The caravan returning to the Sinclair land rode another long, hard day and when they set up camp for the night, the ritual played out in a similar fashion. Bridgid sought the privacy of a lake for much-needed time to bathe and blister Ramsey Sinclair's being. She worked herself into an exhausted lather and when she finally returned to the camp, she could barely keep her eyes open to eat.
She leaned against a tree staring at the fire and the man just beyond it. He sought her eyes and smiled. She lowered hers and curled up under her plaid to sleep.
Sometime later she awakened as she vaguely realized she was being carried into a tent. She sputtered to consciousness.
"What are you doing, Laird?"
"Protecting you," Ramsey stated, as he lay her down and settled in next to her.
Bridgid shot up but Ramsey's arm closed around her in an unrelenting embrace.
"Protecting me? From what? Your advances? I'd wager the result would be better earned far away from you than near."
"True enough," he yawned, "if I were protecting you from me. But, I am not. I am protecting you from you."
"From me?"
"Your inclinations."
"My inclinations?"
"To flee. Must I explain?"
"I am not sleeping here with you."
Ramsey leaned over her, menacing. "You are, even if I have to tie you to me for the remainder of the night. I need to sleep and I will not wake again to find you gone." He nearly barked his last words at her then slumped down to rest.
She lay next to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. How could I have loved him so? And for so long? He treats me like a chore. He dishonors me. And he seeks to make me his wife?
Her jagged consciousness was shattered from the long journey as well as her emotions. She drifted off to sleep believing he had ruined her for any other man. But, perhaps he had done that a long time ago without her even knowing it.
She woke some hours later but the sky outside the tent told her it was still the dead of night. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Ramsey slept soundly, his breathing long and even. She carefully withdrew from the blanket and peered at him, studied him, the hard lines of his face and body were relaxed in exhausted sleep. She loved him still, very much. And she wished heartily that she could touch him. She wanted only to trace her fingers upon his eyes, his lips, down his torso. He tormented her. In sleep he was the man of her dreams. It was in waking that he became a nightmare. She could no longer afford to tarry.
Bridgid rose to a crouching position and sought to leave the tent.
"Bridgid."
She turned to him, crestfallen. Was there nothing this man missed? "I need to answer nature's call. Nothing more."
He rose, propping himself on an elbow. "And would nature's call be anywhere near your horse?"
She frowned at him. He smiled at her.
"You may see for yourself if you do not believe me." She quickly excused herself from the tent.
"Thank you. I do not." He followed after her. He was stark naked.
When Bridgid glanced back, she noticed his state of dishabille and sucked in an astonished breath.
"Laird, you are indecent," she shrieked, as if she was pointing out a fact that had escaped him. "Had you difficulty finding your plaid in the dark?"
"No." He laughed.
She walked at a clipped pace to the lake, though she did not have to go; she could only maintain the pretense to save face.
"Would you please find a way to stay far away from me, then?" She was waving an arm out behind her.
"Have you noticed that I find that task increasingly difficult?"
"I have noticed," she replied, as she picked up her skirt and sat unceremoniously on a rock.
He stood watching her. She appeared entirely relaxed and remained there for a good length of time.
Finally, he cleared his throat. "Have you finished, then?"
She turned to his voice and knew delay to be futile. "I will not return until you clothe yourself."
"Then we will have a good long wait here. For, I have no intention of walking back to camp and putting on my plaid only to return here to escort you back to camp only to remove my plaid again to sleep. Can you see the way of it? It would be pointless."
She silently agreed, but could not manage to get around his flagrant exhibitionism. She sat in contemplation.
Finally, Ramsey supplied the solution. "Love, return to camp and I will fade into the trees until you have passed, then I will take up my position of late, perpetually panting at your skirts. Can you find a flaw in that plan?"
She could not and, dejected, walked back to camp. Once beyond him, Ramsey followed closely at her heels. "I cannot help but think you cling a little too desperately to a thing soon sundered. This act does not fool me. I know you dream of it. Tell me, what did you see just now when you studied me back in the tent?"
Without thinking, she looked back at him while sucking in a shocked breath. Then, just as quickly she turned back, skirting the dead fire and crawling back into the tent.
"You needn't tell me," he said, laying down beside her, "I already know. I dream of it, too."
She wrapped her plaid around her tightly and turned away from him as he lay behind her and pulled her into his arms. He kissed the back of her ear and exhaled warmly into her neck. He drifted off to sleep thinking about how good she felt in his arms. She drifted off to sleep thinking that she felt too good in his arms.
The following day, Ramsey pulled up alongside Bridgid's horse.
"And, how are you faring today, my sweet?"
"You know very well how I am faring."
"You think me capable of seeing that which you refuse to show?"
She stared determinedly ahead.
"In all honesty, you know as well as I do that we are fast-approaching home and I would send for the priest in all possible haste. Have you given any more thought to my proposal?"
"I assumed you would assert your rights as laird regardless of how I felt on the matter."
"I am your laird and I have insisted that you return home to your family instead of remaining in England," he could scarcely keep the disdain from his face, "to bother an old man and seduce some poor Englishman."
"You think me a seductress," she screeched at him. "I am nothing but kind and gentle and obedient and –"
He laughed. "That may very well be, but ten proposals for your hand in marriage, including mine, would say otherwise."
She seethed.
"My father, when he was laird, made a promise to your father that he would see you wed only to a man you loved. Then he died, leaving the teeth-gritting task of seeing you married to me. I have, at your behest, declined offer after offer from many good men. They would have treated you well. But, no. Each time you claimed you could not because you did not love the man. Thus, until a few days ago you remained unmarried because the one man you loved had not asked for your hand."
He stopped and grabbed the reins for Bridgid's horse, forcing her to stop.
"I have asked you to marry me. And we both know it is I you love. You are right. As your laird I could assert my rights and no one would gainsay me, least of all, you. But, I would have you say the words in front of a priest of your own free will. Will you?"
He searched her eyes for the answer he knew was in her heart.
"I cannot."
He let go of her reins and cantered on slowly. She followed.
"You have said I am surely stupid and in this I clearly am," he said finally, after some contemplation. "For, I know not why you cannot. But, there is one thing I know for sure. As Laird Sinclair I am tasked with seeing you, Bridgid KirkConnell, married only to the man you love. And, I assure you," he leveled her with his brilliant eyes, "I will see it done before the week is out." With that he broke off again to set a fast pace.