“Aye, but no’ expecting trouble, the MacGregor probably would no’ have sent more than six or ten soldiers with ye. Brodiebrought a hundred,” she pointed out.
“Oh, aye, well, that may ha’e been a problem,” he agreed with what sounded like a frown in his voice. He fell silent brieflyas Dwyn continued tugging at the cord at his wrists, and then said, “Might I ask? Why is Laird Brodie so determined to marryye?”
Dwyn smiled faintly. Why, indeed, she thought grimly, but said, “He wants me family home and its property. We border Brodie,ye see, and if he can force me to marry him, he plans to join the two properties and make it all Brodie . . . with him aslaird, o’ course.”
“Oh, I see,” he said with an “aha” sound to his voice. “Aye, it makes much more sense now.”
Dwyn stopped working briefly, quite sure she’d just been insulted. Although she doubted the man even realized he’d just insinuatedthat Brodie’s desire to marry her couldn’t possibly have been just for her person, whereas greed made more sense. Shakingher head, she went back to work.
“Well, I shall have to explain to him that God frowns on greed,” Father Machar said now. “Perhaps I could even read him apassage from the Bible on it. Luke 12:15 would be good.” His voice dropped to a theatrical boom, and he quoted, “Then he said to them, ‘Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in an abundance of his possessions.’ Or,” he said, sounding excited, “perhaps Corinthians 6:10. ‘Nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.’” He barely finished that before he was exclaiming, “Oh! Or I could quote—”
“Father?” Dwyn interrupted gently.
“Aye, lass?” Father Machar asked.
“Ye may want to no’ lecture or quote to Laird Brodie. I fear the man is quite mad and like to hurt ye if ye do,” she pointedout.
“Oh, nay. Surely not?” he said, the excitement replaced with concern. “Greed may seem like madness, but—”
“He’s tied up a priest,” Dwyn pointed out dryly. “And he’s kidnapped and tied me up as well, and that besides wounding mehusband terribly and trying to rape me to force me to marry him ere I came to Buchanan. And the man talks to—”
“Rape? Really?” Father Machar interrupted.
Dwyn couldn’t tell if it was titillation she was hearing in his voice, or not. Telling herself of course it wasn’t, she said,“Aye. Fortunately, me dogs attacked him and drove him off.”
“Ah,” he said wisely, and then suggested, “Have ye considered that was God’s vengeance? Punishment for his evil ways?”
“I somehow do no’ think God would make me dogs bite off the end o’ a man’s pillicock, Father,” she said dryly.
“Oh, dear,” he muttered with dismay. “Nay, I canno’ see him doing that either.” He fell silent briefly, and then in an obviousattempt to turn the subject said with feigned cheer, “So ye’re married to Geordie Buchanan?”
“Aye, Father,” Dwyn murmured, tugging a bit of cord through another and hoping she was moving it the right way and wasn’tsimply knotting him up more.
“The Buchanans are fine men,” Father Machar assured her. “Good warriors too.”
“Their sister, Saidh, is lovely as well,” Dwyn pointed out, a little annoyed on the woman’s behalf that she hadn’t been included.
“Oh?” he asked with interest. “And yet Father MacKenna found her most trying.”
“Who is Father MacKenna?” Dwyn asked.
“Father Archibald’s predecessor,” he explained. “He was the Buchanan priest for years.”
“Oh.” She tugged on another cord, but when it didn’t budge at all, moved on to test the next.
“Aye, and Father MacKenna said Saidh could no’ simply accept his teachings, but had to question everything,” Father Macharexplained as if that were the worst thing in the world a woman could do.
“Is asking questions no’ how we learn?” Dwyn asked distractedly.
“Oh, aye, and ’tis even encouraged so long as ye’re no’ questioning the church.”
“I see,” she said dryly. “What happened to Father MacKenna?”
“Well, it would seem he met with foul play some years ago. He just disappeared quite suddenly,” Father Machar told her witha shudder that suggested he was imagining something of that ilk happening to himself.
Considering he was tied up at present and at the mercy of a madman, Dwyn thought that imagining it wasn’t really necessaryand the shudder was justified. To distract him, she asked, “Is it possible that was God’s judgment on Father MacKenna forspeaking so unkindly o’ a good, kind woman like Saidh?”
“Oh, nay,” he said at once, but then asked with interest, “Do ye think so? He always was rather unkind to me. Perhaps he wasbeing punished for that instead.”
Dwyn blinked at the suggestion, and then stiffened when Brodie pushed through the tent flap.
“I’ve found the solution,” the big man announced with satisfaction as he straightened inside the tent.
Dwyn eyed him warily, but said nothing, afraid it would simply draw his attention to the fact that their gags were off. Somethinghe didn’t appear to have noticed yet.
It was Father Machar who asked pleasantly, “Oh? And what is that?”
“Oh, I canno’ be telling you that, Father. Ye’d be scandalized,” Brodie announced, and then ordered, “Close yer ears and do no’ listen.”
Dwyn glanced over her shoulder at Father Machar, wondering how Brodie expected him to do that. She suspected the priest waswondering the same thing, but after a moment he turned his head away from Brodie, giving him the back of his head so thatthe priest now stared at the tent wall beside them.
Much to her amazement, Brodie grunted with approval at that and then turned his gaze to Dwyn and proceeded as if he thoughtFather Machar really couldn’t hear him. “I’m going to kill Geordie Buchanan.”
Dwyn’s head jerked back slightly, but she kept her voice calm when she said, “The Buchanans would hunt ye to hell and back.”
“Only if they ken I killed him,” he responded with amusement.
“They would ken,” she said firmly.
“But could they prove it?” Brodie asked silkily. “If his death looks an accident,
