Ransom Read online

  Praise for Julie Garwood’s splendid New York Times bestsellers

  RANSOM

  “AN ENTHRALLING TALE . . . . In this powerful story, passion, loyalty, friendship, and mystery superbly blend with realistic, three-dimensional characters.”

  —Romantic Times

  “PURE ENTERTAINMENT . . . . TRULY UNFORGETTABLE. Romance never felt so good.”

  —Rendezvous

  “A KEEPER . . . . Anyone who has had the pleasure of reading Julie Garwood’s classic tale The Secret will remember the two lovable rogues Brodick Buchanan and Ramsey Sinclair. Now they star in their own story . . . . The plot is crisp, entertaining, and makes Medieval England seem real.”

  —Under the Covers Book Reviews

  “THRILLING.”

  —Amazon.com

  “A RIP-ROARING ROMP, full of humor, romance, sword fights, and crisp dialogue . . . . So much fun, it begs to be read in one sitting . . . . Characters feel like old friends, and readers will regret to see the story end.”

  —The Cedar Rapids Gazette (IA)

  “WONDERFUL . . . . RANSOM provides suspense, passion, and humor.”

  —All About Romance

  “Julie Garwood’s stories happen in a different world, and she makes that world palpable. Readers . . . appreciate the fragility of life in a time when death was omnipresent.”

  —The Kansas City Star

  COME THE SPRING

  “Heartwarming . . . . Wonderful . . . Garwood does her usual superb job . . . . [A] fascinating tale of western romance and adventure.”

  —Abilene Reporter News (TX)

  “What began so beautifully in For the Roses and continued with the Clayborne Brides series comes to a truly lovely conclusion in Come the Spring . . . . Humor, sensuality and mystery blend perfectly in this tale. You’ll find it as hard as I did to say farewell to a family you have come to love like your own. Thank you, Ms. Garwood, for Mama Rose and her children.”

  —Kathe Robin, Romantic Times

  “The five novels that make up the Rose series are considered some of the best books written in the nineties. Julie Garwood’s latest offering from that tremendous collection, Come the Spring, is as good if not better than the previous novels. The ‘good guys’ are all charming . . . and the villains are cold-bloodedly efficient and exciting . . . . The story line, with its tremendous prose and building suspense, turns this book into . . . a long-term literary classic.”

  —Harriet Klausner, America Online

  FOR THE ROSES

  “Lively and charming . . . . Filled with humor and appealing characters . . . .”

  —Library Journal

  “An enchanting tale with a happy ending . . . .”

  —Abilene Reporter-News (TX)

  “[A] brilliant achievement . . . . With a master’s pen, Julie Garwood explores the heart and soul of a family whose love and loyalty will truly inspire.”

  —Romantic Times

  Praise for the #1 New York Times bestselling trilogy of the Clayborne Brides

  ONE PINK ROSE

  “[An] utterly charming little book . . . .”

  —Philadelphia Inquirer

  “Garwood hits her mark with a feisty, sassy, and capable heroine.”

  —BookPage

  “Great dialogue and wonderful characters make this a laugh-out-loud book.”

  —Rocky Mountain News (CO)

  ONE WHITE ROSE

  “A very special and moving read . . . . Ms. Garwood succeeds big-time with this novel.”

  —Amazon.com

  “Vintage Garwood, funny and tender, familiar yet new.”

  —BookPage

  “As charming as For the Roses, as sweet and funny and sensual as anything Ms. Garwood has written . . . . A must-have book if you love the Claybornes . . . .”

  —Romantic Times

  ONE RED ROSE

  “As Charming and heartwarming as the rest of the series. Ms. Garwood has a gift for sending our hearts soaring . . . .”

  —Romantic Times

  “An exquisite treat for the senses.”

  —Amazon.com

  “Absolute dynamite story. As usual, Ms. Garwood never fails to deliver a scrumptious romance, nonstop action, and delightful dialogue.”

  —Rendezvous

  Books by Julie Garwood

  Gentle Warrior

  Rebellious Desire

  Honor’s Splendour

  The Lion’s Lady

  The Bride

  Guardian Angel

  The Gift

  The Prize

  The Secret

  Castles

  Saving Grace

  Prince Charming

  For the Roses

  The Wedding

  The Rose Trilogy

  One Pink Rose

  One White Rose

  One Red Rose

  Come the Spring

  Ransom

  Published by POCKET BOOKS

  Thank you for purchasing this Pocket Books eBook.

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  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  For Bryan Michael Garwood, business and law graduate extraordinaire—

  With your keen mind, your passionate soul, and your merciful heart, there’s no stopping you.

  As you embark on this most noble career, remember: “Justice is a machine that, when someone has given it a starting push, rolls of itself.” Galsworthy, Justice II

  Start pushing, Bryan

  PROLOGUE

  England, in the reign of King Richard I

  Bad things always happen during the night.

  In the dark hours of the night Gillian’s mother died struggling to bring a new life into the world, and a young, unthinking servant, wishing to be the first to impart the sorrowful news, awakened the two little girls to tell them their dear mama was dead. Two nights later, they were once again shaken awake to hear that their infant brother, Ranulf, named in honor of their father, had also passed on. His frail body hadn’t been able to take the strain of being born a full two months early.

  Gillian was afraid of the dark. She waited until the servant had left her bedroom, then slid down from the big bed on her stomach to the cold stone floor. Barefoot, she ran to the forbidden passage, a
secret hallway that led to her sister’s chamber and also to the steep steps that ended in the tunnels below the kitchens. She barely squeezed behind the chest her papa had placed in front of the narrow door in the wall to discourage his daughters from going back and forth. He had warned over and over again that it was a secret, for the love of God, only to be used under the most dire of circumstances, and certainly not for play. Why, even his loyal servants didn’t know about the passageways built into three of the bedchambers, and he was determined to keep it that way. He was also extremely concerned that his daughters would fall down the steps and break their pretty little necks, and he often threatened to paddle their backsides if he ever caught them there. It was dangerous, and it was forbidden.

  But on that terrible night of loss and sorrow, Gillian didn’t care if she got into trouble. She was scared, and whenever she got scared, she ran to her older sister, Christen, for comfort. Managing to get the door open only a crack, Gillian cried out for Christen and waited for her to come. Her sister reached in, latched onto Gillian’s hand and pulled her through, then helped her climb up into her bed. The little girls clung to each other under the thick blankets and cried while their papa’s tormented screams of anguish and desolation echoed throughout the halls. They could hear him shouting their mama’s name over and over and over again. Death had entered their peaceful home and filled it with grief.

  The family wasn’t given time to heal, for the monsters of the night weren’t through preying on them. It was in the dead of night that the infidels invaded their home and Gillian’s family was destroyed.

  Papa woke her up when he came rushing into her chamber carrying Christen in his arms. His faithful soldiers William—Gillian’s favorite because he gave her honeyed treats when her papa wasn’t watching—and Lawrence and Tom and Spencer followed behind him. Their expressions were grim. Gillian sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands as her father handed Christen to Lawrence and hurried to her. He placed the glowing candle on the chest next to her bed, then sat down beside her and with a trembling hand gently brushed her hair out of her eyes.

  Her father looked terribly sad, and Gillian thought she knew the reason why.

  “Did Mama die again, Papa?” she asked worriedly.

  “For the love of . . . no, Gillian,” he answered, his voice weary.

  “Did she come back home, then?”

  “Ah, my sweet lamb, we’ve been over this again and again. Your mama isn’t ever going to come home. The dead can’t come back. She’s in heaven now. Try to understand.”

  “Yes, Papa,” she whispered.

  She heard the faint echo of shouts coming from the floor below and then noticed that her father was wearing his chain mail.

  “Are you going to battle now, for the love of God, Papa?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “But first I must get you and your sister to safety.”

  He reached for the clothes Gillian’s maid, Liese, had laid out for tomorrow and hastily dressed his daughter. William moved forward and knelt on one knee to put Gillian’s shoes on her.

  Her papa had never dressed her before, and she didn’t know what to make of it. “Papa, I got to take my sleeping gown off before I put my clothes on, and I got to let Liese brush my hair.”

  “We won’t worry about your hair tonight.”

  “Papa, is it dark outside?” she asked as he slipped the bliaut over her head.

  “Yes, Gillian, it’s dark.”

  “Do I got to go outside in the dark?”

  He could hear the fear in her voice and tried to calm her. “There will be torches to light the way and you won’t be alone.”

  “Are you going with Christen and me?”

  Her sister answered. “No, Gillian,” she shouted from across the room. “’Cause Papa has to stay here and fight the battle, for the love of God,” she said, repeating her father’s often used expression. “Don’t you, Papa?”

  Lawrence told Christen to hush. “We don’t want anyone to know you’re leaving,” he explained in a whisper. “Can you be real quiet now?”

  Christen eagerly nodded. “I can,” she whispered back. “I can be awful quiet when I got to, and when I . . .”

  Lawrence put his hand over her mouth. “Hush, golden girl.”

  William lifted Gillian into his arms and carried her out of the chamber and down the dark hallway to her father’s room. Spencer and Tom guided the way, carrying bright candles to light the corridor. Giant shadows danced along the stone walls keeping pace with them, the only sound the hard clicking of their boots against the cobbled floor. Gillian became fearful and put her arms around the soldier’s neck, then tucked her head under his chin.

  “I don’t like the shadows,” she whimpered.

  “They won’t harm you,” he soothed.

  “I want my mama, William.”

  “I know you do, honey bear.”

  His silly nickname for her always made her smile, and she suddenly wasn’t afraid any longer. She saw her papa rush past her to lead the way into his chamber, and she would have called out to him, but William put his finger to his lips, reminding her that she was to be quiet.

  As soon as they were all inside the bedroom, Tom and Spencer began to slide a low chest along the wall so that they could open the secret door. The rusty hinges groaned and squealed like an angry boar whose mouth was being pried open.

  Lawrence and William had to put the little girls down in order to soak and light the torches. The second their backs were turned, both Christen and Gillian ran to their father who was down on his knees leaning over another chest at the foot of the bed and sorting through his belongings. They flanked his sides and stretched up on tiptoes, their hands on the rim of the chest so they too could peer inside.

  “What are you looking for, Papa?” Christen asked.

  “This,” he answered as he lifted the sparkling jeweled box.

  “It’s awful pretty, Papa,” Christen said. “Can I have it?”

  “Can I have it too?” Gillian chimed in.

  “No,” he answered. “The box belongs to Prince John, and I mean to see that he gets it back.”

  Still down on his knees, their father turned toward Christen and grabbed her arm, pulling her close as she tried to wiggle away.

  “You’re hurting me, Papa.”

  “I’m sorry, love,” he said, immediately lessening his grip. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I do need you to pay attention to what I’m going to tell you. Can you do that, Christen?”

  “Yes, Papa, I can pay attention.”

  “That’s good,” he praised. “I want you to take this box with you when you leave. Lawrence will protect you from harm and take you to a safe place far away from here, and he’ll help you hide this evil treasure until the time is right and I can come for you and take the box to Prince John. You mustn’t tell anyone about this treasure, Christen.”

  Gillian ran around her father to stand next to Christen. “Can she tell me, Papa?”

  Her father ignored her question and waited for Christen to answer.

  “I won’t tell,” she promised.

  “I won’t tell no one neither.” Gillian vehemently nodded to prove she meant what she said.

  Their father continued to ignore his younger daughter for the moment because he was intent on making Christen understand the importance of what he was telling her. “No one must ever know you have the box, child. Now watch what I’m doing,” he ordered. “I’m going to wrap the box in this tunic.”

  “So no one will see it?” Christen asked.

  “That’s right,” he whispered. “So no one will see it.”

  “But I already seen it, Papa,” Gillian blurted out.

  “I know you did,” he agreed. He looked up at Lawrence then. “She’s too young . . . I’m asking too much of her. Dear God, how can I let my babies go?”

  Lawrence stepped forward. “I’m going to protect Christen with my life, and I’ll make certain no one sees the box.”
>
  William also rushed to offer his pledge. “No harm will come to Lady Gillian,” he vowed. “I give you my word, Baron Ranulf. My life to keep her safe.”

  The vehemence in his voice was a comfort to the baron and he nodded to let both soldiers know that his trust in them was absolute.

  Gillian tugged on her father’s elbow to get his attention. She wasn’t about to be left out. When her papa wrapped the pretty box in one of his tunics and gave it to Christen, Gillian clasped her hands together in anticipation, for she assumed that since her sister had been given a present, she would be getting one too. Even though Christen was the firstborn and three years older than Gillian, their father had never shown favoritism for one over the other.

  It was difficult for her to be patient, but Gillian tried. She watched as her father pulled Christen into his arms and kissed her forehead and hugged her tight. “Don’t forget your papa,” he whispered. “Don’t forget me.”

  He reached for Gillian next. She threw herself into his arms and kissed him soundly on his whiskered cheek.

  “Papa, don’t you have a pretty box for me?”

  “No, my sweet. You’re going to go with William now. Take hold of his hand—”

  “But Papa, I got to have a box too. Don’t you have one for me to carry?”

  “The box isn’t a present, Gillian.”

  “But, Papa—”

  “I love you,” he said, blinking back the tears as he fiercely clasped her against the cold chain mail of his hauberk. “God keep you safe.”

  “You’re squishing me, Papa. Can I have a turn holding the box? Please, Papa?”

  Ector, her father’s chief reeve, barged into the room. His shout so startled Christen she dropped the treasure. The box rolled out of the tunic onto the floor and clattered across the stones. In the firelight from the flaming torches, the rubies and sapphires and emeralds imbedded in the case came to life, glistening and twinkling brightly like sparkling stars that had fallen from the sky.

  Ector stopped short, startled by the dazzling beauty that tumbled before him.

  “What is it, Ector?” her father said.

  Intent on giving his baron the urgent message from Bryant, the baron’s commander in arms, Ector seemed barely to be paying attention to what he was doing as he scooped up the box and handed it to Lawrence. His focus returned to his leader. “Milord, Bryant bade me to come and tell you that young Alford the Red and his soldiers have breached the inner bailey.”