Part 72 (1/2)

Patrick's hold on her knee became painful.

”My name is Douglas Maclean,” he answered.

”Are you commander over these men or just the most outspoken?”

He ignored the insult. ”I'm the laird's son,” he said. ”Now tell me who-”

He stopped his demand when he noticed the radical change that came over the beautiful woman. The color had left her face. She almost fell off her horse, and didn't even seem to notice. He reached over and grabbed hold of her arm.

She was daring to shake her head at him. ”You cannot be his son.”

The vehemence in his voice confused him. ”The h.e.l.l I can't,” he replied.

She refused to believe him. A thought popped into her mind. Her father must have been married once before. Yes, that was it, she told herself. Douglas looked several years older than she... ”Who was your mother?” she demanded.

”Why are you asking me such questions?”

”Answer me.”

The fury in her voice surprised him. ”And if I do answer you, will you then tell me who you are?”

”Yes,” she promised.

He nodded. ”Very well,” he said, his voice mild once again. ”My mother was an English b.i.t.c.h. Her accent was very like your own. That much I remember. Now tell me who you are,” he demanded again.

She was desperately trying to keep her wits about her. ”How old are you?”

He told her, then painfully squeezed her arm.

Judith thought she was going to be sick. Douglas was five years older than she, and his eyes, dear G.o.d, his eyes were the same color as her own. Was his hair the exact shade, too? No, no, she told herself. Hers was much lighter.

She had to take a deep breath to keep herself from gagging. She slumped to the side of her saddle, close to Patrick's side.

Dear G.o.d, it was true. Douglas was her brother.

Patrick tried to put his arm around her. Douglas jerked her toward him, then lifted her from her mount and settled her in front of him.

”What the h.e.l.l's wrong with her?” he asked.

No one answered him. Douglas growled in frustration. He still didn't know who the woman belonged to, but he recognized Patrick, all right.

”The Maitland laird will come after his brother,” he told his men. ”We'll be ready to give him a proper greeting. Bring them to my father's holding,” he ordered with a nod toward Graham and Patrick.

The length of time it took to get to the Maclean keep was shortened considerably because they were able to ride directly there, across Dunbar land. Patrick memorized every detail on the way for future use.

Judith didn't pay any attention to where they were going. She kept her eyes tightly closed while she tried to sort out this G.o.d-awful situation in her mind.

She wanted to weep with shame over her mother's treachery. How could she abandon her child? Judith was so sickened inside, she could barely concentrate on anything but keeping her stomach settled.

As they rode, she wondered how Douglas would react if she threw up all over him.