Return of the Highlander (6 page)

Chapter Eight

The following morning, the Highlanders rose early with the sun and shared the task of cooking eggs and coffee over the fire. Though Logan made a few polite attempts at conversation, Darach made no effort to do the same. His irritable silence caused an uncomfortable tension to hang in the air, heavy as the rolling mist across the lake. He spoke not a single word to his brother, or to Larena.

Later, after packing up the camp, they trotted the horses into the forest in a single column and rode for many hours. When at last they emerged from the cover of the trees onto a wide moor swathed in purple heather, Larena urged Rupert into a quick trot to catch up with Logan.

“When will we stop again?” she asked, though it was not what she really wanted to know.

“Soon,” he replied. “There’s a narrow river just beyond that outcropping in the distance.”

They rode on in silence, and Larena couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder at Darach, who was far enough behind them to remain in sight, but not close enough to hear what she was about to say to his brother.

“May I ask you something?” She faced forward again.

“Anything, lass.”

Breathing in the fresh summer fragrance of the moor, she watched Logan’s profile with interest. “Last night, I woke up and heard you and Darach arguing on the beach. I’m sorry. I wasn’t my intention to listen in on a private conversation, but—”

He glanced at her with concern. “Did you hear what words were spoken?”

“No,” she replied, perhaps too hastily. “You were far away, but it was obvious that you were quarreling.”

Logan’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh of defeat. “Aye. That we were.”

When he made no move to elaborate, she pressed a little more firmly for information. “Did it have something to do with me, or this mission to take me home? Darach made it clear that he feels no fondness for me. He didn’t want to help me, not even when Angus asked him to. I’m sure he would have preferred to toss my father’s pardon onto a fire and let me rot in the Kinloch dungeon.”

Logan swayed to and fro in his saddle, squinting across the distance. At last he turned his gaze to meet hers. “Pay him no mind, lass. He can be thoughtless sometimes. As for the two of us… Well…we don’t always agree on certain things.”

“Such as?” A bold question, to be sure, but she wanted to know. “You both seemed quite cross.”

Logan took a moment to consider how best to reply. “Darach may be my brother, but sometimes he sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“How so?”

Logan slanted her a look. “He’s not pleased by how I’ve been paying you so much attention, lass. Ever since we left Kinloch, I’ve been asking you questions, making an effort to get to know you.”

“There is no crime in that,” Larena replied “The way things stand, we have no choice but to spend the next few days together in close proximity. I see no reason why we can’t at least be cordial.”

“That’s exactly what I told him,” Logan agreed, “but he’s my big brother and he can’t help but be overbearing—although he thinks he’s being protective. To be honest, I think he’s worried I’ll lose sight of our purpose. He thinks I’ll fall arse over teakettle for your charms and make a fool of myself—which
would
be a problem, considering you’re betrothed to another, not to mention that you’re a Campbell. I’m not sure which bothers him more. The second thing, most likely.”

“That’s absurd,” Larena said. “I’m sure you are perfectly capable of fulfilling your duty to your chief, and I’m not
that
charming.”

“No?” he added with a grin. “Maybe I am in danger, lass. You are a bonnie young thing, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Larena couldn’t help but shake her head and blush a little, for she wasn’t accustomed to such blatant praise from a man. “You are a shameless flatterer, Logan.”

“Aye, I am a smooth one,” he replied with a playful smile. “But I only say these things because they’re true.” He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sun. “But have no fear, my bonnie lass. I won’t lose sight of my duty.” His eyes met hers again. “I’ll deliver you to Leathan, no matter what it takes.”

Larena quavered under the heat of his stare. “I do appreciate that,” she replied, then she glanced over her shoulder again. “But I am not so sure about your brother. With the looks he gives me sometimes, I fear he’s imagining a good time to shove me off the edge of a steep cliff.”

Logan laughed. “Nay, lass. He may be a bit hardhearted sometimes, but he would never do that.”

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the grasshoppers and bees on the moor, feeling the cool, swift breezes on their cheeks.

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Logan mentioned eventually, “but I hope the man you’re pledged to marry is a good man, lass, and that you won’t ever feel as if you’d made a mistake. If I am to be your protector, I could use a bit of assurance, because I wouldn’t want to deliver you into a bad situation. So can you tell me…
is
he a good man?”

Larena regarded Logan carefully in the late morning sunshine. “I believe so. At least from what I remember of him.”

She couldn’t deny, however, that she was struggling with crushing doubts and concerns about marrying a man she barely knew. A man she didn’t love, when she’d always dreamed of a great, passionate romance for herself.

At least Gregory Chatham was half Campbell. That was something. And her father would live because of Chatham’s lifelong affection for her.

In the end, she knew it was the right thing to do, so she was determined to be content with it.

“I thank you for your concern,” she added, shaking herself out of those thoughts. “It touches me that you care.”

“Oh, I do, lass,” Logan replied, tilting his head thoughtfully, holding her steady in his deep, green-eyed gaze. “Do not ever doubt it.”

She smiled at him as they broke into a canter toward the river. All the while, she was keenly aware of Darach, dark and silent like an ever-present shadow behind them, as he broke into a canter as well.

Chapter Nine

For the rest of the day, Larena made no more mention of the argument she’d witnessed the night before, though it was never far from her thoughts. She was curious about these MacDonald brothers and the obvious friction that existed between them. Though she did not presume to understand it, she suspected there was something in their past that had driven a wedge between them and continued to plague them.

At the same time, they seemed immensely loyal to each other, for they scouted together every day, and Darach
did
appear to be protective of Logan.

Although, from her vantage point, Logan was hardly in need of anyone’s protection. He was a highly skilled and formidable warrior all on his own. She knew this because when they stopped for lunch at the river, Logan ate quickly, then politely excused himself to practice swordplay on a flat patch of grass a short distance away.

While Larena removed her stockings and dipped her feet into the fast-flowing water to cool them, she couldn’t help but watch Logan move through the exercises with tremendous strength, speed, and agility.

Of course, there was no opponent taking part in the exercise, but Logan was clearly well trained in the arts of hand-to-hand combat, and if there had been an opponent, she suspected he would have been quite thoroughly bested.

Logan’s footwork was sublime. He was fit, trim, and lean. Incredibly virile and in top form.

As she watched him, the noonday sun beat down upon her head and the heat caused her to perspire beneath her snug bodice. Growing uncomfortable, she was reminded of her injuries. Soon her head began to ache.

Taking in a deep breath to fight off a sudden unexpected queasiness, she lay down on the grass, closed her eyes, and covered them with an arm to block out the sun. Her heart raced but she strove to focus on the sensation of the cool water rushing past her feet and the sound of birds calling out to one another overhead.

Before long, a voice cut through all the sounds and sensations of the natural world. “Are you feeling all right, lass?”

Sucking in a breath, Larena removed her arm from her face and squinted up at Darach, who stood over her, silhouetted against the sun. He cast a cool shadow across her face.

“I have a headache, that’s all,” she replied.

“Can I do anything for you?”

Surprised by the first evidence of kindness on his part, she managed to form a polite reply. “No, thank you. I don’t believe there’s anything that can be done. I must simply endure it.”

He gazed down at her for a long moment. “We’ll make camp early tonight so you can get some rest.” Then he turned and walked away.

Once again, the hot sun beamed down on Larena’s face. It was accompanied by a sudden feeling of unease over this uncomfortable situation, so she sat up to make sure Rupert—and her saddle bags—were still in sight. Thankfully they were. Everything appeared to be in order.

Larena lay down again, shaded her eyes, and focused her attention on the fresh, clean water at her feet.

* * *

“Are you absolutely certain, lass?” Logan asked with raucous laughter, nearly tipping over sideways onto his elbow. The moon was high in the night sky. They had just finished eating supper by the fire in a small glade in the forest—but clearly Logan had consumed too much wine, and perhaps so had she. “Maybe he was just confused.”

“I am positive!” Larena replied, laughing. “The groomsman walked straight into that big pile of steaming manure and stomped on it like it was a barrel full of grapes.”

“But why?” Logan asked, still laughing.

“I don’t know,” she told him. “Maybe he enjoyed the warm, squishy feel of it between his toes. It was a cold night, if I recall.” She laughed again. “Oh, Logan, stop. My stomach hurts!”

“I’m not the one telling the story!” he shouted. “You only have yourself to blame for that belly ache, lass.”

Fighting to recover from her indelicate convulsions of laughter, she sat up. “Oh, that rabbit was delicious, by the way. Where did it come from?”

With grinning eyes that twinkled in the firelight, Logan glanced across the fire at Darach. “My brother got lucky this afternoon. Isn’t that right, Darach?”

“That’s right,” the dark Highlander coolly replied as he reclined against his saddle packs with one knee raised. He’d been keeping himself occupied for the past hour by using the blade of his knife to shave the bark off a number of sticks, which he then simply tossed into the fire.

Larena felt the silliness drain out of her body as she regarded him intently, for he was watching her and Logan with his usual dark and broody eyes.

“It was very good,” she told him.

He shrugged a shoulder, as if it were nothing. “How’s your head?”

“Much better tonight. Thank you for asking.”

He offered no reply.

Suddenly drawn in by his apparent boredom, Larena sat forward and asked curiously, “Did you not find that story about the groomsman amusing?”

“It was bloody hilarious,” Darach replied flatly, reaching for his flask and tipping it up. He kept his eyes fixed on hers the entire time.

For a long moment Larena stared at him, then something peculiar bubbled up inside her. For some reason she couldn’t begin to understand, his drab response wrenched at her funny bone. She lowered her gaze and began to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Darach asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“It must be the wine,” Logan mentioned to Darach, “because we both know you’re no jester.”

“I apologize,” Larnea said, looking up. “I think it must indeed be the wine. If you will excuse me.” She gathered up her skirts and rose unsteadily to her feet, realizing that the wine must have been stronger than she’d thought because she felt sillier than a tipsy goose. “I must make use of the necessary—if only there
was
one.” She swayed slightly to and fro as she looked around. “If I can put one foot in front of the other, I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine.”

Staggering away from the fire to a nearby thicket, she found a private spot in the darkness to take care of business.

An owl hooted somewhere in the treetops. She looked up, wondering if she could see it in the moonlight, but it remained out of sight.

When she finished, she began to make her way out of the bushes, but had to stop a moment to search for her bearings while the ground swayed beneath her feet.

Pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead, she shook her head, for she should have known better than to drink that third glass of wine. Or was it four? Heaven help her. Her nerves were stretched tighter than the string on her best bow. Not only did she have her father’s fate to consider, but she was struggling to navigate through a tricky situation with two MacDonald scouts who were both handsome and alluring and terribly dangerous in different ways. One was dark and full of lethal loathing for her because she was a Campbell, while the other was far too charming for anyone’s good.

Oh Lord
… She truly
had
consumed too much wine. It would be best if she went straight to bed with no supper. Except that she’d already eaten supper…a delicious meal of roasted rabbit, provided by the surly one who looked at her as if she were a creature he’d like to trap, skin, and cook over a hot fire—then devour her whole.