Within bare minutes every possible exit was sealed as tight as a tomb. Soldiers raced to the catwalks, their arrows already notched to their bows in preparation, as more of Ramsey’s followers leapt upon their horses and galloped out into the valley to surround the perimeter of the holding. No one would get into the estate, and no one was going to get out. Every able-bodied man came running to support their laird, and for the first time since the MacPhersons had joined the Sinclairs, there was no prejudice or rivalry. United, they stood together, five deep, in a wide circle around the courtyard, waiting and watching, with but one single intent—to protect Ramsey. Gideon waited in the center of the courtyard with eleven other traitorous men, all Sinclairs, and all loyal to the man they believed should have been laird. Gideon was eager and confident. His moment had finally arrived, and soon now he would become laird of the Sinclairs, and he was anxiously looking forward to killing Ramsey.
