Julie Garwood: Ransom

"One shout from me and my men will come running."

Horace snickered. "You'll be dead before they get here."

Brodick shook his head. "I cannot allow you to kill your king because it would upset my wife, and you sure as hell aren't going to get near her. Have I made my intentions clear?"

They came at him all at once, and that error in judgment gave Brodick an added advantage. In their haste to get him, they stumbled into one another.

Moving with the speed of a predator, he became a blur to the men trying to kill him. They saw only the silver gleam of his sword and heard the whistling sound as the warrior swung it downward. His blade cut through two soldiers as he lashed out with his foot and broke the arm of another soldier, knocking him to the ground. He then arched back to avoid the last soldier's blade and, twisting, slammed his elbow into the man's face, shattering his jaw.

Gillian had grabbed hold of the king's arm and tried to pull him back out of harm's way, but John in a burst of true gallantry wouldn't retreat. He pushed her behind him and shielded her.

Before she could summon a good scream, two soldiers lay dead at Brodick's feet and the two others were doubled over in pain. Brodick wasn't even winded. He casually wiped his blade on one of the dead to rid it of English blood, then slipped the weapon back into the sheath and turned around. He couldn't hide his surprise at finding the king protecting his wife.

John was stunned. He stared at the traitors, then looked at Brodick. "Four against one," he hoarsely whispered. "Most impressive, Laird."

Brodick shrugged. "You've yet to see impressive."

A fire from a dropped torch crackled in the debris behind them as the king once again got down on his knees and gently lifted the treasure with both hands. Cautiously he pressed in sequence the hidden springs, and the box snapped open. For a long silent moment he simply stared down at what was inside.

And then a low guttural sound erupted from deep within his throat, a sound that grew into a tortured, monstrous roar that reverberated through the decay of years.

And the cry of anguish for what was lost became a howling fury.

The sound paralyzed Gillian, and it all became too much for her to bear, the heartache, the treachery, the deceit, the fear. She couldn't block the screams or the memories. And in her mind she was suddenly standing there at the top of those slippery steps in the dark passageway. The dragon was uncoiling from the wall with his long tail slashing out at her as she and Christen were hurled down into the black abyss. She was once again that terrified little girl, abandoned and all alone. She heard the anguished screams echoing around her and saw again her father looking up at her with such sorrow and regret in his eyes. He couldn't save her. She reached out…

And suddenly Brodick was there, standing in front of her, calling out to her.

"Gillian, look at me."

The tenderness in his voice and the touch of his hand against the side of her face cut through her terror, and with a sob, she fell into his arms.

"I want to go home," Gillian cried.

"Soon," he promised. "Now get behind me and stay there."

The harsh command jarred her, and she quickly did as he ordered, for she could hear the shouting soldiers running toward the stable. The smoke from the smoldering fire must have alerted them. The blaze behind her began to leap higher, and she knew that when the king's men raced inside and saw the dead soldiers, they would attack Brodick.

Turning to the king, she saw him wipe tears from his face and then snap the box closed. He wrapped the treasure in the tunic, stuffed it into the knapsack, and then staggered to his feet.

He, too, must have heard his soldiers coming because he moved to stand by Brodick. He raised his hand as his men closed in.

"Are these your men or his?" Brodick asked.

"Mine," the king answered.

His voice was deathly calm. "Come with me," he ordered Brodick, and then he left the stable.

Brodick dragged Gillian behind him, but when they reached the courtyard, he stopped and let out a shrill whistle. Dylan and Robert rode forward.

"Get her out of here," he ordered Dylan. "Robert, wait for Bridgid and take her with you."

She wasn't given time to argue. Dylan reached down, swept her up, and urged his stallion into a gallop.

"Let the Highlanders inside," John shouted to his soldiers, and then he motioned for Iain and Ramsey to follow Brodick and him inside.

Alford hadn't been idle while he had waited. He'd used the time to gather more of his soldiers, for there were at least a dozen standing together near the buttery. Brodick and Iain stood behind the king, but Ramsey spotted Bridgid sitting in the corner and immediately went to her. He grabbed her hand, jerked her to her feet, and without saying a word, pulled her along.

She was afraid to speak to him. She'd never seen Ramsey in such a fury before, and it scared her almost as much as the English barons did. He didn't say a word to Robert either, just motioned for him to take Bridgid away, and then he turned and, head down, went back inside.

The king was speaking in a low voice to Iain Maitland when Ramsey joined them. He didn't hear what John said until the king asked if it was Iain's son who was captured. Iain responded with a curt nod, and then the king put his hand out and requested the laird's sword.

"May I borrow it?"

Iain reluctantly let him have the weapon. John turned, and carrying the sword in one hand, he dangled the knapsack in the other as he slowly approached the table where Alford waited.

The baron started to stand, but John ordered him to stay seated. "This day has been filled with disappointments," he remarked, his voice as cold as a winter's eve.

"Then you didn't find the treasure after all?" Alford asked, and the smile was there in his eyes. When John didn't answer him, Alford assumed he'd been right. "Must the Highlanders be here, my lord?" he called out.

John noticed how agitated Hugh and Edwin were. They kept giving the lairds furtive glances, showing their obvious trepidation. The king glanced at Iain Maitland but the laird wasn't looking at him. Nay, his eyes seemed to glow with his hatred, and his gaze, like Laird Buchanan's, was locked on his prey.

"Do they frighten you, Alford?" John drawled as he tilted his head toward the Highlanders.

They did make Alford nervous, but he also was feeling quite smug because he knew they couldn't do him any harm. If one of them reached for his sword, his men and the king's guard would strike them down.

"No, they don't frighten me, but they are… uncivilized."

"Don't be inhospitable," John chided.

Gripping the knapsack in one hand and Iain's sword in the other, John began to slowly circle the table. "Today has brought back all the pain," he said then, and turning to the lairds, he offered an explanation. "I've only loved one woman, and her name was Arianna. My dearest friend, Alford, brought her to me and I fell instantly in love with her. I believe she loved me too," he added. "And I would have found a way to marry her."

He stopped pacing and dropped the knapsack on the table in front of Alford.

"Open it," he commanded.

Alford turned the knapsack upside down and watched the contents spill out on the table. The box rolled out of the tunic.

John told him what was inside. "My dagger is on the bottom. I sent it with the squire for Arianna to cut a lock of her golden hair. Do you remember, Alford?"

Before Alford could answer, John continued. "On top of my dagger is a lock of her hair. Tell me, Alford, what's on top of the hair?"

"I… I don't know," Alford stuttered.

"Yes you do. Your dagger."

"No, it's not mine," Alford shouted.

John slowly began to walk around the table. "No? Your crest is on the handle."