Highland Steel: Highland Chronicles Series - Book 3

by Rose, Elizabeth

  “Why would the chieftain of the clan agree to trade away his son for a mere sword?” asked Storm. “It doesna make any sense. A son is a man’s most valued possession.”

  “As well as his sword,” added Newell. “Or at least, that is what my father used to say.”

  “Newell, quiet,” snapped Rhoswen. “Chieftain, the reason Ranulph Drummond didn’t want the boy is because he found out it wasn’t his.”

  “It wasn’t?” asked Wren. “Well, whose was it?”

  Rhoswen didn’t want to divulge all her family secrets to the clan and certainly not to the king’s chronicler, but she had to tell them. If not, they would think she was a traitor and that would never gain their trust. She needed to convince the MacKeefes to help her, especially since now the Drummonds already had the sword. If not, she would never see little Lockie. As it was, she had no idea where she and her siblings would live. They couldn’t go back to England. Not without King Richard’s sword. She was sure they wouldn’t receive a pardon, not when they were accomplices to the crime so to speak. Women and children were normally never believed, and it would only bring about their deaths in the end, and she couldn’t let that happen.

  “My sister was pregnant before my father betrothed her to Drummond,” she said, holding her breath.

  “Already pregnant? Oh no, that wasn’t good,” said Wren.

  “Nay, it wasn’t,” she admitted. “I didn’t know it until my father told me on his deathbed. I guess . . . I am sorry to say . . . he was trying to hide the fact that my sister was pregnant with the stableboy’s baby. I suppose he thought . . . I guess he hoped having Ailsa far away would protect him from anyone knowing she was pregnant with a bastard.”

  “Och, no’ a smart thing to do,” spat Aidan.

  “I agree,” said Rhoswen. “But as of recently, I didn’t know that my father made some bad decisions.”

  “None of us knew,” Blaine spoke up for the first time.

  “Well, I’m sure the stableboy would like to know that he has a son,” said Wren.

  “He’s dead,” said Rhoswen, not telling him that her father killed him.

  “What about your mother?” asked Wren. “I’m sure she’s worried about you being in the Highlands.”

  “My mother passed away as well,” she told them.

  “Is that why yer faither brought ye with him to the Highlands?” asked Storm. “It wasna a smart thing to do.”

  “As I said,” she told them, letting out a deep breath. “It seems my father didn’t always think things through before he took action.”

  “Excuse me,” said Bridget, raising her hand slightly. “Did I miss the part of why your father’s sword is so valuable to the Drummonds?”

  “Och, lass, tell me yer faither isna goin’ to put this in the king’s chronicles,” Logan said to Bridget.

  “I collect information and will decide later what goes into the book,” Brigham told them.

  “Well, I dinna think any of this is material that should be in the king’s book,” said Logan, obviously sticking up for Rhoswen. She appreciated it, but knew the MacKeefes needed an answer.

  “I’ll tell you,” said Rhoswen.

  “Lass, ye’ve said enough,” Logan warned her, his hand covering hers slightly.

  Her eyes went down to his hand and then her eyes lifted to his and she flashed a slight smile.

  “It’s all right,” she told him. “Your clan deserves to know everything. I’m just sorry I don’t have a better story to tell them.”

  “What do ye mean?” asked Storm.

  “The sword was not just any sword,” Rhoswen explained. “You see, it belonged to our English King Richard.”

  “How did yer faither get the king’s sword and why did Richard allow it to be traded away?” asked Aidan.

  “Da, give her a minute to finish,” spat Logan.

  “Our faither stole the sword from the king,” spat Newell before Rhoswen could answer. She had intended to stretch the truth a little and tell them the king gave it or lent it to her father, but now it was too late.

  “He stole the king’s sword,” Bridget told her father. “Did ye hear that?”

  “I did,” said Brigham, scribbling something down on the page.

  “He stole the king’s sword?” gasped Wren. “Oh, no.”

  “He only did it to use it for leverage. To bring Lockie home,” explained Rhoswen. “He planned on bringing the sword back to England and returning it afterwards.”

  “I dinna understand,” said Storm, cocking his head. “How did yer faither think he was goin’ to walk away from the Drummonds with the child and the sword?”

  “My faither was goin’ to kill Drummond!” shouted Newell standing up and holding his hand in the air. “I say we go there, steal the sword back, save Lockie, and kill them all!”

  “Newell!” shouted Rhoswen, jumping up and grabbing her brother by the arm. “What is the matter with you?”

  “I think this is enough for now, Storm,” Wren whispered to her husband.

  “The man was a fool!” shouted Aidan. “If he’d had his way, ye’d all have been killed. Is that what he really wanted?”

  “Da!” shouted Logan, jumping to his feet as well.

  Blaine jumped up, crying, running for the hospice.

  “I’ll go after her,” Wren offered, getting up and hurrying after the girl.

  “This meetin’ is over,” said Storm, getting to his feet. “Logan I’d have a word with ye.”

  “Me, too,” said Aidan, heading over to Storm.

  “In private,” Storm told Aidan.

  “Aye, of course, Chieftain,” said Aidan, looking sullen as he headed away.

  “What is the matter with you?” Rhoswen said under her breath to her brother.

  “Well, I thought they wanted to know everything,” said Newell.

  “You shouldn’t have said it right in front of the chronicler. That was stupid.”

  “I’m sorry.” Newell hung his head.

  “And now, Blaine is off crying again, so upset that we’ll never be able to calm her down.”

  “Blaine is a baby. She cries about everything,” said Newell. “She needs to grow up.”

  “Like you?” Rhoswen narrowed her eyes, scowling at her brother.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go try to calm her down.”

  “You do that. And keep your mouth closed,” she called out after her brother as he hurried away.

  “Lady Rhoswen?”

  Rhoswen turned to see Bridget heading her way. Her father collected their things and left in the opposite direction.

  “Yes?” she asked, not wanting to answer any questions the girl might ask.

  “I’m Bridget Ogilvy, daughter of Brigham, the king’s chronicler,” she told her.

  “Yes, I know,” she said, trying to be careful not to say too much more. The girl was very petite with bright red hair. Rhoswen had thought she was much younger until she came close and she studied her face close up. “Was there something you wanted?”

  “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about all the deaths in yer family.” The woman sounded sincere.

  “Thank you,” she told her.

  “I dinna have a mathair either, so I ken how hard it must be for ye no’ to have either parent.”

  “Again, thank you. Now, is there something else you need?”

  “I ken ye think I am only here to gain information for the chronicles, but I assure ye, I want to be yer friend.”

  “If you want to be my friend, then don’t write anything you’ve heard here today into that book.”

  “Oh, well, my faither makes that decision,” she said, looking back to where her father sat moments ago. “I’m sorry, but I canna decide for him.”

  “Then do something to change his mind. I don’t fancy the ill deeds of my father being put into writing. As it is, my siblings and I have nowhere to go – nowhere to live. If that story starts being sung by bards from here to the coasts of England, we’re sure to
be hunted down like dogs and tortured to pay for my father’s crimes.”

  “Och, I hadna thought of that,” she said, seeming to ponder the thought. “Canna ye go back to yer family and yer castle?”

  “The only family I have now are Blaine and Newell and my sister’s son who I’ve never even met.”

  “There is no one back in England?”

  Rhoswen shook her head. “They’re all dead. And I’m sure by now King Richard has stripped my father of his title and seized his castle and lands. There is probably a warrant for his arrest and a high bounty on his head.”

  “I had no idea,” said Bridget. “That puts ye in a horrible position. What are ye goin’ to do?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” she said, raising her chin and looking down at the small woman in suspicion. “But whatever I decide, I assure you that you and your father will be the last to know.”

  She turned and headed back to the hospice to see to the comfort of her sister, never once even looking back. If she were going to be the head of her family now, she needed to be strong. Rhoswen didn’t need friends who probably weren’t even real. What she needed was to come up with a plan, and to think with a sharp mind. And in order to do that, she had to push her emotions aside. Aye, she needed to harden her heart.

  Chapter 12

  Logan pounded the nail into the fence with a hard swing, hitting his thumb because he was so angry after his talk with Storm.

  “Bid the devil,” he swore, turning and flinging the hammer to the ground.

  “Whoa!” said Ethan, throwing his hands up in the air and jumping backward. His hound ran out of the way and took off in the opposite direction. “I think ye’ve found yer new weapon of choice – the hammer.”

  “Sorry about that,” said Logan, sitting down on a log and pulling out his whittling knife. Whenever he was upset, he whittled. He’d been doing it since he was a child. It helped to calm him and clear his mind. He picked up a piece of wood and scraped the blade along the surface.

  “I take it yer private conversation with Storm didna go well?” Ethan leaned on the fence, reaching over to pet one of the horses on the nose. The corral enabled their horses to run freely during the nicer weather.

  “He doesna think it was a guid idea to bring Rhoswen and her siblin’s here,” said Logan.

  “Mmm,” said Ethan. “And ye dinna agree?” He continued to pet the horse, looking back over his shoulder at Logan.

  “I dinna ken what to think anymore.” He furiously whittled away at the wood.

  “Storm is only tryin’ to protect the clan,” Ethan pointed out.

  “And I am only tryin’ to protect Rhoswen and her siblin’s,” said Logan.

  “I ken that.” Ethan gave the horse one last pet, then walked over and hunkered down next to Logan. “I also ken that ye have feelin’s for the girl. That is what is makin’ yer decision so hard of whether to let them stay or send them away.”

  Logan stopped whittling and threw the wood to the ground. “Is it that obvious?” he asked.

  “Well, I see the way ye look at her,” said Ethan. No’ to mention, Newell told me he saw ye kissin’ his sister.”

  “The boy’s got a big mouth,” spat Logan, wiping off his blade on his plaid.

  “He only does it for attention,” said Ethan.

  “Ye think so?” Logan looked up in surprise. He’d never thought about that.

  “Well, all I ken is that when my daughter, Isobel, wants my attention, she talks about anythin’ and everythin’ and often shows me her doll.”

  “Ye made that doll for her,” said Logan, looking down at the wood he discarded.

  “That’s right, I did. And ever since, she willna leave my side.”

  “Mayhap, before I can make a decision, I need to get to ken Rhoswen and her brathair and sister better.”

  “Mayhap,” said Ethan with a shrug. “But will any of that make it any easier when ye have to send them away?”

  “Nay, I suppose no’. But because of their daft faither’s decisions, they have nowhere to go, Ethan. I had hoped to ask Storm to let them stay here.”

  “Och, Logan, ye canna be serious.” Ethan stood up. “Ye ken as well as I that it’s only a matter of time before the Drummonds find out they’re here and it starts trouble.”

  “Mayhap they’ll never ken. Besides, they have the sword they wanted, so why would they come after Rhoswen and her siblin’s?”

  “Rhoswen is a strong lassie,” said Ethan. “But she’s lost everythin’ and almost everyone in the past few days. She’s learned her faither was a connivin’, murderin’ bastard and that is somethin’ that will affect her the rest of her life.”

  “I ken.”

  “Do ye think she is really goin’ to be content just stayin’ here when she kens her nephew is with the Drummonds?”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Logan with a sigh. “If I dinna help her, she and probably her brathair, too, are goin’ to do somethin’ stupid like go after the boy by themselves.”

  “And if ye do help her?”

  Logan bit his lip and looked the other way. “If I try to get that boy away from the Drummonds, I might bring an attack against the clan and that is somethin’ I could never live with.”

  “Then there is no other answer, Logan. The girl and her siblin’s need to go.”

  “I suppose ye’re right.” Logan shook his head, his heart not in this decision.

  “I have to be honest with ye, Logan. Storm sent me over here to talk some sense into that wooden head of yers.”

  “I figured. And I canna blame him.”

  “So, what do ye want me to tell him?”

  “Tell him . . . tell him to give me a few days. Then I’ll personally take Rhoswen and her siblin’s back to England and try to find a place for them to live.”

  “All right,” said Ethan. “I’ll tell Storm. But make me a promise, Logan.”

  “What’s that?” Logan looked up.

  “Promise me ye willna let the lass get all confused and end up doin’ somethin’ stupid.”

  “Nay, that’ll never happen,” said Logan, thinking about the last time he fell for a lassie that he never should have been with. It ended up putting him in the midst of a blood feud and he’d lost the clan’s prized possession.

  “I’ll believe that when I see it,” chuckled Ethan, slapping Logan on the back. “Just think with a clear head instead of below yer belt, and there shouldna be any problems.”

  “Aye,” said Logan, seeing his wolf coming across the field as Ethan walked away. “What should I do, Jack?” he asked his pet. Jack licked his hand. Then, spying a mouse, the wolf took off at a run. Logan didn’t want to have to ask Rhoswen to leave, but then again, the last thing he wanted to do was to go to the Drummonds trying to get her nephew. Nay, the Drummonds were their enemies and Logan would not be the cause of another battle between them. The right thing to do would be like Ethan said. He’d have to take them back to England and hope to help them find somewhere to live. The only problem was, he was really going to miss them.

  He picked up the hunk of wood and started to whittle again. He never should have kissed Rhoswen because, now, he couldn’t stop thinking of doing it again. She needed him to help him save a child. And he needed her – to help him release the love locked inside his heart that he’d never been able to share.

  Rhoswen hadn’t seen Logan since the meeting this morning, and it bothered her that he hadn’t sought her out. After all, they’d kissed and she thought it had meant something to him. Mayhap she was wrong.

  “Rhoswen, here are our gowns,” said her sister, bringing her from her thoughts. She’d helped Wren and Logan’s mother, Effie, prepare haggis for the nighttime meal, while Blaine spent the afternoon sleeping, and trying not to cry. Rhoswen wasn’t sure how to help her siblings. Newell said he was going down to the water. Rhoswen had been so angry with him for blabbing all their family secrets, that she let him go by himself.

  “Oh, the gowns
are finally dry?” she asked, wiping off her hands and taking it from her sister.

  “You’re welcome to keep wearing the MacKeefe plaid,” said Wren, looking over from the hearth in the kitchen. “You look good in it.” She flashed a smile.

  “Blaine, go back to the hospice and get changed,” Rhoswen told her sister. “I’m going to finish helping Wren prepare the meal before I change.”

  “Oh, use my hut,” Wren called out. “The hospice is an open area and there might be men in there. Effie is in my hut right now, so she’ll let you in.”

  “Go on,” said Rhoswen with a nod, wanting time alone to talk to the chieftain’s wife. The kitchen had been crowded earlier, but now they were the only two there.

  “All right,” said Blaine, putting Rhoswen’s gown on the bench and then leaving.

  “So,” said Wren, wiping her hands on a towel and taking a seat across the table from Rhoswen. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Rhoswen smiled, putting down her cooking knife. “How did you know?”

  “I’m a woman. I could tell. And I can also tell you have feelings for Logan.”

  Rhoswen’s head snapped up. “Did my brother tell you he saw me kissing Logan?”

  “You did?” Wren’s brows arched in surprise.

  “Oh. I see I’ve just spilled my own secret,” Rhoswen said with an embarrassed smile.

  “It’s all right,” said Wren, reaching out and putting her hand over Rhoswen’s. “I think you would make a fine addition to our clan.”

  “What do you mean?” Rhoswen’s heart sped up a beat, thinking she was talking about her marrying Logan for some reason.

  “I only mean that I understand you and your siblings have nowhere to go. I’ll try to talk to my husband about you possibly staying with the MacKeefe Clan.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Rhoswen pulled away and stood. “I get the feeling that all I’m going to do is bring trouble to the MacKeefes after what I heard at the clan meeting.”

  “What happened between the Drummonds and the MacKeefes had nothing to do with you.”

  “What happened?” asked Rhoswen. “Please tell me.” She sat back down.

  “Well, it was about five years ago,” said Wren. “The MacKeefes were unstoppable in battle. The men all believed it was because of this sword that was given to the MacKeefes by some old sage decades ago.”