He burst into tears. She leaned over him and brushed his curls out of his eyes and kissed his forehead. "Hush now, it's going to be all right. I promise you, I'm going to find a way to get you back home."
"But you're just a lady," he wailed.
She tried to think of something to ease his mind and give him hope. His sobs were breaking her heart, and in desperation, she blurted out, "You know what a protector is, don't you?"
He hiccuped while he answered. "It's the same as a champion." He sat up and mopped the tears away from his cheeks with his fists. "I had me a protector, and then I got another one. The day I was born I got one 'cause every bairn born in our clan gets to have one. He's supposed to look out for the boy or girl all his life long to make sure nothing bad ever happens to him. Angus used to be my champion, but then he died."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "I'm sure Angus was a fine protector."
She was getting weary, and it was difficult to keep up with the idle chatter. Her arm was throbbing and felt as though it had been held over a flaming torch. As exhausted as she was from the long trip back to Dunhanshire, she still was determined to keep the boy occupied with conversation until he became too sleepy to worry.
"I just got me a new champion," he told her. "Papa had to ponder it a long time 'cause he wanted to make sure he picked the right one for me. He told me he wanted me to have a champion as strong and fierce as Graham's."
"Who is Graham?" she asked.
"My brother," he answered.
"And who did your father choose for you?"
"His friend," he answered. "He's a fierce warrior, an important laird too, and you know what?"
She smiled. "What?"
"He's awful mean. That's the best part. Papa says he'll make a fine champion."
"Because he's mean?"
"And 'cause he's strong," he explained. "He can split a tree in half just by glaring at it. Uncle Ennis told me so. He's only mean when he's got to be."
"Your champion isn't your Uncle Ennis, is he?"
"No," he answered. "Uncle Ennis wouldn't do. He's too nice."
She laughed. "And it wouldn't do to have a nice protector?" She could tell he thought she'd asked a stupid question.
"No, you got to be mean to your enemies, not nice. That's why Papa asked Uncle Brodick. He's my new champion, and he's not ever nice. You know what?"
Those three words were beginning to drive her to distraction. "No, what?" she asked.
"Brodick's probably spitting fire now 'cause he told Papa not to let me go to the festival, but Mama had her way, and Papa gave in."
"Did your Uncle Brodick attend the festival?"
"No, he'd never go to one 'cause there's too many Englishmen there. I'll bet he doesn't think I'm dead. He's the new laird over all the Buchanans, and everyone knows how stubborn the Buchanans are. Now that he's my protector, I get to call him Uncle. Maybe he's gonna come here and find me before my papa does."
"Maybe he will," she agreed to placate him. "Why don't you put your head down in my lap and close your eyes. Rest for a little while."
"You won't leave while I'm sleeping, will you?"
"Where would I go?"
He smiled when he realized how foolish his worry was. "I'm gonna be scared when you have to go away. I heard the baron tell his friends you got to go get your sister. He's gonna be mad when he finds out you lost her."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"I forgot."
"What else did he say?" she implored. "I need to know everything."
"I remember he said your king's looking for the box too, but the baron's got to find it first. I don't know why. I don't remember anything else," he ended on a wail. "I want my papa to come and get me now."
"Please don't cry," she pleaded. She hugged him close. "A boy who has three protectors should be smiling, not crying."
"I don't have three. I only got one."
"Yes, you do too have three. Your father's one, Brodick is two, and I'm your third protector. I'll be your champion until the day I get you safely home."
"But ladies can't be champions."
"Of course they can."
He puzzled over the possibility a long minute and then nodded. "All right," he agreed. "But you got to give me something then."
"I do?"
He nodded again. "A protector always gives something important to the boy or girl he's supposed to watch out for," he explained. "You got to give me something of yours."