Page 44 of Draped in Plaid
“What are you doing?” Shona murmured. “You cannot go to him.”
“Let Logan handle this,” Moira encouraged. “Steven is a madman.”
I ignored them both, but I couldn’t ignore the intense, apprehension-filled stare my husband gave as he turned around to see just what I was doing. He gave a subtle shake of his head.
“I have to,” I said.
Logan reached for me, trying to hold me back. “I forbid it, Emma.”
I smiled softly, encouragingly. “Since when have you ever been able to forbid me from anything?”
Logan narrowed his eyes. “I will not lose ye.”
“And I won’t lose our son.” I took his hand on my arm and gently removed it. “Let me do this.” I scurried around the men, not waiting for his answer, and stood naked in front of our enemies, head held high.
Steven sneered. “Not as pleasing as I’d hoped it would be. No matter. Get down on your knees.”
“Nay,” Logan bellowed. I could hear his footsteps pounding behind me, and then he was pushing himself in front of me once more. “Enough games, ye bastard.”
“While I find all of your tender endearments to be heart-melting, savage, it doesn’t change anything. I’ve wanted Emma since I first put my hands on her. Yeah, that’s right,yougave her to me first. All those years ago in the Mr. Darrington’s cellar.”
My mouth fell open.Younger Steven.
“And now here we are at a standstill. Emma is mine. You can have the whelp.”
“Dinna forget what we want!” Ranulf interrupted, Mrs. MacDonald murmuring in his ear. “We want Moira alive. My father, well, Rory MacLeod, ye can rot for all I care.”
“Nay,” Rory shouted. “Whatever your problem is, ye’ll have to deal directly with me.”
“Och, but ye are a major problem.” Ranulf seethed, shifting on his feet like a man ready to attack. “But Moira, she’s priceless.”
“Ye’ll have to go through me to get her,” Rory answered back, shifting the heavy stone back and forth in his hands.
Moira was staring straight ahead, the same determined look in her eyes that I’d had a moment ago.
“I’m happy to,” Ranulf answered, hoping off his horse and advancing.
From behind the shouting came the cry of my baby, Saor. I whipped my head back toward him. My purpose still strong. His nursemaid whispered to him, trying to comfort him. The sound of his angry tears filled the dreary sky, ceasing the arguments for a blessed moment.
I faced Steven. “Give me my baby back,” I said calmly.
“Or what?” Steven hissed.
