He whispered against her hair. "Looks like the devil has come to Todlaw after all." He watched helplessly as the bastard neared, his heart pounding louder by the second…until the moment he recognized the stranger and the organ fairly exploded in his chest.
A man who will come to take me away…
* * *
Brigid struggledunder the pressure of Flanders' hold on her. Only when she gasped for lack of air did he realize he'd nearly crushed her. But at least it broke the spell and she was able to look away from the dark stranger riding into their lives.
Brigid, I assume?
The words came clearly into her head, as if the devil were standing before her.
She dared not answer. The sight of him, combined with the inevitability of her vision, left her trembling with fear. He would take her away, and there was nothing she could do to thwart him.
Easy, lass. I am here to help.
So, he could read more than her thoughts?
Who are ye?she demanded.
In due time, Brigid. In due time.
Stout Duncan gave Atholl and Stephan only a passing glance as he and his retinue forced them from the road and turned for the opening gates. The war council at large hurried down from the wall with wide smiles to greet him. Brigid's slippers barely touched the ground with Flanders' helpful hand around her waist, keeping her close.
"Father!" Robert looked up adoringly at his still-mounted father, no longer the laird of Todlaw, but the boy who missed his family dearly. As soon as the man dismounted, however, it was the father who looked up at the son.
"Robert, my lad!" He chuckled, then cleared his throat. "That is,Laird Duncan, we request yer hospitality. And in exchange, our arms are yers."
Huzzahs rang out from his men and all around the courtyard as the people of Todlaw celebrated their relief.
Duncan waved everyone quiet again and scowled. "What's this I hear about Flanders settling on one woman?"
While everyone laughed, the tall stranger dismounted and removed his helmet. His hair was long and curled and the color that rivaled Brigid's own. "All I can say," he boomed, "is it's about damned time!"
The courtyard fell deathly quiet. Flanders' chest turned as immovable as stone beneath her hand. His mouth hung open, his eyes unbelieving.
"James," Robert whispered. "James, is it ye?"
The man wrapped his arms around the young laird and lifted him off the ground. "It's me, baby brother. Ye're not hallucinatin’."
Stout Duncan beamed as if it were the best day of his life. "I've got my lads back again." Then he noticed Brigid or rather, Flanders’ tight hold on her, and stepped close. "Ye must call me father." He scooped up her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. "And if ye already have a father,Ishall be yer favorite."
* * *
Flanders still couldn’t believeit was James who slammed into him and lifted him off the ground, turned in a circle, and set him back down again before pounding the side of Flanders’ shoulder. Somewhere in there, he’d lost his hold on Brigid.
“Come on, mate. It’s not like I’m back from the dead. I’m just…back for a visit is all.” He stepped aside and gestured to the dark stranger Flanders may or may not have labeled rightly when he’d thought him the devil.
“Ye remember Wickham.”
Flanders took a deep breath and eyed Wickham carefully. If he was here to steal Brigid from him, he was mistaken.
The man grinned and held out his hand for Flanders to take. “Flanders Leesborn. I admit, I’ve heard yer praises often enough to make me doubt them.”
“Wickham Muir, is it? I pity a man so homely. Perhaps, if ye linger for a day or two, we can remedy that.” Flanders shook the offered hand, then wiggled his nose as if to demonstrate how Wickham’s might be adjusted for him. “No trouble a’ tall.”
Wickham only grinned wider.
He wasn’t aware of precisely when the older Duncan had won his woman away from him. He had no choice but to follow the pair up the steps.
