“Hold, Brodie.” Logan stepped between them and shoved his cousin backward. “I know you want revenge, and you will have it. But na yet.” He had hoped Brodie’s fury would give way to reason once he had a bit of time to accept Jenna’s death. But instead, Ann’s presence seemed to fuel his ire. “Stand down. If you canna control your rage, go somewhere to cool your head and return when you can.”
“I canna believe you are allowing the spawn of that devil to live when your father and Jenna are cold in their graves,” Brodie spat. “Has this comely face beguiled you and made you forget what the MacRyan did? I say we kill her now, and her maid too.” He cast a scowl of contempt at Rowena, who cowered on the ground beside him.
“I will never forget.” Logan stood fast between Ann and Brodie. He had to try and reason with his cousin before he followed through with his threat to kill the women. “Once we have father and daughter together, we will carry out their execution. Until, I bid you do as I ask. We will take the lasses and head back to MacAllen Castle. When we reach the crossroads at Berry Glen, I will release the maid and send her back to MacRyan Castle to inform the Laird that we have destroyed his men and hold his daughter prisoner. That if he doesna personally come to us and surrender himself, his daughter will suffer unmentionable torture and be put to death.”
“Verra well,” Brodie finally relented after few moments of silence and sheathed his dirk. “But if he refuses to come, do you give me your word that I may kill his daughter?”
Logan nodded. He hoped if it came to that, the old Brodie he knew, the gentle, kind man who reminded him more of a bard than a warrior would have returned. He still intended to see the MacRyan’s daughter pay for her father’s deed, but wanted time to capture the MacRyan as well.
After doing another quick survey of the area, Logan called for two of his men and bid them gather all the supplies they could find. “Be certain to pack the food, ale, riches, and pelts, anything we might be able to use when we return to MacAllen Castle. I dinna have time to take full stock of what we had left, but am sure the buggers dinna leave much.”
“What of the MacRyan warriors who survived the battle or are wounded. May Rowena and I at least tend to them before we depart?” Ann asked.
“There are no wounded or survivors. You and your maid are the only ones left,” Logan said, then turned to another of his men. “James, Find horses for both Lady Ann and her maid at once. We will leave for MacAllen castle as soon as you do.”
A Rose Among Thistles
B.J. Scott
Chapter Six
No survivors? There are always some who are captured or are wounded and need tending. These men are barbarians, and as father told me, the lowest form of creature imaginable. To slaughter wounded men and prisoners was inexcusable, and Ann figured they had no intention of letting them go, regardless if her father surrendered himself on her behalf. But rather than voice her opinion of Logan and his men, she held her tongue.
She feared not for herself, but cared very much what happened to Rowena. She was innocent in all of this. For her maid to die because she chose to accompany her on this trip was something Ann hoped she would not have to face, but she would not cower before her enemy either.
“What if I refuse to go with you?” Ann lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, looking Logan directly in the eye. She put on the bravest face she could manage—given the circumstances—and prayed her captors did not see her knees shaking and could not hear her heart pounding in her chest. She fisted her skirt to keep her hands from trembling.
“Then I will be forced to pick you up and toss you over the front of my saddle,” Logan said. “If you choose to go the distance like a sack of grain, with your arse bobbing in the air, so-be-it. But you will be going with us to MacAllen Castle like it or na. You are going, one way or the other, so best you decide.” He stomped toward her and gripped her wrist, then dragged her to within an inch of his powerful body. “How will you ride, like a lady or like cargo?”
As soon as he touched her arm and pinned her with his authoritative stare, Ann’s stomach did a quick flip, her pulse quickened, and she suddenly found it hard to draw a breath. She could not explain the tightness in her chest or the strange energy that seemed to encompass her, but her body’s reaction to his nearness was like nothing she had ever felt. A confusing mix of fear and excitement, a blend of hatred and strangely enough, desire claimed her.
Speechless for a moment, she quickly yanked her arm free, lowered her gaze, and rubbed her aching wrist. Logan MacAllen was her enemy. He had slaughtered the men accompanying her, held her and Rowena prisoner, and planned to kill her father. How she could ever feel anything but revulsion and utter contempt for him was unfathomable. But despite it all, there was something about him she found intriguing. She cursed beneath her breath, determined to fight the unwanted attraction at all cost.
“What will it be?” Logan growled.
“Like a lady,” she mumbled when a warrior entered the clearing with two horses.
“I am assuming you can ride.” Logan wrapped his large hands around Ann’s waist and placed her atop a bay mare before she could protest or answer his question. He nodded at Rowena. “And what of your maid?”
“I can sit a horse. Some say better than most men,” Ann said, proudly. “I had my first palfrey when I was but three summers. However, Rowena has na had much experience.”
“I have never ridden on my own.” Rowena backed away from the horse chosen for her, shaking her head. “I would just as soon walk.”
Logan nodded at Brodie. “The maid will ride with you.” Once Rowena was seated with his cousin behind her, he retrieved a short length of rope from a leather pouch. After wrapping it around Ann’s wrists several times and securing it to the saddle of her horse, he took a step back. “That should keep you in line.”
Ann stared at the ropes binding her, then at Logan. “How on earth do you expect me to control my mount if I canna lift my hands to do so? I insist you untie me at once.”
Logan grasped the reins of her mount with one hand and fisted the mane of his own with the other. In one swift move he was atop the beast and ready to ride. “You are a MacRyan and na to be trusted. I will leave naught to chance.” He turned to face his men. “Mount up, we have wasted enough time here. We will return to MacAllen Castle and await the MacRyan’s arrival.”
“My father is a smart man and willna fall for your trap.” Ann didn’t believe for a moment that she would be set free if her father came to her aid, and she didn’t want his death to be on her account.
“He will come, and Lord help him when he does,” Logan replied.
The icy way he spoke sent a shiver up Ann’s spine. It was clear he was a driven man, bent on revenge. She cast one last glance around the clearing turned battlefield—unable to believe that Logan was going to leave the bodies of her dead kinsmen without giving them a proper burial. The few MacAllen men who had died and those who were wounded during the skirmish and were unable to ride had been placed in her cart which was in line to accompany them. She made the sign of the cross and mumbled a quick prayer before turning to her captor. “What of the MacRyan dead? You canna just leave them to rot in the sun.”
“They are being shown the same courtesy they afforded my people when they raided our village. They will remain as they are for your father to deal with.” Logan replied, then pressed his heels into his horse’s sides, urging it forward.
****
Logan shifted in the saddle and chomped down on his lower lip, stifling a groan of pain. His wounded shoulder throbbed and the jarring it took as they traveled for several hours over rocky terrain at a swift speed caused it to bleed again. He slowed his horse to a walk and glanced at Ann. She was able to stay seated, despite some rough patches in the trail, and he had to admire her riding ability. He was also glad she could sit a horse. Having to ride with her bottom nestled between his thighs would have been torture.
Brodie rode up beside him. “Why are you
slowing down, cousin?” His gaze shifted to Logan’s wounded arm and he clucked his tongue. “I told you to have that tended before we set out. If you dinna mind and go easy, you will end up bleeding to death, and na able to avenge your father.”
“It is merely a scratch.” Logan dragged a shaky hand across his sweat-soaked brow. It was more than that, but he was not about to admit it to Brodie. They did not have time to dally over such things, and his mother would see to it when they got back to MacAllen Castle.
“I will be fine,” Logan grumbled. “We are almost at the Berry Glen crossroads and will be on MacAllen land. Once we let the maid go and send her back to the MacRyan, we can take a wee rest and water the horses in the stream.”
“Your cousin is right,” Ann said. “If left untended, you will either bleed to death or the wound will fester, and the results will be the same in the end.”
“One would think that prospect should please you, m’lady.” Logan gritted his teeth, then kicked his horse into a trot, heading toward a wooded area on the horizon.
The crossroads could not come soon enough for Logan. By the time they reached it, his head was swimming and he had almost lost his balance on more than one occasion. His wound continued to bleed, and his cousin was right, it he did not take the time to have it tended, he would not live long enough to see his father avenged. Should he die, there was also no telling what Brodie might do to Ann and Rowena. Would he carry out the plan to lure the MacRyan to face judgement for his crimes, or would he be so overcome with grief and rage he’d kill them both outright?
The thought of Ann’s death was having less and less appeal. He could not explain it, but he found himself captivated by not only her beauty, but her strong spirit and bravery as well. Every time he looked at her these feelings grew stronger and his body reacted more like a randy lad than a seasoned warrior. She was everything he could ever desire in a wife and lover. If only she was not the daughter of his enemy. He promised his father on his deathbed that the MacRyans would pay. He vowed to his mother to destroy the rival laird’s most prized possession—his daughter. She was not for him and the sooner he accepted that the better. He needed to remain objective and not allow his mounting attraction to the lass to interfere with their goals.
When they arrived at the Berry Glen crossroads, Logan dismounted. He swayed on his feet and leaned against his horse for support, hoping no one had noticed. But when he peered up at Ann, she was watching him, frowning.
“Are you certain you want to let the maid go?” Brodie slid from his saddle and approached Logan. “We could keep her and sent a messenger to inform the MacRyan of his men’s demise and his daughter’s capture. I see no point in showing her maid any mercy. They showed naught to Jenna or our women.”
“Our quarrel is with the MacRyan and his warriors, na women and bairns. We may want revenge, but I am na a heartless animal like her father. I willna condone the unnecessary slaughter of innocent people,” Logan snapped as he glared at his cousin. “I want your word that should anything happen to me, you will keep that in mind and na go off like a madman and disregard honor and decency.”
“What of the lass?” Brodie pointed at Ann. “You said she would give her life for Jenna’s,” Brodie reminded him. “You promised your mam as well.”
Logan was aware of his initial intent and vow, but things had changed. He was thinking more rationally than he was right after the attack on his people and the death of his father. He had hoped Brodie might feel differently by now about taking his revenge on a person who had no say in the attack and was not even there.
Ann was nothing like the tales he’d heard about the members of the MacRyan Clan. She was kind and compassionate. She cared about her father’s men and her maid, more than she did her own safety. He was sure his mother would be disappointed to learn Ann still lived, but he was not about to go against what he knew was right and honorable. His father would understand.
“The MacRyans will pay,” Logan said. “I am laird and I will decide how and when.” He spoke more harshly than he intended, but wanted to make his point clear. “Do I have your word that you will carry out the plan as we discussed?”
“If you say so,” Brodie said.
“Good. Give the maid some oatcakes and a wine skin of ale, then send her on her way.” He faced his men and signaled to a fair-haired warrior atop a black destrier. “Take the maid as far as the valley, then let her go. If she must walk the entire way, it will take too long for her to reach home.”
Rowena clutched Ann’s arm, sobbing. “Please dinna let them send me back. I wish to stay here. What will become of you if left alone with these blackguards?”
Ann clasped her maid’s hand and gently pried if free from her arm. “Hush. Dinna show them you are afraid. You must do as they say and go back to MacRyan Castle. Tell father what has happened,” she said loud enough for all to hear, then quickly whispered something in Rowena’s ear.
A warning to her father, Logan suspected. But he expected no less. “It is time for you to leave.” He cupped Rowena’s elbow and ushered her to the waiting warrior, wrapped his hands around her waist, and hoisted her into the saddle before him. “Warn your laird we are waiting for him and I will slit your mistress’s throat. Do I make myself clear?”
Rowena offered a hesitant nod.
“I am glad we understand each other,” he said in a hushed voice, then addressed her escort. “We willna be waiting for you here. Once you have dropped the lass off in the spot we decided, you will have to catch up.” Logan slapped the horse on the rear—the beast lunging forward.
He waited for Rowena and the warrior to ride out of sight before releasing a low groan and a heavy sigh. He turned to Anne, removed a dagger from the sheath at his side and cut the ropes binding her to the saddle. Once her feet were on the ground, he pinned her with his stare. “Dinna make me regret my decision to release your maid or to untie you, so you can tend to your needs. Any attempt to escape will be punished.” He waved at two of his men. “James, Thomas. Keep a close watch on Lady Ann. Dinna let her out of your sight,” he said then staggered off toward the stream, where he dropped to his knees.
The cool water he splashed on his face offered a welcome relief. He cupped his hand and scooped out some of the icy liquid, brought it to his lips, and drank greedily. His mouth was as dry as wood and he suspected the loss of blood had contributed to his insatiable thirst. Once he’d had his fill, he rocked back on his heels and released a groan of pain he had been holding in.
“If you will allow me, I can tend to your wound.”
The soft lilt of Ann’s voice was like music to his ears and for a moment he forgot that she was the enemy. Perhaps his wound was worse than he thought, and he was imagining she was standing behind him. But when she touched his back, he spun around to face her.
A Rose Among Thistles
B.J. Scott
Chapter Seven
Startled by her presence, and wondering what happened to the men he ordered to guard her, Logan scowled at Ann. “What in damnation are you doing here?” he snapped, then proceeded to let out a string of curses beneath his breath that were not fit for a woman’s ears. He quickly glanced behind her, then cursed again. He’d charged two of his most trustworthy men with keeping their eyes on their prisoner while she tended to her needs. A simple task, or so he thought. He was obviously mistaken because here she stood with no sign of either man.
“Where are James and Thomas. I will see them punished when I get my hands on them. I was specific with my orders.”
“Dinna fash. They are standing just beyond the thicket, at the entrance to the path leading to the water’s edge. They knew you were here and that I had nowhere to run.” Ann squatted beside the stream, dipped her hand into the water, and scooped some out. After taking a sip to quench her thirst, she submerged several lengths of linen that she carried, squeezed out the excess water, then set them on a nearby rock. “Take off your tunic.”
Logan glared at her in dis
belief. He was not taking orders from anyone, especially his prisoner. She was his sworn enemy and there was no telling what she might do if given the opportunity. “I would just as soon wait until I get back to MacAllen Castle and have my mother see to my wound. Go and tend to your needs or there willna be time. We are leaving soon. James! Thomas!”
“Och, why are men so thrawn? They seldom do as requested, and oft pay the price in the end.” Ann gave her head a rough shake. “Suit yourself, but dinna be surprised if you fall off your mount well afore we reach our destination. I saw you sway more than once while riding.” She gathered up her linens and turned to leave.
“Wait.” Logan gave what she said some serious thought and decided she was right. A simple wound could become serious, even deadly if left unattended too long. If he allowed her to clean and stitch his gash, it would heal quickly and cause him little trouble. If the bleeding continued, he might not make it back to the castle. “Do I have your word that you willna try any tricks? If so, I see no harm in allowing you to clean and dress my wound.”
“You called, Lord Logan?” Thomas appeared at the head of the trail.
“Aye. I was checking to make sure you were still standing guard as instructed. As you were.” Logan waved him off with a flick of his hand, then faced Ann. “Lets get this over and done.” He removed his tunic, then sat with his back resting against the trunk of a tree.
Ann knelt next to him and examined the wound on his left shoulder. “I will be able to assess the damage once I have cleared the area of blood. It may hurt.”
“I have had much worse in the past,” he grunted. “See to it or leave.”
After returning his scowl, Ann gently dragged a wet piece of linen across his injured shoulder, then repeated the action several times.
Rogues to Lovers: Legend of the Blue Rose Page 37