Rogan ignored her and shouted to a passing servant to fetch a cloak from his bedchamber. He looked back at Bertha. “You will watch over Da for me.”
“As I always do, though if he does not stop drowning his sorrows in drink he will soon join his beloved Anna, which is what I believe he wants more than anything.”
“It was bad enough losing Mum. I don’t want to lose Da as well, but I am helpless of what to do for him.”
Bertha shook her head. “There is nothing you can do. Your da will do as he will just as you do, a trait common to the MacClennan men.”
“Are you telling me that I am stubborn?” Rogan asked his brow narrowing, though a slight smile touched his lips.
“You are,” Bertha said, her smile spreading, “but you may have met your match in Emma.” She snatched a wrapped bundle off the bench and held it out to Rogan. “Clothes for Emma.”
A heavy frown gripped Rogan, and he snatched the bundle out of Bertha’s hands and stormed out of the keep, a servant hurrying after him with his cloak in her hands.
*
Emma reached the injured Macinnes warriors by daylight, though gray skies greeted the morn. Thankfully, the rain had stopped halfway through her ride, leaving her wet but not soaked. She did not care for the scene she came upon. The injured warriors had not fared well through the rain-soaked night. They needed shelter, warmth, and food, and she knew where she would get it for them.
Dunnan appeared the heartiest, his wound minor and his stamina strong. His hands went to help her off the horse, but she shook her head and slid off with ease.
“You will be using that injured arm enough when it becomes necessary. You do not need to waste it on me when I can fare for myself.”
Dunnan’s eyes turned wide as he looked her over.
Emma realized how she must look, her hair hanging in wet strands, her bare feet caked with mud and wearing only a wet nightdress and cloak.
She shrugged. “I had to leave in a hurry.”
Dunnan scowled. “Did someone try to harm you?”
“No, but someone would not let me join in the search for my sister.”
Dunnan smiled. “He will be here soon?”
“He will,” she said with a nod, “and he will insist that I return to his home with the injured, and that I will not do.”
“Then you best be on your way. I will get the men ready to leave.”
“No message from Patience?” Emma asked, though knew it would have been the first thing Dunnan had spoken of, if there had been one.
Dunnan shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You will have shelter, care, and food soon enough. Stay with the MacClennan clan until you hear from a Macinnes. I want to have a quick look at the injured before I leave and let them know they will be safe and tended to soon.”
Dunnan joined her as she took time with each warrior, assuring them they would do well and seeing to changing a bandage or two before she was finished.
Dunnan walked her to her horse, though she would not let him help her mount. “You be careful, lassie, and remember the things I taught you about the land. She will keep you safer than people will.”
Emma nodded and, though fear gripped her stomach, she gave Dunnan a nod and took off to search for any signs Patience had left for her, knowing that it would not be long before Rogan caught up with her.
*
“She has what?” Rogan asked, shaking his head at the large warrior, not believing what he had just told him.
“Emma has gone to find her sister,” Dunnan repeated.
“You let her go off on her own?” Rogan continued shaking his head. He had never met such a willful woman in his life. No wonder her father had such trouble finding her a husband. Not only was she plain of features, but she was too damn obstinate for any man to want.
“Emma is,”—Dunnan paused and chewed at his lower lip for a moment—“an independent lassie.”
Rogan laughed, though it held a bitter tone and had his warriors and the Macinnes warriors turning their heads to stare at him.
“Mule-headed is more like it,” Rogan said, though giving it thought he realized that Emma was also shrewd. She had known that he would have sent her along with her warriors to his home, so she made certain that the option had been taken from him. But now he had two women to find, three if he counted Patience, though what he knew of her, she was an accomplished warrior in her own right.
“Emma is a good woman and does well by her clan,” Dunnan said loudly.
Macinnes warriors began getting to their feet and the ones who could not were helped by others to stand. While none were in any shape to fight, they all made the effort of showing that they would defend her name and honor regardless of their weakened conditions.
Rogan was impressed. Emma was obviously well thought of by her clan, but then her unique knowledge of the land and animals had greatly benefitted her clan. So, they would be likely to hold her in high regard.
“It would take the devil himself to stop her from searching for her sister,” Dunnan added and the other warriors agreed with nods and shouts.
It was clear that the Macinnes warriors were letting him know that they would not take kindly to him preventing Emma from joining in the search for her sister, but then Rogan did not take well to threats.
“If Emma can best the devil, then she has the right to search for her sister,” he said loud enough for all to hear and the MacClennan warriors smiled.
Dunnan did not take well to his remark and turned to walk away.
“I am not finished,” Rogan said, stopping him.
Dunnan turned back around reluctantly.
“Carts have been brought to carry your wounded back to my home where you all will be cared for until you are well enough to return home.”
“I was told to wait there until I hear from a Macinnes.”
“Then wait you shall,” Rogan said and took a step closer to the man, “though make no mistake, my word is law there and if I say otherwise you will obey.”
Dunnan nodded, not fool enough to argue with the chieftain. He had heard stories about Rogan MacClennan and what a fierce and fearless warrior he was. And from the look and demeanor of the mighty warrior they appeared to be true.
A tall, slender warrior, with long brown hair and fine features approached Rogan.
“Did you find her tracks, Liam?” Rogan asked.
The warrior nodded. “It is an easy enough trail to follow.”
“Not good,” Rogan said, “if we can follow her trail so easily than others can as well.”
“There were no signs of anyone following her,” Liam confirmed.
Concern for Emma had Dunnan speaking up. “There had been no signs that we were being followed before the attack. They came out of nowhere, some dropping from trees, others appearing as if they materialized out of thin air, they were upon us so fast. And once they had Heather, they all vanished, even the injured ones.”
“Are you saying that the attack was for the sole purpose of abducting Heather?” Rogan asked the suggestion difficult to believe.
“What other reason could there be? They took nothing, only Heather, and if they were after women, why not take Patience and Emma as well?” Dunnan argued.
Rogan did not like what he heard. If that was so, then this was no random abduction. It had been planned. But why only take Heather? For now, he could only ponder the disturbing questions, time being of the essence in his search for Heather. The more time he wasted, the more difficult it would be to find her. He needed to locate her trail and track down the culprit who had had the audacity to capture his intended and make him pay and bring Heather home safely.
“Liam, set us on the right trail,” Rogan ordered, and then turned to shout. “We leave now.”
He and his warriors mounted their horses in minutes, and after orders to his warriors to head directly home and stop for nothing, he and his troop took off.
*
Emma had come across a babbling s
tream, the tracks she had been following having taken her off a well-worn path. While her horse drank, she discarded her cloak and knelt beside the water and got a distorted glimpse of her reflection, which made her look even worse than she already did. Dried mud spotted her face here and there and her hair hung in strings over her shoulders. Her hands were a mixture of dried mud and scratches, and she wished she had remembered to use the salve in her satchel before leaving the stable. The mixture was her own concoction she had scented with lavender and it kept her hands in fine shape, not to mention soft and smelling nice. But she had forgotten about it and now she had no time to care for her hands, or for that matter herself. She looked affright, and she doubted that even a brief washing would change that.
She went to dip her hands in the water when she caught another reflection shimmering just behind hers. It towered over her and the breadth of it made it seem like it was about to devour her.
“You deserve a good dunking in there for disobeying me.”
She released the breath that had caught in her throat, realizing it was Rogan, though there was a threat to his words and for a moment she wondered if he would actually carry through on it. She quickly got to her feet and turned to face him.
Why was it that he seemed larger than last time she saw him? His shoulders appeared broader, his chest thicker and of course muscles rippled everywhere over him. She had to admit that she had not seen many warriors built as powerfully as him. Many were thick and solid, but Rogan was more defined, almost as if he had been sculpted by a skilled craftsman.
She shook her head, chasing away the observation since it seemed to cause a strange stirring in her and focused on what was more important. “Then you would do me a favor, for I require a good washing.”
It took a moment for Rogan to comprehend her response. He was much too engaged in the way her wet nightdress clung to her curvaceous body. Her loose garments had hidden well the treasure beneath. Her plentiful breasts would spill over in his large hands, and such a narrow waist tempted to be stroked. Then there was her full hips and rounded backside that had his hands aching to take hold and squeeze. But the place his eyes lingered the most was the triangle of dark hair between her slim, hard legs, the passageway to pleasure that turned him hard.
With an angry growl, he dismissed his foolish thoughts, and said, “I have garments and boots for you. Clean yourself up, dress, and then we talk.”
“If you have more of the same to say, then do not waste your breath.”
Rogan clenched his hands at his sides. “If you were my woman, I would—”
“But I am not your woman and glad of it I am. I would not want a husband who thought me so dimwitted that he felt the need to dictate to me all the time. My husband will be my partner or I will not wed.”
“Then that will be your lot in life, for there is not a man alive who would wed a harridan like you.”
Emma recoiled, once again feeling as if he had struck her. He not only thought her bad-tempered, but old-looking as well. Did she truly appear aged and unappealing when he looked upon her? She had been called many things through the years that hurt more than if she had been hit with a stone. This was one of them.
Rogan bit at his tongue for his heartless remark. Emma might not share the beauty that her sisters possess, but she certainly was not unattractive. And old she was not, her fine body attesting to that. He was not used to being defied and Emma certainly had a penchant for defying authority.
Emma tossed her chin up and glared at him. “Then I am lucky, for I will be free to live my life as I choose, instead of being saddled with a husband who has not half the intelligence that I do.” She pointed a finger at him. “Now go so I may wash and dress.”
She actually thought herself more intelligent than a man and she was dismissing him like a common servant. Never before this day had he wanted to throttle a woman as badly as he did Emma. Not that he would. After all, she was a mere woman and a powerful man did not raise his hand against the weak. But then Emma had proved herself anything but weak.
Rogan crossed his arms over his chest. “I will turn around, but I will not leave you to your own devises, since I cannot trust you to take off again on your own.”
“I am where I need to be—”
“With me,” Rogan finished, “and you will not go off on your own again or I will bind you and see you sent home on the back of your horse. And do not bother to ask if it is a threat or a promise, for it is both, and you will do well to remember it.” After tossing the small sack of clothes to her, he turned his back, signaling that the discussion was over.
She did not waste her breath arguing with him. He was much too pig-headed to see reason. She got busy washing up as best she could and getting dressed, though she found the garments a bit big and the boots as well. She supposed her clothes had not dried in time and she had been sent another’s to wear. She wished she had taken the time to retrieve some of her own garments before leaving the injured men. But after having checked on the wounded, she could not have spared another moment or she would have risked being caught and sent home. And that had been something she had made sure had not happened, nor would it. Her sisters were counting on her, and she would not let them down.
When she finished, she ran her fingers through her hair, working through the stubborn knots with several grimaces before she was done. Then she twisted her long hair and secured it in a tight knot at the nape of her neck as Heather had taught her to do.
She rolled up the wet and muddy nightdress she had used to dry herself, intending to wash it first chance she got. With no garments to spare, it could become useful along the way.
Emma did not bother to glance over herself one last time. She looked as she did and there was no changing that. Besides, how she looked did not matter in the least.
She called out, “I am finished and ready to ride.”
Rogan turned around ready to lay down the law—his law—to her since he had no choice but to take her along, but he was struck silent when he laid eyes upon her. Her hair was drawn back tightly away from her face and her cheeks were spotted red from the fresh scrubbing. Her eyes seemed a bit larger. Or was it that their lovely green color that reminded him of meadows and hills on a fine spring day that made them more appealing? Were her lips a bit plumper than he had first noticed? He grunted beneath his breath annoyed that she had caught his eye in a manner he had not expected. He also grew more annoyed that he could not get the image of her enticing body in the wet nightdress out of his mind. He would be wise to remember her quick tongue and willful ways and that her sister Heather was his intended. Still, he could not ignore that the sight of her had aroused him twice in a very short time. If he had not lain with a woman recently, he would have blamed it on too much time between a good and satisfying poke. But it had been only a day that he had shared a lively and gratifying evening with a lassie that had been more than willing.
So why the bloody hell had this woman, plain in features and defiant tongue, aroused him?
He grunted low again and advanced on her with a quick step. Her eyes narrowed, her chin went up, and she held her ground, which surprised him since more often than not such a sudden move intimidated a person, but obviously not Emma.
“Since I have no choice but to take you along, listen well to what I say. You will obey my every word, for I have no time to deal with your foolish antics that serve no purpose but to delay my search for my intended.”
“Delay your search?” she repeated incredulously. “You did a fine job of that yourself. And my foolish antics found the trail of those who took my sister, so I warn you, I will let nothing get in the way of finding my sister—not even you.”
Chapter Four
Rogan was the last to mount his horse and with the furious look on his face, his warriors wisely gave him a wide berth. He guided his stallion next to Emma’s mare and in an even, though threatening tone said, “Issue me such a warning again and I will see you bound and draped over your horse
and sent home to your father.”
Emma smiled pleasantly. “You would have to catch me first.” With that, she rode off in an easy trot, her head turning from side to side, studying the muddied path as she went.
Rogan glared after her. Her wit and tongue were much too quick. There would come a time that he would call her to task for it and see her disciplined for such improper behavior, but now was not that time. He had Heather to think about. Sweet. Beautiful Heather. Wagging tongues spoke of her kindness and her generosity and how not a harsh word ever passed her lips. Heather would prove a good wife and their marriage beneficial to his clan.
His musings were interrupted by his tracker Liam as he rode up alongside him. They had been friends from when they could first walk and that friendship had grown stronger through the years. Liam was one person he knew without a doubt that he could trust. Though his wife Ina was another good friend, two years younger than Liam, she had forever dogged their steps. Mostly though, it had been Liam she had followed around. It was as if she had claimed him for herself on first sight and refused to let go. Liam had never seemed to mind and no one had been surprised when they wed five years ago. They had yet to welcome a child, though it had not been for lack of trying, as Liam had confided, but at least they had each other. They had always had each other. They were meant to be, and they did make a fine pair. Liam tall and slender and Ina petite and pretty and with a head of flaming red hair that curled every which way. They got to wed for love. Something Rogan would never be able to do. His father had once encouraged him to find a woman to love as he and Rogan’s mother had. But time passed and with no prospects of love on the horizon and Rogan having recently turned twenty and five years, it was time for him to wed. It had been his choice to seek a bride, to see his duty done and his father had not argued.
Liam nodded toward Emma. “She is skillful at reading the land. Those tracks were not easy to find after the rain.”
“It is a shame that she does not do as well with holding her tongue.”
“Can you blame her, Rogan? If Ina had a sister she would not let me rest until she was found. And I would be wise to do as she asked or suffer for it.”
Lords of the Isles Page 125