone to confession because England has been placed under an interdict and priests are not allowed to administer the sacraments except in dire emergencies. Surely you've heard of our pope's… unhappiness… with King John. The two are waging war over who will be the Archbishop of Canterbury."

Father Laggan nodded. "The interdict. Yes, of course. What was I thinking? I forgot you came to us from England. Now then, would you like me to hear your confession now?"

"Now?"

She hadn't meant to shout the question, but she was so appalled by the suggestion that she recount her sins in front of Brodick and Ramsey, and without a veil separating her from Father Laggan, she simply couldn't control her reaction.

"She hasn't done anything to warrant forgiveness," Brodick assured Laggan.

"How would you know?" she asked, clearly rattled.

Brodick laughed. "I know."

She glared at him. "I have sinned," she said, inwardly groaning because she sounded as though she were boasting.

"No, you haven't."

His contradiction was the last she was going to put up with. "I have too," she insisted. "Thanks to you, I've been plagued with impure thoughts, and they've all been about you, so you see? I have too sinned."

Only after the words were spoken did she realize what she had said. "My sins are all your fault, Brodick, and if I have to go to purgatory, then by God, you're going with me. Ramsey, if you do not stop laughing, I swear I shall toss you over this cliff."

"Do you love him, lass?" Father asked.

"I do not," she answered emphatically.

"It isn't a requirement," Laggan pointed out.

"I should hope not," she cried.

"But it would make your life easier," he countered.

"Gillian, you will tell the truth," Brodick demanded.

He grabbed hold of her hand. She tried to pull back, but he wouldn't let go.

"I have told the truth. I don't love Ramsey, and if he doesn't stop laughing at me, the Sinclairs will soon be looking for a new laird."

"Not Ramsey," Laggan shouted so he could be heard over Ramsey's laughter. "I'm asking you if you love Brodick."

"Did you tell Father I love you? Who else did you tell?"

In Brodick's opinion, the question didn't merit an answer. He quietly asked her to tell him again that she loved him.

"Brodick, now is not the time…"

"It's the perfect time."

She didn't agree. "What I said to you was private."

"Do you love me?"

Reluctant to admit the truth in front of an audience hanging on her every word, she bowed her head. "I do not wish to discuss matters of the heart now."

Brodick wouldn't be denied, and after nudging her chin up, he asked her again, "Do you love me?"

He squeezed her hand to get her to respond. "You know that I do," she whispered.

His expression solemn, he pulled the strip of plaid from behind his shoulder and draped the end over their joined hands.

Gillian understood what was happening then. In a panic, she tried to pull her hand free, but Brodick wouldn't let go of her, and after a few seconds of struggling, she stopped fighting.

Her heart belonged to him.

Staring into her eyes, he commanded, "You will give the words."

She stubbornly remained silent. He stubbornly persisted. "I want the words, Gillian. Don't deny me."

She could feel everyone watching her, and she knew how relentless Brodick could be. He would continue to prod her until he had what he wanted. Besides, it wasn't possible for her to deny him her love, and if he needed to hear the words again, then she would say them.

With a sigh she realized she had lost the battle, yet victory was hers. "I love you," she said in the barest of whispers.

"Now and forever?"

She paused for a moment and then put all her worries and fears aside, and made up her mind.

"Yes."

"And I will honor and protect you, Gillian," Brodick said. His hand moved to the back of her neck, and he roughly pulled her close. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Father Laggan raise his hand and make the sign of the cross.

She was powerless to resist when Brodick lowered his head to kiss her. There was such blatant possessiveness in his touch. Her hand stroked the side of his face, and for the moment she ignored her audience and the cheers echoing in her ears. When he finally let go of her, she had to grab hold of the pommel to keep from falling off her horse. She tried to repair her appearance while Brodick tossed the strip of plaid back over his shoulder and secured it in his belt.

She kept waiting for Brodick to say something to her, but he seemed content to remain silent, and so she turned to Father Laggan.

"God be with you," he said.

Ramsey, grinning like a culprit, slapped Brodick's shoulder. "We must celebrate tonight."

"Celebrate what, Ramsey?" she asked innocently.

"You have satisfied the Church."

"Then we may continue on?"

"Yes."

Before she could ask him any further questions, he hastily turned to the priest. "Father, will you be dining with us tonight?"

"I promised Laird MacHugh that I would stop by, but if darkness doesn't catch up with me on my way back, I'll gladly accept your hospitality. 'Tis the truth these old bones of mine have grown accustomed to a warm bed at night. An empty warm bed," he added with a glare in Brodick's direction.

"An empty bed will be waiting for you," Ramsey promised with a grin.

After giving Gillian a pitying look, Father Laggan blurted out, "There's still time… it isn't unheard of for a lass to change her mind before it's too late. Lady Gillian, if you should have second thoughts before tonight, or if you should come to your senses and realize the folly-"

"What's done is done, Father. Let it be," Ramsey said.

Laggan's shoulders sagged. "I warn you, Laird Buchanan. I'm going to continue to watch out for her."

Ramsey laughed. "Does that mean you'll break your own vow and return to the Buchanan holding? I seem to remember you telling Iain Maitland that the Buchanans were all heathens and that you would never step foot on their soil again."

"I remember what I said," the priest snapped. "And I certainly haven't forgotten the unfortunate incident. However, my duty's clear to me. I'm going to keep an eye on Lady Gillian, and if I see that she is unhappy or wasting away, then you'll be answering to me, Laird. You'd best take good care of her. You've got a treasure here, you realize."

After giving his passionate speech, Laggan took up his reins and guided his horse through the throng of soldiers. "God be with you," he called out.

Gillian watched the priest ride away, but Brodick tugged on her hair to get her attention. He brushed her curls over her shoulder. "I'll treat you well," he fervently promised.

"I shall make certain that you do," she responded. "Shall we go now?"

Brodick motioned to Dylan to take the lead, then turned to speak to Ramsey. Gillian saw the commander ride ahead to the cliffs. Instantly horrified, she goaded her mount in the opposite direction. One second she was beside Brodick and the next she was halfway down the southern slope.

"Where the hell is she going?" he asked Ramsey as he goaded his stallion into a gallop. He caught up with her, grabbed her reins, and tried to turn her around. She resisted by pushing his hand away and urging her horse forward again.

"You're going the wrong way."

"Is the right way over that cliff?" she asked, frantic.

"Now, Gillian, it isn't…"

"I won't do it."

"If you'll only let me explain…" he patiently began again.

He swore he had never seen anyone, man or woman, move as quickly as Gillian did then. Since she couldn't get him to let go of the reins, she slipped off her horse and was walking at a fast pace away from him before he could summon a good argument to persuade her to take the shortcut.

He caught up with her again. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm walking. I feel the need to stretch my legs."

"Give me your hand."

"No."

"It isn't a cliff," he began.

"I'm taking the long way around."

"All right," he agreed.

She came to a quick stop. "Do you mean it? You won't force me?"

"Of course I won't force you. We'll take the long way around."

He let out a shrill whistle and raised his hand. Dylan immediately turned back.

She knew she must be embarrassing Brodick because she couldn't go down a stupid hill. All of the soldiers were watching her, but fortunately they stayed where they were and therefore couldn't hear what she was saying.

"I don't wish to disgrace you in front of your good friend and your soldiers, but I swear that if you make me go down that cliff, I'll do just that."

"As terrified as you are, your concern is in the possibility of disgracing me? Ah, Gillian, you could never disgrace me. We'll take the long way around."

Anxiety blended with relief. "How much longer will it take us?"

"It depends on how fast we ride."

"How long?" she persisted.

"A full day," he admitted as he once again put his hand down to her.

"That long? Even if we hurry?"

"That long," he replied. "Give me your hand."

"I can ride my horse."

"I would rather you ride with me."

She backed away. "Brodick?"

"Yes, lass?"

"I have to go down that cliff, don't I?"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and then clasped hold of his hand. Instead of swinging her up behind him, he changed his mind and lifted her onto his lap.

He could feel her shaking and sought only to comfort her. Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her tight. "This worry of yours…"

"It's most unreasonable, isn't it?"

"Do you know what has caused this fear? Did something happen that has made you so cautious?"

"Don't you mean cowardly?"

Clasping her chin in his hand, he forced her to look up at him. "Don't ever let me hear you say that about yourself again. You are not a coward. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"Say it," he commanded.

"I'm not a coward. You can stop squeezing me now," she suggested.

She waited until he had relaxed his hold, then said, "I've made up my mind. We'll go down the cliff. We should go last, though," she hastened to add, hoping she'd find a little courage while they waited their turn.

"You're certain?"

"Yes," she insisted, though her voice was so weak she wasn't sure he heard her. "And I'll ride my own horse," she added in a much stronger voice. "I'll not have your men think I'm a weakling."

"They could never think such a thing," he said as he prodded his horse back up the hill.

He didn't stop at the crest, nor did he slow his stallion's pace as he started down the narrow, winding path that led to Ramsey's holding. She buried her face in his plaid, wrapped her arms around his waist and demanded that he wait until everyone else had gone first.