“Aye, during the night. No one knows how.”
Turning away to mask the lie, Logan cursed aloud. “She was a canny lass.”
When he faced his laird once more, Gillean had narrowed his gaze at him and the laird’s lips twitched with annoyance. “Damnation, I should never have—” He paused and let his expression soften. “A canny lass indeed.”
“Still, she only brought ye grief. Yer better rid of her, my laird.”
“Ivar willnae be happy. He had taken quite a liking to her.”
As had half the castle, Logan thought bitterly. He rolled his eyes. “Vikings care little for lasses. He’ll find another bonny fair lass soon enough. Besides, we are close enough to battle now. He willnae withdraw his support because of a mere woman.”
“Aye, ye are right, I suppose.”
“Ye shall have yer island soon enough, my laird.”
“And ye.”
Logan faked a greedy smile but the thought of land of his own no longer filled him with anticipation. He only hoped Lorna’s family lands remained unscarred by the ensuing battle. A knot gathered in his throat at the thought of never seeing her again. But better that than handing her over to a bloodthirsty Viking.
Gillean’s expression grew calculating again so Logan busied himself pouring an ale. A thud at the top of the stairs told him Ivar had risen, and Logan threw back the drink, the bitter tang forcing its way past the tangle of anguish in his throat. He might have acted dismissive, but he doubted Ivar would be best pleased.
Gillean rose as the giant man reached the bottom step. “Will ye join me?”
The fair-haired man paused in front of the top table, arms folded. “Is it true?”
“What?”
Ivar pounded a fist to the table, rattling the platters and goblets and spilling ale onto the crisp white linen cloth. “The woman is gone!”
The laird sat casually enough though Logan saw tension in his posture. Logan placed a hand over the pommel of his sword.
“Aye, unfortunately so.”
“You are a careless man, Gillean.” Ivar jabbed a finger toward him. “Am I to expect you to be as careless in your battle plans too?”
“Certainly not. I have been planning this for four seasons. The woman was an unnecessary inconvenience and if she does not die on the journey home, her lands will fall to us soon enough. Mayhap we’ll capture her then and she can be a spoil of war.”
Logan flexed a hand on his sword and spun away. He could not listen to this.
“Logan?” Gillean called. “Where do ye go with such haste?”
“I must check on the defences,” he said tightly as he spun to face the men. “If she escaped easily, so too could some enter with ease.”
Gillean rocked his gaze between Ivar and himself before nodding, clearly assured the Viking would do nothing to harm him. Besides, there were men enough around. While Logan might be the strongest, the other men could take down one Norseman if needs be.
Logan took the steps to the stores first, intending to check on their supplies should anyone hear tell of their plans and decide to rise against them. This had been his daily routine and he knew well they were prepared enough. If news of the uprising reached the king, he might send his men to deal with them, though the king had already proved himself loath to get involved in clan warfare in the past. This, however, would be no mere dispute between clans.
He turned at the sound of footsteps and saw a young servant lad. “Gillean wants ye to send out riders, sir,” the redheaded boy spilled out. “To search for the lady.”
Logan cursed softly and waved the boy away. “Aye, I’ll do so in a moment.”
The journey to Glencolum was not far, not that he had done it himself—or he did not think he had—but it would take her less than a day to return home. However, men on horseback would easily catch up with her. And then what? Why did Gillean not just leave her be? They could ill afford to release men to such a duty at a time like this. Three more days and they’d be marching to battle. The laird’s judgement appeared clouded when it came to that woman. Much like his own, he thought with a smirk.
He made his way up the stairs and paused as Ivar’s voice boomed through the hall. “He released her, I know it.”
“Logan is loyal to me,” Gillean spat.
Logan inched forward and strained to listen over the noise of the servants clearing away the morning meal. Anne swished past and gave him a bemused look. He merely pressed a finger to his lips and signalled for her to move on. She offered a tight, wary smile and carted the stack of beakers out of the hall.
If Gillean suspected he had betrayed him, Logan had to know.
“The men say he has no memory,” Ivar continued.
“That is true.”
“There are rumours he was once the enemy.”
“Rumours? The men have been ordered never to speak on it.”
“Ye dinnae fear he shall hear tell of this rumour? Or that his memory will return?” Ivar asked.
Logan’s heart lodged in his throat. He had once been the enemy? This was nothing like the tale Gillean had told him. He’d worked for him since he was a young man—a mere peasant. Gillean had given him responsibility and power. He’d given him a life. At what point had he been the ‘enemy’?
He heard Gillean chuckle. “If his memory has not returned by now, it never will. There I have a strong, intelligent man and one who was highly trusted by my dear sister. What better way to wreak revenge than to take her strongest man and mould him in my image?”
Logan’s skin grew hot and dots swam in front of his vision. He peered around as Ivar laughed and clapped a hand to Gillean’s back.
“You are a crazy man, Gillean, but I like that. After all, it was those who were thought crazy who were the pioneers of our people. Without them, we would have not discovered your isles or any others.”
Gillean merely let his brows rise. “To nurture a strong, loyal warrior is not lunacy, Ivar. ‘Tis calculation. Though I’ll confess I never foresaw the lass returning. ‘Tis a fine thing she triggered no memories in him.”
“I hope we shall be able to get her back.”
“Aye, Ivar, we will,” Gillean assured him. “As soon as yer men have joined us, we’ll march on Glencolum and take everything—including the bonny lass.”
Jaw tight, Logan curled his hands into fists. Had Lorna been right? Was it all true? He was her lover? And he had a son... Logan nearly staggered back down the stairs as it all hit. He pressed himself against the wall and searched his memory frantically.
Black. Nothingness. Yet his body had remembered her. His body wanted her since he first saw her.
He had to know.
He waited until they finished their meal and Ivar departed the hall. Gillean made his way upstairs and Logan listened for him to shut the door to the solar. With haste, he marched into the hall, shoving past several men who were loitering around the tables and nearly tripping over the dogs.
“Damn dogs. Get to work,” he snapped at the men and stomped up the stairs.
Breath held, he pushed open the door, stepped in and pressed it shut. Gillean lifted his gaze from the papers at his desk and clasped his hands in front of him.
“Aye?”
“The riders will be ready to go in a moment,” Logan said.
“Well dinnae wait.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Get them after her. I dinnae wish for Glencolum to be aware of our plans if I can help it.”
Logan took a step forward, then another and another until he stood in front of the laird’s desk. Molten heat pummelled through him. It rushed through his veins and made his temples throb. He wanted nothing more than to pound this man into submission but he needed answers first.
“Ye know... Lady Lorna told me a few things during her stay here.”
Gillean’s expression remained composed. Logan searched for some sign of nervousness, but hell, he knew better than most how cold the laird was.
“Aye, well, she always was a teller of
fine tales. I never trusted her when my brother married her and I wouldnae trust her now. A little she devil, that lass.” He pushed a missive aside. He huffed and scowled at him. “Logan, did ye need something?”
“Aye, the truth.”
“The truth?”
The arrogance in the laird’s expression was the undoing of him. Those arched brows, thin smile and straight shoulders tore through his composure, and he rounded the desk to grasp Gillean by the neck of his shirt. Gillean struggled against his grip and tried to tear his hand away but while he might have been in shape for an old man, he was no match for Logan’s strength.
“I heard ye,” Logan spat as he pressed the laird back. The chair toppled to one side and Gillean thrashed against his hold.
Pressed against the tapestry lining the wall, Gillean’s face began to match the deep red of the fabric. Logan loosened his grip marginally.
“What did ye do to me? Why do I have no memory?” he demanded. “I was yer enemy, was I not?”
“Ye’d believe that ban-aibhistear? Did I no’ save yer life? Did I no’ give ye great power? How many other peasant lads could claim to be so highly regarded by their laird?”
Logan clutched his shirt tighter and put the pressure on his neck again. He brought his face close. “Enough lies. What did ye do?”
Gillean shook his head. “Yer a fool. Dinnae throw all ye have away over that woman.”
Teeth clenched, Logan squeezed his neck until he thought the laird would pass out. He should have realised the laird would not give up the truth easily. He dropped the man, leaving him panting on the floor.
“What lies did ye tell me?”
Gillean put a hand to his neck and drew in a rasping breath. “I saved yer life. That whore left ye for dead.”
Fury reeled through him in a fresh wave. He kicked out with his boot. The cry of pain from Gillean did little to appease him, so he kicked again and again until Gillean threw up his hands in surrender.
Kneeling, Logan grasped his shirt and drew him close again. “Tell me everything.”
“Ye were at the battle,” he panted. “Ye were one of Lorna’s men. Ye helped her escape and joined the fight that broke out. I didnae see what happened but after we found ye, barely alive in the bailey, I ordered ye to be put in the donjon. Lord knows I should have killed ye then and there, but ye knew stuff I didnae about the Glencolum clan. I had hoped ye would be useful.”
Logan let out a shuddery breath. So it had all been true. Lorna had been speaking the truth and he had treated her... by God, what a fool he was.
“What happened then? Why all these lies?”
“After...”
“After what?” Logan raised a fist in threat.
“After we couldnae find out what we wanted, ye were...” Gillean glanced down, “ye were tortured. At some point, ye passed out and we didnae think ye would awaken.”
“But I did.”
“Aye, and with no memory of anything that happened.”
“So ye decided to lie to me? Why? Why take the risk?”
“I recognised yer worth, Logan. Remember that.” Gillean’s expression grew imploring. “I knew ye’d be a good man to have by my side.”
“Ye played a risky game, my laird,” he said bitterly.
“Aye, I’m aware o’ that now. But this is what we do. We take risks and we triumph. This doesnae need to mean anything, Logan. Join with me in this battle and ye can gain more than ye ever dreamed of.”
“Ye’d let me stay by yer side after what I’ve done to ye? Ye think I’d want to aid the man who took my life from me?”
He shrugged. “This war. I will do whatever I must.”
“As will I.”
“And what is that? Ye shallnae win. Do ye think ye will get away with this?” Gillean’s voice rose with each word. “Do ye think ye willnae be cut down for harming me? I shall see that ye pay for it. Mark my words.”
“As will I,” he repeated calmly. Somewhere inside everything had fallen into place. Anger had been replaced with anticipation. Everything he knew had been wrong yet here was his chance to make it right again. Lorna was his chance.
“Yer going to go after her, aren’t ye?”
Logan nodded and released the man.
Gillean struggled to get to his feet and gave up. “Yer a fool. Why would ye choose that whore over this life?”
Mayhap all his anger wasn’t quite gone. He slammed his fist into Gillean’s face and released a grim smile of satisfaction as he slumped over. Now he needed to catch up with Lorna. Logan raced down into the hall and past the stables. Gillean might awaken at any time so he did not have time to have a mount saddled. If any of the men thought it odd he stepped outside the castle walls without his horse, none mentioned it. Once he was out onto the open hills, he paused and glanced back at the castle.
He’d thought mayhap anguish and regret would fill him, but it didn’t. He’d never truly belonged in that role. But did he belong anywhere else?
Chapter Sixteen
He was tiring when he caught up with her. Logan spied her perched on a rock, resting it seemed, her back to him. It had taken him two hours to catch up with her and he’d sprinted most of the way. She must have been walking slowly and likely stopped to shelter while it was dark. A wise move with wolves around but there was risk in that too. She was still too close to Kilcree.
He paused and drew in a breath before continuing up the hill. Foolish woman could be spotted from miles around. Her golden hair and blue gown stood out against the yellow and green hills. He squeezed his clammy palms together and told himself to keep moving. How would she greet him? With disgust? Delight? He would not blame her for the former. Who knew how he’d make up for his barbaric behaviour?
Far off, a sound carried in the wind. He turned in the direction of the noise. “Hell fire.” Gillean’s riders. They’d spot her with ease once they reached the valley beneath.
He raced up the hill, his legs burning in protest and pulled her from the rock as the men entered the valley. When he grabbed her and clapped a hand over her mouth, she screamed against his palm. Her feet slipped from beneath her and her weight against him made him lose his footing. They tumbled together down the gentle slope and when they came to a standstill, he was on top of her. She wriggled against him, her knee barely missing his groin while she cried out against his hand.
“Hush, there are riders about,” he hissed.
She softened and fell quiet. He grew aware of her curves against him, of her pink parted lips and wide blue eyes. The confusion fell away, his annoyance melted. He felt her chest rise against his in a staggered breath and he hooked a hand under her head. In one swift swoop, he brought his mouth down upon hers. Lorna’s nails grappled at his back and she opened her mouth to him eagerly. Days of frustration and desperation were poured into that kiss, as though now the barrier of lies had dropped away, he could no longer hold back.
He kissed her aggressively, urgently, barely having the time to savour her taste but relishing the warm recess of her mouth. His body grew tight, his breaths rapid. He tore away, panting, and eyed her.
“Ye bore me a son,” he stated gruffly.
She nodded.
Tears misted in her eyes and all the lies dropped away. He saw only truth. She’d been right. Gillean had lied to him and kept him from his son... and the woman he loved? He could not be sure. He admired her courage, found her beautiful, but did he love her?
He eased himself off her, eyed her muddy gown and scratched face and grimaced. Taking her hand, he led her back up the slope and they crouched behind the rock. He peered over to see the riders had taken off to the North. Thank the Lord, for he had all but forgotten them once her body had touched his. He hoped they would not see them again.
He turned to her. “Ye damn fool lass. They were nearly upon ye.” She flinched at his words and he knelt beside her. “Why did ye no’ tell me sooner?”
“Would it have made any difference? Ye didnae believe me then, w
ould ye have believed me sooner? Besides I couldnae risk Gillean finding out about him. I couldnae trust ye. Ewan is heir to my dowry—the dowry Gillean keeps from me.”
“Ewan,” he murmured experimentally.
“He looks like ye,” she said with a sad smile.
“Aye, ye said.” A noose-like knot tightened his throat. He had missed the birth of his son. He curled a fist and shook his head. “Gillean lied to me.”
“Gillean lies to many people.”
“I treated ye poorly.”
“Aye, ye did.”
How like her not to lie to soften the blow. “I have much to make up for.”
“Like locking me up?”
“Aye, that.”
Her lips curled upwards. “And for not believing me? And for dragging me around? And for—”
Logan silenced her with a swift kiss and tugged her hand. “Aye, all of that.” He paused to study the area, and confirm the riders were nowhere to be seen. “Come, let us go to our son.”
***
Lorna was wearying, though she did not complain. He saw it in her slowing steps and the way her shoulders dropped. He peered sideways at her and moved closer to take her arm. It was the first time he’d touched her since that kiss. They had been walking for several hours, mostly in silence, with only a few questions punctuating it. He had much to process, he hardly knew what to say.
“Come, there is a stream there. Let us get a drink and rest for a few moments. We’ll be hidden from the main path.” He pointed to where a thin trail of water broke the mountains and had carved a jagged path in it.
They made their way down the slope to where the stream levelled and Logan peered at the mountain looming over them, its beautiful shades of green and yellow failing to make it any less dramatic . Horses wouldn’t be able to traverse it so they’d be safe here for the moment.
Lorna knelt by the stream and lifted her skirts to wash away the grime from her legs. Logan eyed the pale length of her calves and closed his eyes as he scrubbed a hand over his jaw.
“We are no’ far,” she said. “Another ten miles or so.”
Another ten miles and he’d see the son he hadn’t known he had. He’d meet people he didn’t remember. He did not even know how he was meant to feel. What he thought he’d known was a lie, and now he had a son and a woman who he’d once loved scrubbing her creamy skin in front of him.
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