Chapter Twenty-One
“He appeared to be leadin’ his horse aroond the mountain,” Ewen told Logan while he tried to get his breath after running down the mountain.
“Once we lost sight of him, we saw nae point in stayin’ up there,” Ealar let him know. “We couldna lend ye aid unless we came doon.”
Logan nodded, then, forgetting his brother’s reasoning, pointed to the northern west mountain range. “He could be headin’ toward Torlundy.”
He didn’t want to say what he truly feared.
His father said it for him. “Or Tor Castle.”
And then he said nothing else, handing over the reins to his son.
“Ewen, Jamie and Steafan take the roads along the ooter edge of the mountain,” Logan commanded. No one questioned him. They never had and he always brought them home to their kin. “I will take the road to Tor directly. My father and brother will go with me.”
Without another word, he spun his horse around and rode off. There was no time to lose. He had to find Elspeth.
His horse had been fed and given water. Most of all, the beast was well conditioned, thanks to Logan riding it every day. They rode this path together a thousand times, the path home. Logan didn’t push his horse up the hills but let it move forward at its own pace.
When he reached the crest, he turned back to see his father and Ealar riding upward, toward him.
“If he rides to the castle, we should kill him,” Ealar said, reaching him, the wind blowing his obsidian hair across his face like warpaint.
“Aye,” Logan agreed. He was sorry to agree because they were speaking about Elspeth’s brother, whom she thought she had lost once already, but Roderick Woodburn had dared set foot on his land, in his front yard, his house, twice now. If he was caught, they would kill him.
They rode all day without gaining a clue about where Roderick had taken her—alive, Logan prayed.
Finally, in a tavern in a small village in Achintee, they met a man who recognized Logan’s father.
After paying homage to the Lochiel of Lochaber, he told them that he had seen that man and woman—och, she was thinner than a veil.
“They rode through…stopped here to eat. I remember her because her eyes were the bonniest shade of blue I have ever seen. There were wheels turnin’ in her head, and ye could almost see them in her eyes. ”
Logan smiled for the first time in hours. That was her—likely thinking about a way to stop her brother.
“Did she appear to be hurt in any way?” he asked the patron. “Afraid?”
“Nae. I heard him call her Ellie. I assumed he was her husband.”
Logan felt such relief that she was neither hurt nor in threat of harm that it made him want to shout for joy. Roderick wouldn’t call her such an endearing variation of her name if he posed a threat to his sister. Not presently, at least.
“Why are ye looking fer them?” the patron asked.
Logan’s father rested his hand on the man’s shoulder and smiled at him. “My thanks fer yer help. If ye have a son or daughter, send them to the castle fer honest work.”
The man beamed and then began to cry. “My life fer yers, Lochiel. I heard ye were just good to the people of Lochaber, but…but this is more than—”
He went on, and as good as it was to hear about his father, Logan wanted to be away. “Good Sir,” he said, breaking through the man’s tears, “which way did they go?”
The patron pointed north. Logan turned to his father, blood draining from both their faces. “The castle.”
They took off, with Ealar close behind.
It didn’t take long before they reached home, Tor Castle.
The Lochiel took the lead as they entered the courtyard, cautious, looking for any sign that Woodburn was here.
Logan didn’t want to be cautious. He wanted to rush in swinging. He would not do it. He was no fool.
But he wanted to do it.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his sister, May, on her terrace. She waved, looking happy enough.
If Woodburn was in the vicinity, he hadn’t done anything nefarious. Logan might not discover he was here until he did do something like kill Elspeth or one of his kin. The thought made him rage within. If Roderick Woodburn was here, Logan was going to kill him.
Logan looked around while the stable hand took his horse’s reins.
“’Tis good to see ye, m’lord,” the stable hand greeted when Logan’s eyes fell on him.
Aye. Logan recognized him. He’d been here for four years now. While his father and brother hurried into the castle, Logan stayed behind with the stable hand.
“Anythin’ unusual happenin’, Rufus?”
Rufus gave him a surprised look. “Ye remember my name!”
“Of course, I do,” Logan said. “Do I look faded in years?”
“Nae! Nae!” Rufus laughed with him. “Ye look healthy and strong. In fact, stronger than ye have looked in the last four or five years.”
“That is good to hear, Rufus,” Logan clapped him on the back with his right hand. “So, then, anythin’ peculiar?”
Rufus thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.
“All right then,” Logan said, walking away, back to the castle backwards. “Let us share an ale when this is over.”
“Aye, m’lord,” Rufus grinned, and then stopped. “M’lord, wait! By peculiar, do ye mean a man carryin’ his wife into the inn, dead to the world in his arms?”
Logan rushed back to him, “Aye! Where are they?”
“Doomsday,” the stable hand told him, then laughed when Logan broke away, taking his horse again but called out to Rufus. “Two drinks!”
The Doomsday Inn, his cousin’s place down the road.
Hurrying to the castle, he pushed open the doors and shouted, “Father! Ealar!”
He didn’t wait for them to appear but leaped into his saddle and flicked his reins.
He forced his mind to remain silent while he rode. It would do him no good to fill his head with concerns.
When he reached the inn, he barged inside. His gaze went first to the tavern and scanned the two male faces at the tables. He looked up the stairs towards the rooms next. Then he moved to climb them two at a time. He would knock on every door—or break them all down if he had to.
He heard Ealar and his father entering the inn behind him.
“Geoffrey!” He heard his father call out to their cousin and owner of The Doomsday Inn and Tavern. “A word.”
“Brother, are they here?” Ealar whispered, racing up behind him.
“So I am told,” Logan whispered back, stopping to turn to his brother. “Dinna follow me. He has a pistol, Ealar.”
His brother, who impossibly wore the faces of innocence and wickedness at the same time, grinned and held up a pistol. “So do I.”
Logan’s expression grew dark and stern. “Ealar, stay here.”
He turned and left without hearing another word.
Until his father called out his name with urgency staining his voice. Logan returned to the top of the stairs.
“Third door, left,” his father said, reaching him, then kept going.
Logan took the lead, but his father stopped him. “Son, she is alone. No need to frighten her further.”
“Alone?” Logan repeated, not ready to hear such words. Was she hurt? He raced to the third door, then paused, fighting the urge to kick it down. He knocked instead and pressed his ear to the door.
“Elspeth? Elspeth?” Louder.
“Logan?” she cried out on the other side of the door—which was now Logan’s worst enemy. “Logan, is that ye?”
“Aye, love, ’tis me.” He hit his palms against the door, wanting to get in.
“’Tis locked,” she told him.
He backed up to kick it in.
His father stepped in front of him and shoved the key into the keyhole.
The instant the door was open, Logan rushed inside. He didn’t stop right away to look her over for any signs of injury but took her in his arms and held her close, so thankful she was safe.
Finally, he held her back at arm’s length and took a good look at her. “Are ye hurt?” He knew he looked like a pitiful sot; he tried not to sound like one too. But he was afraid it was no use.
She shook her head. “Nae, I am not.”
Silence reigned between them, though they wanted to say so much. They were not alone.
Ealar leaned his shoulder on the door, looking inside with a smile more in his eyes than on his lips.
“Miss Woodburn, any idea where yer brother went?” his father asked her, making at least one of his sons cast his gaze heavenward.
“I’m not certain, my lord. But he did mention Helen more than once on the way here.”
“Helen?” Ealar added, lifting off the door.
“Aye,” she confirmed. “It seems my brother is her master and lover. ’Twas she who drugged me the first time I wandered off.”
“Where is this Helen now?” his father asked.
“The lads brought her to Tor fer punishment from ye,” Logan told him. “Did ye no’ meet her yet?”
“Nae, there was no time. She will be dealt with.”
Logan gazed at Elspeth while his father spoke. Poor lass had been through so much. After just a moment, he could no longer stand it and moved closer to take her in his arms again.
Logan heard the sound of his father and brother leaving the room.
“Elspeth,” he whispered to her when they were alone.
“I am here now. Bein’ in battle so many times has taught me that the best way to heal from the horrors of it is to speak of it.
Just as ’tis with my arm, use it and dinna ignore it.
” He took in a long breath, frustrated with himself for being unable to explain what he meant.
“If I speak of it,” she said softly, “I will need a listening ear.”
He smiled. “I have two.”
He was so happy to see her smile that he said the first thing that came to his head. “I love ye, Elspeth.”
Her bonnie eyes opened wider. He swallowed his thumping heart. “I dinna…I wasna thinkin’ clearly. I—”
She held up her palm and then took a step forward and threw her arms around his neck. “Dinna take it back, Logan.”
“I dinna. I dinna take it back.”
She drew back so he could see her bonnie grin. “Tell me again.”
“I love ye, Elspeth.”
He leaned down to kiss her, but his brother barging into the room stopped him.
“He has been spotted in the castle,” Ealar informed them.
Logan was torn between being overjoyed that the madman had been caught and sorrowed that he was Elspeth’s brother.