“Dinna fash. As soon as I learned of your visit to Ayrshire, I thought you might like it washed. It should be here any minute,” Rowena answered, smiling.
Ann laughed. “Of course.” She should have known better than to even ask about the gown. Rowena had been her maid since she was a bairn and knew her likes and dislikes as if they were her own. She could not have asked for a better person to assist her with her needs, and she had come to think of her as a friend and confident.
“What about your wedding to Lord MacKenny. Your da said it was to take place within the next fortnight. If you are visiting your grandparents, that canna happen.”
“Da dinna say how long I would be gone.” Ann tapped her chin. The more she thought about the impromptu visit, the more curious she became as to why her father was sending her away.
As for her marriage to Duncan MacKenny—the laird of a powerful border clan with which her father sought an alliance—she was in no rush. While he was pleasant enough when in her company, he was almost twice her age, and she was not the least bit attracted to the man. She had also heard he was the brooding sort, enjoyed the company of many women, and could be quick to temper. As the daughter of a laird, she knew the day her father ordered her to wed for the sake of the clan might come. She would do her duty and marry Lord MacKenny if her father insisted, but she preferred to wait for someone she genuinely loved instead.
Despite her vow to ignore all gossip, Ann’s curiosity got the better of her. “I know I said I dinna want to hear the
“I have never heard anything so foolish.” Ann rose and stared at Rowena. “I should have known better than to inquire. This is obviously a lie. Why would my father raid a clan in the middle of the night for no reason?” She crossed her arms over her chest and impatiently tapped her toe on the floor, waiting for an answer. Her father was a powerful laird, and while he had a longstanding feud with the MacAllens, she refused to believe he would order an attack without just cause. She hated that the clans were always feuding and could not figure out a way to live in harmony, but when she inquired why, her father always told her it was not a woman’s place to ask about clan affairs and she was not to fash about such things.
Rowena wrung her hands and peered up at Ann. “I have no idea if it is true, but it is what I was told.”
“What else did they say?”
Rowena lowered her gaze and nibbled on her bottom lip before she answered. “You are most likely right. It is all just talk, so best we forget about it and return to packing.”
It wasn’t like Rowena to pass on rumors about her father, but there was something in her tone of voice and the look of concern on her face that made Ann think she believed this one to be true. “What else did they say happened?”
“They claim your father’s men snuck into the MacAllen stronghold while they slept, attacked the crofters, then entered the keep. Rumor is that the MacAllen laird was gravely injured and likely died.”
While she was aware from an early age that the clans quarrelled and often battled over land and cattle, Ann didn’t condone violence of any sort. She always believed there had to be a peaceful way to settle their differences. The idea that her father—a man she admired and adored—might have order such a raid was unthinkable. She had seen no proof, only hearsay. If there was any truth in it, why were there no wounded clansmen in need of tending in the great hall? But then again, rather than have her come down to break her fast, her father had a tray of food sent to her chamber, along with a missive informing her she was going to visit her grandparents. He stopped by a brief time later to confirm the message, but did not elaborate as to why he was sending her on this trip when she asked. He merely told her to do as he requested and prepare to leave as soon as possible.
A knock on the door interrupted her musing.
“I will go. It is likely someone bringing back your gown.” Rowena hopped off the bed, then scurried to the door and opened it. “Aye, what is it?”
“I am here to see how Lady Ann is coming along with her packing. Her father wants to know how long it will be afore she is ready to leave.” The clan steward stepped into the room and handed Ann a brown wool gown. “He also wishes you to wear this on the journey.”
After examining the simple garment—one typically worn by a crofter or servant, and not a lady of her standing—Ann frowned. She was not a prideful woman and would never judge a person by their clothing, but in the past, her father expected her to dress and behave like the lady of the castle. And she couldn’t help wondering what her grandparents might think when she arrived dressed like a scullery maid.
“Are you sure this is what Da wishes me to wear? I already selected this one for the journey.” Ann smoothed her palms down the front of the fine satin gown she had on. “While I am sure the one you brought is a serviceable garment, it does appear too large for me as well.”
“I am merely following your father’s orders, m’lady. Please change and see to your packing,” the steward said.
While she didn’t understand her father’s reasoning at times, she never refused to do his bidding, so quickly excused herself and moved into the small room attached to her chamber, taking Rowena with her.
“I just dinna understand what has come over father. First, he decides I am to visit Ayrshire, then he asks me to dress like a servant.” As soon as she spoke the words, she slapped a hand to her mouth. She didn’t want to offend her friend. “Och, I am so sorry. I dinna mean to sound condescending. What you wear is lovely.”
Rowena laughed and unlaced the back of Ann’s gown, then helped her to slip out of it. “I am na offended. What you say is true. It is verra odd that your father wishes you to wear this, instead of one of your fine garments. Mayhap he thinks it will be more comfortable.” She handed the dress to Ann, then helped her tug it over her head.
“You may be right.” But Ann was also correct in her assumption that the gown was too large. It hung on her like a sack.
“There isna time for alterations. Let me try cinching it.” Rowena wrapped a leather belt around Ann’s waist then stepped back to look. “It helps some.”
“May I tell your father you are almost ready?” the steward called from the outer room of the solar.
Ann and Rowena returned, but before he left, she saw this as the perfect chance to inquire about the rumors her maid had heard and the reason for her trip. “We are busy packing as quickly as possible, but might I ask you another question, Keith?”
“Certainly.”
“I heard my father ordered a raid on the MacAllen keep. Is this true?”
The steward frowned as he fixed his stare on Rowena for a moment, then addressed the question. “You shouldna listen to the servants’ gossip. Most of what they say is naught but lies.”
Ann met his glower with one of her own. “You dinna answer me. Did my father order an attack on the MacAllen stronghold? And why did he suddenly decide to send me to visit my grandparents?”
“If what you heard about a raid were true, and I am na saying it is,” the steward quickly added. “I would na be at liberty to discuss it with anyone. You need na concern yourself with clan affairs. They are best left to your father.” He moved to the bed and peered into the trunk. “I will tell his lordship you will be ready to leave soon. He already sent a messenger on ahead to inform your grandparents of your visit, so is anxious to have you on your way.”
“We were na given much notice about the trip, but tell father we are packing as quickly as we can.”
“Good. I will tell him.” Keith said, then left the chamber.
Her father’s steward had not answered either of her questions to her satisfaction, but she didn’t really expect him to. As she had often done in the past, she would have to come to her own conclusions, based on what she believed about her father, and let it go. She chose to have faith in her sire’s integrity and hoped it was the right decision.
Chapter 3
Logan and his men assembled in the woods behind the MacRyan’s
Castle. While he had amassed enough warriors from his own clan and their supporting allies to launch a retaliatory invasion, he chose not to rush in unprepared. He refused to signal the attack until he knew what lay on the other side of the curtain wall. Avenging his father’s death and the slaughter of his clan members was his primary goal, but not at the expense of his men.
To determine how much of a resistance they would encounter, he sent one man ahead—someone who knew his way around the MacRyan keep and could hopefully enter the bailey unnoticed. When he returned with is findings, including the location of the laird’s daughter, Logan would decide the best way to attack. Unlike the merciless raid on his stronghold, he planned to spare the women and children, and he would order his men to do so. His quarrel was with the MacRyan and his warriors, not innocent crofters.
While awaiting the man’s return, Logan studied the area surrounding the curtain wall and noticed a dense field of thistles growing around the perimeter. “It appears the MacRyan sets store in legends.”
“What do you mean?” Brodie asked.
“The thistles,” Logan said. “My da told me a tale when I was a wee lad about how the Northmen tried to invade a Scottish castle while the inhabitants slept. In their attempt to be as quiet as possible, they removed their boots prior to the raid. When they stepped on the thistles growing near the castle, their screams of pain awakened the sleeping Scots, who were then able to ward off the attack and drove them back to the sea.”
“Too bad your da dinna believe in legend as well,” Brodie said. “It may have deterred the MacRyan from attacking at night.”
“It is a story told to bairns, and I set no store in legends. Only heartless swine attack women and babes as they sleep, so a few wildflowers wouldna have stopped them.” Logan narrowed his eyes and moved forward when he noticed a lone blue rose growing amidst the thistles. As if drawn by some strange force, he moved into the clearing, and bent to pick the flower. “Damn!” He cursed and immediately brought his finger to his lips when he pricked it on a thorn.
“Saint’s teeth! What are you doing?” Brodie snagged his cousin around the waist and tugged him back into the shadows of the forest. “Are you daft? What if someone saw you?” He glanced down at the flower in Logan’s hand. “Dinna tell me you risked all for that.”
Logan dropped the rose in the dirt and caught his cousin’s gaze. “You are right. It was a foolish thing to do and I canna explain what came over me.” Perplexed by his carelessness, Logan could not believe he discussed the merits of legends with Brodie one minute, then stooped down to pick the bud the next.
“Speaking of legends,” Brodie grunted. “You do know what they say about the blue rose, do you na?”
“Nay. But something tells me I am about to find out,” Logan replied, frowning. He studied the drop of blood on the tip of his finger. Brodie and he differed when it came to superstition and Highland Lore. His cousin set great store in it, while Logan chose to dismiss it as nonsense.
“According to the legend, a rose of this color is extremely rare.” Brodie picked up the flower, being mindful of the thorns. “It is also said, the bloom possesses the power to turn enemies into lovers, should one or both prick their finger.”
Logan scratched his head in disbelief. How a warrior could accept such things as being true was beyond his comprehension. “You dinna really believe that, do you?”
“He who dare na grasp the thorn, shouldna desire the rose,” Brodie said. “Mind my words, cousin. No good can come of this.” He flung the flower into the field of thistles.
“Lord Logan,” one of the warriors interrupted their conversation. He pointed at a cloaked figure striding toward them. “Angus has returned.”
Pleased to end the foolish discussion he was having with his cousin, Logan met Angus with is hand outstretched. “I am glad to see you are safe, my friend. I was beginning to wonder if they captured you snooping about. What news do you have for me?” He grasped Angus’s wrist and the two men exchanged a hardy shake.
“No one paid me any mind, but I am na so sure you are going to be happy with my findings.”
“Tell me and I will decide,” Logan said.
“The lack of men patrolling the grounds surrounding the stronghold and atop the parapets may make the castle look poorly protected, but it is na the case. The MacRyan has a large army of men, armed and prepared for battle,” Angus explained. “I fear to attempt an attack at this time would be a fool’s errand at best.”
“How large an army?” Brodie asked.
“As many as we have assembled, if na more,” Angus said. “And they have the protection of the castle ramparts. We would have to cross the open field and storm the walls before we can engage them in battle. He has caldrons of hot tar positioned and ready to dump on invaders, and his archers are armed with arrows to be set ablaze and fired to ignite the tar if necessary.”
Logan was not surprised to learn the MacRyan was so well prepared for a retaliation—as well he should be. He had no intention of sending his men into a battle that would cost so many lives before it even began. “What of his daughter. Do you know where she is? Mayhap a few men could be sent in to capture the lass and escape afore their presence is noticed.”
Angus shook his head. “Her father has her chamber heavily guarded. But I did find out something you will find of great interest.”
“Hopefully it is better news than you have shared so far.” With the success of this raid in serious question Logan would welcome anything that might improve the odds.
“I think it is something you will be pleased to hear.” Angus gleefully rubbed his hands together and a broad grin crossed his face. “Laird MacRyan has ordered his daughter to pack in preparation for a journey to her grandparent’s keep in Ayrshire. He fears for her safety and figures to send her there until things are settled here.”
“He would risk sending his only daughter out of the stronghold, knowing we could be waiting to attack? And he has made no effort to keep her departure a secret?” Logan found this most odd, but Angus was right, if her father was that foolish, it could be to their benefit.
“Like sending a lamb to slaughter, if you ask me,” Brodie snorted.
“That is what he wants people to think,” Angus said. “He is aware of the possibility of an attack so plans to send out two parties. One will function as a decoy, to draw our attention, while the entourage with his daughter leaves in another direction a brief time later. He intends to make a large fuss when the first party leaves, so everyone thinks his daughter is with them. He also plans to fill the covered cart with armed warriors.”
“Are you saying if we attack, we are in for a surprise?” Brodie asked.
“Aye.” Angus bobbed his head, then continued. “He will wait and send a second party out not long after the first, one that will leave with no attention and will carry his daughter.”
While attacking the stronghold, killing as many of the MacRyans men as possible, then making the laird watch as his daughter died was his original intent, Logan was starting to see how this turn of events might play out to their advantage. He would send a small group of his men after the first garrison for appearances sake, but warn them not to get too close. The bulk of his warriors would then follow and attack the second entourage, the one carrying Ann MacRyan.
“You look like you have a plan, cousin. Care to share?” Brodie rested his hand on Logan’s shoulder.
Logan explained to his cousin and Angus what he intended to do about the MacRyan’s attempt to deceive them. “Then once we have destroyed his men and taken Lady Ann prisoner, I will send a missive to the bastard, informing him that his scheme dinna work. He will learn I have his daughter, that she will be tortured, and put to death as payment for the atrocities committed against our clan.”
Brodie clenched his fists at his sides, his expression darkening as he stared at his cousin. “May I be the one to kill her? For Jenna,” he added.
Logan was aware of Brodie’s grief and des
ire for revenge, but he was not yet ready to make such promises. “We will decide once we have captured her, but I will keep your request in mind. First, we must rally the men and inform them of our plans. We will then watch for the departure of the first entourage.” He turned to Angus. “Gather the men.”
Once Angus left to do his bidding, Logan crept to the edge of the forest and looked at the castle. “Soon, we will have restitution, Da, soon.”
Chapter 4
Ann climbed into the large, canvas covered cart that waited for her at the rear entrance to the castle and took a seat beside her maid. “I am so pleased that da agreed to let you accompany me, but am confused why he sent another group out ahead of us. Or why he has us leaving from the postern gate of the castle, rather than through the main portcullis as always.” She peered through the opening at the rear of the cart. “I also do na understand why he is sending so many men to accompany us.”
“He loves you and cares about your safety,” Rowena said. “He has but one bairn and after your mam died, you are the only family he has left. He would be verra upset if anything were to happen to you.”
Ann stroked the emerald pendant she wore around her neck. It had once belonged to her mother—a gift from her father to his bride on their wedding day. Her mother died in childbirth when Ann was only three, so her memories were vague. However, she did recall how much her father grieved when she passed.
“I am surprised your father dinna come to see you off,” Rowena said.
Not only were Ann and her father close, but he was very protective of her. Until today, he had never allowed her to leave on a journey without saying goodbye. But there was something different about this trip.
“Father did stop by my chamber to seem me early this morn and gave me this pendant.” She lifted the emerald for Rowena to see.
Captured Hearts and Stolen Kisses Page 14