Highland Sparks: Logan and Gwyneth (Clan Grant Series Book 5) (5 page)

He continued his soft whispers into her ear, and she feigned acceptance, though she was determined she would repay him—come what may. Perhaps he wouldn’t hit her or rut with her against her will, but he still did not have the right to imprison her. She hoped someday he would know how it felt to be powerless. There was not a worse feeling in the world, and she’d promised herself she would never experience it again. Now she’d been its victim twice in a matter of days. She held back her tears, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt to be overpowered, both body and spirit.

“But I will protect myself. Can you promise not to hit me or my friends? I won’t let you go until you agree.”

His words fell on deaf ears because her mind raged with all the atrocities of the past two days. She fought to calm her rage—at her captors, at her enemy, against this man’s confining grip. She thought of her brother’s calming nature and how she missed him, forcing her to again cover up her feelings and deal with what she had to for the moment. If she didn’t do as Logan asked, he would never release her. Still, she couldn’t just give in to him. And somehow, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

Logan continued. “I am here to save the wee lassies. I have a niece named Lily whom I adore, and she is a bit older than Gracie. I would kill any man who dared to hurt her. So you need to decide. Will you join us to help retrieve the lassies or will you continue to try to make me pay for whatever atrocities you have been forced to endure which will slow down our rescue considerably?”

He had to mention the one thing that would calm her on the spot—Gracie. A tear slid down her cheek before she nodded.

“I am going to let you go, and I swear on the saints above, if you swing at me, I will tie you to that tree while we search for the lassies. We didn’t bring you along for you to attack us.” Logan relaxed his arms, and she shoved away from him.

Gwyneth swallowed three times before she spoke. Much as she wanted to retaliate, much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Caralyn’s daughters were what mattered right now. She could exact her revenge later.

Robbie finally broke his silence. “Think hard, Gwyneth. I’ll help him tie you to that tree if need be. I am here for Ashlyn and Gracie. Are you?”

She conceded for now, but vowed the beast would still pay later. “Aye. Tell me what to do. I can kill Logan while he sleeps tonight.” Not fully trusting herself, she clasped behind her back.

“Is this the most likely area, Gwyneth?” Robbie asked.

“Aye, some are just poor, but many are questionable.”

Robbie noticed she refused to look at Logan.

“Any particular row?” Tomas asked.

“Nay, they could be anywhere. We need to look closer.”

Robbie gave instructions for his plan. “I want each of you to search around both rows of cottages and see if you see any sign of weans. Mayhap we’ll hear voices or crying, anything. ‘Tis an area with many cottages because of the creek. If you look in that direction, I think you’ll find another row around the bend in the creek. Meet back here in the next hour.”

Gwyneth took off toward the stream. She didn’t need any man behind her; she could find the lassies without them. Carefully checking each cottage, she searched for any clues that a bairn was inside. After passing several cottages, she finally found what she had been looking for—a pile of wean’s rags.

She turned and ran back to find Captain Grant. Though she would love to save the girls herself, she was not willing to take chances. The Highlanders could help her get inside the cottage.

“What is it, Gwyneth?” Robbie asked as she headed straight for him.

She paused to catch her breath. “Rags,” she panted.

“What?” Robbie asked, his face a puzzle.

“Raggies. A wean’s rags.” She pointed the cottage. “A whole pile of urine drenched rags are in front of that hut.”

Robbie made his bird call to summon the others, and Tomas and Logan rushed to his side. “I think we may have them if Gwyneth is correct.” He pointed to the hut in question. “Gwyneth, you go to the door to see if the lasses are there and how many guards are watching them. Ask for the nearest tavern and act as if you are lost. I promise to guard you while Tomas and Logan go around back.”

Gwyneth stumbled up the front path, making a ruckus while Robbie got in place, and the other two ran around the back.

A slim woman opened the door, a wee bairn on each hip. Gwyneth stood there staring, realizing they had chosen the wrong house. Her gaze searched the inside, but there were no other weans in sight. “Mistress, I seem to have made a mistake. Are there any other bairns in the area? Two wee lassies? I came to visit my friend.”

The woman shook her head and started to close the door, then paused. “Aye, I did see two lassies outside taking care of their needs yesterday. One was brown-haired and the other blonde. They be at the end of the path.” Her finger pointed down toward the creek.

“My thanks.” Gwyneth nodded and the door closed. She turned to Robbie and he whistled for his friends to join them out front.

As soon as Logan and Tomas returned, Tomas said, “Nay? Wrong place?”

Robbie said, “Aye, but she directed us to the cottage we need. Same plan, down the path.”

Gwyneth stumbled up the path again as Logan and Tomas snuck around back. The front door swung open, just as they’d planned, and an overweight dolt appeared in the doorway.

“Fingal, look what I found.” His eyes lit up as he reached for Gwyneth. “A plaything. We have something to entertain us.”

Gwyneth glared at the fool, barely managing to stifle the urge to swing at him and stomp on his foot. She had to get inside the room to determine if the girls were there. She brushed her breasts across his arm invitingly, and he stilled, staring at her with wide eyes. Grabbing her by the arm, he tugged her inside, chuckling as he closed the door behind him.

The dolt’s friend sat in a chair by the back door, stuffing his face with food. Much younger than the dolt, he was slim with spittle all over his face as he licked his fingers. A small dagger sat on the table, but well away from his grasp. “I’d rather eat. Do as you wish.” He barely gave her a glance.

Gwyneth squelched her urge to snort. Ignoring her could cost someone their life, but he was too stupid to know it.

“Fingal, no wonder mama liked you better. All you ever think of is feeding your belly.”

Fingal countered, “Well, apparently I never fed my belly the way you did.” He gave his brother’s girth a pointed look.

Searching the room once her eyes adjusted to the light, Gwyneth finally located the two girls huddled together in the corner. She also caught the light of recognition in Ashlyn’s eyes so she gave the lass a pointed look and shook her head just a bit to get the message to her not to speak. Gracie started toward her, but her elder sister held her back.

The big man who’d pulled her inside was reaching for her, his eyes full of lust, when Tomas burst through the back door, Logan directly behind him. Not missing a beat, the dolt yanked Gwyneth back against him and held a knife to her throat. The one named Fingal reached for the girls, but Tomas twirled him around and backed him up against the wall with his sword at his throat.

Robbie crept in behind her, “Let her go, and my friend will release your comrade.”

Gwyneth wasn’t helpless. She had to do something, but the putrid smell of the brute who’d attacked her—the odor of a man who hadn’t bathed in weeks—suddenly assaulted her and her vision clouded in response. Her stomach clenched so strongly in reaction to the smell that she couldn’t move. Powerless, it was happening to her again. How could a mere odor control her? But she knew. It was the same odor she had smelled on Duff Erskine seven years ago and the same odor as the Norseman. It would never leave her. Now Duff covered it with a sickening smell.

The big lout shook with fear, though his grip stayed tight. “Nay, let Fingal go and we’ll leave. You can have the lassies. Let him go, or I’ll cut her throat.”

Logan strode farther into the room, moving until he was almost within reach of Gwyneth and the dolt. What in hell was he thinking? Gwyneth stared at Logan, hoping to send him the message to stand back. She didn’t want this lout to lose it and kill her. Sweat beaded across her brow as she sensed the tremor in the fool’s hand.

Hot stinking breath huffed into her ear, and she cringed in response. “One more step and I’ll kill her. Let us go, and you can have all three bitches.”

Gwyneth glanced at the lassies in the corner, at Fingal held in place by Tomas, and at Logan Ramsay. How would they get out of this without anyone being hurt? The edge of the knife cut her skin directly in front of her windpipe. One small move and she wouldn’t be able to take a breath again. She fought to clear her head and not weaken at her circumstances.

Logan’s voice called to her as he spoke to the man holding her captive. “That would be impossible.” A smirk crossed Logan’s face. “That’s my lass you have your hands on.”

Logan glanced at her for just a moment, and she drew strength from his gaze. One look empowered her, because with one look she knew he would always be there for her, to protect her as no one else had been able to do. Gwyneth struggled not to react to his declaration because it confused her. Would she want his protection?

She took her gaze from him and glanced at Ashlyn, huddled with her sister. Hoping to give the girl strength, she smiled at her before returning her focus to her captor.

“We don’t want any trouble,” the big man said. “You can have her. Let us go.”

“Can’t do it,” Logan said.

“Why not?” His gaze darted back and forth between Logan and Tomas.

“Because you touched my lass, and no one touches her.”

Logan flung his knife and Gwyneth’s heart stopped, hoping his aim was true. She didn’t feel so much as a rush of wind from the weapon before she heard a thud and bubbling sound. She let her breath out as soon as she saw the knife had landed between the dolt’s ribs. He released her and crumpled to the ground, his own knife dropping from his fingers. Gwyneth headed straight for the girls in the corner, her legs almost buckling underneath her.

Fingal screamed, “You killed my brother.” Gwyneth turned in time to see him pull out his own knife and attempt to stab Tomas, but Robbie’s knife landed in his body at the same time as Tomas pierced his neck.

Fingal fell to the ground, dead.

The girls were safe.

Chapter Six

Ashlyn yelled, “Gwyneth!” and rushed forward and jumped into her arms.

Gwyneth leaned down to grab Gracie too, but the wee one ran right past her straight into Robbie’s arms. He picked her up, and much to Gwyneth’s amazement, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Gwyneth’s nose wrinkled and Ashlyn burst into tears. “We smell, Gwyneth. Other than changing Gracie’s raggies once a day, they wouldn’t allow us to clean ourselves. We are dirty. Mama would be so upset.”

Robbie said, “We don’t have time to clean you now, Ashlyn. We must leave.”

As if he hadn’t heard the other Highlander’s words, Logan passed a jug to Tomas and said, “Grab some water from the creek.”

“What in hellfire are you doing, Ramsay?” Robbie barked, his hands on his hips.

“My guess is you’re sending them north, aye? To your clan?”

“Aye. So how does that change the situation?”

“Weans do not like to be dirty and we have a long trip. The further we travel, the colder it will be for them. ‘Tis better here near the creek.” Logan winked at Gwyneth, whose arms were still wrapped around Ashlyn.

Robbie finally agreed and set Gracie down. He said to Gracie, “We need to clean you before we go. Then I promise to take you both away from here.”

Not long after, Tomas came in with the water. Gwyneth stared at the ewer, unsure of what to do next. She had been around Caralyn’s girls, but she had never bathed them…or any other weans, for that matter. Scratching her head in thought, she accepted the ewer when Tomas gave it to her so he and Robbie could drag the two bodies into the other room, out of the girls’ sight. She might be the only woman in the group, but what the devil did she know about washing weans?

She glanced at Logan, hoping for guidance. Ashlyn’s eyes misted and she whispered to Gwyneth. “Please? You don’t mind? Gracie doesn’t like to be dirty, and Mama hates it when we smell.”

Logan grabbed a big basin and took the water from Gwyneth to dump it inside. After Tomas and Robbie returned, he handed the three of them bowls and buckets and said. “More.”

Gwyneth ran out to the creek, happy to have a task she knew how to accomplish, one that didn’t involve washing the lassies. Robbie looked as relieved as she did as he stood next to her at the creek bank, leaning over to fill his jug.

By the time they returned, Logan had ripped strips of linen from Ashlyn’s shift and both girls were scrubbing their faces with his sliver of soap. He dumped the buckets of cool water into a large bowl, took Gracie’s gown and rag off, picked her up under her arms and said, “Ready, lass?” Gracie nodded, and Logan dipped her bottom into the water and swirled her around in it. She yelped and giggled as they all stared at her.

Gwyneth had never heard Gracie laugh or talk before, yet here she was giggling with Ramsay. The little one trusted these Highlanders…more than Gwyneth was yet willing to do. When Logan finished bathing Gracie, he took her out of the water and handed her to Gwyneth with another linen strip. “Dry her.” Then he turned his back, held his plaid out to the side, and said to Ashlyn, “There’s another basin of fresh water. Go ahead and do what you need to, lass. We won’t watch. Gwyneth can help if you need.”

Gwyneth was speechless. The beast was wonderful with the bairns. And they both seemed to like him. She stared at the brawny Highlander in shock. Men usually did not have the patience to be good with bairns.

Logan glanced at her. “What?”

Robbie laughed. “You have talents even I didn’t expect, Ramsay.”

“I told you I have a niece, but I also have a nephew, and both were sickly with no mother. I learned how to care for them. ‘Tis not so difficult.” He glanced at Gwyneth as he spoke.