by KH LeMoyne
Bri lifted her head, her voice as soft as a breath of air. “Is it that bad?”
He stifled his reaction to the harsh rasp in her voice. The purple abrasions around her neck and clear finger marks left more than visible explanations. He suspected there’d been no rape, given the brief timeline, but Thomas’s detail of the Plagiar treatment toward their women would have been sufficiently traumatizing.
“Depends, beautiful.” He gave her a smile. “Would you prefer the truth or a more polite answer? Not that I don’t find warrior women enticing.”
Her mouth started to lift in a smile, then she winced. Rewetting the cloth, he pressed it there. She winced again, but closed her eyes and angled her face toward him, letting him slowly clean away the blood. The glow around her ceased stuttering and melded into a solid, if thin, golden outline.
“I held on,” she whispered.
His chest tightened.
“I figured it was a good time to test your theory. You know...faith.” She stared at him and for the first time, he saw a glimmer of fight coming back.
“I’m so proud of you.” He pressed a kiss to her scraped knuckle. “I came as fast as I could.”
Mary placed a bowl of aromatic salve on the table beside him. He scooped a small dollop with his finger and gently traced a layer across the cut on Bri’s cheek. Carefully, he cleaned her hands and treated them as well. He washed the blood from her neck and collarbone, wishing he had her home in a warm bath, with large, soft towels and privacy.
Finished, he accepted a shift from Mary, lowered it over Bri’s head, and tugged once on the blanket.
“If you loosen your clothes underneath the shift and drop them to the floor, I’ll have Mary burn them.” He put a finger under her chin. “Unless of course you want to keep them? We can make them into a battle flag.”
She snorted and stood with him. Then the clothes and the blanket pooled at her feet. She started to smile then buried her face against his chest with a sob. Brushing a hand across her hair, he lowered them again to the bench, prepared to sit there forever if necessary.
More quickly than he’d expected, she pulled away, wiped at her eyes, and then shooed him away. “I’ll be fine. Go find out what’s going on.”
He wrapped her in another blanket, and with a nod to Mary, joined the others outside. Hefin glared, his bushy brows furled and knitted together, looking every bit a dark thundercloud. Logan noticed several dozen men lined up, yards away, and looked at Robert in question.
“The laird is having the Plagiar chained and taken to the edge of his territory,” Hefin answered in a voice more brusque than Logan had ever heard from the man.
“That’s too generous.” Logan couldn’t keep the angry bite from his voice. “Doesn’t anyone’s head get put on a spike in this dimension?”
“He’s been branded for the crime of theft from the laird.”
Logan looked away. Branded—not for the crime of attempted rape, but for stealing a possession which belonged under the Mackinnon’s protection. Like a sheep. He was having a difficult time accepting the contradictory unfairness of justice and protection.
He looked up as Thomas and several more men headed toward them, with Thomas’s expression matching Hefin’s.
“Hefin, I would speak with you inside.” Thomas stepped by Logan, blocking his entrance to the cottage. “This is a private matter between the laird and Briallen’s guardian.”
“Let them in, Thomas. They are her kin. I’m not hearing his dictate without them,” Hefin said wearily. Thomas responded with a terse nod, along with a look of warning for Logan.
Hefin grumbled and moved to stand behind Bri. “Just be done with it, man.”
Thomas pressed his lips tight and avoided looking at her. “Mackinnon agrees the Plagiar’s behavior is unacceptable. But he’s decided the temptation of an unmarried female is a dangerous distraction.”
Hefin swaggered forward, nose to chest with Thomas. “Are our women to be given away with no say at all from her kin?”
Mary’s gasp rang in the silence. Thomas released a quick breath at Hefin’s anger and coughed.
Confusion marred Bri’s features. “What exactly are you saying?”
Logan moved beside her and Robert shifted behind him, a solid wall of her protectors as they faced the laird’s edict.
Thomas glanced at her, at Logan, and back to Hefin. “He’d decided Briallen is far past the age to wed and should be committed to a husband, for her protection—before nightfall.”
Bri’s breath caught. She looked over her shoulder in desperation from Hefin to Logan, then back to Thomas. “He can’t do that.”
Thomas shook his head. “He’s the laird. And he intends to keep you safe.”
“I don’t want this.” Her voice started to rise, but Logan held his stance without touching her and focused on Thomas. She deserved a few minutes to be good and mad. And Grainne’s brother-in-law warranted discomfort for bringing her this edict. “He expects to send a man of his choosing here and be done with me?”
Yep, she was getting there. The fire from her growing anger washed around the room. He didn’t bother to hide his smile as a healthy flush spread over her cheeks.
Thomas placed his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. “You will choose from the laird’s most eligible men. It can’t have passed your notice that many find you beautiful—and spirited.” He added the last quickly at her expression of horror. “The priest is at the castle and will perform the ceremony this eve.”
“This is barbaric,” she ground out.
Thomas shrugged. “This is our way, Briallen.”
“But I’m not—I can’t—I won’t—”
Logan placed a hand on Bri’s shoulder, ready to stop this torture. “The attack this afternoon wasn’t her fault.”
Thomas gave him a nod. “Laird Mackinnon doesn’t consider her at fault. However, he feels if she were married, she would not have fallen under the scrutiny of these men.”
“Rubbish.” Logan forced his hand to stay gentle on Bri’s shoulder. Instead of planting his fist into Thomas’s composed face. “Any of the women taking care of the children might have come to these men’s attentions, maybe more so. They wanted Bri, but they would have settled for any female, available or not, to settle their dispute with the laird.”
“Fair enough. Though this happened.” Thomas nodded once to Hefin and Bri. “The men are making themselves available for your choice.”
“Like hell they are.” Logan closed the distance to Thomas so quickly the man reached for his sword. “Bri is a MacKenzie. If she marries anyone tonight, it will be from my clan. Unless the Laird Mackinnon wishes to start a war over this issue.”
Thomas’s gaze shifted from Logan to Robert and back to Hefin. “I can relay the request. Which MacKenzie will she marry?”
Logan barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Thomas already knew the answer, but he wasn’t going to make this easy for Logan.
“Logan.” Bri’s hands tugged on the back of his shirt. He grasped her hand behind him and twined his fingers with hers.
“She’ll marry me. It’s not a request. We are here for a civilized transaction with the laird on a matter that will benefit him. We aren’t his enemies. If he insists on marriage, then she will marry me. No one else.”
“I will let you know his answer.” Thomas left the cottage, and Logan turned back to Bri. Robert raised a goblet of ale Mary had given him in silent salute. Hefin sighed with almost a smile and sat with his own goblet.
Mary patted Bri’s arm. “Now, dear, it will all work out for the best.” She disappeared into the back room to leave them in peace.
“He can’t force me to marry?” Bri looked to Hefin for help.
Hefin shrugged. “The Mackinnon is right. Dangerous men won’t respect your abilities or your independence. The threat of a stronger and more powerful protector keeps others from pressing their advantage. You didn’t plan to be here forever. Maybe, for the time being, you
can make peace with this plan. I’ve no doubt MacKenzie will treat you well.” Hefin glared at Logan, pressing his point with a familiar glare.
Bri’s jaw dropped.
Logan rolled his eyes, and exhaled. “Bri, think for a second. Would you rather have your choice of the Mackinnon’s most eligible? I don’t see an option to fight your way out of this.”
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, her brows drawn together and her lips tight.
He took her hands in his. “Trust me. It’s going to be okay. A priest saying vows won’t turn me into a monster. I’d like to think I’m a good solution for this problem.” He was lying to himself. And to her. He hoped she couldn’t tell. He wanted her desperately, even if only for their time together in this dimension. Because she’d eventually choose another path. She’d said as much. “This buys us time.”
“You are the best of my options.” Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her.
“Such praise.” He raised a brow. When the corner of her mouth lifted in a slow smile, he cupped her cheek. “Have a little faith, one more time?”
“What if Laird Mackinnon doesn’t agree?” Robert asked from the corner.
Logan shrugged and looked at him. “Then we become uncivilized.”
17
Thomas returned with the priest. “This must be done before nightfall. Father Michael wasn’t pleased with the suddenness of the ceremony, but he’s been briefed.”
“Just like that?” The shotgun approach didn’t sit well with Logan, but the priest’s presence wasn’t the solid confirmation he wanted from the Mackinnon. Marrying Bri, helping her through this forced ceremony wasn’t the issue. He didn’t want them blindsided with another heavy-handed request.
“Hell, no. This wasn’t easy.” Thomas snorted. “Luckily for you, the children who Briallen helped escape were the laird’s godson and goddaughter. He has a fondness for the children. Once someone reminded him of the circumstances, he became more generous.” Thomas pulled Logan aside. “But be clear on this. She’s your responsibility. Whatever transpires from here on out will reflect on the MacKenzie clan.”
Logan scowled. “She’s a beautiful, smart woman. Not a problem child.” He glanced at Duvessa seated beside a behemoth of a man at the fire’s edge on the training field.
Thomas dipped his head, but not quick enough to hide the lift of his brow and the corner of his mouth in agreement. “The fewer issues a clan must deal with the better.”
“We’ll leave after we meet with Laird Mackinnon tomorrow.”
After a nod, Thomas still didn’t leave. “Briallen has been with our clan for several years. Hefin and Grainne are respected members of my family.” He seemed to have trouble getting words out.
“I’d never hurt her.”
“I didn’t imagine you would. You have defended her person and her emotions. But she is family.” Thomas’s formidable expression softened and he sighed. “Should you require a family’s help, you should know I won’t discount any member. The laird’s wishes aside.”
“I appreciate the offer. Though you’ve already shown your support by fighting for my request.” Logan held out his hand. Thomas looked at it with a frown but clasped it firmly. A call from behind them announced the good Father Michael had reached the edge of the field, ready to start the ceremony.
Mary led Bri to join Logan at the fire’s edge. The MacKenzie plaid of green, blue, and red draped over her shoulder and graced her hips, sensual and brilliant against the white shift beneath. He gave her dress no more notice and scrutinized the tense lines of her face and her body’s outline against the darkening purple of pending nightfall. Her golden glimmer held steady, but sparks erupted in various colors, signaling her turmoil. Doubt radiated from her, suffocating all her other emotions.
As if reading her posture and demeanor, Robert shifted between them and the crowd and cut off the view of curious faces.
Logan ignored the growing numbers of the clan, and the not-so-quiet murmurs, and focused on Bri. She looked terrified. Panic sat in her narrowed pupils and grew with her shallow breathing. After gesturing toward the priest to wait for a moment, he turned and clasped her hands, placing them over his heart. When her gaze met his, he whispered in her ear. “Focus on me, Bri. Block out the rest. Read my emotions. Sink as deep within me as you did that night in the forest. No one else matters.”
Bri looked into the dark warmth of Logan’s eyes and tried for a lightness of being. She couldn’t read him as he wanted, but she could feel him open for her. Determined and steady, he’d hold her tight with his silver thread tethered to her heart and not let anything hurt her. She wanted the same for him. For no one else would she stand before others tonight and do this.
Her heart beat faster, and inspired by his strength, she smiled.
He squeezed her hand in response, and kept their fingers twined, despite the priest’s glare, then nodded for him to begin. The beat of his heart beneath her fingertips anchored her emotions and fended off the claustrophobic sensation the laird’s edict and clan presence imposed.
“Do you, Logan MacKenzie, take this woman…” The priest’s words flew by in a blur.
Logan’s hand squeezed over hers again. The constriction around her heart eased. With his slight smile and gaze fixed on her, she almost believed this was real. A marriage of choice—for love—with a man who wanted her forever.
He squeezed again and tilted his head with a frown until she gave him another smile.
“…ward to Hefin and Grainne of the clan Mackinnon, daughter of…”
Terror welled up again, and Logan leaned closer. “Daughter of Coel and Rhiamon, child of the third house of Aisalinore.”
The whisper drifted to her ears only. She stared at him, heard his words, drank in his promise of home, safety, and much more.
“Do you take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife—”
Logan cut off the priest. “To have and to hold, from this day forward, to love and to cherish, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. Never to part.” He squeezed her hands despite the priest’s frown. “I do.”
He pressed his lips to hers.
“Lad, she needs to say her vows before you take her.” The priest tried a stern tone. Thankfully, Logan didn’t release her.
“Continue, Father.” He murmured the words against her lips and only moved inches away.
“Ah, well then. Briallen, do you take this man…”
His wink broke the crystal chill and swept away the cold, surreal effect of the words.
“Lass?”
“I do.” The conviction in her voice wasn’t as firm as she might have wanted, but she tempered it with a true smile. Logan was the only man she trusted enough with the pledge, with her heart and soul.
She might have wanted to change many things in her life before she married, but trust in him wasn’t anything she doubted or would alter.
Logan raised his hand to her face and stroked her cheek before his lips pressed against hers again. She trembled, though perhaps from excitement rather than fear, and lost herself in the kiss. A sting of heat around her finger beneath his hand jerked her back to reality.
They moved apart. From Logan’s startled reaction, he’d also felt the tingle. With a gasp, she stared at the engraved circle of gold surrounding her finger. Narrow and perfect, the band’s delicate etchings separated by clusters of deep red rubies and star-white diamonds, matched Logan’s ring.
She looked at him for an explanation. From his surprised look, brief laugh, and the soft kiss he gave her ring finger, she suspected he had no answer.
Cheers of revelry echoed into the night. The strangeness of providing witness to a forced MacKenzie clan marriage ceremony didn’t affect the Mackinnon and MacDougall clan’s ability to celebrate. Food appeared and ale flowed as whiskey jugs passed from hand to hand through the crowd with dizzying speed.
Logan moved with her to the edge of the festivities and sat beside Robert, Hefin, and Thomas�
��s family.
Exhaustion and stress took hold as her eyelids drooped. Logan pulled her against his chest, and she closed her eyes for the pretense of sleep. Sadly, even cradled in his arms, she couldn’t shake the need to remain alert and tense for attack.
“I regret we’ve no place for you to spend your wedding night.” Thomas’s voice rang with sincerity. However, Bri was glad not to be under his roof for the night.
“We’ll be fine out here,” Logan said as he stroked her hair. “It’ll be easier to keep guard.”
He knew she was faking, whether from his power or his attuned sense of her needs. However, he covered for her, letting her retreat from the conversation and the well-meaning glances.
“Those men won’t be coming back.” Thomas said.
“These are strange times. The MacKenzie is right.” Hefin’s gruff comments ended the discussion. “We are safer watching over Briallen out here.”
“Your wedding night shared under the stars, how romantic.” The humor in Robert’s voice made her want to peek at him. Logan’s kiss on her head stopped her.
“You take the first shift and I’ll—” Logan started.
“Forget it, Logan. Hefin and I will handle the watches tonight. She’s had a rough day. If she wakes up, she’ll need you. I set blankets for you by MacDougall’s fire ring.” Robert’s humor had disappeared, replaced by a tone laced with concern. The day’s memories flooded back, unbidden.
“The lad’s right,” Hefin added. “We’ll see you for the meeting in the morning.”
Logan slid his arm beneath Bri’s knees and stood, cradling her against his chest. After several minutes, he settled her onto the stack of blankets and lay down behind her, curling around her.
“Let’s see if you can sleep for real, honey.”
Fire licked the castle walls, engulfing everything in smoke. Screams filled the air, and dark, oily shadows clung to every corner.
