“Thank goodness it wasn’t Slink,” said Rhoswen, looking up into Logan’s greenish-gray eyes. Being this close to the man, and him having his arm around her, made her feel an attraction to him. She felt safe and protected. It was where she wanted to be.
Logan stared down into the swirling blue depths of Rhoswen’s eyes, getting pulled into her world. She’d leaned her head against his chest, and depended on him for her safety. He cared for her and wanted to help her. She was a frail English lady whose life had lately turned bad. Rhoswen was alone and with her younger siblings. They were naught more than prey out here, with no one to protect them. If he didn’t help her, she and her brother and sister might fare no better than the poor weasel that ended up as Jack’s supper.
Ethan cleared his throat, and Logan realized he was lost in thought. He quickly released Rhoswen and took a step away. “I suppose we should get goin’,” he said. “Lady Rhoswen, are ye ready?”
“Yes, I am ready to go search for the bandits who stole my father’s sword.”
“She’s goin’ to look for bandits?” asked Ethan in surprise.
“Nay.” Logan shook his head. “My friends and I will do that, but ye arena comin’ with us,” he told her. “It is too dangerous.”
“Of course I am going to be a part of this,” she said. “However, I don’t want my brother and sister along. I think I’d feel better if there was somewhere safe they could wait for us to return.”
“They’ll stay at the MacKeefe camp,” said Logan. “So will ye.”
“Logan, I dinna ken if that is such a guid idea,” mumbled Hawke under his breath.
“Hawke, yer da is chieftain,” said Logan. “Convince him of it.”
“I agree with Hawke,” said Ethan. “They’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.”
“Nay,” said Logan. “Hawke’s faither married a Sassenach, so bringin’ three of them home to the clan isna goin’ to matter. Lady Wren will welcome them with open arms just like she does with all our visitors.”
“Lady Wren?” asked Rhoswen. “There is an English noblewoman in the clan?”
“Aye,” said Logan. “She is Hawke’s mathair.”
“Your mother is English?” asked Rhoswen, looking up at Hawke.
“Aye,” he mumbled, looking the other way.
“Ethan’s stepmathair, Lady Lovelle is an English noble as well, but she lives in England,” Logan continued.
“Really?” asked Rhoswen, very curious about this.
“Well, aye,” said Ethan, looking down, kicking at a rock.
Logan smiled, knowing he’d proven his point. “I suggest we take Rhoswen and her siblin’s up to the Highlands before we go on a search for the missin’ sword.”
“Ye mean before ye go on the search,” said Ethan. “I told ye, I plan on spendin’ time with my new bride.”
“You are recently married?” asked Rhoswen. “How exciting.”
“Him, too,” said Ethan, nodding to Hawke with a jerk of his head.
“Well then, I think you both should stay with your wives while Logan and I track down the thieves by ourselves.”
“We’ll see about that,” growled Logan, taking her by the arm and leading her toward the waiting traveling party. “But first things first. And right now, we need to get ye and yer siblin’s to safety. There is no better place for that than in the company of the MacKeefes.”
Chapter 6
Logan rode at the back of the traveling party watching behind them for anyone who might try to attack. Jack ran back and forth, sometimes disappearing in the foliage, keeping watch as well. With Hawke at the lead and his red tail guiding from the sky, they hadn’t had any trouble. Rhoswen and her siblings were slowing them down, but Logan didn’t want to push them.
“How much longer before we’re there?” asked Rhoswen over her shoulder. Logan directed his horse forward and slowed down to keep an even pace beside her.
“The trip from the Horn and Hoof to the MacKeefe camp normally takes about five hours,” he told her.
“Five hours?” She seemed surprised and disappointed all at the same time.
“Aye, of course. We’re goin’ to the Highlands, remember. Of course, five hours is what it takes my friends and I to get there. With ye and yer siblin’s along, it’ll take us at least an extra two.”
“Really?” Hopeful eyes looked up at his, waiting for his answer.
“Really,” he said, realizing the English members of their party looked worn and tired. “Perhaps we need to stop for a bite to eat. Hawke,” he called out. “We’ll stop up ahead near the creek.”
“What for?” he called back. “We need to keep goin’.”
“I think a rest is in order.”
“A rest?” complained Caleb. “We’ve been travelin’ so slow I even took a nap along the way atop my horse.”
“Ye did no’, Caleb,” growled Logan. Caleb had a way of overdramatizing most things, and elaborating the truth. If he were a wench, he’d make a good alewife the way he liked to gossip.
“I could go for somethin’ to eat, so I dinna mind stoppin’,” remarked Ethan, traveling at the center of the group. He was the biggest of the friends and always seemed to be hungry.
“We need to water the horses and give them a break anyway,” Hawke finally agreed, veering off the main road, leading them toward the creek.
They stopped their horses and Logan jumped off, reaching up to help Rhoswen dismount. This seemed to surprise her.
“I don’t need help,” she said with a slight smile, as if his action amused her.
“Just the same,” Logan said, clamping his hands around her waist and lifting her off the horse. The scent of wildflowers drifted by as her unbound hair blew in the spring breeze and brushed past his lips. So soft, like silk. And her waist felt feminine and curvy beneath his fingers. The only thing he didn’t like was the sword strapped to her waist, hitting up against him as her body slid from his grasp and her feet hit the ground.
“Mmmphf,” he said, looking down at the sword. “Why are ye wearin’ yer brathair’s sword?” He had noticed her wearing it earlier, but didn’t have a chance to ask her about it.
“It’s not my brother’s sword,” she told him. “It’s mine.”
“Yers?” He lifted his head and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” she spat. “Don’t you believe I can use it?”
“I think the squire should have the sword, no’ the lady.”
“The squire is only a page and he can barely hold a sword let alone swing it.”
“What do ye mean?” he asked, his eyes roaming over to Newell who was helping his sister, Blaine, dismount.
“It was only for show,” she said, stretching and yawning – so unlike a lady. “How old do you think my brother is?”
“Well, I dinna ken,” he said, eyeing up the boy. He was tall, had a good build on him for a young man, but his face was smooth with not even a hint of whiskers. “He looks to be mayhap five and ten years, at least four and ten if he’s a squire.”
“I told you, he’s not a squire.” Her hands went to her hips. “Newell is big for his age, and twice as clumsy as most eleven-year-old boys.”
“The lad is only eleven?” Logan made a face and surveyed the boy again. “How old is yer sister?”
“Blaine is the one who is four and ten, not Newell.”
“I see.” He nodded and looked over to her next. He couldn’t help it. His eyes traveled down her curvaceous body and back up again to her bonnie face. “Then how old are ye? Ten?” he asked with a smile.
“Not funny,” she spat, taking a leather tie from her pouch and pulling back her long hair. “I am eight and ten years of age. So how old are you?”
“Two and twenty,” he told her. “But no’ old enough no’ to be fooled by the likes of ye three, I guess. What other secrets are ye keepin’ from me?” His eyes traveled down to her sword again, and he couldn’t help wondering if she really knew how to use it.
As if
she read his mind, her hand went to the hilt and, in one motion, she unsheathed it. Logan jerked backward so as not to be nicked.
“Blethers, lassie, what are ye doin’?” He noticed from the corners of his eyes everyone had stopped and were looking in their direction.
“Unsheathe your sword,” she told him.
“What? Nay!” he spat. “Ye are a lady, so dinna think I’m goin’ to fight ye.”
“If you think I’m lying to you and keeping secrets, then spar with me and you’ll see that what I say is true.”
“All right, all right, I believe ye,” said Logan with a chuckle. He looked over to his friends who were smiling as well. “Let’s water the horses and be on our way.” He started to walk away, but stopped when he felt the prick of the tip of her sword against his back. He turned around slowly. “Put that thing away,” he warned her in a low voice.
“Not until I am allowed to show you that I can use the blade.”
“If ye’re tryin’ to provoke me, it’s workin’.”
“Good.” She smiled and once again pricked him with the tip of the sword, using two hands to hold it.
“Go on, Logan. I’d like to see this,” Ethan called out.
“Me, too,” Caleb echoed.
“Nay,” growled Hawke. “Someone will get hurt.”
“That’s right, but it won’t be me getting hurt, I assure you,” said Rhoswen, sounding so arrogant that Logan knew there was no other way to stop this nonsense.
“If ye need to prove yerself, then by all means, go ahead. But it’s only for yer benefit, no’ mine.” Logan drew his sword. When he looked over to his friends and shook his head, she used it to her advantage. He turned back to see her sword coming right at him. He lifted his blade to block her, and the sound of metal against metal rang through the air.
“What the hell is the matter with ye?” snarled Logan, thinking the girl had lost her mind. “Ye almost act like ye want to hurt me.”
“Nay, I don’t want to do that,” she assured him, swinging her sword around, and causing him to block her again. “I just want you to know what I’m capable of doing, that’s all.”
Logan didn’t want to fight her. She was a girl for God’s sake! But with his friends urging him on and her siblings calling out to her, he got caught up in the moment.
“Ye’re no’ bad . . . for a wench,” he said, sparring with her, but of course holding back. She was quick and had a good grip and flexible wrist action. But if he fought the way he usually did, he could kill her in seconds.
“I trained with my father since I was old enough to hold the sword.” They did a sparring dance, sword hitting sword, their bodies turning in a counterclockwise motion.
“Ye mean he taught ye to fight but he didna teach his son?” asked Logan.
“I know how to use a sword,” Newell called out. “It’s my turn. Let me try it.”
“Nay, lad,” said Hawke, holding the boy from running forward. “Enough of this nonsense. It’ll be dark soon. If we pick up the pace we can get back to camp just before sunset.”
“I agree,” said Logan, striking her sword in such a way that she couldn’t hold it. The action sent it flying up in the air, over their heads. Logan reached out with his left hand and caught her sword. Then he handed it to her, hilt first. The look on her face was pure shock.
“How did you do that?” she asked, taking the sword from him. “My father never taught me that trick.”
“That’s probably because most men dinna ken how to do it. I, on the other hand, use it all the time. It catches my opponent off guard.”
“Show me. I want to learn how to do it,” she begged him.
“Me, too,” cried Newell, running over to them.
Logan looked from Newell to Rhoswen and then over to Blaine. “I suppose ye want to learn it, too?” he asked their sister.
“Me?” Blaine’s eyes opened wide. “Oh nay. Please, I don’t want to learn to fight. I’d much rather sew or weave.”
“As ye should,” said Logan with a nod of his head. “I’ve got bread in my travel bag as well as dried beef. We’ll have a bite to eat and water the horses and then we’ll be on our way.”
“I’ve got a wineskin full of Mountain Magic, and so does Ethan,” announced Caleb.
“I’d like some of that.” Rhoswen sheathed her sword.
Logan groaned. “Mountain Magic is no’ for ye or yer siblin’s,” he told her. “Hawke’s got ale. Ye’ll drink that instead.”
“Why?” asked Rhoswen hurrying after him as he made his way to his travel bag attached to the horse in order to get the food.
“Dinna ask so many questions,” grumbled Logan. “My head is startin’ to hurt.”
“Shall I start a fire?” asked Caleb.
“No time,” Hawke answered. “The winds are pickin’ up and it’s goin’ to storm.”
“Move quickly,” said Logan, passing out the food. “Newell, help Caleb water the horses.”
“Why do I always have to do it?” complained Caleb. “I’ve got better things to do.” He pulled his pine marten out of the bag attached to his horse and cradled it in his arms. Jack trotted over and stood at his feet, looking up at the animal.
“Dinna even think of eatin’ Slink. Now go!” Caleb stomped his foot and waved his arm. The wolf turned and ran off with Trapper following. Apollo cried from above them, flying in circles and finally settling in a tree.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Logan looked up at the clouds on the horizon. “We’ve got another guid three hours or so to go and there is no way we’ll beat the storm,” said Logan. The winds picked up and the skies darkened.
“I’m scared,” said Blaine, pulling her cloak around her to keep her warm.
“You’re always scared,” said Newell. “Well, I’m not. I’m ready to ride in the storm.”
“Nay,” said Logan, closing up the traveling bag. “I think it’s best if we make camp for the night and start out at first light after the rain.”
“I agree,” said Hawke.
The other two men mumbled their choice to camp for the night as well.
“Rhoswen,” said Blaine, running over to her sister. They conversed in quiet tones and then Rhoswen looked over.
“Where will we be camping?” she asked. “We lost our tents and most of the supplies to the bandits.”
“Ye dinna need tents,” scoffed Caleb. “We always sleep right on the ground by the fire.”
“On the ground without a tent?” asked Rhoswen. “Oh, nay, we can’t do that.”
“Ye get used to it after a while,” added Ethan.
“There’s a cave up ahead we can use,” Logan told them.
“But that’s out of the way,” Hawke told him. “It’ll take longer to get back to camp if we go there.”
“Aye, but I think it’s best for our . . . guests . . . if we stay there,” Logan told his friends. “After all, they arena used to livin’ in the elements the way we are.”
“That’s right,” said Caleb. “They’re used to sleepin’ on down mattresses with warm fires at their feet, and being protected by castle walls.”
“If ye and the others want to stay here or go back to camp, then do so,” said Logan. “But I am goin’ to take Rhoswen and her siblin’s to the cave. It’s the right thing to do.”
After many mumbling protests by his friends, they finally agreed to stick together. The traveling party was then once again on their way, but this time to the cave that would make their journey to the MacKeefe camp take even longer.
Chapter 7
By the time they got to the cave, the sky had opened up and rain soaked them all. Rhoswen shivered, wondering now if it would have been better to go straight to the MacKeefe camp after all. If so, they’d at least have warm shelters, hot food, and the comfort of being dry for the night. Now, they would spend the night in a cold, dark cave where she wasn’t even sure they’d be safe from wild animals.
“That’s it, up ahead,” Logan told her, leading th
e way. It was a much bigger entrance than she’d thought. They were able to ride the horses right into the mouth of the cave and keep them out of the rain as well. Logan was at her side instantly, helping her off her horse.
“I’ll start a fire,” said Hawke, making his way further into the dark cave. Rhoswen heard a low growl and gasped.
“Easy, lass, it’s only Jack,” Logan told her.
“I’ll stay on the horse until we know it is safe,” Blaine said in a shaky voice.
“We’ve stayed here plenty of times before,” Logan told her. “Nothin’ lives in here, I assure ye.”
Just as he said that, Jack growled again. Then the wolf and the hound darted off into the cave and they heard what sounded like a fight.
“What’s going on?” called out Newell. He stayed atop his horse as well. “Is it a bear?”
“A bear?” Blaine started crying.
“Stop it, Newell,” snapped Rhoswen, tired of her brother always scaring Blaine. “It’s bad enough we’re stuck in here soaking wet in the cold and dark, so you don’t need to scare your sister further.”
“We’ll take care of the horses,” offered Caleb, meaning him and Ethan. None of the Scots seemed to even pay attention to the growling and snarling noises coming from the dark.
“Do you think it’s really a bear?” Rhoswen whispered to Logan.
“Naw,” he said, fiddling with the pack on the horse. “I’ve never seen a bear in here.”
“Good,” she said, starting to feel relieved until she heard what he said next.
“The wild cats usually scare the bears away.”
“Wild cats?” Rhoswen grabbed on to Logan’s arm.
“Dinna worry. Wild cats arena that big,” he told her.
“That’s right,” said Ethan, pulling out a rag and brush from a travel bag, preparing to dry off the horses. “My faither used to travel with a Scottish wild cat, and he tells me it made a perfect pet.”
“I see,” she said, her eyes scanning the darkened area. “Then again, some people think wolves are good pets, too,” she mumbled.
Logan chuckled, liking the way Rhoswen held on to him for protection, yet just an hour ago she wanted to fight him with her sword. The girl amused him. He wasn’t sure if she was brave, frightened, addled, or a little bit of all of them rolled into one. It didn’t matter. For some reason, she was like a breath of fresh air in his stale life. He needed that right now.
Highland Steel: Highland Chronicles Series - Book 3 Page 6