He caught her watching him. The gleam in his eyes made her feel breathless, and she had a sudden urge to move into his arms and kiss that scowl right off his face. She sighed instead and thanked God the man couldn't read her unladylike thoughts.
"I say we take the Maitland soldiers outside and have a word with them, Laird," Robert suggested.
"A fist is more powerful than a word, Robert," Liam said. "What say we take them all on?"
Gillian hadn't been paying much attention to the Buchanan soldiers' grumblings until she heard the word "fist."
"You will not fight tonight," she ordered. "This is a celebration, not a brawl."
"But, milady, a good fight is always cause for celebration," Stephen explained.
"Are you telling me you enjoy fighting?"
The soldiers looked at one another, obviously perplexed by her question. The usually dour-faced Robert actually grinned.
"It's what we do," Liam told her.
Gillian kept waiting for Brodick to put a stop to the outrageous talk, but he didn't say a word. When she squeezed his hand, he merely retaliated by squeezing hers.
"I don't care if you enjoy fighting or not," she began. "Laird Maitland will be most displeased if you cause trouble tonight."
"But, milady, his soldiers continue to stare at you. We can't allow that."
"Yes, you can."
"It's insolent," Stephen explained.
"If anyone is staring, then it's my own fault."
"Aye, it is your fault." Brodick finally spoke. "You're too damned beautiful tonight."
She couldn't make up her mind if she was pleased or irritated. "Only you could make a compliment sound like a criticism."
"It was a criticism," he told her. "You simply cannot look the way you do and expect to be ignored. It's your own fault people are staring at you."
She jerked her hand away from his. "And just exactly what could I do to change the way I look?"
"It's your hair, milady," Aaron said. "Perhaps you could bind it up for tonight and cover it with a cloth."
"I'll do no such thing."
"It's also the gown she's wearing," Liam decided. "Milady, couldn't you find something less… fitted… for tonight?"
She glanced down at herself and then looked up. "Would a wheat sack do, Liam?" she asked.
The daft soldier looked as though he were actually considering the possibility. She rolled her eyes in vexation. "Those soldiers who might have glanced my way were probably just perplexed because they've noticed I'm wearing the Buchanan plaid. I shouldn't have put the thing on."
"Why not, milady?" Robert asked. "We like seeing you in our plaid."
"Only a Buchanan should wear your colors," she replied. "And I shouldn't proclaim to be something I'm not. If you'll excuse me, I'll just go back upstairs and put my old clothes on."
"No, you won't," Brodick said. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him. His goal was to get her to Iain and Judith so that they could introduce her to those they wanted her to meet, but the Maitland soldiers kept interfering with eager requests to meet Gillian. One upstart, built like a bull, was a little too enthusiastic and persistent for Brodick's liking, and he had to knock the man to his knees to get him out of their path as they made their way forward.
Gillian was appalled by his behavior. "You're the Buchanan laird," she reminded him in a whisper.
"I know who I am," he snapped.
If he wasn't going to worry about being overheard, then she wouldn't worry about it either. "Then act like it," she snapped back.
He laughed. "I am. In fact, I'm upholding our reputation and our traditions."
"You and your soldiers are acting like bullies."
"It's good of you to notice."
She gave up trying to reason with him. Elbow shove by elbow shove, they finally reached Iain and Judith. The Maitland laird bowed to her before turning his attention and his obvious displeasure on Brodick.
"Control your soldiers," he ordered. "Or I will."
Brodick grinned. Gillian turned around to find out what Brodick's men were up to and was further distressed to see that they were all doing their best to incite the Maitlands to fight.
She had no right to give orders to the Buchanan soldiers, but she still felt somehow responsible for their actions. She had become quite fond of all of them in a very short while, and she didn't want them to get on Iain's bad side even though the five rascals seemed to thrive on trouble. Fighting, it appeared, was as enjoyable to them as sweets to a child.
"Pray excuse me for one moment, Laird Maitland. I would like to have a word with Brodick's soldiers."
She made a curtsy to her host and hostess, ignoring Brodick altogether because she was having to do his duty for him, and then hurried over to his soldiers, who were in the midst of antagonizing a large group of Maitland warriors.
In a voice loud enough to be overheard by the Maitlands, she said, "It would please me if you act like gentlemen tonight."
They looked crestfallen, but quickly nodded their agreement. She smiled as she turned to the Maitlands.
"Your laird has decreed that none of his soldiers will fight tonight. I realize what a disappointment that must be for all of you good men, but as you know the Buchanans are honorable men, and they will not provoke you further."
"If they cannot fight us, why bother?" Liam said. "Your laird has taken the fun out of the game."
One of the Maitland soldiers slapped his shoulder. "Then what say we break open a keg of ale? We'll show you how Eric can down a full jug without once swallowing. I wager you can't top that feat."
Aaron disagreed, and after bowing to Lady Gillian, the Buchanans followed the Maitlands to the buttery to fetch the ale.
The competition, it seemed, was on.
"Children, every one of them," she muttered as she picked up her skirts and hurried back to the Maitlands.
Judith pulled her away from the men to introduce her to her dearest friend, a pretty, freckle-faced, redheaded lady with two full names, Frances Catherine.
"Her husband, Patrick, is Iain's brother," Judith explained. "And Frances Catherine and I have been friends for many years."
Frances Catherine's smile made Gillian feel at ease in a matter of seconds.
"Judith and I have been whispering about you," she admitted. "You have captured Brodick's attention, and that is no small accomplishment, Gillian. He doesn't like the English much," she added, softening the truth.
"Did he tell you he and Ramsey went to England a long time ago to find brides?" Judith asked.
Gillian's eyes widened and she glanced at Brodick. "No, he didn't tell me. When did he and his friend go to England?"
"It was at least six or seven years ago."
"More like eight," Frances Catherine told her friend.
"What happened?" Gillian asked.
"They were both in love with Judith," Frances Catherine said.
"They were not," Judith argued.
"Yes, they were," she insisted. "But of course Judith was already married to Iain, so they decided they would find brides in England just like her."
Gillian smiled. "They were very young then, weren't they?"
"With foolish expectations," Frances Catherine added. "None of the ladies they met measured up to their Judith-"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Frances Catherine. You needn't make me sound like a saint. They weren't looking for ladies like me. They were just restless and hadn't found mates here. They soon came to their senses, however, and came back home. Both vowed to Iain that they would marry Highlanders."
"And that was that," Frances Catherine said.
"Until you came along," Judith remarked with a smile.
"Brodick has been very kind to me," Gillian said. "But that is all there is to it. He's a very kind man," she added in a stammer.