Page 66 of Highlander Unraveled
He pointed toward the gated entrance—indeed, up on a small platform at the top of their wooden wall was a guard.
Logan made a circular motion with his hand, and I got the impression he wanted to approach the village from the rear. Keeping ourselves crouched low, we half-walked, half-ran, two hunchbacks stealing through the night of their own lands.
At the back of the village, Logan peered through the slats of the postern gate. There wasn’t anyone there. Our luck did, indeed, appear to be improving.
“Stay here,” he said.
I nodded, ducking to a crouch.
Logan disappeared into the village. My eyes were wide, staring into the wide expanse of the dark that surrounded the small parish, wishing there had been just an ounce of battery juice left in Mrs. MacDonald’s phone so I could put the flashlight on… just in case I needed to see something.
To keep myself calm, I started to count.One. Two. Three. Four. Five... Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine.All the way to one hundred, and still no sign of him.
I rubbed my eyes, to wipe away the sting of holding them open for so long.
“Come on, Logan,” I whispered. “Get back out here.”
My prayers were answered a few moments later when Logan emerged, the hot breath of a mount fanning over my face. I gazed up into the fuzzy, flared nostrils of a large horse. Logan reached down, and in one fluid motion, I grabbed onto his arm and he swung me up into the saddle in front of him. He wrapped me in a clean, warm, dry plaid, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning aloud at the feeling of warmth.
“We’ll be there much sooner, now,” he whispered against my ear. “Ye’ll be able to hold your bairn again before daybreak, with luck.”
I smiled up at him. “I can’t wait.”
Logan nuzzled my neck. “I know Saor has been missing ye.”
He walked the mount a fair distance away so as not to alert the one guard with the pounding of hooves. Once we were well enough away, he urged the horse into a gallop. I snuggled closer to him, holding on and filled with hope, elation, and relief.
This nightmare was soon going to be at an end. At home, finally, and reunited with my child. There was still of course the issue of Steven, Mrs. MacDonald and McAlister, but they could wait. I just wanted to be in my own bed, surrounded by the ones I loved.
A few hours later, just as Logan promised, before the sun had risen, we descended the mountain and Gealach’s towers, lit by torches, came into view.
“We’re home,” Logan said, his tone filled with the same sense of relief I felt. He urged the mount into a faster gallop and we charged down the mountainside, sailing over the heath toward the gates. “Cover your ears.”
I did as he suggested, pressing my hands to the side of my head.
Logan bellowed for the guards to raise the portcullis, to open the gates, in the name of their laird and mistress.
There was a great clambering of men on the battlements, of people rushing to do Logan’s bidding, combined with cheers, and shouts that echoed into the moonlit night.
As soon as we were through the gates, Shona ran at me, Saor in her arms.
I gasped, nearly choking on it as I reached for my child. Logan was quick to set me down from the horse, before I fell off in my eagerness to hold my baby again.
I wrapped my arms around him, pressed my lips to his head. Tears stung my eyes as I met his bright blue gaze. A smile touched his perfect little mouth and he wiggled and cooed with excitement in my arms.
Shona and Ewan embraced me with Saor in my arms, both loudly proclaiming their pleasure at my return.
“Where are Moira and Rory?” Logan asked.
“Bad news,” Ewan said. “A missive arrived from Dunleod. Ranulf, Rory’s son, the one who he’d had to lock up on account of his wanting his father dead?”
Logan nodded recognition. I barely listened, too enamored with the motherly love coursing through my veins.
“He’s escaped. Moira and Rory rushed back to Dunleod to assemble a search party. They fear Ranulf will put himself in danger in his eagerness to see revenge done on his father and his clan who abandoned him.”
That did get my attention. Ranulf hated Moira. Had threatened both their lives.
Wee Saor wrapped his chubby fingers around mine and held on tight, gurgling his pleasure.
