Highland Sparks (Clan Grant #5) (3 page)

The two stared at each other for a long moment, complete silence as everyone else in the room waited to see what would happen next. He let her set the pace, something he rarely did for a woman. Even the way she wore her hair, pulled straight back and plaited from a spot high on the back of her head, enticed him. Something about the glossy sheen made it look stronger, cleaner, and more beautiful than that of any other lass. Much to his delight, the lass held strong under his gaze. Logan had found a woman who would stand up to him. The urge to kill the bastard who’d put her in this position raced through his body again, unstoppable as flames through a field of wheat.

Finally, Father MacLaren cleared his throat and said, “Come, lass, I’ll give you your things as long as you promise not to use any of your weapons on these men. And please give my regards to your brother.”

Gwyneth limped along behind the priest. “Father, I intend to get back to my home in Glasgow, but if anyone tries to prevent that, I’ll do what I need to do. As long as no one touches me, you have my word. If a man dares to lay a hand on me, believe me, his life will be in
my
hands.”

Chapter Three

Gwyneth climbed into the cart after helping the other victims get settled. Still restless from all that had transpired, she was even more ill at ease from the looks the braw warrior, Logan, was sending her way. True, she couldn’t deny his good looks, but she didn’t care at this point. She needed to get to Glasgow, talk to her brother, and seek out the bastard, Duff Erskine.

She had begged to ride a horse, but there were only enough horses to pull a cart and one for each warrior. Logan had offered for her to ride with him, but she had rejected him in a hurry. After all that had occurred, she couldn’t deal with any part of a man’s body touching hers for now. She attempted to rest, but each time she closed her eyes, the wild Norsemen took over her thoughts.

Bolting upright, she decided to forego any sleep. Probably better to stay alert. Who knew what would happen when they passed through the burgh?

Logan pulled his horse up next to the cart and tossed a blue plaid over to her. “Here, lass, rest your head on this.”

Gwyneth caught it and tossed it back. “No need, warrior. Keep it.”

Logan sighed. “I know where your head is right now. You’re thinking of ten different ways to kill the bastard who did this to you.”

“Aye.” She stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with him. For some reason, he unsettled her, and she didn’t like it.

He grinned. “And what is your preference? What would serve justice best?”

She glanced at him before bringing her gaze back to the front. “An arrow right between the eyes.”

“You know him?”

“Aye.”

“And you know where to find him?”

“Well enough, though he often moves. I’ll take care of him, make no mistake.” Peering at him, she had to admit he was impressive atop his stallion. Light brown hair, a strong jaw line, and massive muscles rippled through his tunic. “Your name again, warrior?”

“Logan Ramsay, and I would be mighty pleased to help you, lass.” He smiled at her.

“I can handle him by myself.” She looked away again as a bolt of warmth shot through her limbs, not wanting to scrutinize her body’s reaction to him.

“Are you capable of placing an arrow between his eyes? Because if you can’t guarantee his death with the first arrow, you may require some assistance.”

“My arrow goes wherever I choose.” She returned her gaze to him, lifting her chin as a challenge.

“Truly? I look forward to seeing that,” Logan chuckled.

“You don’t believe me? I challenge you at first light. We’ll see if your aim is as sharp as your tongue.”

“Gwyneth, if I heard your name correctly, I am not out to beat you. I have other games in mind. But if it would please you to challenge me, I welcome it.”

Logan’s grin riled her. “Aye, my name is Gwyneth of the Cunninghams, the best shooter in the Lowlands, do not doubt my claim. And just to be clear, I’m not interested in rutting with any beasts, even one who fights for the Crown.”

“Understood. The only way to beat the bastard who hurt you is with food in your belly and proper sleep to make your aim true.” He tossed the plaid back to her. “Take your rest and build your strength. Killing him ten different ways in your mind won’t make you any stronger, lass. I know.”

Gwyneth caught the plaid and stared at him. His words were similar to her brother Rab’s. He was right; she hated to admit it, but she did need to save her strength. “My thanks, beast.” She rolled away from him and tucked the cloth under her head.

Aye, this man unsettled her. Ever since her father and brother had died in front of her eyes, she had lived a sheltered life. She and her brother, Rab, had gone to live with her Uncle Innis at the Kirk. They had made do and survived, her brother turning to the church while Gwyneth turned to revenge, focusing her efforts on mastering archery. Her goal was in reach and she was more driven than ever. She would kill her family’s murderer. Now she had more reason than ever.

The result was she hadn’t spent much time with others her own age. Her mother had died giving birth to Rab, a year younger than her, and Gwyneth had grown up with her father and two brothers. Moving to the Kirk had surrounded her with religious men. She didn’t know how to deal with men outside the church, at least not kind men. She hadn’t met many, and she didn’t know much about interacting with other women either.

She found herself unable to fall asleep as her imagination spun images of a brawny warrior who actually supported her at her side instead of trying to kill her.

***

As soon as they arrived at the priory, Gwyneth hopped out of the cart, and stumbled on her weak leg before righting herself, cursing. She helped the other women out and guided the men as to which of the wounded needed the most assistance. After she located her things in the back of the cart, she turned to glance down the street and found herself swept into the arms of a grinning warrior.

“Put me down, Logan Ramsay. I told you that you were never to touch me. How dare you assume I need help when I don’t. And I’m not staying here either.”

Logan grinned all the way down the stairs and into the chamber in the base of the priory, not loosening his grip a bit. “Just following orders, my lady. Want to make sure you have no serious injuries.” Logan plopped her down on the nearest pallet, and she landed with a string of curses.

Gwyneth swung at Logan, but he sidestepped with a chuckle before he turned to leave. The foolish brute should have to listen to a few more choice words, but she was in a priory. Out of respect for her brother’s profession, she cut off her cursing as soon as Logan left her side. The sound of her name caught her, and she spun her head around, searching for the source.

Caralyn Crauford hobbled across the room in her direction, limping and in pain, but with a smile on her face and her arms wide open. “Gwyneth? Blessed saints, ‘tis really you?”

“Caralyn? Hellfire! How I have missed you.” She stood, moving as fast as she could toward her friend. The two lasses threw themselves at each other, hugging as if they hadn’t seen each other in years.

Caralyn stepped back and stroked Gwyneth’s arm. “I was afraid I would never see you again. It has been months, hasn’t it? Where have you been? Are you unhurt?” She ushered Gwyneth back onto the bed, then sat down next to her.

“I wouldn’t sit here for anyone but you, Caralyn Crauford, especially not for this lout!” She waved her arm toward Logan, who had not gone very far at all and was now leaning against the wall by her pallet, his arms crossed and a smile on his face. With a huff, she turned away from him, giving him her back. “Caralyn, I am so happy to see you. Where are your sweet lassies? Wee Gracie must be so big by now.”

Caralyn’s expression turned to a frown, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. Please, may we talk about this later?” She glanced up just as Robbie strode over to the bed. Gwyneth watched as her friend met the Highlander’s gaze and he shook his head.

He whispered so no one else could hear him but Logan, Caralyn, and Gwyneth. “Sorry, lass. We haven’t yet found your wee ones.”

As soon as Logan and Robbie left, Gwyneth grasped her arm. “Where are your daughters?”

Caralyn’s expression on her face crumpled. “I don’t know. Malcolm has taken them from me and will only allow me to see them when he gives me permission. ‘Twas supposed to be every sennight, but now he is angry and said only once a moon.” Tears misted in her eyes. “You know how much I love them. I miss them so, and I have no idea who is caring for them or if they are hurt.”

“Is Captain Grant going to help you?” Gwyneth asked. “He appears of sound character. Surely he would help you find the weans. I would trust the captain, and he has knowledge that others cannot obtain.” How she had fallen in love with Caralyn’s two daughters during their visits to her brother’s Kirk in the royal burgh. They hadn’t come often, but she and Caralyn had become fast friends. After a time, Caralyn had revealed the truth of her situation with Malcolm, how he forced her to be his mistress and worse by threatening her daughters. It was yet another example of the cruelty of men. Gwyneth and her brother had discussed the matter, but they hadn’t come up with a solution.

“Aye, he said he would find them for me, and then come rescue me. I only hope he can find them. They are too young to be alone with two brutes. They are only two and eight.” She clasped Gwyneth’s hands in hers. “Gwyneth, you look tired. I am sure you have had a terrible ordeal. Why don’t you rest? I’m going to help the sisters with the other women. I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Gwyneth had to admit she was tired—tired of fighting Duff Erskine, tired of worrying about her friend. Her brother shared her feelings about Duff since he had also been a witness to his cruelty, but when she had gone to Rab about Caralyn, they hadn’t come up with any solutions to her problem.

Gwyneth had been forced to act on her own. After several years observing Duff Erskine, she had decided to seek help. How could a man like Duff get away with all his crimes? How could someone like Malcolm treat Caralyn the way he did and not be forced to stop?

Wealth. Duff Erskine had grown his merchant business over time and therefore, had increased his fortune. She guessed he used his fortune to pay off the local sheriff and other government officials. Apparently, Malcolm Murray did the same. So she had gone to someone for help, someone very high up in the Scottish government and presented her evidence.

Now she worked for the Scottish government covertly. She needed to notify her supervisor of what she had seen. It had been a long time since Duff Erskine had sold slaves. She knew he would go back to it eventually, but she hadn’t expected to be one of his potential victims.

Gwyneth rested her head on the pillow. “Aye, I am a bit weary. ‘Twas a long night and I couldn’t sleep on the wretched cart. Wake me before you go.” Her eyes closed, though her hands still clung to Caralyn, her only close female friend. She would help her find her wee ones if Robbie Grant didn’t, and if he did search for them, she would be right behind him, whether he wanted her help or not.

Gwyneth opened her eyes, wanting to see Caralyn’s smiling face once more. How she treasured their friendship. When she had traveled to the Kirk in Ayr with her brother, she had been sitting in the back during a service when Caralyn had come in and sat next to her with her two lassies. Ashlyn had stared at her cautiously, but Gracie, sitting on her mother’s lap, had held her arms up to Gwyneth right away.

Living in a man’s world, Gwyneth had never held a bairn before, but Caralyn handed her over without a word, settling her on Gwyneth’s lap. Gracie had plopped her thumb in her mouth and leaned back against her, falling asleep to the lulling voice of Father Rab. After service, Caralyn had said, “She doesn’t go to others easily.”

Ashlyn had nodded. “You must be special.”

Gwyneth had never forgotten how special she felt that day, and how her friendship with the trio had grown since then.

She needed to see her brother, see her boss, and find two bairns. She would do this for Caralyn, Gracie, and Ashlyn. Tomorrow would be a busy day.

Chapter Four

Logan followed Robbie up the priory staircase. As soon as they stepped outside, he peppered him with questions. “Who’s the woman, Grant, and what is she to you?”

“She’s naught to me. Caralyn is a woman I found on the coastline south of Ayr. A Norseman was dragging her to his galley, and battered her along the way.”

“Hellfire, good thing you were there to stop it. Had to be enjoyable taking the Norse on. How do men beat defenseless women like that?”

“Caralyn wasn’t defenseless. She fought hard and got a few blows in, but he overtook her.”

“And now?”

“Now he’s a dead man.” Robbie glanced at his friend, a smirk on his face.

“And the two lassies?”

“They were hiding in the rocks. Their mama trained them well. I found them the next day after I brought Caralyn back to my camp. Since we were almost ready to skirmish and their home was destroyed by the Norse, I brought them to the priory here. A man who says he’s her husband took the three of them out of the priory back to his keep and has now hidden her girls to control her. I promised to help.”

Logan quirked his brow at his friend. “And?”

“And naught. That’s it. I don’t like the man, and I cringe when I think of where the wee lassies could be. The youngest, Gracie, reminds me of Lily.” He paused, watching Logan for his reaction. “You don’t have to follow if you have other plans. Tomas and I can handle it.”

“Aye, I’ll go along. What do you know of the one in leggings? What is the relationship between Caralyn and Gwyneth?”

“I have no idea. I met Gwyneth for the first time when you did. Caught your eye, I see.”

Logan scowled. “I suppose she has. She’s got spirit, but I can’t help but want to help a battered woman.”

“Doesn’t look like she wants your help.”

“True, but she has a sweet arse.” Logan smiled. “And she’s plotting revenge on her captor. I think she might need some help there. You know I’m all about helping defenseless lassies.”

“She doesn’t look defenseless to me.” Robbie gave Tomas a knowing look. “Where were you headed? Back home?”

“I was searching for you. Hadn’t made any further plans. Do you want help finding the lassies?”

“We could use your help. Do you know Glasgow?”

“Nay, not well. You’ll need someone as guidance. ‘Tis a big town.”

Logan stared at Robbie. “You are going after the wee ones now, are you not? You can’t ignore where the lassies could be.”

Robbie nodded. “We need a plan.”

“Aye. Do you have any idea where to start?” Logan asked.

“Nay. I don’t know Glasgow any more than you or Tomas. I suppose we’ll start by questioning people, or spending time in the market talking to local vendors. What ideas do you two have?”

A fourth person joined the group without a word of greeting. “I’ll go with you,” Gwyneth announced, hands on her hips as if daring someone to disagree.

Robbie asked, “Do you know Glasgow?”

Gwyneth nodded. “I know Glasgow and I’ll find the lassies. I have a hunch as to where Murray would hide them within town.”

“Then I welcome your assistance,” Robbie said.

Logan glanced between Robbie and Gwyneth. “What? Are you daft, lass? You belong on the pallet resting.”

Gwyneth retorted, “Like hell I do. You think just because I’m a lass, I’m not strong enough to join you?”

Logan argued. “Nay, I think someone did an exceptional job beating you, and you’re bruised from head to toe.” He checked her over as he spoke, though he knew she wouldn’t like it. What a fine specimen of a woman she was—the very sight of her almost took his breath away. But at the same time, seeing all her bruises fired him up in an entirely different way.

Gwyneth didn’t slow for a second. “That has naught to do with it. Those lassies need to be found, and I’m the one to find them. Or is your cock so small you fear women just because they might find out the size?”

Logan smiled as he grabbed his crotch. He would banter with her; there was naught he would enjoy more at this point. “Would you like to see my cock and judge for yourself?” He judged that her sense of pride was not far different from his brothers’. Piss her off, and she wouldn’t have time to think about her bruises or what had happened to her on that boat. He’d keep her focused on this new mission…and he would enjoy every moment of it.

Fire burned in Gwyneth’s gaze. “Aye, bring it out, but let me grab my dagger first. I’ll take one of your sacs as a trophy. The last one I cut off, I flung into the firth.”

Dead silence hung in the air. Logan waited to see if anyone else would approach that comment. He thought his comrades’ thoughts no doubt echoed his own. Was she telling the truth? Someday, he would ask her. The rotten bastard who’d attacked her had picked the wrong victim. He stifled his grin so as not to antagonize her any more. She was already good and fired up.

Logan whispered, “I don’t doubt your strength on a good day, lass. But the Norse knocked the wind out of you. I can see the fine tremor in your hand. The only thing you need is rest.”

Gwyneth took a step closer to Logan. “Fortunately, what you say doesn’t mean anything to me. I do as I please, not what some man orders me to do.”

Robbie held his hands up. “Och, lass. No one is trying to order you. You came to us, remember?”

“Aye,” she said, her gaze never leaving Logan’s. “And I’m going with you.”

Logan’s hands settled on his hips as he continued to meet her stare. No way would he allow her to go. She needed rest and food to keep herself healthy and whole. “Give me one good reason why we should take you with us. I see you as a detriment to our mission. You’ll be slow, and we’ll have to cater to your needs.” He wouldn’t be able to handle it if she were hurt on their travels. As strong as he guessed she was, he could see she wasn’t at her best. He didn’t want her to risk her life. They could—and would—find Caralyn’s bairns on their own.

Gwyneth moved her face a few inches closer to Logan’s—the threat obvious, and strangely enticing. “I won’t be slow, and you won’t have to cater to my needs.”

Returning her stare, Logan said to Robbie, “Hmmph. Did you hear a reason for us to take her, Grant? Because I surely did not.” Could Grant not see she would be at risk herself if she joined them? Or was he too desperate to help Caralyn to judge the situation impartially?

Gwyneth crossed her arms in front of her. “Because the lassies know me. They’ll never go with you. And I don’t think any of you wish to deal with a two-year-old’s rags once you find them.”

Logan had cared for his niece and nephew through rags and vomit. He had forced himself to remain strong because his brother had needed him. The memories of how ill they had been were painful to him. He didn’t need them fresh in his head during this mission.

Stepping back, Logan peered at Tomas and Robbie for a long moment, a frown on his face. Then he finally dropped his hands from his hips and stalked away. “Guess she goes with us. Saddle up and let’s move.”

From behind him, he heard Robbie say, “Let’s go before sundown.” With that, Gwyneth traipsed in front of him and jumped onto his horse before he had the chance.

Logan growled, “Lass, find your own horse.”

“I did.” She smiled and took off down the path.

Turning to his friends, who were both holding back smiles, Logan mounted Tomas’s horse in a flash and headed down the path after her. God’s teeth, but this woman was going to give him a worthy ride. He loved the fire in her. Watching her bum in breeks bounce on his saddle was worth every moment of aggravation. Hell, he would
have
to have this lass someday.

When he was close enough, he grabbed the reins, winked at Gwyneth and said, “You better hang on.” With that, he whistled, and his horse came to a screeching halt. Gwyneth almost flew off the front, though she somehow managed to hang on.

Gwyneth yelled. “Och, stop! I’ll get off. Have your foolish horse.”

Hellfire, he smiled again. She’d held on. He tossed his reins over a nearby branch and hopped off Tomas’s horse. When was the last time he had seen a lass handle Paz the way she just had? A horsewoman and an archer—he definitely would have to get to know Gwyneth better.

She started to dismount, but he caught her around her waist, tossing her back up in the saddle, then climbed behind her. A string of curses flew out of her lips. “Lass, didn’t you say your brother was a priest? My dear, I hope you don’t talk like that around him.”

She whirled in the saddle and clubbed his arm with her fist. “Let me go.”

“Lass, there are only three horses. You want to fight with me, do it later. I relish the battle. But for now, we need to find the bairns, so stay where you are.”

By that time, Tomas and Robbie had caught up with them. Tomas jumped off and grabbed his horse. Robbie’s face let Gwyneth know he wasn’t in any mood for arguing, so she settled. Gwyneth whispered and slapped his hand. “Don’t touch me, you brute.”

Logan chuckled and took off, whispering in her ear. “Should have thought of that before you stole my horse. Now you ride with me.” He held her back against him in a death grip while he yelled over his shoulder. “Move on, Grant.”

Hellfire, but her curves fit him just right. This was the best ride he’d had in a long time.