Though he was pallid and gaunt, and there were scrapes and cuts on his face and arms, he had never looked more beautiful to her. His golden hair was splayed out on the pillow and his face was turned to the side. Even beneath the sheet, she could appreciate his tall, muscular form and the irresistible strength of his warrior body.
Suddenly, Logan startled awake and leaned up on his elbows. “Mairi?”
“I am here.” She circled around the bed while he regarded her with open-mouthed shock.
“Have I died and gone to heaven?”
“Nay,” she said with some concern at his confusion and the dark circles under his eyes. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “You are very much alive, which must be some sort of miracle, for Gawyn told me what happened. Apparently, even the surgeon did not believe you would survive. Yet here you are.”
He raised her hand to her lips, closed his eyes and kissed each of her knuckles tenderly. “It is good to see you, Mairi.”
“It is good to see you, too,” she replied meaningfully. “Perhaps the Butcher’s sword did have some magical powers after all. But goodness gracious, please do not go about believing you are invincible. You are lucky to be alive, you know.”
He nodded and lay back down on the pillow. “I am more than aware. And here you are, brought to me again, like an angel.”
“I am no angel,” she scoffed. “If you could have heard me over the past two days, cursing the loathsome man who did this to you….”
“He was just a lad,” Logan explained to her. “And he was frightened. He thought I was the Butcher.”
She rolled her eyes and labored to speak with humor and lightness, for she wanted to keep Logan’s spirits up. “Everyone appears to think that. When I rode into the bailey just now, the groom asked me if I was the Butcher’s wife. Is that not the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard?”
Logan regarded her with regret, then grimaced in pain and cupped a hand over his wound. “It’s not so ridiculous, lass.”
She felt a stirring of unease, as if he’d become disconnected from her somehow. That suddenly things had changed and he didn’t want her here. Or perhaps he was simply keeping something from her which he did not want her to know.
But he needn’t keep anything from her, because she loved him, no matter what.
“Oh, my darling….” Mairi leaned down to kiss him on the mouth, then she pressed her cheek tightly to his.
“When I was lying on the ground,” he said in a low, husky voice, “and I felt the life draining out of me, all I could think about was you, and how I was not the man you wanted me to be.”
She sat back and looked him square in the eye, determined to reassure him that he was wrong. “Do not be foolish. You are everything I could ever want.”
Logan glanced away, toward the window, and in that moment she realized that he was not seeking reassurance. There was something else visible in his eyes—a look of dread, or perhaps it was pity, as if he were about to break her heart all over again.
“What’s going on?” she asked, feeling her stomach muscles clench tight with trepidation.
“There is something you should know, Mairi. About the battle. And about me.”
“What is it?”
He took a deep breath and reached for her hand. “There is a reason the men think I am the Butcher, or that I am somehow possessed of his spirit.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I was ruthless as we marched across the Highlands and planned our attack. All I wanted was to conquer. And on the night of the invasion, I was without mercy and vicious when the slaughter began. I killed man after man. My body was on fire with a hunger for death and carnage. I hated every living thing that stepped into my path—if it was dressed in a red uniform. It was as if I truly was possessed by some sort of demon. But then, something happened….”
Mairi sat forward. “What was that?”
“A soldier tried to spear me with his bayonet.”
“Surely he was not the first.”
“Nay, and I stopped him as I would any other, but then I saw that he was nothing but a lad, not much older than I was on the battlefield at Sheriffmuir.” Logan’s eyes met hers. “I should have killed him, Mairi, but he pleaded for his life and something in me couldn’t do it. I changed our strategy in that moment and ordered my men to take all those willing to surrender as prisoners instead of killing all.”
Mairi regarded him with admiration. “But that is a good thing, Logan. You showed mercy and compassion. How can you think I would not love you for that?”
He shook his head with contempt. “I am not finished yet, lass, because the lad whose life I spared was the one who stuck a knife in my belly as soon as my head was turned.”
“Oh, God.” Mairi covered her mouth with her hand. “He was the one who nearly took your life?”
“Aye,” Logan replied. “He stabbed me. Then all I could do was watch him run off and get shot in the back by a stray musket ball. Life seemed rather bleak in that moment.”
Mairi swallowed uncomfortably. “But the fact that he died was not your fault.”
“Nay, but my change in orders—that we take prisoners—could have lost us the battle if the men lost their focus. When I watched that boy die, I wished I’d simply killed him. I wished I hadn’t let down my guard and put all my men at risk. I only did so because I thought of you.”
Fear exploded in her heart. “But you weren’t wrong to spare him,” she argued. “It’s not weakness that compels a man to offer mercy to another. It is a sense of humanity.”
He shook his head. “In battle, it’s pure folly.”
Mairi tried to consider this.
“Perhaps so,” she replied after a long moment, hoping to find a middle ground somewhere. But it was no easy task when she had spent the past five years teaching herself that all life was precious, that no one deserved to die, no matter what mistakes they had made in the past or how misguided they still were. All men were capable of redemption and could discover how to achieve it, eventually.
But a battlefield….
She could not deny that it was a different situation because of the intention to win at all costs, and because of what was at stake—the need to protect home and hearth and family. She could not pretend to understand or truly know what sort of torment a man must endure in such chaotic and frightening circumstances.
“I did not expect it,” Logan said, changing the subject, “but the Campbell clan is calling for me to become their chief.”
Her head drew back in surprise. “They are?”
“Aye. They know about what happened at the Battle of Sheriffmuir—I forced Tomas to tell them—but now they believe it was my destiny all along to lay the groundwork for an alliance with the MacDonalds and take up the Butcher’s sword. They believe I was removed from that battle fifteen years ago for this purpose alone—to take my father’s place and right the wrongs that the English have put upon us.”
Mairi stared at her husband with wide eyes. “Do you believe this? That it is your destiny to take your father’s place and become chief?”
He inclined his head. “I don’t know, lass. It’s all a bit superstitious, don’t you think?”
She let out a breath of relief that he was not entirely swept away by the idea that he was the Butcher, somehow resurrected from the grave.
“That is not all,” he continued.
“There is more?” How could their possibly be more?
“Aye. I may have showed mercy to that young lad before he decided to dirk me, but I believe you must know the dark truth about me, lass. About the man you married.”
“What truth is that?”
He replied without apology or regret. “There was another man I killed after I gave the order to take prisoners, and I took great pleasure in it, for there was nothing but vengeance in my heart at the time. You say I possess a care for humanity, but I didn’t then. Not when I killed that other man. In that moment, I was a heartless, cold-bl
ooded monster. I did not hesitate, and I was glad I did it.”
Mairi swallowed uneasily. “Who was this man? What did he do to you?”
“Nothing, lass. It was what he did to you.” Logan paused. “He was Captain Joseph Kearney.”
Mairi blinked a few times as a wave of shock moved over her and prickled her skin. “He was here in the castle?”
“Aye. I saw him about to do tremendous harm. He was going to set flame to fuse in the ammunition store room.”
“And you killed him? How?”
“I blew a hole in his stomach with a pistol ball. At close range.”
Suddenly, Mairi found herself envisioning all the violent, gruesome and vindictive things she had once wanted to do to the man who had violated her. Images flashed in her brain like bright fireworks against a black sky. She had been suppressing those thoughts for so long that her head spun.
Then she felt a swift rush of dark satisfaction—to know that Joseph Kearney had finally met his end, and that it had been a violent and painful one.
“Did you mention me at all?” she asked, not entirely sure why she was asking the question—except that she craved information. She wanted rich and vivid details. She wanted to picture all of it. Every last second. “Did he know why you were shooting him?”
“Aye,” Logan replied. “I told him I was there because he raped my wife.”
“But did he know it was me?”
Logan shook his head, and she found herself vastly disappointed. “He said he raped too many Campbell women to count.”
All the breath sailed out of Mairi’s lungs, for she had hoped to enjoy her revenge vicariously through Logan. She wanted Kearney to know that this justice—this so-called, eye for an eye—had, in a way, come from her, the young woman in the hay field whose innocence he had stolen…whose father he had murdered.
Logan reached for her hand. “I know you’ve tried to help me see that I can forgive men for the things they do, and choose not to hate, but Mairi…I do not believe I can ever fully lay the past to rest, or love my enemy. I am a warrior and I will always be a warrior. I also mean to become chief, which means that if there are ever any other threats to the Campbell clan, I will raise the Butcher’s sword again.” He paused and bowed his head, shaking it slowly. “I fear you will not wish to be wed to such a man. That your feelings for me will not be the same.”
She looked down at his hand upon hers. She turned it over to run the tip of her finger along the lines of his palm.
“You ask me how I feel, Logan. The truth is, I never imagined I could ever trust a man enough to allow him to love me, yet I trusted you. I believed you would never harm me, and you never did. You loved me and you were patient and gentle with your touch. For that I will always be grateful.”
She bent forward to lay a kiss on his open palm, and turned his hand over again to examine the scrapes and scabs on his knuckles. There could be no denying that he was a violent man. A warrior, straight to the bone.
“I do not blame you for thinking that I would not want to be with someone who lives a life of violence and killing, but when you told me about Joseph Kearney just now, and how he had raped so many other women, I was glad you did what you did. For how can I not respect and love you for your ability to protect those who cannot protect themselves, and those you love? What you did—this entire battle—was necessary, and you made all the right decisions, Logan. You were even willing to sacrifice your own life. It is no wonder the men look up to you and want you as their leader.”
He squeezed her hand in his, urging her to continue. “What are you saying, Mairi?”
She scooted closer so that she could lay her hand on Logan’s cheek. “I am saying that I cannot judge you or think less of you for what you did. It was war, and Kearney was Scotland’s enemy, in so many ways. You are a warrior, and there will be times when you must raise your sword. It does not make me love you less. It makes me love you more, for I know that, with you, both my heart and body will be safe.”
Logan nodded and pulled her into his arms, buried his face in her neck. She felt his lips and hot breath against her flesh as he spoke. “Aye, lass, you will always be safe with me. I would die before I would see you and Hamish harmed.”
Overcome with love, she drew back and pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss of total abandonment. Ah, the bliss of it—for she had never imagined she could ever love a man as she loved Logan today, both physically and soulfully. Her body burned with desire for his touch, and she wanted more than anything to make love to him, every day for the rest of their lives.
He tried to sit up and ease her onto her back beside him, but the knife wound held him back.
“Ach,” he groaned with a mix of soreness and desire. “I wish I was in a better state to love you properly, lass—and Lord knows, not every part of me is impaired—but I am badly wounded. This could be the death of me.”
She drew back in horror. “Goodness, do not say such a thing! Poor Logan…you are not well and I am tempting you to do something that will no doubt cause you further injury. Tomas would have my hide.” She slid along the edge of the bed, just out of reach, and smiled at him. “This is vaguely familiar, you know. It’s how we first met—you were wounded then, too. You were completely non-threatening.”
Logan lay down on the pillows again and regarded her with amusement and love in his eyes. “Don’t rub it in, lass,” he said, “and be warned, I will be perfectly well in a day or so, and then I will show you just how dangerous I can be.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a promise?”
“Aye,” he replied with a devilish grin that aroused her senses and heated her blood.
She reached for his hand and kissed it. “Then I promise to hold you to that, darling husband. Or should I call you ‘chief’? Or ‘my laird’?”
He thought about that for a moment. “Just call me ‘love,’ and nothing else.”
The bell in the chapel tower began to chime outside the window and Mairi felt a swell of joy in her heart as she lay down on the bed and snuggled close to her husband.
Epilogue
Summer 1735
“I told you, lass, you cannot follow us,” Logan whispered to Mairi as he removed the heavy stone block from the wall and set it on the floor inside the storage room. “The tunnel is narrow and you’re as big as a barn.”
“I beg your pardon?” she replied incredulously, raising the flaming torch over her head.
Hamish, now ten years old and tremendously tall for his age, chuckled. Logan put his hand over the lad’s mouth to stifle his laughter.
“And as beautiful as ever,” Logan hastily added.
Mairi gave him an unimpressed look of warning. “If you weren’t the father of my unborn bairn, I swear I would…Oh, I don’t know what I would do.”
Hamish fought to squelch his laughter, and Logan elbowed him in the ribs. “Quiet, lad, you’re not helping.”
“Sorry,” Hamish replied, standing up straighter and pressing his lips together tightly.
Mairi smirked. “You both deserve a good thrashing, but I suppose I can forgive you, just this once.” She gestured with the torch. “Go ahead, see if you can escape before I change my mind.”
They exchanged looks of readiness, then Hamish turned to squeeze through the hole in the wall.
Before Logan followed, he kissed Mairi on the cheek, then bent forward to speak to her large, round belly. “We will be back shortly,” he said to his future bairn.
“Take your time,” Mairi replied with a laugh.
* * *
“Do you understand why I brought you here?” Logan asked Hamish as they stood on the pebbly beach, below the castle walls, looking out at the sparkling, moonlit water.
For the past five years, many nights before bed, Hamish had begged Logan to recount the story of the battle and how he had reclaimed this castle for the Campbells. Logan always told him that he and Tomas had scaled the walls in order to execute a surprise attack. But Hami
sh was ten years old now, and he was becoming a man. It was time he knew the truth.
“I do,” Hamish replied. “You want me to know how to defend Leathan Castle, and how to prevent others from breaching our walls.”
Logan rested his hand on Hamish’s shoulder. “That’s right, lad. One day, you’ll be a man and you’ll have a wife and children of your own. You’ll want to protect them, as I want to protect you and your mother and your two sisters. I’ve taught you how to use a sword and a musket, so if you keep practicing, you’ll have the skills you will need. But this escape route I just showed you is a family secret. Do you understand? The only people in the world who know of it are Tomas and Angus the Lion, who I trust like a father, and two other faithful friends who helped me reclaim this castle. And of course, your uncle Darach, who helped me dig this tunnel many years back, when we were just about your age. So you must never tell anyone about this, unless it is a matter of life or death.”
“I promise I will keep the secret,” Hamish replied.
“Good lad.” Logan squeezed his shoulder, then bent to pick up a flat stone at his feet. He rubbed his thumb over its smooth surface and tested its weight in the palm of his hand. “This should skip well.” He offered it to Hamish.
The lad accepted it and examined both sides before hauling back and pitching it fast across the water. It bounced four times, making giant leaps into the air before it splashed into the blue-black depths.
“Will I meet Uncle Darach when he returns?” Hamish asked, turning to face Logan.
“Of course. The King’s pardon has finally been delivered, thanks to the Duke of Moncrieffe’s persistent appeals. That man never gives up. So Darach and Larena should arrive any day now…with their sons.” He grinned at Hamish, whose eyes lit up.
“I cannot wait to have boy cousins,” Hamish said. “All I have are sisters.”
Logan ruffled Hamish’s curly red hair. “You’re a lucky lad to have sisters who love you as much as they do. And remember, your cousins may be rambunctious lads, but they are still very young. Ronald is only four and Alec is not yet three.”
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