Chapter Twelve
Logan
Logan Ramsay’s gaze made its way around the hall, watching all the people heading to Islay on the morrow.
The decision had been made to help the man from Islay who said his daughter and nephew had disappeared one morning.
In the prime of his life, Logan and his dear wife Gwynie would be giving directions to all the ones moving about.
They’d lead the horses, his sword not far from his steel grip, while his wife’s bow would be just over her shoulder, ready to swiftly dispatch anything or anyone who dared to interrupt or interfere with her clan’s happiness.
He flexed his fingers as if he could feel the power of his favorite sword. Alas, his grip was no longer what it used to be.
Ailith came out of a chamber above and flew down the staircase, a girl with something important to do.
“Have you a few moments for an old man, Ailith?” Logan had many questions about all he’d heard that took place last night, but he didn’t quite have the whole picture. Perhaps she would fill him in.
“Of course, Uncle Logan.” Not her true uncle, although almost every Ramsay and Grant called him such. She took a chair near the hearth and grabbed a fur for her lap. “Did you have a question for me?”
“Aye. I hear you are the newest one to have special talents, and I wish to know how you feel about it. Or should I ask you what you plan to do with your talents?”
Not a moment’s hesitation before she shot back, “I’m going to find the bairns on Islay that were stolen by the faeries and give them back to their parents.”
He couldn’t stop the grin from covering his face. How he loved to see the talents and characteristics of generations carried forward. That’s why the Scots were the strongest in the land. They believed in the power of their lasses, not just their lads.
“What?” Her brow furrowed, and he knew exactly why. She couldn’t understand how he could smile about such a tragic event. What she didn’t know was how many times their two clans had worked together to fight various evil minds. They’d take care of the bastards again, of this he had no doubt.
He wouldn’t tell the lass that his skills as a spy for the Scottish Crown told him she had exactly the right talents necessary to find the bairns.
“I notice you said you were going to save the bairns, not that you hope to do it. That speaks to me of your grandfather Alex, probably my closest friend over the years. When he made his mind up to do something, naught would get in his way. You remind me of him with your dark hair.”
“Da said I’m more like Grandmama.”
“There’s no doubt that you’re special like Maddie. You are a chosen one of the fae, just as my sister Avelina is. Don’t think that because you don’t use a bow or a dagger that you aren’t strong. Some of the strongest women I know never learned how to use a weapon.”
This comment made her sit up. As a wise old man, it was his job to build this lass’s inner strength. “Who?” she asked quietly.
“My sister Lina, your grandmama Maddie, and Brenna. All highly intelligent women. You will make them all proud. A strong mind can be as powerful as the sharpest sword, lass. Never doubt it.” He tapped his temple. “It takes a quick mind to outsmart the evilest ones in our land, fae or true.”
“I hope so.” Her face fell and she stared at the ground. “I just pray that I’ll do the right thing, because I have to save those bairns.”
“May I pass along a wee bit of advice?”
“Of course. Advice about how to deal with the Unseelies? Because that seems to be a bit of a challenge since it’s new to most of us.”
“Nay, lass. Advice about anything in your life. True that your heart is like your grandmama’s, but you need more than heart sometimes. Don’t think on it. Whenever you’re in doubt about what to do next, you’ll know in your gut what’s right and what isn’t.”
Her brow scrunched again and she tipped her head. “How will I know?”
“You’ll feel it,” he replied, his hand going to his belly. “Here. You’ll know what to do, just do it and don’t hesitate.”
“I will. Many thanks to you, Uncle. The thought of living in a faery hill scares me. I hope we’ll figure out how to find them. If you’ll excuse me, dear Uncle, I have to go see Mama. We can chat later.” And she was gone as fast as the flash of a blade.
As the young are. He’d been that quick once.
Logan could have suggested a few things to look for.
He thought back on all he’d seen in his eight decades.
Cruel men stealing bairns to sell across the water, men who hid bairns and captives in the ground to right some old wrong they believed was done them.
The English were the worst. They’d even kidnapped John as a toddler.
He spat off to the side at that thought.
“Grandda, you’ll not spit in my home!” Eli bellowed from the balcony, rushing down the staircase.
“If you mention the word English,” he stopped to spit, but she appeared in front of him, her hand now pinching his cheeks.
“Do not dare do it again.”
He brushed Eli’s hands away so he could speak. “Hell, lass. Even John knew he had to spit whenever that word was said.”
“Not here or you’ll be cleaning the floors, Grandda.”
Logan laughed as if she thought she could force him to clean a floor.
Eli leaned her face down close to him and whispered, “I’ll have a word with Grandmama, and she’ll find a way to make you clean it.”
“Och, leave my Gwynie alone. She’s earned her right to rest.” His beloved wife Gwyneth had passed on not long ago, something that haunted him at first light every single day.
Connor came in the door just in time to overhear Logan’s granddaughter make her threat. He shuffled over to the hearth, stood in front of it for a few moments to warm his hands before leaning over to whisper to Logan. “Don’t think she won’t do it. Alaric doesn’t take her threats lightly.”
Logan snorted. “Always said he was a wise one, but Gwynie’s been gone a long time now.” He’d lost poor Gwynie nearly six years ago after they’d made a life here on Mull. He’d been lost for a wee bit, but like everything else, life moved on.
He spent most of his time in the great hall of Duart Castle, watching over all the events that happened at the keep.
He’d decided to stay since his only remaining sibling was also here.
Avelina was still spry and stayed with her youngest son, Maitland, after she’d lost Drew two years ago.
Logan was still quick in his mind, but he didn’t get around the way he used to.
He could still walk and ride a horse, but there was no running in his life.
He’d stopped counting his summers when he hit five and eighty a few years ago.
His favorite activity of late was watching over the smallest hellions of the clan with a wee dram of the famous Rankin brew. He’d given the lasses a few different names.
Wee hellions.
Wild ones.
Wicked bairns. Eli had nearly slugged him over that one, claiming her dearest Gwendolyn was as sweet as could be. Logan snorted and asked her if she’d ever met her daughter.
Over the years, the number of bairns had grown considerably, but the ones who drew all the attention were the ones born in the same spring and summer five years ago.
Dyna and Derric’s surprise daughter, Halli; Brynja and Hagen’s youngest daughter, Liv; Eli and Alaric’s daughter Gwendolyn; and Broc and Merryn’s daughter Yrsi, who visited often.
They were comical to watch. But Logan had made certain to be around on this day when the lad was to join them. He chuckled to himself just as Connor finally sat down.
“What makes you laugh, old man? Am I missing something?”
“Aye. The wee hellions are here and guess who’s about to join them?
Daran. This should be my entertainment for the day.
Any time a strapping lad jumps into the middle of four lasses, it’s likely to be a good show.
Doesn’t matter how old they are.” His mind jumped to a few occasions over the years when Gwynie had gone to battle.
Gwynie always won.
“I cannot argue that. I’ve packed enough, so I’ll keep you company. Sounds interesting enough to me.” Connor rubbed his hands together and took a sip of the warm broth the serving lass had given him.
Alasdair and Dyna joined them.
Connor glanced up at his nephew and his eldest daughter. “Are you both all packed for the morrow?”
“Nay,” Dyna replied, peeking over her shoulder at the wee ones in their favorite play area. “But I couldn’t miss this. Someone has to defend poor Daran.”
“My son will be fine on his own,” Alasdair declared.
Dyna tipped her head at him and arched a brow. “Have you seen the wee hellions together yet?”
“They’re too young to be hellions, Dyna.
Shame on you for labeling your own daughter.
” Alasdair pulled his chair closer to the area where the young ones had settled around a pile of wooden weapons and fabric animals before speaking to the adults behind him.
“Which one has the strongest personality?”
Logan snorted. “Beware. Don’t let them hear you, or you’ll learn the hard way.”
“Ignore the old grumpy one.” Dyna glared at Logan before turning to Alasdair. “Pay attention and you’ll find out.”
Alasdair covered his chuckle. “I can’t wait to see this with my own eyes. I’ve heard so much about these lassies.”
Logan grinned, sitting up taller in his chair. “I’m warning you. You’ll not see anything like it. Never in all my years. And I’ve had a pile of them.”
Young Daran entered the hall. He looked to his father first, but Alasdair motioned for him to join the bairns playing.
“Hush now.” Logan waved his hand at the adults. “Do not ruin my entertainment.”
Daran reached in and grabbed the largest sword for himself.
Logan nearly cheered.
Golden-haired Liv jumped up and grabbed it out of his hand. “My sword. You cannot have it.”
Alasdair stood up, but Logan grabbed the back of his tunic, yanking on it. “Sit your arse down, Grant. Do not ruin my fun. The lassies will take care of him.”
Alasdair slowly sat on the edge of his seat as if he were ready to jump in again.