Alternate ending intended to begin on page 540 of Julie Garwood's Ransom. She owns all rights to the original story and characters.
"Why did you kiss me?"
"I wanted to," he answered, his voice as smooth as velvet.
"Were you…Was it…a farewell kiss? Were you saying good-bye?"
He laughed. "No," he answered. "You're going home with me."
"I'm staying here. I'm going to marry an Englishman."
"The hell you are," he roared, and he was more stunned than she was by his burst of temper. No woman had ever been able to get that kind of reaction from him, but the thought of his Bridgid with any other man, an Englishman no less, enraged him.
"Baron Chapman," Ramsey fairly screamed for the old man's attentions, his long-standing reputation for diplomacy was swiftly abandoning him. He could only be deferential to this obstinate little whip of a girl and her elderly helpmate so much. "Where are Bridgid's things?"
Ramsey took her by an unwilling hand and dragged her from the home. She tugged in earnest, trying to extricate herself from him, to no avail. His grip was as strong as his determination.
Baron Chapman peered out an upstairs window at the pair struggling to assert their wishes on each other. He waved to the Highland laird. "Her things are already tied to her horse, Laird Sinclair."
"Thank you, sir, for your kind hospitality of my clanswoman. But, she has overstayed her welcome."
"Uncle Morgan," she called out to him, "I am not yet ready to leave. You have suddenly become very important to me."
"As you have to me, my dear girl," he called out as he waved good-bye to her. She would get no more help from the old man.
Ramsey finally stopped pulling on her and let go when they were beside their horses. He went to lift Bridgid on her horse, but she darted away from him shaking her head. He exhaled loudly and searched for another tack.
"There has been a request for your hand in marriage."
"Is that why you want to take me home? To marry me off to a man I don't love? Who is he," she demanded, emotionally spent now and uncaring that tears were streaming down her face.
He started toward her.
"Don't you dare kiss me again," she ordered. "I can't think when you…Just don't," she stammered. "And as for the offer, I decline."
"You can't decline until you know who he is," he reasoned.
"All right. Tell me his name, and then I'll decline. You're going to praise him first though, aren't you? That's what you always do to try to get me to agree," she ended, and even she could hear the heartbreak in her voice.
"No, I'm not going to praise him. He's riddled with flaws."
She turned to him then, suddenly interested. "He is?"
He slowly nodded. "I have it on good authority that he's stupid and arrogant and obstinate, or at least he was until he realized what a fool he has been."
"But, that's what I said about…you."
Ramsey nodded. "Will you marry me, Bridgid?"
She stared awestruck at the man and the words she had waited for for so long.
"No, Laird. I know of your obligation to Meggan and the MacPhersons. You are kind. But, I cannot accept." She tried to walk back into the house.
"Damn it, Bridgid, there are no obligations. Get…Where are you going?…Get back here." He motioned for his soldiers to get on their horses. "Bridgid! We are to home. Now! Whatever else I am to you, I am your laird. Have you forgotten your obligation to obey me?"
She stopped in her tracks. She did have an obligation to obey him. But, she determined, she was no longer obligated in her heart to love him. She would follow…for now. She gritted her teeth, frustrated. But, somehow, she would get away, far away from Ramsey Sinclair.
She returned to him, nodded in meek humility, and climbed atop her horse.
Sinclair and his clansmen rode hard for the border. Ramsey was determined not to sleep another night on English soil. His soldiers could keep up. And, Bridgid, he noticed, was so angry with him that, even if she needed to, she would never deign to ask him to stop. Thus, when they stopped for the night, they were in the Scottish lowlands and several hours hard ride from Baron Chapman's holding. She would be his. He was sure of it. The closer they got to his home, the closer he got to her.
They made camp and a fire was built as Bridgid wandered to a lake to clean up and be alone.
"The arrogant cur," she hissed as she walked off her soreness. "The obstinate whoreson," she continued nurturing her wounded heart and her anger. "He thinks to take me and place me where he will. Out of my mother's home, in the servant's quarters, as his wife, under his heel. No! I am not some meek girl who would swoon at his attention, his lovely eyes, his beautiful dimples. No! I must be far, far away from him to gain any proper perspective."
"Bridgid!" She heard heavy footfalls coming ever closer and knew it would only dare to be one person.
"Laird, I am indisposed. I beg you leave me be."
He cleared his throat, choking down a chuckle. "Come now to eat. You need your strength for the journey ahead."
"Can it not wait," she called. "I must have some privacy. I desperately need my bath and I am almost finished. I urge you to understand."
Ramsey was hiding in the trees not ten feet away from her and could clearly see she was neither indisposed nor bathing. Frustrated at his sudden need to see her and be near her, he decided to let her have her time. He would enforce discipline at all times. Even, if necessary, within himself.
"As you will, then," he called out and returned to camp.
A long time later Bridgid returned to the camp. Her hair was damp and she smelled of roses. She appeared to be in high spirits, restored. Ramsey indicated the spot next to him and Bridgid sat down upon the plaid before the fire. He handed her some cheese and some bread as he sipped some wine from a leather flask and then handed it to her.
"I have informed the men of our happy decision to marry." Bridgid choked as she struggled to swallow.
Ramsey slapped her back gently. "Slow down, my sweet, I beg you, or your delight will be misinterpreted as intemperance." She covered her mouth as she coughed; a thinly veiled glare pierced him where he sat.
"Congratulations, milady," said Proster. "It will be a joyous celebration. You will make us very proud.
"Aye," Ker and Alan confirmed, "we could not ask for a better Lady Sinclair than you, lass.
"Lady," Proster was quick to correct, "she is your lady and you will henceforth treat her as such."
"No, I beg you, there is no need for such formality," she quickly implored. Ramsey was, as always, enjoying her discomfort. "You have known me as Bridgid and you shall always know me as simply Bridgid."
Confused, Proster, Ker, and Alan turned to their laird. "Is that the way of it in the Sinclair clan? It has never been so in the MacPhersons."
"It has never been and never will be in the Sinclairs. She is your lady," Ramsey replied.
Bridgid's vehement denial of this entire conversation was burning her throat. Yet, reason stayed her. If she sought to escape on this very night, she would have to assure Ramsey she was of a different mind altogether. She would have to literally lull him into a false sense of security.
She had formed her plan as she bathed. She needed time to bathe and eat and rest. Ramsey and his loyal men needed time to fall deeply asleep. All she carried with her would already be strapped to her horse's back. She needed merely to lead it slowly, painstakingly, and, at the utmost, quietly away from the sleeping camp. When they awoke, she would be long gone. Hopefully, she could remember the locations of the kind Englishmen who had helped her and Gillian along their way. Surely, they would come to her aid. At least she hoped they would.
"It is time to go to sleep." Ramsey was jerking her from her plans. He stood and motioned toward a makeshift tent. "You will sleep there." She nodded, realizing her tired senses were strained by exhaustion much more than she thought.
She wandered over and, nodding her kind goodnights to the men, slipped into the tent and curled up under a plaid.
Just before she drifted off to sleep, she felt a weight land near her and she jolted up.
"Laird, what on God's green earth are you doing here? It is entirely inappropriate for you to share my tent when I am yet unwed and still very much a virgin. You may not dishonor me in this way."
Her body was crackling with a surprising amount of astonishment and anger.
"Bridgid, in mere days we will be married and everyone in this camp knows it. I am too tired to fight with you tonight, let alone mount a serious effort at seduction. Trust me. You are more than safe with me sleeping here." He leaked his assertion out with the last of his energy and collapsed again next to her, throwing his heavy arm around her body and hugging her close to him. But, she peeled his arm off of her.
"You would have my mother learn of this? She is suspicious of me already." She crawled out of the tent, dragging a plaid with her. "I will sleep over here."
Ramsey peered after her as she spread out in the midst of the camp and near the dying fire. He considered her safe where she lay and he would rest to fight with her yet another day. He smiled as he looked forward to it.
Bridgid awoke suddenly. The fire had died completely and she was chilled. She quickly peered around her, getting her bearings. The faintest blue light of morning was threatening to appear. She had slept much longer than she planned. Yet, all in the camp seemed to be sound asleep. There was no time to lose.
She rose, sliding out of her plaid and crept on stealth feet to her horse. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She continually peered behind her to check that no one in the camp was stirring. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She unwrapped her horse's rope from its moorings on the nearest tree and spoke to it with her eyes as she glided it away. Be my silent champion; make no sound, no swish of your tail, no whinny, no neigh, not this morning of all mornings.
Together, they walked off, heading south.
Ramsey was not a powerful Highland laird because he was a fool or unprepared. The little whip had made a sound. That she woke, stood, and walked right past his tent was more than enough to alert him to her presence and her plan. The little woman thought she could escape.
Lazily he stretched, yawning. It was damn early for this. Too early. He walked out of his tent throwing his plaid around him. He would surprise her. Of course. That he was right behind her would surprise her. He didn't think nudity was necessary. After all, as she was fond of reminding him, she was still quite innocent. God, he loved that.
He briefly debated whether or not to take his horse. After all, she had hers. Though she left on foot and clearly hadn't decided she was far enough away to ride, else he would have heard her. No, he would approach on foot and circuitously. She would never see him coming.
Bridgid debated riding the horse nearly from the moment she walked away from camp but always determined they were too close and the stiff clop of the hooves would alert the camp including the one man she wished to elude.
As she walked, she imagined her new life in England with her friend, Gillian, and her dear Uncle Morgan and, perhaps one day, settling down and marrying a nice man, someone she could love and someone who loved her. In particular, that he be nothing whatsoever like Ramsey Sinclair, that he be kind and gentle and caring and loving and considerate. He would cherish her and welcome her, he would seek her advice and counsel, he would take care of her and she would take care of him. A true give and take in an entirely different vein than the roles that had, thus far, been thrust upon her. With each step she took she grew ever more eager for it.
"I had no idea you were such an early riser. Are you so eager, then, to be home?"
She froze. Ramsey was leaning against a tree directly in front of her; one of his legs was bent casually, his foot resting on the trunk. She nodded, completely unsure of his question and why she was nodding.
He shook his head and clucked his tongue as he shrugged off the tree and moved toward her. "I cannot help but think that each time you are given free rein to wander off on your own, you roam far afield in an entirely wrong direction." He stared at her, trying to gauge her reaction. "Had you any idea, my dear, that you were moving south?"
She shook her head, then, although why she shook her head was a matter left entirely out of her grasp. Of course she knew she was moving south. 'Twas her intent…and he knew it. She was stunned to see him.
He walked to her very slowly. She did not move.
When he was directly in front of her, he cracked a faint smile. Leaning down, he placed a kiss upon her lips. She did not respond, but she did not push him away. He wrapped his arms around her waist and strengthened the kiss. It was a gentle assault, yet purposeful in its intent. He sought merely to remind her that she was his.
When she finally came to her senses, she pushed her hands against his chest and he loosened his grip.
"Laird, I have asked you not to kiss me again. You know very well that it scatters my intentions to the winds."
He nodded. Certainly, he knew. "Ramsey."
"Hmm?"
"You may call me Ramsey."
"I have no intention of calling you Ramsey. 'Tis too intimate."
"And does intimacy with me scare you?"
"It does not. I do not frighten easily, as you would do well to notice."
"I have. 'Tis one of the reasons you will be my lady."
"One? You imply, then, that there is more than one."
"There is."
"And the most pressing?" Please say love; please say love.
"I want you. That is enough."
"Not for me," she said, as she turned abruptly away from him and once again resumed her walk with her horse.
Ramsey watched her strut away from him. He loved to watch the sway of her hips when she was riled, determined. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Love, need I remind you again, you are going in the wrong direction?"
"You needn't," she called back to him, "I know my way, Laird, better than you may appreciate."
"Bridgid, don't make me come after you again."
"You needn't bother, Laird."
The little twit was dismissing him and at a good clip, too. He ran after her. She turned at the sound of his heavy footfalls coming toward her and she climbed atop the horse and rode off.
Momentarily stunned that she could be getting away from him, Ramsey watched her fleeing form. Then he remembered the horse.
His whistle rent the early morning air and the mare stopped in its tracks and changed directions. Bridgid fought the mare as it returned to its master. And before she could think what to do next, Ramsey swung up on the horse behind her, grabbed the reins and started back to camp.
"You will not run away again. You exhaust me, Bridgid."
"A smart man may cut his losses with such a distraction."
"A smart man may. But, you have informed me that I am stupid and I am beginning to agree with you."