Captured Hearts and Stolen Kisses

by Ceci Giltenan et al.

  “I’ve no need or desire for another. I knew from the beginning that she and I were meant to be together. When we return, I plan to ask your da to set the date, so Jenna and I can wed,” Brodie said.

  Logan was not sure he believed a man could know upon meeting a woman that she was meant for him like Brodie did. “I’m certain it will make Jenna happy and my mam will be thrilled to have a wedding in the castle. Hopefully it will get her to stop nagging me for a while. I—”

  “Lord Logan!” an approaching rider shouted.

  Logan cupped a hand over his eyes and squinted to get a better look. “It is Callum, and the lad is riding like the devil himself is hot on his heels,” he said, then took off running toward his father’s squire. Upon reaching the edge of the encampment at the same moment as Callum, Logan grasped the reins of the lad’s horse while he dismounted.

  “What is all the palaver about? Why are you here at this hour of the morn and na at the castle? Is it mother, or has something happened to Da?” A huge knot of trepidation twisted Logan’s stomach and the lad’s silence was making it worse. Tired of waiting for answers, he grabbed Callum by the shoulders and gave him a rough shake. “Speak up. I asked you a question.”

  Brodie—who always kept a cool head and was usually the voice of reason in a crisis—rested his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Can you na see the lad needs a minute to gather himself?” He caught Callum’s gaze. “Take a deep breath, then tell us why you are here.”

  Callum doubled over at the waste, resting his hands on his knees, then peered up at Logan. “The MacRyans,” the lad sputtered, then sucked in a large gulp of air.

  “What about them?” Logan asked—his stomach suddenly twisting with dread.

  “They attacked the castle before dawn, when everyone was still asleep,” Callum blurted. “Someone let them in, and they crept through the village, killing and plundering until the alarm was finally sounded and all hell broke loose.”

  “How many dead? Are my mother and father safe? What of my sisters?” Logan demanded information. Three of his sisters were married and two had taken the vows and lived at a priory near Inverness, but the two youngest were still at home.

  “I dinna know, m’lord. Your father roused me from my bed and bid me find you. He dinna want you riding into an ambush or the midst of the fighting unprepared. That was the last I saw of him.”

  “Ride on to Dunning Castle and tell the laird what has happened. Ask him to send his warriors as quickly as possible. But first, stop at Castles Moray and Burke and rally them as well. They are much closer and stand a better chance of arriving in time to be of assistance.” Logan raced back to camp and quickly saddled his horse. When the lad failed to leave immediately, he pinned him with an angry stare. “Are you going to do as I ask, or are you just going to stand there?” He spoke more harshly than he intended, but the lad’s mission was important.

  Callum pulled himself into the saddle. “I will do my best, m’lord.” He offered a curt nod, then dug his heels into his horse’s side—the animal bolting in the direction of the Dunning stronghold.

  After waiting for the lad to disappear, Logan turned to Brodie. “Let’s go. I pray it is na too late.”

  Brodie quickly readied his horse and climbed into the saddle. “Like you, I am anxious to do something to help, but do you na think we should wait for reinforcements to arrive before we charge into the unknown? We have no idea what we might find when we get home. Or how many men the MacRyan sent.”

  “I nary took you for a coward, Brodie,” Logan growled. “You heard the lad. The Castle is under siege. For all we know, everyone could already be dead.” His stomach clenched, and his chest tightened when he thought about the carnage and destruction they might be rushing into. The fact that the MacRyans attacked without provocation and in the middle of the night infuriated and frightened him at the same time. He feared not for himself, but his parents and sisters were foremost in his mind.

  Brodie narrowed his gaze, his expression darkening as he responded. “I am no coward. But acting before thinking can lead to disaster.”

  “Wait for reinforcements if you wish, but I am going now.” Logan glared at Brodie. What his cousin said made sense, but all he could think of was that his family and clan needed him. “Are you na anxious to confront the sneaky bastards for what they have done and to check on Jenna?”

  Brodie’s face blanched at the mention of her name and he fisted the reins. “Let’s ride, and dinna spare the horses.”

  As they neared the castle, the sound of swords clashing and men shouting echoed on the air, but when they arrived at the gates and prepared to enter the baily, an eerie silence greeted them. “You were right, Brodie, we shouldna have stopped and made camp for the night.”

  Brodie immediately searched the parapets and curtain wall, then looked at Logan. “Where in damnation are the guards? Why is there no one defending the gate?”

  Logan swallowed against the lump in his throat, drew his sword, and nudged his horse forward. “We will find out soon enough.”

  Shocked and horrified when he saw a sea of slain men, women, and children scattered on the ground of the inner courtyard, Logan’s jaw went slack. His heart clenched with despair, and the acrid smoke from the smoldering thatched roofs of burnt out huts stung his nostrils.

  Brodie made the sign of the cross in the air and released a low whistle. “Saint’s teeth. Are they all dead?”

  “The buggers showed no quarter by the look of things, and destroyed anything or anyone in their way.” Logan quickly dismounted when one of his father’s servants stumbled by as if in a daze and appeared to be oblivious to their presence. He grabbed the man’s shoulders and spun him around. “Where are all my father’s men, Neil?”

  He stared at Logan for a moment, then dragged a shaky hand across his chin. “Those that werena killed or wounded have gone after the blackguards who did this.” Neil swayed on his feet and bit down on his lower lip.

  Logan tightened his grip to steady the man, his brow furrowing when he noticed that blood stains darkened the sleeve of the servant’s tunic. “Where you wounded in the attack?”

  Neil nodded. “Aye, but it is naught to be concerned about. It is but a flesh wound, and I fare better than most.”

  “Even a minor wound can fester,” Logan said. “Best you have it tended to at once. Rest here, and I will have someone fetch you a healer.”

  “That is easier said than done, m’lord. And even if I could find someone to see to it, there are those far worse off than me.” Neil cradled his injured arm with his good one, then gritted his teeth.

  After another quick search about the bailey, Logan quickly realizing there was no one to deal with the wounded, or the dead. After finding a spot for Neil to sit down and offering him a drink from his wineskin, Logan rocked back on his heels. “How many survived?”

  “Hard to say. It all happened so fast. Everyone was sleeping one minute, then running for their lives the next,” Neil said. “Dragged from our beds we were, and no one had any idea what was happening until it was too late.”

  While he feared the answer, Logan had to know if his parents had survived the attack. “Have you seen my father and mother?”

  Neil nodded toward the castle. “I am told Lady Helen and your sisters are safe. But I heard the laird was gravely injured and was taken to his chamber.”

  Despite the relief he felt upon hearing his mother and sisters were alive, the uncertainty about his father caused the knot of trepidation in his gut to tighten. Logan rose, then took a step back. “Rest here for a bit, then see if you can find someone to tend to your wound. If you should come across any of my father’s warriors, tell them to meet me in the great hall. We need to man the walls, see to the dead, and take store of what is left.”

  Brodie joined them. “Is he badly injured?” He offered Neil a quick glance.

  “Nay, but he needs to rest.”

  “Any word on your parents?” Brodie asked.

 
Logan pointed to the keep. “I was told they are hold up inside the castle.” He did not repeat everything Neil told him as he wanted to see for himself, so he began to climb the stone steps. Upon reaching the top, he glanced over his shoulder at Brodie. “I am going to check on my parents. If you want to see to Jenna, I understand.” He spun on his heel and headed into the keep.

  The chaos and destruction he found upon entering the bailey, continued into the castle. The walk down the corridor to his father’s solar never felt so long. When Logan finally reached the door, he sucked in a breath for courage, muttered a prayer, then entered.

  He paused for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room before coughing to let his presence be known to the person sitting in a chair beside the bed.

  “I am here mother.”

  Chapter 2

  Lady Helen rose and turned to face her son. “Praise the Lord you are unharmed. I told your da you would come.”

  Momentarily speechless, Logan stared at his mother in disbelief. Given her dishevelled appearance, he almost didn’t recognise her. A proud, stoic woman who never showed her vulnerable side, he could not recall a time when she didn’t dress like a proper lady with every hair in place. Yet, the woman standing before him wore a filthy, torn gown and her auburn hair fell in a tangled mess about her slumped shoulders. Tears tracked down her dirt-smudged cheeks, and she didn’t try to hide the tremor of emotion in her voice when she spoke.

  It gutted him to see his mother like this, and he wished that he had been here when the attack took place. Logan moved to her side, then enveloped her in his arms. “If only I had gotten here sooner.”

  “You had no way of knowing what was happening, and your being here would have changed naught.”

  “I may not have been able to stop it, but I would have been at father’s side, doing what I could to protect those I love and doing my utmost to defend our cherished ancestral home.” His thoughts turned to his sisters. “Are Moira and Catherine safe?”

  Helen offered a hesitant nod and clung to his tunic. “As well as can be expected. They were terrified when your da insisted we go into the escape tunnel and await his return, but they are both well.”

  “Are they there now?”

  “Nay. Once what remained of our warriors rallied and chased the MacRyans off, I had my lady’s maid, Fiona, take them to their chamber to rest.” She raised her head from Logan’s chest and cast her gaze toward the bed. “I dinna want them to see your father like this. I want them to remember him as he was.”

  “Is father . . . dead?” He almost choked on the words.

  “Nay. But it willna be long,” Helen sobbed.

  Logan held his mother in his arms while she released a torrent of tears. He glanced over her head at the bed. While she needed comforting, he knew he could no longer put off the inevitable. He had to go to his father before it was too late. After gently ushering her to the bedside chair, he bid her sit.

  His mother leaned forward and lifted his father’s limp hand, pressing the back of it to her cheek. “Logan is here, my love.”

  “Father.” This was not the strong, braw warrior he knew. His da’s face was pale and gaunt, his cheeks sunken, and his breathing labored. While a heavy layer of pelts hid his wounds, a large pile of bloody linen heaped beside the bed left no doubt in his mind there were many.

  William MacAllen struggle to open his eyes, then caught his son’s gaze. “I am glad you came before I die,” he rasped.

  “Dinna say such things, Da. Once you have rested and had a chance to heal, you will be as good as new.” Logan’s throat tightened, and he could feel the tears welling in his eyes, but managed to keep them at bay. He could never lie to his father and now was not the time to try.

  “My time grows near and I must give you this.” Laird MacAllen patted the claymore laying on the bed beside him. His most cherished possession, tradition dictated it pass from father to son. “You are now the head of Clan MacAllen and the sword is yours. God willing, I pray that someday you will give it to a lad of your own.”

  “I canna take it.” Logan believed that to accept the clan sword would mean he accepted his father’s death, and he did not want that to happen. He hoped by refusing it, his father’s stubborn streak would kick in and he would fight to survive.

  Helen picked up the sword and thrust it at Logan. “You must take it. You are now laird and your father will pass knowing the clan is in good hands. I’ll na have you upsetting him in his final minutes on this earth.”

  The brave, dedicated wife and mother he’d known his entire life had returned. Logan nodded, gripped the weapon with both fists, and faced his father. “I will do you proud, Da. I love you.”

  A smile tugged at his father’s lips. “Take care of your mam and sisters,” he muttered, then closed his eyes and released his final breath.

  “I will. And I will avenge your death,” Logan said—even though he knew his father could no longer hear him. “The MacRyans will pay.”

  After taking time to pray along side his mother and saying his final goodbye, Logan rose from his knees and left the chamber. His father’s men were waiting for him in the great hall. Logan squared his shoulders as he entered the room and strode toward the dais. The moment he arrived the rumble of conversation halted, and he felt as if all eyes were watching his every move. He spotted Brodie standing before the head table. Logan cupped his cousin’s shoulder. “Did you find Jenna? I—”

  “Jenna is dead,” he blurted before Logan could say any more. Brodie spun around, his expression quickly switching from one of grief to one of anger. “Her entire family was slaughtered, and their croft burned.” He stiffened his spine and looked Logan in the eye. “How is your da?”

  “Sadly, he is dead as well.” He still could not believe that his father was gone and as laird, the entire fate of the clan rested upon his shoulders.

  “What about your mother and sisters?”

  “They were understandably upset, but they are alive, thank the Lord. As we speak, Catherine and Moira are helping my mother tend to da.” Logan swallowed against the lump in his throat, then took a moment to address his men. It was an announcement he dreaded, but one he had to make. “My father has died from his wounds and I am now laird.” He raised the MacAllen claymore in the air. “Those of you who wish to accept me as your leader may stay. Those who dinna, may go.”

  Pleased when every man in the room swore their fealty, Logan returned his attention to Brodie. “I am so sorry about Jenna. I wish there was a way I could change things, a way to bring her back.”

  “No one can do that, but you can make the MacRyan pay for what he has done,” Brodie said.

  For the first time in his life, Logan saw a stranger when he stared into his cousin’s eyes. Blinded by rage, and consumed with the need for revenge, the once gentle soul, his friend, and oft his voice of reason, had changed. “I give you my word that her death will be avenged. Along with all who perished here this day,” Logan promised, then addressed his men. “The MacRyans will pay dearly for what they did.”

  “What do you plan to do?” His mother appeared at the door with his sisters at her sides. As she passed the warriors each man either dropped to their knees or bowed their heads out of respect for her husband. As they got closer to the dais, his sisters ran toward Logan, sobbing.

  His heart ached as he embraced them both. Moira was twelve and Catherine nine, so in addition to caring for his mother, his sisters would need his guidance and love until they decided to marry or enter the convent. He could send them to live with one of his married sisters, but he had made a promise to his father and they were now his responsibility. “I will take from the MacRyan what he took from us. The things he holds most dear.”

  “When.” His mother asked.

  “Soon. But first we must bury our dead. The men who remain need time to gather themselves and grieve their losses. Besides, I promised father that I would take care of you. I canna leave you and my sisters in your
time of need.”

  Helen raised her chin and caught her son’s gaze. “We will be fine. I will take care of the funeral and see your father receives the respect he deserves. The sooner you make the MacRyan pay, the better.”

  “I agree,” Brodie said. “How do the rest of you men feel?” he asked the warriors and crofters gathered. After a unanimous cheer of support rose up from everyone present, he turned to Logan. “You have your answer, cousin. What do you plan to do and how soon do we ride?”

  Logan paused for a moment, giving his options careful thought. He wanted revenge, but also wanted to hurt the MacRyan on the deepest level. Once gathered, his men numbered far more than he’d expected. His father had one of the largest armies in the Highlands and despite the attempt to wipe them out, Logan believed enough remained to launch a retaliatory raid. “They attacked us without warning or provocation, and you can be certain we will return the favor. We will destroy the MacRyan. But will first take something he values more than his own life.”

  “And what might that be?” Brodie asked.

  “His daughter.”

  ***

  “It is a glorious morning. Where it not for my father sending me to visit my grandparents, I would have bid you accompany me on a long walk,” Ann MacRyan said to her maid. “I still dinna understand what prompted him to suddenly decide it was time I paid them a visit.”

  “It was sudden.” Rowena shrugged and continued with what she was doing. She moved to the corner of the chamber, opened a large wooden trunk, and took out several gowns, then laid them on the bed. “Mayhap it has something to do with the rumors I heard this morn.”

  “You know I dinna pay any mind to idol gossip.” Ann grew up hearing the tall tales about her father bandied about the keep by the servants and crofters. Most of what they said was untrue, and over the years she learned to ignore it. She sorted through the garments Rowena selected. “Please be sure and pack my violet gown. It is my favorite.”