“Logan, I missed ye,” said Effie. “But I’m glad to see ye found yerself a lassie.” She winked at him and giggled.
“Oh, nay, I’m not his lassie,” said Rhoswen. “We’re only passing through on our way to Clan Drummond.”
She realized she must have said the wrong thing, because suddenly the smiles disappeared one by one.
“Drummond?” snarled Aidan. “Dinna mention that name around here, because it isna goin’ to gain ye any friends.”
“Did I hear someone mention the Drummonds?” Another man came forward. He wore the green and purple MacKeefe plaid like the rest of them with a bright shiny badge at his shoulder.
“This is our chieftain, Storm MacKeefe,” Logan told her.
Storm nodded quickly and continued talking. “What business do ye have with the Drummonds?”
“Well I –” she started to speak but Logan held up his hand and stopped her.
“It’s a long story,” said Logan. “We’re all tired, hungry, wet and cold. Can we possibly see to our needs first and talk about this over a hot bowl of skirlie?”
“Oh, you poor things,” said Wren, stepping forward and putting her arm around Rhoswen. “Of course we can.”
“I want to ken about the Drummonds,” said Storm.
“Husband, that can wait until later,” Wren scolded him. “We have guests who are in need of dry clothes and some food and comfort. Lady Rhoswen, you and your sister can come with me. I have some clothes you can wear.”
“Newell, ye can go with Aidan,” Logan’s mother said, pointing to her husband. “Logan’s brother, Hugh is about yer size and ye can borrow some of his clothes.”
“What is skirlie?” Newell asked Aidan, walking over to him.
“Ye mean to say ye’ve never tasted skirlie?” asked Aidan. “It’s a dish of oats and beef drippin’s and onions. Doesna that sound guid? Just talkin’ about it makes me hungry. Come on, lad. Let’s get ye changed so we can eat.”
As they all walked away, Storm came over and spoke quietly to Logan.
“If they have doin’s with the Drummonds, it wasna a guid idea to bring them here, Logan.”
“Nay, it’s no’ like that,” he said. “They were only plannin’ on tradin’ some sword for Rhoswen’s nephew, Lockie.”
“A sword again,” said Storm, shaking his head. “I dinna like this. The last time we had dealin’s with the Drummonds with a sword involved, too many of our clan died.”
“I ken,” said Logan. “But that was a battle between our clans. That was somethin’ different.”
“Well, ye make sure whatever this is about doesna involve the MacKeefes. Because if so, I willna let yer guests stay. I willna endanger the rest of the clan just to save one boy that we dinna even ken.”
“I understand,” said Logan, watching Rhoswen walking away with Wren and her sister. His heart went out to them. He supposed this wasn’t a good time to tell Storm that Rhoswen and her siblings no longer had a home and could never go back to England.
Chapter 10
“So how do ye like the skirlie?” Logan asked Rhoswen as they ate their meal at a long table in the building that served as the clan’s hall. They didn’t have a castle here in the Highlands. Instead they had outbuildings, some made of stone and others of wood and even a few of wattle and daub that housed the many families.
There was a stable for the horses, and a large barn that sometimes held the livestock when they brought it inside during treacherous winter weather – even though the animals were used to the cold. There was also a hospice set up for the old, sick and weak. Half of that building was used for visitors to sleep in.
“It’s . . . interesting,” said Rhoswen, inspecting the spoonful of food. “I can’t say I’ve ever had anything like it before.”
“I love it!” said Newell, finishing off his bowl of food and looking over at Blaine. “Are you going to finish that?”
Blaine made a face and pushed the bowl over to her brother.
“If ye dinna eat, ye’re goin’ to go hungry,” Logan told the girl. “We willna eat again until tonight.”
“What are you serving tonight?” asked Blaine, looking up shyly from the table.
“Haggis,” he said, sounding proud of the dish.
Blaine quickly grabbed the bowl of oats from her brother. “Give it back,” she said.
Logan laughed.
“Aye, my family knows what haggis is, since we tried it in the Lowlands on the way up here,” said Rhoswen. “Once Blaine found out what it was made of, she decided she didn’t like it anymore.” Rhoswen pushed her bowl of food over to her brother. “Here,” she said. “I’m not really hungry. You can have mine.”
She stood up and brushed off her clothes. Logan liked the way she looked wearing the clan plaid.
“I’m going to go over to the fire and see if our clothes are dry yet,” she announced.
Logan shot up off the bench and escorted her to the door. “Ye look bonnie wearin’ the clan plaid,” he said so only she could hear him.
“Do you really think so?” She looked down at the plaid, straightened it out and then glanced up at him. Her eyes interlocked with his. Logan felt his heart skip a beat. When he looked into her eyes, it was as if he could see through the translucent blue, all the way to her very soul.
“I do,” he said, reaching out and brushing back a stray lock of ebony hair. He saw her eyes close and her head tilt to the side when he did it. He also noticed the rise and fall of her breasts, so he knew that she liked it. He liked it, too. Logan longed to dip down and kiss her pink lips, but he couldn’t do that here. He had to get her alone first. “Why dinna we take a walk along the water before we check the clothes.”
Her eyes opened. “Why?” she asked, sounding suspicious.
“No reason. I just thought ye’d want to see more of the Highlands while ye’re here. I mean . . . ye said it was bonnie.”
“Oh. Of course,” she answered, flashing him a smile. “Let’s go.”
He opened the door for her and guided her with his hand at the small of her back. It felt good touching her for some reason. He didn’t understand why. He’d had his share of women, and it wasn’t as if he were filled with lust and needed a release. Nay, it was different with Rhoswen. Something about her and her sad story touched his heart. He honestly wanted to help her and her siblings. Or mayhap he just didn’t want her to leave.
They strolled down to the shore together, making small talk. It all felt natural, not forced.
“Your clan all seems so friendly,” she commented.
“Aye. They are.”
“But I don’t think your chieftain likes me much. And I’m not sure about your father either.”
“Oh, nay, that’s no’ so,” he said. “They are just bein’ protective of the clan.”
“And suspicious.”
Logan picked up a flat rock and tossed it up into the air, catching it in one hand. “Mayhap. But they’re only like that because ye mentioned the Drummonds.”
He skipped the rock on the water and it made ten hops before it sank.
“That looks like fun. I want to try it.” She bent down and found a rock and flung it into the water. With a big plop it sank down without skipping at all. She frowned. “I guess I’m no good at this.”
“That’s because ye just dinna ken how to do it,” he told her, bending down and choosing a rock. “And yer rock wasna flat enough. “Here’s a guid one,” he said, picking up the stone. “It needs to be flat, smooth, and have some weight to it. Plus, it needs to fit in yer hand. And it’s extra guid if its shape is triangular like this one. Here. Feel the surface for yerself.” He held out the stone in his open palm.
Rhoswen reached out and ran the tips of her fingers over the stone. “It’s smooth,” she said.
“Give it a guid feel, lass.”
Before she could try again, Logan took her hand in his, and gently laid her open fingers over the stone. “Feel that?” he asked, grasping her hand in hi
s and making the motion of petting the top of the stone.
“I – I feel it,” she said, looking at his big hand over hers. A flit of excitement ran through her. His hand was warm. It was big and rough-looking but he was very gentle.
“It takes years of practice to get it to skip six times. I’m the champion of the MacKeefe Clan at rock skippin’. If there was an award for it, I’d win.”
“I see,” she answered with a giggle. He seemed so proud of being the champ. It was only a rock!
“Let me show ye how it’s done. Then, in no time, ye’ll be able to get at least a hop or two from the stone.”
“I’d like that,” she said, feeling so comfortable in his presence. Never had she thought she’d like to be around a Highlander since, back in England, she’d always heard them referred to as barbaric and beastly. Logan wasn’t like that at all.
“If the rock is too heavy it will sink,” he explained. “Too light, and ye are no’ goin’ to be able to throw it far at all.”
“I see.” He seemed so excited to explain to her how to do a simple trick such as skipping a stone. Actually, he made a good teacher.
“First, ye need to hold the rock like this,” he said, showing her how he did it. “Just rest the flat edge of the rock between yer thumb and the tip of yer middle finger. Here, ye try it.”
Rhoswen tried to do it, but purposely did it wrong, hoping he’d touch her again. “Like this?” she asked, looking up with innocent eyes.
“Nay, lass. Ye need to hug the rock with the tip of yer index finger, so ye dinna drop it. Like this.”
Her plan worked. He reached out and took her hand in his and adjusted the rock to the right position. “Now angle it up like this, toward the water.”
“All right. Now what?” she asked.
“Ye need to use a sidearm throw and flick yer wrist to add a spin to the stone so it skips. Like this.” He came up behind her, pressing his body against her, making her smile. With his arms wrapped around her, he took her hand in his. Then he twisted her body and helped her toss the stone. It hit the surface of the water and skipped twice.
“I did it!” she exclaimed happily. “I made the stone skip – thanks to you.”
She turned in his arms, and looked up at him and smiled. He did nothing to release her and neither did she want him to.
“Aye, ye did,” he said softly, staring down at her mouth. She lifted her chin as he bent closer and closed her eyes as his lips caressed her mouth. The kiss lingered, sending a spiral of heat all the way from her mouth down to her inner core. Rhoswen liked the feel of Logan’s arms around her and she liked the feel of his mouth against hers even more.
Slowly, their lips parted and they stood there staring at each other.
“I enjoyed that,” he said.
“So did I,” she admitted. She would have liked to have gone back for a second kiss, but her brother came down to the water, interrupting them.
“Rhoswen,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Newell!” She quickly stepped away and Logan released her.
“Storm MacKeefe sent me to find you and tell you they are ready to talk to us now about the Drummonds,” he relayed the information.
“Aye, of course,” said Logan, clearing his throat. “We’re ready,” he said, placing his hand on her back and escorting her up the hill.
“Were you two just kissing?” asked Newell, making a face.
Rhoswen and Logan looked at each other and smiled.
“It’s no’ as awful as ye think it is, lad,” said Logan, doing nothing to deny it.
“Well, I have no desire to ever kiss a girl!”
“Ye say that now, but as ye get older, I assure ye that ye will desire it very much,” Logan assured the boy.
“The only thing I want to learn is how to fight with a sword,” Newell told him with enthusiasm. “My father taught my sister to do it, but he told me I was too clumsy.”
“Naw, that isna so,” said Logan. “I believe everyone, lad or lassie, can learn if they really want to. Mayhap yer faither just wasna patient enough with ye.”
“Will you teach me how to fight, Logan? You’re a Highlander, and Highlanders are beasts with swords in their hands.”
“Beasts?” Logan scowled. “Now who told ye that, lad?”
“My father,” answered Newell.
“Newell, don’t bother Logan,” Rhoswen told her brother. “He has better things to do than to teach you how to handle a sword.”
Newell frowned and hung his head.
“Now, that’s no’ true,” said Logan. “I canna think of anything more important. Newell, I’d be happy to teach ye.”
“Really?” Newell asked excitedly. “Can you teach me that trick how to flip an opponent’s sword in the air the way you did when you sparred with my sister?”
Logan chuckled. “Now, now, one thing at a time, lad. After all, wielding a sword takes a little more practice than skippin’ stones.” He looked back over his shoulder and winked as Rhoswen.
Once again, her stomach flipped, and her thoughts of Logan made her feel so naughty. Because there were a few other things she’d like for him to teach her and none of them had anything to do with swords or stones.
Chapter 11
Logan escorted Rhoswen to the campfire where the clan often held their council meetings. Blaine was already there as well as Logan’s father, Aidan. Storm, Wren, Ethan, Caleb and Hawke were there waiting as well. What he didn’t expect was to see the king’s chronicler, Brigham and his daughter, Bridget, joining this meeting. They’d been sent to the MacKeefe Clan to record the heroic deeds of the clan members, writing them into a book that the king commissioned. It started out with adding Logan’s father and all of the fathers of his friends. Recently, Hawke and Ethan were added to the book of chronicles as well. Logan wished his name would be mentioned but, so far, it hadn’t.
“They’re still here?” he grumbled to Caleb, as he took a seat next to him on a log. Rhoswen was on his other side.
“I ken,” mumbled Caleb, smiling at Bridget. “Nice, isna it?”
“That’s no’ what I meant.” Logan felt that the pair was only a distraction. He didn’t like them there, and they’d been visiting with the MacKeefes for months now. He never felt at ease around them, since there was no telling what they’d write in their book or tell the Scottish king. Logan only hoped that if he ever was mentioned, it would be on a good note and not bad.
“Who are they?” whispered Rhoswen.
“They’re the king’s chronicler and his daughter,” Logan relayed the information.
“Why are they here?” she asked.
“They’re recordin’ happenin’s in that book of theirs and then they’re goin’ to present it to the king.”
“Oh, so a chronicle of events,” she said with a nod.
“Somethin’ like that,” he scoffed, thinking it was naught but a bunch of bragging rights and he didn’t give much mind to it.
Jack ran up and lay on the ground at Logan’s feet. “Where have ye been, Jack?” he mumbled, having not seen his wolf all morning. Oftentimes, the wolf would go out hunting and not return all day. But Logan had to keep a closer eye on his pet. Sometimes the wolf disobeyed him and hunted down one of the sheep if it was really hungry. The last time he did that, it didn’t go over well with the rest of the clan. One sheep eaten by a wolf meant one less sheep to feed the flock – the MacKeefe Clan, that is.
“I call this meetin’ to order,” said Storm, sitting on a log and looking straight at her. “We’re here to find out the reason why Lady Rhoswen and her siblin’s have dealin’s with our enemies, the Drummonds.”
“Oh, please just call me Rhoswen,” Rhoswen spoke up. “And I’m sorry, I had no idea the Drummonds were your enemies.”
“Why are ye even on this side of the border?” asked Aidan.
“Da, I already told ye,” said Logan.
“It’s for the records,” Aidan explained, nodding at the chronicler. Bridget
handed her father the book and also a quill and a bottle of ink.
“They’re goin’ to put this in the chronicles?” asked Logan in disgust. He didn’t want Rhoswen’s horrible incident scrawled across the pages of the book for the king and the whole of Scotland to see.
“I have nothing to hide,” Rhoswen spoke up. “I’d be happy to tell everyone my story.”
Logan glanced over to her, shaking his head slightly. She reached out and patted him gently on the hand before she started.
“My father and siblings and I came to Scotland to collect my late sister’s young son, Lockie,” Rhoswen told the others, talking and making eye contact with all of them. Logan was impressed with how she handled a crowd.
“Where is yer nephew?” asked Storm.
“My sister was Ranulph Drummond’s wife – married to him for alliance purposes about a year ago.”
“The Drummonds made an alliance? With the English?” Aidan called out. “That’s naught but a bunch of –”
“Da, please,” said Logan. “Let her speak.”
Aidan let out a whoosh of air from his mouth and shook his head. There was no doubt he didn’t believe it. The Drummonds weren’t known to make alliances with the English. Ever.
“Continue,” said Storm in a low voice.
“We were to trade my father’s sword for the boy,” said Rhoswen. “But we were attacked on the road and never made it to the Highlands. My father’s guards were killed and he was wounded, but died later. Thankfully, my siblings and I were down at the creek when it happened and we were able to escape unharmed.”
“So, yer sister died,” said Storm.
“Aye.” Rhoswen nodded.
“Do ye ken how she died?” asked Aidan.
“Well I –” Rhoswen looked over to Logan. “I was told she died in childbirth.”
“An obvious lie,” said Ethan. “We’ve heard he brags about killin’ off his Sassenach wife.”
“Ethan,” growled Logan. “We dinna ken that for sure.”
Highland Steel: Highland Chronicles Series - Book 3 Page 8