Scene intended to be inserted near page 407 of Julie Garwood's Ransom. She owns all rights to the original story and characters.
"Bridgid?"
She whirled around at the sound of her name. That anyone should find her in his room. That he should find her in his room.
"My most humble apologies, Laird," Bridgid said, bowing low. "No one but you should be in your room."
"Yes. And, those who seek to serve me at my request." Ramsey continually glanced at her as he quickly surveyed the room. "What do you here?" And where is Marion?
Bridgid stood now with her head turned down, unable to meet his eyes. The topic upon her tongue was most embarrassing. She wished terribly that she could shrink into a pebble and fall away into one of the cracks on the floor.
Ramsey took a step towards her. "Bridgid?"
"I have saved you, Laird, from a most delicate and duplicitous situation," Bridgid finally managed to croak out. "And now that it is over, with your permission, I shall take my leave." Without looking at him, she strode to the door.
"You do not have my permission to leave," he said in exasperation, as she was lifting the latch on the door.
"I beg your pardon," Bridgid asked the pained wood of the door. She was frozen in her need to escape.
Ramsey moved quickly to place his hand upon the door, not allowing her to open it. "If you have a care for your reputation, I beg you, consider using some discretion when leaving this room."
Bridgid stepped away from the door as if having been stung. In truth, she had only considered escape and not the possibility of being seen. Trapped in her own particular brand of purgatory, she stood peering determinedly at the floor.
Ramsey locked the door and crossed the room to sit in one of two chairs placed before a roaring fire. Bridgid KirkConnell should not be in his room. He considered her presence, her obvious embarrassment. Clearly his bedmate had fled, no doubt a result of Bridgid somehow. She should not be in his room, aye. But, she was. Spiriting her away now or a few moments from now would surely make little difference. He determined to have some fun, as fun of an entirely different sort was eluding him tonight.
"Is there something particularly entertaining about my floor," Ramsey asked, unable to keep the chuckle out of his voice.
Bridgid's head bowed, her hands clasped in front of her as if in prayer, she scuffed one of her shoes along the cold floor. "It is lovely…and brown…and sturdy. 'Tis a good floor, Laird."
"Uh-hmm," he responded in return, more than a little incredulous at her continuing discomfort. Ramsey sat forward in his chair as he removed his sword. "Can you explain your presence in my room, Bridgid?" Let us be to the heart of the matter.
"Yes, Laird."
"And," he asked, when she refused to elaborate.
"As I said," she stumbled on, "I have saved you—"
"Yes, from 'a most delicate and duplicitous situation,' he interrupted. "Can you not expand on this?" He waved a hand in a circular motion in the air. "I would know more."
"Well, you see—"
"Can you not look at me when addressing me, Bridgid? I grow tired of this timidity you show. We both know it to be contrived."
Bridgid's head jerked up as she suddenly flashed daggers into him. Ramsey smiled. Finally.
"Come, sit with me while we ferret out the truth."
She stood ramrod straight, clinging to her place in the room.
"Come," he insisted, as he gestured her over to him, "you are perfectly safe with me."
Bridgid knew this to be true. Ramsey demonstrated little regard for her beyond their periodic meetings to discuss yet another marriage proposal. He thought her a menace, that she should be able to determine her husband, that she should love the man. He found her annoying. Still, in this moment of her most extreme discomfort, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Perturbed at this, she sashayed over to him and flounced down into the chair in front of him. However she felt, she would act sure-hearted.
"The widow Marion was here."
He said nothing.
"She was indisposed."
No reaction.
"And, in your bed," Bridgid's voice rose with each pronouncement, her words were clipped and raw as she spit them at him.
Silence reigned for a moment.
"And, this distressed you," he finally deigned to ask. He enjoyed her outrage. In all honesty he enjoyed her…in his room…alone with him.
"Laird, I assure you, she had nothing but the most…" Her voice trailed off along with her courage. His eyebrows rose as he stared into her eyes, waiting. "She had most impure intentions. I could not see you dishonored in that way." Again, her eyes floated downward, this time to her lap.
Her naïveté struck him, as did her caring heart.
"I had no idea you cared so much about preserving my honor."
She stared at him, struck and confused. "Laird, you insult me when you even suggest otherwise. I am, as you, a Sinclair. I care about this clan and its laird."
Her vehemence was unsettling. She cared about him. Would she feel differently once she knew?
"Bridgid…how can I tell her?…I asked Marion to warm my bed. You found her here at my request," Ramsey finally said.
As if she had been physically struck by the truth, Bridgid shrunk back into the chair as far as she could. Her body, indeed her body language, was wounded. Ramsey knew it. He leaned into the space she had just vacated and grabbed one of her hands, looking to make eye contact but she refused him even that.
"You are innocent to these things, as you should be…"
Bridgid wiped at the unruly tears determined to fall and shook her head to negate what, she knew not. I am innocent to these things! Ah, but the truth was there in the furious shake of her head. She did not want to be, not with him.
"…and before our relationship suddenly changes, I shall make certain that you continue to be." But, his hand that was once in hers was now resting on her lap. It seared them both.
Ramsey stood abruptly and fairly flew to the door.
"Stay where you are," he said. "Do not make a sound."
Bridgid nodded in answer, her only response to the now-vacated chair in front of her.
Ramsey opened the door and peered into the hallway. No one appeared to be about. He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
Bridgid turned to see herself alone in his room.
Ramsey explored the back stairway and the path outside of the keep that led out to the servant's quarters. Everything appeared to be deserted and quiet. He quickly returned to his room.
The door suddenly opened again.
"Bridgid, you must leave, now." She stood and hurried to the door in polite obedience.
Without a thought, Ramsey clasped Bridgid's head in his hands. He wanted to kiss her. But, when he saw the tears in her eyes, he let go. "I would have you leave as you came."
And she did…but she didn't.