Her eyes again shot to his and held. The bagpipes playing in the distance faded and even the wind seemed to quell as his brows lowered, breath hitched and his grip tightened.
Pull your hand away. Walk away. Run! She screamed inwardly.
But no.
She did the very last thing she should do.
Chapter Six
Logan froze when Cassie flung her arms around his waist, pressed close and rested her cheek against his chest. He kept his arms akimbo knowing bloody well if he embraced her he might never let go.
And he had to let go.
Of her. This. Them. Everything he suddenly realized he wanted. No, that wasn't true. Every second of every minute of every hour since she arrived he had wanted her. But he had done as asked, done what was right, and kept his distance.
Until he saw her come out on this wall walk.
Then he had only meant to check on her.
But he should have known better.
Now the feel of her soft curves pressed against him and the flowery scent of her hair was breaking down his defenses. When he heard her breath catch and knew that a tear rolled down her cheek he was done for.
Completely, thoroughly, undeniably done for.
Wrapping one arm around her lower back, he cupped the back of her head and held her close, made her feel safe. Because if he was not mistaken, she was terrified of something and made a habit of showing the world a brave face. But what had her so scared? He could search her mind. He had that power. Yet he wouldn’t. It would be an invasion of privacy. Still, he was sorely tempted…anything to search out and help assuage her pain.
Trying like hell not to get aroused by her closeness, he did his best to remain focused on the friendship he hoped to develop with her. Friendship. How would he manage that? Maybe it was better to focus on his journey on the morrow while still comforting her. A journey he had been putting off whether or not he wanted to admit it. That might work. But when she nuzzled even closer he knew it was a lost cause.
He had never wanted to possess a lass so much.
Kiss her.
Feel her.
Take her to his bed.
But more than that, he wanted to know absolutely everything about her. What demons did she fight? What made her happy? Sad? Serious? Did she want bairns? Did she want to wed if she found the right lad?
That last thought soured his stomach.
Because that lad could never be him.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head. Though he didn’t inhale, he gently lifted a few strands of her hair to his cheek and felt its softness. So, so, soft. Like cool silky grass on a hot summer day.
“Logan. Trouble.”
Grant’s words slammed into his mind moments before the Hamilton Laird and Darach appeared on the wall walk. Cassie pulled away as though she had been caught doing something wrong.
“‘Tis okay, lass,” he started to assure her, but Grant cut him off.
“There is grave trouble, lad. I tried to tell you before I got up here, but your mind was closed.”
Closed? Shocked, Logan frowned. Not once had he closed his mind to anyone. It wasn’t a luxury he could afford when leading a clan. That he did so now said much. That he had done it without realizing said even more.
“Tell me,” he bit out.
“There’s been an attack,” Grant said. “On the MacLauchlin clan.”
His muscles locked and his gaze swung out over the distant forest as though he might be able to see the harm done in the distance. While tempted to flee immediately and help save them, he realized how irrational his thoughts were.
His eyes went to Cassie and he squeezed her hand in reassurance. "All will be well." Then he glanced at Darach. “See her to her chamber. Make sure there are guards outside her door then meet me in the courtyard.”
“Aye.” Darach took her elbow and led her away.
Logan joined Grant as they strode toward the great hall. “What happened?”
“Nothing good,” Grant said under his breath. “‘Twas bloody ugly.”
The clan celebrations had simmered down considerably as rumor spread about what had happened. When he saw Grant’s daughter, Lair, making her way through the crowd with a heavy frown on her face, he knew it was as bad as it could get. She had been visiting outlying homes caring for those with ailments and he had not seen her for days.
When she reached him, she whispered in his ear, “Ye must travel swiftly, cousin. She is in great pain.”
Logan nodded, kissed her on the cheek and headed down to the courtyard. If Lair said things were dire, then any hope of a good outcome was dwindling. He swung onto his horse, received weapons from one of his men and shot Grant a look when he joined him astride his own horse. “Ye are too important to this clan, m’laird. Dinnae come.”
“Just as important as ye are,” Grant shot back and nodded to Logan's cousins as their horses came alongside. “And as important as they are.”
Rònan nodded at Logan. “Where ye go I go.”
“As do I,” Niall said.
Darach nodded. “Me too, cousin.”
Before Logan could ask about Cassie, Darach said, “She’s safe. Four guards watch over her.”
Logan nodded and eyed them all with thanks.
“Dinnae forget about me,” Machara declared as she joined them. “If yer fighting, so am I.”
Logan nodded again and spurred his horse, his kin and dozens of warriors in tow. The MacLauchlin clan wasn’t all that far north of their border but because of magic, they were able to shorten what would have been a few days ride into several hours. What they found as the sun crested the horizon was a village that had once been thriving now in complete devastation.
There would be no battling here.
There would be no saving of lives.
As far as he could tell there was little left except stray dogs feeding on scraps and the pressing circle of vultures overhead. Logan swung down from his horse and staggered through the dead bodies. Numb, without direction, he scanned his surroundings. His cousins were by his side, eying the destruction with part sadness and part fury.
Niall was crouching as he moved forward, turning over body after body, angry and desperate to find life. Darach had never looked sadder as he pulled a whimpering but dying lass into his arms. Rònan was downright furious as he strode through the bodies, eager for a target, eager to destroy whoever had killed so many.
“We must find her,” Grant said softly. “We must find Aline.”
Logan nodded and kept scanning everything. The village had been massacred. Its people treated mercilessly. While such tragedies happened often enough, this was worse than usual and done on a larger scale. Women had not just been killed but beaten and raped first. Men had been ripped apart, some of them disemboweled. Even the elderly and young weren’t spared.
“I should have been here days ago,” he whispered. “I could have stopped this.”
“Ye could have stopped nothing. Dinnae for a moment blame yerself for this lad. If ye'd been here 'twould have verra likely meant the death of ye and yers as well,” Grant said sharply. “Focus on what is important. Find Aline. Yer cousins will round up anyone who might have survived then we leave immediately. The air smells of the enemy.”
Logan nodded and pushed past the haze of complete loss, pain, and devastation he felt. “Aye.”
Gesturing to his men to span out, he hollered, “Aline, are ye here? Aline MacLauchlin, ‘tis I, your betrothed, Logan MacLomain. Call out, lass. Ye are safe. I am here.”
Again and again he called out those words.
Fear filled him. Please don't let her be part of this slaughter. God forgive me for desiring another lass while she was going through such pain. What kind of monster am I? I should have left earlier. I should have been here. I could have saved these people. Self-loathing filled him as he searched.
Logan had just reached the edge of the carnage when he heard a faint murmur. Like the sound of a small squeaking bird str
uggling, caught in a distant cave. Then it changed and became weak words. “Here. I am here.”
Logan tore through the rubble, desperate. Frantic. He tossed aside straw, loose wood, but the heavier beams were harder to move.
“Easy, cousin. I'm here to help.” Niall started to push and pull but remained careful as he helped Logan try to uncover Aline. Though it seemed to take two full turns of the moon, they finally removed enough.
Dirty faces stared up.
None moved.
All were lifeless.
“Nay,” Niall muttered and kept going.
Logan threw a scrap of wood over his shoulder then froze when a hand snaked up and grabbed his wrist. “Here. I am here.”
He and Niall started digging. Within moments, they pulled her free. Covered in soot, she tried to gasp but it was clear her lungs were full. Yet she kept trying to say something. He brushed his hand over her lips and summoned magic. As it had been the day he helped Robert the Bruce into this world, he used the power of Mother Earth. Though by no means the gift of healing, it seemed to help based on her coughing.
Grant joined them. He had retrieved a bucket of water and a washcloth. “Here. The water will help her.”
Logan gently washed off her face while she at last inhaled deeply several times. As he wiped away the soot, he finally looked at his betrothed for the first time. While not a stunning beauty, she was lovely in a gentle sort of way. With rounded cheeks and a creamy, smooth complexion, she was anything but long in the tooth.
“Ye must get me back to yer castle,” she breathed. “Then ye must go after him.”
What did she mean by that? Better yet, what was he sensing? Some type of magic fluctuated around her. Based on Grant’s quizzical expression, he sensed it as well.
“Now!” she pleaded, snapping him out of his curiosity.
“Aye, lass.” He lifted her and strode for his horse. Meanwhile, the few who had survived were already being taken back to the castle.
He spoke to Grant within the mind so as to not upset Aline. “Either the MacLauchlin Laird doesnae know what has happened here or his castle is under attack.”
“Dinnae send anyone yet,” Grant warned. “There are bad things afoot in this area. Evil. ‘Tis best to get back to yer castle and defend the MacLomains until we know more.”
Though sorely tempted to go lend aid to the remaining MacLauchlin’s, he knew Grant was right. Despite his concern, his clan must come first.
“I willnae stay on long,” Grant said, distress in the essence of his voice. “Nor do I suspect will Darach or Rònan.”
Logan understood. If a new threat was loose in Scotland, the men would want to protect their clans, the Hamiltons, and MacLeods.
They had not gone far when a cry rang through the woodland. Logan’s men surrounded him, weapons drawn, ready to protect their laird as a man staggered through the trees.
“He’s a MacLauchlin,” someone said.
Still, his men kept their weapons at the ready.
“Help. Please help.” Bedraggled, face ravaged by grief, he held a lass. His bleary eyes scanned the warriors. “I’ve the MacLauchlin Laird’s daughter, Aline. She’s been hurt.”
Confused, Logan’s eyes went to the lass in his arms but she was passed out cold. His eyes snapped back to the other woman. “‘Tis the same lass."
“Aye, so it appears.” Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Yet Aline doesnae have a twin that I know of.”
If things weren’t strange enough, the man’s voice grew more desperate. “Please help. I dinnae want my wif to die.”
“By the bloody rood,” Niall said as he joined them. “But Aline MacLauchlin is betrothed to Laird MacLomain.”
What the hell was going on? He intended to find out as soon as the lass in his arms awoke. Logan nodded at one of his men. “Take the lass to the castle.” Then he nodded at another. “The lad can ride with ye.”
Little was said as they raced back. The bonfires had been doused by the time they returned. As expected, all villagers who lived close had taken sanction within the castle walls and the portcullises were closed after Logan and his men entered. Though most warriors stayed to protect the castle, many bands patrolled the clan’s land lending protection to those who lived further out.
It was fortunate that Lair was visiting as she had the gift of healing. He suspected Grant would want her to stay here rather than attempt to travel. She was already directing several lasses to help the wounded when Logan swung down from his horse. He didn’t have to say a word as her eyes went from the lass in his arms to the lass his warrior held. “Ye’ll want them in the chambers close to yers.”
“Aye,” he said, striding after her.
When the man claiming to be the husband of the other lass tried to follow, he was held back.
“I need to be with her,” he cried, struggling. “Please. She shouldnae wake without me there.”
Assuming she would awaken. Logan glanced at the man and shook his head.
“Please, m’laird, dinnae keep me from her,” the man pleaded.
Though frustrated that this man called Logan's betrothed his wife, he was not without compassion. So he gestured at the warrior retaining him. “Bring him then stand guard. He doesnae go near her.”
“Aye, m’laird.”
“Thank ye,” the man said repeatedly. Logan ignored him and strode into the great hall. The celebrations were over and those that remained were somber. Obviously, Lair had hoped for the best because one chamber was already prepared. “Give the other lass this one.” He nodded at the woman in his arms. “I’ll take her to mine.”
“Aye, of course.” Lair must have sensed the strange magic surrounding the lass. “Ye shouldnae be alone with her, Logan. Keep my Da with ye until I’ve seen to the other, ye ken?”
“Aye.” But there was no need for the request. Grant was already following.
Logan kept his eyes averted as a servant attended to Aline as best she could then tucked her into his bed. Despite the time of year, the air had chilled enough that a small fire was lit on the hearth. Grant sat while he paced, eyes occasionally flickering to the bed. “I dinnae ken this.”
“Nor do I,” Grant murmured. “But fear naught. We will soon enough get answers.” He cocked his head slightly as if he sensed something. “Your Da is nearly here. I will leave once he arrives.”
“Aye.” Logan frowned. “Take some of my warriors with ye for protection.”
“Och, ye forget that I’ve my magic.” His brows perked. “And though I’m older, I’m still one of the best warriors ye know.”
“Still,” Logan said. “I’ll not see harm come to ye. Take a few of my men.”
“Nay.” Grant shook his head. “Ye’ll need every lad ye have.”
Logan knew how Grant could be on occasion, especially when it came to protecting his people, so he nodded his consent. There would be warriors sent regardless. He was about to turn the subject back to Aline when a soft murmur came from the bed.
“Shh.” Logan sat and took her hand. “All is well. Ye are safe, lass.”
Her eyes fluttered but remained closed as Lair joined them.
“How fares the other lass?” he asked.
Lair placed her hand on the woman’s head and chanted softly before her eyes met Logan’s. “Worse off than this lass I’m afraid.”
His cousin resumed chanting then suddenly stopped. “There is an enchantment on this lass. It soon wears off.”
“What sort of enchantment. I dinnae recognize it.”
“‘Tis a type of glamour, aye?” Grant said as he joined them.
“Aye,” Lair said. She looked a lot like her mother with her rich brown hair, auburn highlights, and soft blue eyes. Even her lovely features resembled Aunt Sheila’s. Yet right now those features were set in a hard line. “‘Tis indeed a type of glamour but of a magi in which I’m unfamiliar.”
While Lair might look like her mother, her personality was more like Grant’s. Her nature leaned less t
oward bubbly and more toward a quiet wisdom. Though her magic wasn’t as strong as her father’s, it was stronger than most of the children born of the Next Generation.
“Logan,” Aline whispered and squeezed his hand.
It was unusual for anyone save family to leave off his title, especially she who was not yet his wife. “I am here, lass. All is well.”
She shook her head and croaked, “Nay, ‘tis not.”
Though she could barely open her eyes, Logan brought a mug of water to her lips. “Drink. ‘Twill help.”
Aline managed a small swallow then turned her head away, her voice a wee less raspy when she spoke. “Ye must listen to me. Trouble has alas come and he must be saved.”
A strange sensation rippled over him and he narrowed his eyes. “Who?”
“My son,” she managed as she grabbed his wrist. “Has been taken.”
Logan was about to respond when the air seemed to compress around him. It was clear Grant was about to weave a protection spell around Logan and his daughter when Aline’s visage wavered. Yet soon enough, it became obvious it was not needed.
When the enchantment spell wore off, Aline was gone.
Instead, Marjorie, the Countess of Carrick, lay there.
The future King of Scotland’s mother.
Chapter Seven
After watching the commotion in the courtyard for a long time, Cassie tossed and turned in bed all night as images of slaughter and death plagued her. Faces flickered in and out of a dark forest. Sometimes they mocked her. Other times they called to her. Eventually, she decided trying to sleep wasn’t such a great idea so she woke early and watched the sunrise the best she could from this vantage.
Her chamber was nice with several nautical tapestries and a comfortable bed. There were two windows, both flat on the bottom and rounded on top. Though a bath, clothes, food and drink had been provided, the guards outside her door would not allow her to leave and it was getting pretty old. It almost felt like she was being held prisoner.
Cassie knew nothing of the events last night except what she could surmise. Logan had a woman in his arms when he returned so she assumed that was Aline. It appeared the castle was in some sort of lock-down because save Grant, Rònan and Darach leaving a while ago, nobody had come or gone. She was sad to see Grant and Darach go but figured they were eager to get back to the Hamilton castle.
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