Chapter 28 #2
For a second, there was silence. Then, as the people came to their senses, every head turned.
Emma had stepped forward from where he had left her. She stood between him and the villagers, her hair catching the sun. Her chin was high, and her hands were at her sides, curling into her gown.
The villagers stared at her, and the pirates looked her up and down with open interest. Pete’s mouth quirked into a half-smile.
Emma did not flinch.
“There will be no blood,” she declared. Her voice was not loud, but it carried. “Not today.”
The father glared at her. “This isnae yer land, lass. Ye daenae ken what honor costs us.”
Emma’s gaze did not waver. “Honor does not come from killing boys for kissing girls who wish to be kissed.”
A ripple of laughter came from the pirates. The villagers bristled.
She held up a hand, as if she had done this all her life. “You want justice?” She turned her head so she spoke to both. “Fine. Then let us see who is stronger without spilling a drop.”
A wave of tense murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“What is she saying?”
“Competition?”
“English games now?”
Emma cleared her throat loudly. “You want to prove that pirates are nothing, that they are weak and dishonorable? Beat them where everyone can see. Or is it only easier to shout for blood?”
That stung; Logan could see it on the villagers’ faces.
On the far side, one of the pirates snorted. “What sort of competition? Cards? Kissing? I will volunteer for the last one.”
Another wave of laughter spread through the crowd, and even some of the villagers’ mouths twitched before they remembered to be angry.
Emma remained calm. “Something simple,” she said. “Fair. No knives. No blades. You all know how to pull rope, do you not? Then pull it.”
The words hung there, and Logan almost laughed as realization dawned on him.
Tug o’ war.
He found himself staring at her. He had not told her to speak or warned her what these men could turn into, how fast. Yet she stood there, offering them a way out that would not shame either side.
For a long moment, no one moved, then all eyes swiveled back to him. This, more than anything, would decide it. If he laughed her off, the idea would die. If he refused, they would go back to blades. If he agreed, if he put his weight behind her suggestion, the ground would shift.
He drew in a breath. “We can try it.”
The words were simple, but something told him the effect was not.
Shock rippled through both sides, and he saw it in their eyes. The Pirate Laird was backing the Englishwoman’s foolish, rope-and-game solution. However, the decision had barely settled when someone produced a rope.
Logan did not ask where it had come from, since every village had one. His men shifted as it was brought out, curiosity flashing across their faces. The villagers, on the other hand, eyed it carefully.
Emma stepped forward again before anyone could speak. She exhaled and turned to the father.
“You take your place here,” she instructed. “With your men behind you.”
The father hesitated, pride catching in his throat. Then, with a curse under his breath, he stepped up and wrapped both hands around the rope.
Emma turned to the pirate youth.
“And you,” she said, voice softer. “Back there with them.”
The boy glanced at Logan, then at Pete.
Pete jerked his chin. “Ye heard the lady. Get yer hands on it.”
The sides formed, and Emma walked to the center and nodded to Logan. “On your word,” she said.
He grabbed the rope, only for a moment, to make sure the middle lay right over the groove. The fibers bit into his palms, and he nodded, then stepped back.
“Pull,” he commanded.
The rope snapped tight in a breath as both sides heaved at once. The rope shuddered, dragged an inch toward the villagers, then slid back toward the pirates. Soon, mud churned under boots, and dust rose as pirates hurled insults across the line.
“Is that all the Highlanders can do?”
“Ye tug like old grandmothers.”
It did not take long for the villagers to fire back.
“At least we daenae run from a real wind.”
“Pull, ye lazy bastards!”
The rope jerked again, and their faces reddened. The girl at the back of the villager line had both hands pressed over her mouth, and the young pirate kept his gaze fixed on the rope as if he could will it to move.
Emma stood to the side, her skirt brushing the dirt, chin tilted up. Her hands were clasped tightly, but she did not flinch.
For a while, time seemed to stretch.
The rope dragged half a foot toward the pirates, then eased back to the center. No more. Men were grunting now with each haul. Even Pete’s jaw was clenched.
It slowly became clear that no one was winning.
And no one wanted to be the first to let go.
“Enough,” Logan barked.
Some hands held a moment longer out of pure spite before they dropped. The rope sagged, then fell to the ground. Silence followed as a few men bent over, their palms on their knees. The father straightened with a wince and rubbed his shoulder. Pete rolled his neck and spat in the dirt.
Everyone looked at Logan.
He stepped into the space between them, beside the rope.
“Ye all saw it,” he said. “Ye pulled till ye nearly tore yer arms out and still, nobody won.”
No one argued. Pride would not let them claim they had held back.
“So here is what that tells me,” he continued. “There is nay stronger group here. Villagers. Pirates. Ye are the same when it comes to the strength of yer bodies.”
He let his gaze sweep across all faces, lingering long enough that they had to look up.
“If ye draw blood over this, ye daenae prove anything except that ye are fools. Ye weaken the same ground ye all stand on. Ye are part of the same clan and the same shore.”
A few older villagers shifted, lowering their eyes. One or two pirates scowled, but they listened.
“The lass went with the lad,” Logan said, nodding toward the girl and the boy. “If there is shame, it rests on both their shoulders, and I see nay shame in them standing together now.”
The girl’s hand finally slid into the boy’s. It was a small gesture, but it was visible. Logan’s eyes flicked to it and then back to the people.
“Nay blood,” he insisted. “Nae today, and nae for this. Ye want to take a life, it will be on me order, for crimes that deserve it.”
He felt the weight of that promise as he spoke it, but he didn’t stop.
“From now on, ye will share more than a stretch of dirt to shout on. Ye are all braithers and sisters, and when I say so, ye will fight side by side. It doesnae matter if trouble comes for the sea or for the land. If ye turn yer blades on each other, ye turn them on me.”
The last words landed heavy, and the silence told him he had definitely gotten through to the people.
He straightened, letting his body breathe the relief that crashed into him.
“To mark this union between the two of ye, there will be a feast at the castle. A festival. Ye will all come. Every man who pulled on that rope, and every fool who shouted on the side.”
That did the trick. Festivals meant food, drink, and music. It also meant no one could claim they were kept outside.
The murmurs started again, but they were different now. They were murmurs of agreement and excitement. Behind him, Pete clicked his tongue, and a smile of approval spread across his face.
“Listen to ye,” a voice from the pirate line called, louder than it should have been. “Soft as a priest. The sea has made ye hard, but this land is making ye soft, me Laird.”
A few men near him chuckled.
Logan turned his head slowly. The pirate who had spoken froze. A scar cut through his eyebrow, one Logan remembered from a boarding years ago.
Good fighter. Bad timing.
“Soft,” he repeated, voice low. He stepped forward just enough that the space between them shrank. “If I had stayed the man ye kent from the deck, there would be three bodies lying where that rope sits. The lass. The lad. And maybe ye, if ye had opened yer mouth the same way.”
Silence fell over the men nearby.
“I am nae softer,” he grunted. “I am only choosing where to spill blood. Do ye understand the difference, or do ye need it taught into ye?”
The pirate dropped his gaze. “Nay, me Laird,” he muttered.
“Good,” Logan said. “Then hold yer tongue. Ye will need it for the festival.”
He let that sink in for a second, then turned away, taking his place again at the center.
The villagers began to disperse first, some pulling their daughters close and casting last glares at the pirates.
The young couple stayed where they were until the crowd grew thinner, then slipped off together.
The pirates, on the other hand, broke apart in looser knots, a few of them stealing glances at Emma, speculative looks in their eyes.
Logan knew that look, and he knew the exact question it asked.
But he would do everything he could to protect his wife before anyone could even think of doing anything.