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  “As it should be,” Hugh interjected.

  “You haven’t weasled Dunhanshire away from the king yet?” Gillian couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

  “I haven’t asked for it,” he muttered. “Why should I? It belongs to me all the same, for I am your guardian and therefore control all that is yours.”

  “Did John appoint you my guardian?” She asked the question to irritate him, for she knew the king had not granted Alford that right.

  Alford’s face turned red with anger, and he scowled at her while he adjusted his ill-fitted tunic and took another drink of wine. “You’re so unimportant to our king that he’s all but forgotten about you. I have said that I am your guardian, and that makes it so.”

  “No, it does not make it so.”

  “Alford is our king’s most trusted confidant,” Edwin shouted. “How dare you speak to him in such an insolent tone.”

  “She is insolent, isn’t she?” Alford remarked. “Like it or not, Gillian, I am your guardian and your fate is in my hands. I shall personally choose your husband. As to that, I might wed you myself,” he added offhandedly.

  She wouldn’t allow herself to think about such a repulsive possibility and continued to stare at Alford without reacting to his threat.

  “You’ve promised her to your cousin,” Hugh reminded him. “I’ve heard that Clifford is already making grand plans.”

  “Yes, I know what I promised, but when have you ever known me to keep my word?” Alford asked with a grin.

  Hugh and Edwin laughed until tears streamed down their faces. Alford finally demanded silence with a wave of his hand.

  “You’ve made me lose track of what I was saying.”

  “You were telling Gillian how displeased you were with her defiance,” Edwin reminded him.

  “Yes, so I was,” he said. “It simply cannot go on, Gillian. I’m a forgiving man—a flaw really—and I can’t help pitying the less fortunate, so I let your uncle’s outrageous behavior go unpunished. I also forgave you your resistance to my summons to come home.”

  He took another long swallow from his goblet before continuing. “And how do you repay me for my kindness? You try to help the little savage escape. As your guardian, I simply cannot allow your disobedience to go unpunished. It’s time for you and the boy to learn a lesson in humility.”

  “If you beat her, Alford, she’ll need time to recover before she goes on your important quest,” Edwin cautioned.

  Alford drained the rest of the wine, then motioned for the servant to refill his goblet. “I’m aware of that possibility,” he said. “Have you noticed, Edwin, how the boy has attached himself to Gillian? He must foolishly believe she’ll protect him from harm. Shall we prove to him how mistaken he is? Hugh, since you so enjoy your work, you can beat the boy.”

  “You will not touch him.” Gillian made the statement very softly. It was far more effective than shouting, and she could tell from Alford’s puzzled expression that she had caught him off guard.

  “I won’t?”

  “No, you won’t.”

  He drummed his fingertips on the table. “Pain will convince the boy how futile it is to try to escape. Besides, you have both inconvenienced me and I really can’t disappoint Hugh. He so wants to hurt one of you.” Alford turned to his friend. “Try not to kill the boy. If Gillian fails me, I’ll have need of him.”

  “You will not touch the child,” Gillian said again, though this time her voice was hard, emphatic.

  “Are you willing to take his beating?” Alford asked.

  “Yes.”

  Alford was stunned by her quick agreement and infuriated because she didn’t look at all frightened. Courage was a foreign concept, and he had never been able to figure out why some men and women exhibited this strange phenomenon, while others did not. The trait had eluded him, and though he had certainly never felt the need to try to be courageous, those who did enraged him. What he lacked in his own character he detested in others.

  “I will do whatever pleases me, Gillian, and you cannot stop me. I just might decide to kill you.”

  She shrugged. “Yes, you’re right. You could kill me and I couldn’t stop you.”

  He raised an eyebrow and studied her. It was difficult to concentrate, for the wine had made him quite sleepy and all he wanted to do was close his eyes for a few minutes. He took another drink instead.

  “You’re up to something,” he said. “What is it, Gillian? What game do you dare play with the master?”

  “No games,” she answered. “Kill me if that is your inclination. I’m sure you’ll come up with an adequate explanation to give our king. However, as you have just said, you have left me alone all these many years and then suddenly you force me to come back here. You obviously want something from me, and if you kill me—”

  “Yes,” he interrupted, “I do want something from you.” He straightened up in his chair and looked triumphant when he continued, “I have joyous news. After years of searching, I have finally found your sister. I know where Christen hides from me.” He watched Gillian closely and was disappointed because she didn’t respond to his announcement. Rolling the goblet between his fingertips, he smirked. “I even know the name of the clan protecting her. It’s MacPherson, but I don’t know the name she uses now. One sister will surely recognize another, and that is why I want you to go and fetch her for me.”

  “Why don’t you send your soldiers to get her?” she asked.

  “I cannot send my troops into the thick of the Highlands, and that is where she hides from me. Those savages would slaughter my men. I could, of course, gain King John’s blessing for this undertaking, and I’m certain he would give me additional soldiers, but I don’t want to involve him in a family matter. Besides, I have you to do this errand for me.”

  “The soldiers wouldn’t know which woman she is, and the heathens certainly wouldn’t tell. They protect their own at all costs,” Hugh interjected.

  “And if I refuse to go?” she asked.

  “Someone else can bring Christen to me,” he bluffed. “It would just be less complicated if you were to fetch her.”

  “And would this someone else be able to recognize her?”

  “The Highlander who gave us this information knows the name Christen uses,” Edwin reminded Alford. “You could force him to tell you.”

  “For all we know the Highlander could be bringing Christen with him tomorrow,” Hugh said. “The message he sent indicated there was a problem—”

  “An urgent problem,” Edwin interjected. “And it isn’t for certain that he will arrive tomorrow. It could be the day after.”

  “I don’t doubt the problem is urgent.” Hugh leaned forward in his chair so he could see around Alford. “The traitor wouldn’t take the chance of coming all this way if it weren’t an urgent matter. He stands the risk of being seen.”

  Edwin rubbed his triple chins. “If you beat the boy, Hugh, the Highlander might be displeased and demand his gold back.”

  Hugh laughed. “He wants the boy killed, you old fool. You were too drunk at the time to pay attention to the conversation. Suffice it to say that a bargain was struck between the Highlander and Alford. As you know, every so often a new rumor surfaces that the golden box has been seen, and every time King John hears of it, he sends troops to scour the kingdom. His desire to find the culprit who killed his Arianna and get his treasure back has not dampened over the years.”

  “Some say his fervor has increased tenfold,” Edwin remarked. “The king has even sent troops into the Lowlands looking for information.”

  Hugh nodded. “And while John searches for his treasure, Alford searches for Christen because he believes she knows where the box is hidden. He means to prove her father stole it. Alford has also sent inquiries over the years to all the clans asking about Christen . . .”

  “But none of his inquiries were ever answered.”

  “That is true,” Hugh agreed. “No one would admit he knew anyth
ing about her . . . until the Highlander arrived.”

  “But what of the bargain struck between this traitor and our Alford?”

  Hugh looked at the baron, waiting for him to answer the question, but Alford’s eyes were closed and his head drooped down on his chest. He appeared to be dozing.

  “I’ve never seen the baron so drunk,” Hugh whispered loudly to his friend. “Look how the wine has lulled him to sleep.”

  Edwin shrugged. “And the bargain?” he nagged.

  “The baron agreed to hold the boy captive to draw out his brother, Laird Ramsey Sinclair, so that the Highlander could kill him. The child’s simply a pawn, and when the game is over and Ramsey is killed . . .”

  “The boy no longer serves any purpose.”

  “Exactly,” Hugh agreed. “So you see, beating him will not concern the Highlander at all.”

  “What did the baron get out of this bargain?”

  “The Highlander gave him gold and something more,” he said. “I will leave that for Alford to explain. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”

  Edwin was incensed to be left out. He shoved his elbow hard into Alford’s side. The baron jerked upright and muttered a blasphemy.

  Edwin then demanded to know the particulars of the bargain. Alford took a drink before answering.

  “The traitor gave me information more important than gold.”

  “What could be more important?” Edwin asked.

  Alford smiled. “I told you he gave me the name of the clan Christen hides in, and when he has gotten what he wants, he vows to tell me the name she uses now. So you see, if Gillian should fail me, the Highlander will come to my aid.”

  “Why won’t he tell you now? It would make it so much easier if you knew . . .”

  “He doesn’t trust our baron,” Hugh chuckled. “This Ramsey must die first. Then he swears he’ll give us her name.”

  Gillian couldn’t believe the three of them were talking so freely in front of her. They were all too drunk to be cautious, and she doubted that any of them would remember a word he said come tomorrow morning.

  Edwin and Hugh seemed to think Alford was going to be given a reward by the king, and they were now discussing what he would do with it. She was blessedly thankful for their inattention, for when she had heard that the Highlander would soon arrive at Dunhanshire, she felt as though the floor had just dropped away. Inwardly reeling, her stomach lurched with her panic and she swayed on her feet. Fortunately, Alford appeared oblivious to her distress.

  She knew why the traitor was coming, of course. He was going to tell Alford that the wrong boy had been taken, and God help Alec then. Time was about to run out.

  Alford yawned loudly and squinted at her. “Ah, Gillian, I forgot you were standing there. Now what were we discussing? Oh, yes,” he said as he turned to Hugh. “Since Gillian has so graciously offered to take the boy’s beating for him, you may accommodate her. Don’t touch her face,” he warned. “I’ve learned from experience that the bones in the face take much longer to heal, and I do so want to send her on my errand as soon as possible.”

  “And the boy?” Hugh asked.

  Alford sneered at Gillian when he answered. “I want him beaten too.”

  She pushed Alec behind her. “You’ll have to kill me first, Alford. I’m not going to let you touch him.”

  “But I don’t want to kill you, Gillian. I want you to bring your sister to me.”

  The mockery in his voice was deliberate, for he wanted her to know he was laughing at her pitiful attempts to protect the child. Did she really believe her wants mattered to him? And how dare she give him orders, telling him what he could and could not do. He would get his way, of course, but also teach her a valuable lesson at the same time. She would learn once and for all how insignificant she was.

  “I swear to you, if you harm the boy, I won’t bring Christen to you.”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” Alford sounded bored. “You’ve already made that empty threat.”

  Hugh pushed his chair back and struggled to stand. Gillian frantically tried to think of something she could do or say that would stop the atrocity.

  “You don’t really want Christen back, do you?”

  Alford tilted his head toward Gillian. “Of course I want her back. I have grand plans for her.”

  Deliberately trying to incite his wrath to take his attention away from the child, she laughed. “Oh, I know all about your grand plans. You want King John’s precious box, and you think Christen has it, don’t you? That’s what you really want, and you think that if she’s forced back here, she’ll bring the treasure with her. You want to prove that my father murdered the king’s lover and stole the box. Then you think you’ll win the prize and Dunhanshire land. Isn’t that your grand plan?”

  Alford reacted as though she had just thrown boiling oil in his face. Howling in rage, he leapt to his feet. His chair flew backward, crashing into the wall.

  “You do remember the box,” he bellowed as he rushed around the corner of the table toward her, shoving Hugh out of his path. “And you know where it’s hidden.”

  “Of course I know,” she lied.

  Another unearthly howl filled the hall as Alford ran to her. “Tell me where it is,” he demanded. “Christen does have it, doesn’t she? I knew . . . I knew she had taken it . . . that crazy Ector told me her father gave it to her. Your sister stole it from me, and you’ve known . . . all this time that I’ve been out of my mind searching . . . you knew . . . all this time you knew.”

  His temper exploded and he slammed his fist into her jaw, knocking her to the floor.

  He was beyond reason now. His leather boot slammed into her tender skin. He viciously kicked her again and again, determined to make her scream in agony, to make her sorry that she had dared to keep the truth hidden from him. She had known all this time that the box could destroy her father’s name and win Dunhanshire and the King’s reward. All these years the bitch had deliberately tormented him.

  “I will give the box to the king . . . and I alone,” he railed, panting from exertion. “The reward will be mine . . . mine . . . mine.”

  Reeling from the blow to her face, Gillian was too dazed to fight back. Yet she had enough presence of mind to roll to her side and try to protect her head with her arms. Her back and legs took most of the pounding, but ironically the pain wasn’t as terrible as Alford wanted it to be, for in her nearly unconscious state, she barely felt the blows from his booted foot.

  She became fully alert when Alec threw himself on top of her. Hysterical, he screamed at the top of his lungs as she pushed him away from Alford. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight, trying to shield him, and then she grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed, hoping he would understand she wanted him to be silent. Alford’s rage was fully directed on her now, and she was terrified that the boy’s interference would draw his wrath.

  Spittle ran down the sides of Alford’s face with each obscenity he shouted as he continued to inflict his punishment. Quickly exhausted, he lost his balance and staggered backward. The sight so amused Hugh, he was overcome with laughter. Edwin didn’t want the entertainment to stop and shouted encouragement to spur Alford on. Gillian’s ears rang from the deafening noise, and the room swirled around her in a hazy blur, but she desperately tried to focus on the terrified little boy.

  “Hush,” she whispered. “Hush now.”

  As though someone had cupped a hand over his mouth to silence him, Alec stopped screaming in mid wail. Only inches away from her face, his eyes wide with fear, he gave her a quick nod to let her know he would be quiet. She was so pleased with him, she forced a weak smile.

  “Get hold of yourself, Alford,” Hugh shouted between gales of laughter. He brushed the tears away from his cheeks before adding, “She won’t be able to go anywhere if you kill her.”

  Alford stumbled back against the table. “Yes, yes,” he panted. “I must control myself.”

  He wiped the sweat from
his brow, shoved the boy away from Gillian, and jerked her to her feet. Blood trickled down the side of her mouth, and he smugly nodded in satisfaction, for he could see the glazed look in her eyes and knew he had caused her considerable pain.

  “You dare to make me lose my temper,” he muttered. “You have no one to blame but yourself for your pain. I’ll allow you two days’ time to recover, and then you will leave Dunhanshire and go to that godforsaken land called the Highlands. Your sister hides with the clan MacPherson. Find her,” he ordered, “and bring her and the box to me.”

  He adjusted his tunic as he staggered back to the table, angrily motioning for the servant to pick up his chair. Once he had resumed his seat, he mopped his brow with his sleeve and downed a full goblet of wine.

  “If you fail me, Gillian, the man you hold so dear will suffer the consequences. Your uncle will die a slow, agonizing death. I swear to you that I will make him beg me to put him out of his misery. The boy should also be killed,” he added almost as an afterthought. “But when you bring Christen and the box to me, I give you my word I will let the child live in spite of my promise to the Highland traitor.”

  “But what if she can only bring one back and not the other?” Hugh asked.

  Edwin had also considered the question. “Which is more important to you, Baron, Christen or the king’s box?”

  “The box, of course,” Alford answered. “But I want both, and if Gillian brings only one, her uncle dies.”

  Hugh swaggered around the table to face Gillian. The lust she saw in his eyes made her inwardly cringe.

  He kept his gaze on her when he spoke to Alford. “You and I have been friends a long time,” he reminded the baron. “And I have never asked for anything . . . until now. Give me Gillian.”

  Alford was surprised and amused by Hugh’s request. “You would take a witch to your bed?”