Highland Sparks (Clan Grant #5) (13 page)

Chapter Eighteen

The following morning, Logan and Father Rab sat in the room behind the Kirk, waiting for Gwyneth to arise. She knew that, yet she couldn’t bring herself to get off the pallet after what she had done—
hadn’t
done—the night before. The two carried on a whispered conversation, but she couldn’t make out their words. She was glad of it, as she’d heard enough about her failings from Erskine. She didn’t need to hear any more, particularly not from her loved ones.

No one knew better than she did about how badly she had failed. Finally pulling herself from the bed, she washed herself using the basin on the table and dressed in clean clothes before heading out into the room where her brother sat at the table with Logan.

She stepped into the doorway, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t right her slumped shoulders. Ramsay had held her for hours the previous night, just letting her release the pain of her failure. He was indeed a special man.

Both men stood as she entered the room, and she waved them back down into their seats. Not heeding her wordless request, Rab strode over and wrapped his arms around her.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rab. I failed you and Da and Gordon. I’m sure Logan filled you in on everything.”

“Gwyneth,” Rab set her back and held her hands in hers. “Bless you, but you could never fail me. I am glad you didn’t kill him. Now I don’t have to take you into the Kirk to pray for the Lord’s forgiveness for your soul.”

Her brother smiled and she couldn’t help but return it. Of course, he wasn’t disappointed in her. It didn’t matter; she knew her failings well enough.

She glanced at Logan before sitting down at the table. “My thanks for standing by me last night and keeping your word.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper and she couldn’t look him in the eye, but she had said what she needed to say.

Rab set a bowl of porridge down in front of her, but she did little more than play with it, unable to eat just yet. “Logan tells me you were operating under verra difficult conditions last night. The storm was nasty. How could anyone possibly shoot in the dark and the rain? You are not a failure, Gwyneth.”

Her brow furrowed as she peered at Logan. “Difficult conditions?” There hadn’t been any difficult conditions. She’d finally been given several chances to kill the blackguard, and she’d squandered them all.

“Aye, the way the sky opened up as soon as you followed him to the stables. Rain, wind, and lightning can all affect your aim.” Logan said as he glanced at Rab.

“I have practiced in the rain. It’s never been a problem before.” She shook her head to dismiss such thoughts.

“Gwyneth, that wasn’t rain, it was a downpour. I don’t know how you could see to make your aim straight. Plus the rain slows your arrows down when it’s that heavy.”

She hadn’t given the possibility a thought. Aye, she had noticed the rain was blurring her vision, but her tears of frustration had not helped either. Could the rain really have changed the flight of her arrows?

“Aye,” Rab said. “He tells it true.”

“Fine, I accept that bad weather conditions affected me. I’ll have to make sure the weather looks fine the next time I pursue him.” She took a bite of her porridge and ignored the two men staring at her. The room had suddenly quieted.

Rab spoke first. “The next time? Gwyneth, please let it rest.”

“Rab, I can’t,” she said, pausing to shove a spoonful of porridge into her mouth. “Besides, he said he was coming back for me, that he was going to put me on another boat. It’s either Erskine or me.” She glanced at Logan. “You heard him say it, did you not, Ramsay?”

Logan nodded. “Aye, I did. He said he would be back within a sennight.”

“Well, you can’t Gwyneth. You had your chance. I won’t hear of it happening again.”

“Rab, I am sorry, but you can’t stop me. I will train a bit more and go after him again. I will finish this. So the rain got in my way. I have to. You know that.”

“Nay.” Rab shoved his chair back and stood up. “Nay, I will not allow this to continue. Enough, Gwyneth. You must let it go.”

Gwyneth stared at him, never having seen her brother this adamant before. She didn’t know what to say, though she knew he couldn’t stop her.

Logan stood and walked over to put a comforting arm across her brother’s shoulders. “Father, I understand your concern, but she’s right. He said he would come back for her and soon. Something must be done. You don’t want to see your sister sold as a sexual slave in the East, do you?”

With that, her brother paled and grabbed the edge of the table. Logan helped him into his chair. “That is why he kidnaps women?” He took out a linen square and mopped his forehead. “‘Tis heinous.”

Logan sat down again. “Aye, he is a despicable man, and unless something is done, he will continue with his crimes and kidnap Gwyneth and others. Perhaps Gwyneth would agree not to approach him without me next time.” His gaze bore into her at his comment.

“Aye, Gwyneth, please do this for me. Promise me, sister. Although you promised before and left without him. Please. Take him with you. ” Her brother’s voice had reached an anxious pitch.

How she hated to upset him. Rab stared at her expectantly, and she wanted to promise him, but she didn’t know if she could. She would pursue Erskine when the time was right, whether Logan was there or not.

“Father, would you be agreeable if I also committed to training her? You and your family have trained her and done a terrific job, but I think she needs someone to be a wee bit tougher on her.”

Gwyneth jerked her head to stare at him. What was this game?

“Aye, I did train her, but I don’t understand what further training she could need.”

“Father, you’re a man of the cloth, so I don’t expect you to understand such things.” He reached over to wrap his large hands around Gwyneth’s, which rested on the table. He glanced at her when he spoke. “Don’t be upset with me. I must speak my mind.”

He returned his attention to Rab, still holding her hands, his touch imparting a welcome comfort. “She needs to be trained by someone who can be nasty, someone who can be hard on her.”

Rab shook his head. “And you can do this? Why? I don’t understand.”

Logan’s mouth set in a grim line as he rubbed his thumbs over the back of her hands. “It wasn’t just the rain that got in her way last night… It wasn’t even mostly the rain. He got in her head, Father.”

“What?” Rab glanced back and forth between them.

Logan continued. “He got in her head, accusing her of weakness, of being a failure. He ruthlessly taunted her, knowing how his words would upset her. No matter how hard she trains, she is a woman, and women are more sensitive…”

Gwyneth wrenched her hands back and shoved so hard against the table that she knocked her chair over. “I am not, Ramsay.”

“Gwyneth, would you please sit down and hear me out?”

Tears pricked her eyes as she met his gaze, the truth settling in her mind. She went over everything Duff had shouted at her as he walked away. He had used her weaknesses against her. Now she understood. Erskine had picked at her failings and twisted everything in her mind, making her believe what he said was true. She had made it true. Ramsay was right. She had never considered such a thing before. She set her chair to rights and sat down, staring at her hands in her lap.

Logan reached under the table for her closest hand and held it tight in his own. “‘Tis well known that women are more sensitive than men, and much more likely to react to attacks of character. Sometimes bad men use this knowledge to control their wives or mistresses.”

Gwyneth didn’t look at him, but gripped his hand tightly. “How do you know this?” He was right; she knew it in her gut. She had fallen prey to Erskine’s trickery.

“Some training I received a while ago. Doesn’t matter where. What matters is that you need to train your mind against it. Recognize it for what it is and fight back. I believe I can help you with that, though you won’t like me when I do.”

Gwyneth raised her gaze to his. “How?”

“I’ll get in your head like he did and pull at your weaknesses. We’ll go to the butts and I’ll train you to ignore me while you’re shooting. And you
will
hate me.” He said these last words with a sigh. “We’ll start first thing tomorrow.”

“Nay, today. I wish to start today.” Gwyneth glanced at Logan and then at her brother. “I accept. Rab, if you give me your blessing to train with him, I’ll agree to take him with me when I finish this.”

Father Rab closed his eyes and nodded. Then he opened them and grasped Ramsay’s hand in his and said, “Please protect my sister.”

Chapter Nineteen

A couple of hours later, they headed to the butts. Gwyneth grabbed an oatcake and followed Logan out into the misty morning. Mounting her horse, she shoved the food in her mouth and followed him down the lane to the butts. She planned to be there practicing all day.

When they arrived, Logan helped her dismount and kissed her cheek. Her body responded to his touch, just as it always did.

“What was that for?” she asked, still unsure of what they had between them.

His hand slid down the curve of her back, then rubbed her bum before he grinned and gave her a soft push toward the shooting area. She jumped at the contact, surprised at how one touch from this man could set off a bevy of responses across her skin that oft ended at the juncture of her thighs. This would not help her aim one bit.

She scowled but made her way over to the target area, awaiting his answer even though he didn’t seem inclined to give her one.

“That was to remind you that I do have strong feelings for you, and that you can’t take anything I say today to heart,” he said, his gaze serious. “I know I will anger you and even hurt you, but ‘tis for your own good. I will throw comments at you that are meant to upset you. Your job is to harden yourself and not allow what I say to change your focus and sense of purpose. Understood?”

“Aye.” What could he possibly say to upset her that much? She would know he didn’t mean it, so whatever he said would be easy to ignore. Insults coming from Logan would not upset her; she trusted him. Erskine was another story.

“Set yourself up. I’m going closer to the target and off to the side. I have seen how your shots go awry when you are upset. Promise not to shoot me, Gwyneth?” He winked at her as he crossed the field.

She ignored him. What a ridiculous question. Since she was quite sure she loved him, why would she ever shoot him? Hell, but the man conjured up dreams such as she’d never experienced before meeting him. Last night, she had woken up drenched in sweat, memories of a very hot tussle on the ground with him fresh in her mind. Nay, she’d never shoot him. Jump him? Yes. She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face at the thought of running over and wrapping her legs around his midsection, ripping off her top before thrusting her right nipple straight into his...

Logan’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Gwyneth, I’d like your pledge on that. I’m not jesting. Do you promise not to shoot me?”

She stared at him. He meant it.

Logan chuckled from the middle of the field. “I must admit, I wish I could be in your mind presently to see what caused that sly grin on your face.”

She scowled at him. “Aye, you have your promise. Now get on with it, Ramsay.”

He stopped and faced her, his arms crossed in front of him. “I’m waiting for you. Or were you dreaming about me so much last night that you can’t focus today? Take your shot.”

“What? Dreaming about you?” She stopped in midsentence and caught his grin. He had already started playing with her. She got into stance and took her first shot, trying not to think about the dream, how he’d run his hands over her entire body before kissing her. The slow sensual assault had caused her to awaken moaning before she fell back asleep and finished their lovemaking. She released her first bolt.

“Saints above, you
were
dreaming about me. What a lousy shot, Cunningham.”

Gwyneth stared wide-eyed at the target. Hellfire, he was right. She had missed it by an arm’s length. After shooting him a glare, she set herself up again and let the arrow fly. She heard it land and knew she had done better.

Dead on. She smiled and placed one hand on her hip, strolling in a circle for emphasis before returning to her favorite shooting spot.

“One for two, Gwyneth. That’s about what I expected from a lass.”

She whirled until she faced him, fury seething from her pores. How dare he! But his smile caught her.
Ignore him. He warned you he would do this.

Bull, but this was going to be more difficult than she’d thought.

“Aim at your target, woman. Can we not take all day at this?” Logan refused to meet her eyes.

She could handle this. Let him say what he wanted, she would continue. Taking stance again, she let another arrow fly, hitting a bit off center.

“Shooting like that, the only thing you’ll take out is a bird flying by. I might as well sit down. ‘Tis going to be a long day until you get your head straight.”

Gwyneth ignored him and let three more arrows fly. Direct hits for all three. She gave Ramsay a smug look.

“Sheer luck, Gwyneth. Most women couldn’t hit the broad side of the stables. Face it, you can’t compete with men when it comes to something as difficult as archery. You ought to take up needlework.”

That last comment struck a nerve. She snorted at the mere thought. Nocking and drawing again, her next mark was off-center. Curse it, she was letting him get to her despite herself. She raised her bow again, and her arm started to shake.
Forget the needlework comment. Concentrate.

Logan walked over to her and held her arm steady. “Are you tired already? Have you not been practicing much lately?”

She jerked her arm away from his touch.

“Gwyneth, I told you this would not be easy. I do not mean what I say. You need to ignore me. That is what I am trying to teach you.”

She fought the tears pricking her eyes. “I know. Go back. I can do this. Say what you need to say, make it more difficult. Make it as difficult as you can.” She stared at the ground, already disappointed in herself for her reaction to Logan’s barbs. She pulled on her bow and sent another arrow, forcing herself to keep her arm straight. Direct hit.

“Nice, sweeting.” Logan winked.

They continued for hours. After a while, she finally found her inner spot, a place where she could go to ignore him and concentrate on her aim. In fact, she became so focused, she never heard half of the insults he sent her way. That is, until the end of the day came around. Perhaps it was because she was tired, but he got under her skin again.

Her arms were tiring and her last two shots had been off the target. Still, she knew she could do better.

“Face it, Gwyneth. You have done well today. You hit the target many times, but you have been off as much as you have been on. Do you really think you have what it takes?”

She ignored him, taking aim. She missed by quite a bit.

“You’re too weak. A lass is too soft to compete with men. We have better aim, stronger limbs, but most of all, we have abler minds. You don’t have the ability to ignore what I say. You’re just like every other woman, too sensitive to insults. Aye, you can ignore some insults, but you know the truth.

“You are weak.” He began a slow, meandering walk toward her. “You were weak that night, weren’t you? You could have done something. Erskine killed your father right in front of you. Why didn’t you do something to stop him?”

She heard that comment, all right. Truth be known, she not only heard it—it ripped right through all her defenses. The shield she held up daily to protect herself had just been yanked away. Now she was open for attack—wide open.

“You know you could have done something. But you’re just a lass. Is that not right? A weak lass who can’t even stop a man in front of her from killing her loved ones. Aye, I suppose you had no idea he was about to kill your father, so anyone would excuse you for that.” Logan stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Sweat dotted her brow as she listened, but she forced herself to fire another shot through her anguish. She could not let him beat her.

“But what about your brother?” His steps were soft, purposeful as he made his way closer to her. “You could have done something. Any
man
would have been able to stop that second killing. Any
man
…”

She dropped her bow and stared at him. He had just uttered the words that had torn out her heart every day for seven years.

“…could have done something. If you were a man, your brother would be still alive. If you were stronger, you could have thrown your dagger into Duff Erskine’s heart. You could have pulled your sword and sliced his neck until his life’s blood spurted from his body. You were close enough to take him out.

“But you didn’t, did you? You poor, pathetic thing. No wonder it eats at you. ‘Tis all your fault, isn’t it? Say it.” He stood right next to her as he delivered this final insult. “‘Tis your fault your brother died, yours alone.”

Gwyneth pulled her arm back and punched his jaw as hard as she could. His head swung back from impact, but she didn’t let up. She shoved him in the chest. “Aye,” she screamed. “You’re right. Had I done anything, they might still be alive. But I didn’t and now they’re dead.” She swung her fist and connected with his arm as he ducked. He stepped backward and she marched forward, still ranting. “‘Tis all my fault. I could have prevented the entire thing.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as her breath hitched.

“All of it,” she whispered. “Instead I did naught and they died right in front of me. How bad does that make me?”

“Gwyneth,” Logan said, reaching for her. “Nay, don’t do this.”

“Why not? You’re right.”

“I’m wrong, Gwyneth. It isn’t your fault. I was trying to get in your head. Remember?” He grasped her hand and tugged her to him, reaching his other hand behind her head.

She gave up and let him pull her to him, grabbing at his tunic and pressing her face into his chest. “Something. I should have done something,” she murmured.

“Nay, lass. Erskine knew what he was doing. He fired two arrows from his long bow before you could react. Did you have your bow with you?”

“Nay.” Her hands still gripping his shirt, she sobbed into his chest.

“Then what could you have done?”

“I don’t know…” She cried so hard, her entire body convulsed with pain. “I could have punched him. I could have thrown myself in front of the second arrow. I could have scratched his eyes out. Something.” The level of her voice increased the more she talked. “Why didn’t I do something for my own brother?” Her yell echoed through the trees. “‘Tis all my fault Gordon is dead.”

Logan supported her as her trembling body crumpled. “No, sweets, ‘tis
not
your fault. I’m sorry, lass. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Logan held her tight until she had no more tears.

Several minutes later when she was finally able to stop sobbing enough to speak, she said, “Help me, Logan. Please help me fix this.”