Page 35 of Dark Side of the Laird
“My laird.” I turned at the sound of Gregor’s voice. “This one’s still with us.”
I marched forward, pointing my sword tip into a gaping wound on his belly. “Tell me where MacDonald is, and we may yet let ye live.”
The man cringed, clutching at a lesser wound on his arm, and gasping for breath.
“Tell me,” I demanded, digging into the wound.
He screamed, his lips turning into nearly the same milky-white of his face.
“He’s… he’s…” But he didn’t finish, instead, sobbed and gagged.
“I will have my men take ye back to the castle. We have a healer who can sew up these wounds. All ye have to do is tell us where he is.”
Hope lit his already dulling eyes. “I…” He gasped and cringed. “I… He’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
“We were to wait for him.”
“How long?”
“Within a fortnight he said he’d be here to claim Gealach.” The man sucked in a deep breath and then spat at me. “To claimhisplace.”
I wiped the spittle from the front of my jerkin. “Before ye muttered all that nonsense, I’d been in a forgiving mood.” I shoved my blade the rest of the way into his wound and twisted. “Now, I’m not so forgiving.”
The man screamed, and then was suddenly silent as his life left him.
The ruffians lay dead all around us. Thank God, and our skill with the blade, for it. These men would have, without a doubt, tried to attack the castle. Isabella could have tricked or drugged my men by now and opened the door when they arrived. Hopefully the men would have the foresight to guard their drinks as I’d warned.
I glanced at Gregor. Sweat glistened his face and his eyes were crinkled with fury, mirroring my own image I was sure. “I’m sorry for the loss of your men,” I said. “Collum and Tavish will not be forgotten. I need ye to take them and a message back to the castle. Warn the men, and Ewan, that MacDonald will attack soon and to be ready. Dinna mention a fortnight. The man could be lying. I wouldn’t be surprised is the traitor bastard was headed to the gate now, or already there.”
My gaze flicked painfully toward the road to Gealach. I gritted my teeth against the intense need to return. I couldn’t. Not yet.
“Tell Ewan to lock Isabella in her room. She canna be trusted.” I nodded, as if just now accepting this truth myself. I should have locked her up before I left. Regretted not having done it. “MacDonald is an enemy of the crown, he is to be treated as such. Tell Ewan to gather more scouts. The clansmen are to hole up as if a siege is upon us. I dinna want to lose one more.”
11
Emma
The wind blew in frigid bursts on top of the battlements overlooking Gealach’s lands. I’d been standing there for at least two hours. Looking out over the gently swaying marshy grasses, the eerily tranquil waters of the loch and the intimidating starkness of the forest. I don’t know what I was waiting for, or why. But the intensity of my need was such that even the numbness of my fingers and painful sting of cold swirling up the skirts of my gown couldn’t make me leave my post.
Logically, I knew I couldn’t stand here for the weeks it took until Logan returned. But, even with that knowledge present, I couldn’t pull away. Had to stand here. Had to wait. Had to ride out the fear that rode shotgun in my heart.
Felt the deep necessity to stand guard. Not that I’d be able to do anything, should I see something amiss. I had no weapons. I had no way of shouting out to anyone, for my voice would not be carried on the wind. I was also not an authority figure, despite the dagger that burned a hole in my thigh.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared shitless. Logan had only ever left the castle before for a few hours at a time—scouting, hunting or working on his ships. When he was gone, I stayed in my room or helped out Cook, fearing the unknown and whether or not he’d return. Two or three weeks was completely different and I was almost certain I wouldn’t spend any time in my own chamber. No, I’d be in his. I’d lock both our doors, opening up the sliding wood panel between our chambers and curl into Logan’s bed, feeling safe in the large stark bed—though it mirrored mine.
I’d confiscated one of his linen shirts, too, his scent still captured in the woven fabric. I’d probably be sleeping in that every night.
A rider break through the forest trees traveling at a speed that would likely kill a lesser animal.
“Oh my God.”
I leaned forward, heedless to the frozen stone on my fingertips as I watched. His beast was massive, strong, and resembled the stock Logan kept in his stables. The colors of his plaid matched that of the warriors who’d left over a couple hours before. My heart lodged in my throat.
“No,” I whispered, leaning further still over the side and blinking furiously, willing the vision away.
My heart skipped a beat, launching itself up into my throat and choking me. Unable to breathe, unable to steady myself, I looked frantically from side to side. There was no one up here with me. The men were posted at their respected stations—away from me, precisely the reason I’d chosen this quiet spot.
