Chapter Fifteen #2
“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?