Page 13 of Highlander’s Escaped Prisoner (Highlands’ Partners in Crime #7)

L ogan rode into Wallaceneuk early the next morning.

It was Saturday, and a market had been set up in the main street, which made his task much harder.

Farmers from all around the area had come to sell their produce, and other merchants had come inland from a huge ship that had just docked in Oban.

Now there were four times as many people there as usual, and every one of them had to be asked if they had seen Nessa.

However, if he could find just one person who had seen her, it would give him a start, and after that, he was sure that he could follow the trail and find his quarry.

He was, after all, one of the best trackers he knew, although Bryce Blair was better, as he was at everything.

Bitterness soured his stomach as he thought of his loathsome nemesis. How he hated him!

He began at the first trader he could see, a woman selling woolen and linen cloth. “How can I help ye, sir?” she asked politely as she took in his finely tailored clothes.

Logan could almost read her mind as she counted up how much money she could make from him. “I need three yards of this purple cloth,” he replied, rubbing the woolen fabric between his fingers to feel its texture. “It is a present for my sweetheart, and purple is her favorite color.”

The woman smiled. “She has good taste, sir. ’Tis mine too, an’ pink. There is a fine coral pink linen over there.”

Logan sighed inwardly, realizing that he was not going to get away without buying up half the produce at the market. He bought a yard of pink linen, then asked about Bryce and Nessa. She thought for a moment.

“No, sir,” she said at last. “I havenae seen anybody like that. I am sorry.” Her customers were equally hopeless, although most of the young women flirted with him shamelessly. It promised to be a long day.

After inquiring from around twenty people, Logan was ready to give up. He had bought cloth, cheese, sausages, a knife, and a set of clay bowls and was no nearer to discovering where Nessa was. However, there was still one more merchant to ask.

She was standing behind a rough table skinning rabbits and chatting to a small, wizened man whose dog began to growl at Logan as soon as he saw him. The woman, small, plump, and in her middle years, gave Logan a wide smile and a wink.

“We dinnae see such handsome gentlemen like you round these parts very often, sir,” she remarked. “I have some good eatin’ for ye here if ye are after a nice fat rabbit for roastin’, or maybe a fine fur muff for yer lady.” She gazed at him expectantly.

“I will take a brace, thank you.” Logan smiled as he handed his pennies over and received two large rabbits in return.

“I wondered if you could help me with another matter, though. I am looking for someone, a lady, and she may have a man with her. He is a big man, and they are both riding on a coal-black horse with a white star on its forehead. Have you seen them?”

The woman shook her head. “No, sir, but maybe ye could try the church. Father Donald nearly always knows what is goin’ on.”

The church! Why had he not thought of it before?

Logan added a few more pennies into her hand for the information.

“Thank you!” he said gratefully and hurried away, leaving a very delighted meat merchant behind him.

He had spent a fortune, but it would all be worth it when Bryce Blair was back where he belonged—behind bars.

Then Nessa would come back to him, and he would waste no time in making her his wife.

The church was a humble stone building with a thatched roof that was worn thin in places and looked as though it would soon need to be replaced. Logan was not a particularly devout man, but he decided that it might be useful to become one today to get the information that he needed.

He saw Father Donald as soon as he entered the church.

He was kneeling at the front, his head bent over in prayer, but he looked up as he heard Logan entering, then he crossed himself and came toward him, smiling.

He was a small, sturdy, elderly man whose hair had once been red but was now snow white.

“Good day, young man,” he said politely. “Welcome to Saint Margaret’s. I have not seen you here before.”

“I am not a member of your flock, Father. I attend Saint Aloysius in Clunebrae.” He sighed and frowned anxiously.

“I need your help. I am looking for a friend—well, two friends, I suppose—who may have passed through here. I have news for them, and it is of the utmost importance that I pass it on as quickly as I can. ”

“What did they look like?” the priest asked. He sat down on a pew and invited Logan to sit beside him, then looked at him earnestly.

“She has fair hair, blue eyes, and is very pretty. Her name is Nessa, and she is twenty years old, she may be wounded” he replied. “He is very tall and broad with dark hair, probably very long, and a long beard, I think. His name is Bryce. It has been a while since I saw him.”

“Hmm, I have not seen them, but maybe you should try the healer, Catriona McClure,” the priest suggested. “Perhaps if one or both of them is hurt, they might have gone there.”

“Where can I find her?” Logan asked eagerly. He had not thought of this possibility.

“On the Wallace Brae,” the man replied, leading Logan outside. He pointed upward to a small house that stood on the very summit of a long steep hill in the shadow of some pine trees. As he watched, a woman came out with a basket and disappeared into the trees.

“It is worth a look,” Logan agreed, smiling at the priest. “Thank you, Father.” He was about to turn away when he felt his arm gripped firmly by the strong hand of the other man.

“You do not leave God’s house without a prayer,” he warned, a steely glint in his eye.

“Forgive me, Father,” Logan said, with a suitable amount of penitence.

“I am in too much haste to find my friends.” He trooped back into the church and sighed as he knelt down beside the priest. He spent a tedious half hour with Father Donald, almost falling asleep as he recited the repetitive prayers.

Afterward, his knees afire with pain, he mounted his horse and climbed the hill.

As soon as he reached the small thatched cottage, Catriona came out to meet him, wiping her hands on a cloth as she greeted him with a wide smile. “Good day,” she said pleasantly. “Have ye come for a love potion?”

It took a second for Logan to realize that she was jesting. “My lady still loves me,” he laughed, “but if her heart ever grows cold, then I will come back to see you.”

“If it is no’ a potion, then what dae ye need?” she asked. “I have medicine for a’ ills.”

“I need to find two friends of mine,” he answered. “Father Donald at the church said that you might be able to help me.”

Catriona narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. “She is fair an’ very pretty, an’ he is big, handsome an’ very hairy,” she stated. “Are they the people ye seek?”

“Yes!” Logan’s heart gave a leap of hope. “Have you treated them?”

She nodded. “Indeed I have, although ye wilnae recognize him now.” She laughed. “I shaved a forest off him!”

“Was it the man who was hurt?” he asked hopefully.

“He was,” she replied. “Somebody beat him, an’ his wrists were raw wi’ bein’ tied up. He could hardly stand up when they brought him in here, an’ he passed out no’ long after we put him tae bed. Stayed that way for hours while she sat by him.”

“What happened to him?” Logan asked, frowning.

“Set upon by bandits,” Catriona answered. “Bruises all over his body.”

So Bryce Blair had been hurt? Logan felt like dancing with glee.

“But she—Nessa—was fine?” he asked anxiously.

“Aye, an’ so was he when he left,” she answered proudly. “I gave him some clothes an’ he looked ten times better when he left than he did when he came in.”

“What kind of horse did they have?” he asked curiously.

Catriona lifted her hand above her head to show the height of Jo’s back. “Big,” she said simply. “Black, wi’ big feathered feet. She called him Jo.” She laughed. “Jo—‘sweetheart.’ A mighty great beast like that!”

“That is Nessa,” Logan said fondly, shrugging. “She always loved that horse.”

“It seems that more than one young lad was fond o’ the lady,” Catriona laughed. “She called him Bryce.”

“Do you know where they went?” he asked, his heart beating frantically.

“They didnae tell me,” she said regretfully. “But I saw them ridin’ doon the road tae Tarbeck.” She pointed to a road that snaked down the hill and off into the distance. “There is an inn on the road, the Black Sheep, an’ ye can ask there.”

Logan thanked Catriona and dropped a few coins into her hand. Now he was absolutely penniless, but at least he had an idea of where to go.

Tarbeck was only a short ride of about half a mile from Wallaceneuk, and they rode along in almost total silence.

Nessa was trying desperately to wonder why anyone would say that her father was a killer.

It was not true; it could not possibly be.

She knew that her father was a gentle man, a fair and honest laird, and a friend to all his tenants. Killing was not in his nature.

“Do you believe what Andrew Henderson said?” she asked suddenly.

She heard Bryce sighing behind her. “As I told you before, Nessa, I do not know what to think. I only know what I heard, but I want to believe that it is not in your father’s character to do such a thing.”

“So you do not believe him?” Her voice was desperately eager.

“I am inclined not to,” Bryce replied evasively.

Andrew’s words sat at the back of her mind as she ambled down the road to the next village with Bryce sitting behind her, his arms wrapped around her as he held the reins.

It was strange that he had suddenly assumed the role of the one controlling the horse, and Jo seemed to have no objections.

It felt natural to let him take charge, and Nessa was comfortable with it.

She felt sheltered and protected, as though he was a wall around her, keeping all danger away.

She had never experienced this sensation before, and it came to her that she was beginning to believe the best of this man who had leaped into her life so suddenly.

“There is the inn,” he said, pointing.

The building was a sturdy stone structure with a slate roof, and as they drew near, they could see that it had a barn attached to the side that was doing double duty as a stable.

A little girl was sitting on the grass outside playing with a doll, but she looked up as she saw them approaching, took one look at Jo, and hurried inside, terrified.

“I am afraid my Jo has that effect on many people,” Nessa said sadly. “If only they knew how gentle he is inside.”

“I share his pain,” Bryce grumbled as he dismounted. “People feel the same way about me.”

Nessa looked him up and down. He was a magnificently man, powerful, formidable-looking man, and she could see how his appearance could scare people, but she knew the truth about him. Like Jo, he was not what he appeared to be on the outside, and in a way, she felt sorry for him.

There were a few men sitting in the main room drinking ale, talking and singing bawdy songs as they went in, but all the noise stopped as soon as Nessa and Bryce walked in.

All the patrons stopped to look at the slender, beautiful woman and the tall, threatening man.

They were a very odd couple indeed. Presently, they all went back to their drinks, although a few male eyes lingered on Nessa.

It was very seldom that they were treated to the sight of such a beautiful woman.

“What can I dae for ye this fine day?” The landlord was a beefy, cheery man with florid cheeks and a pleasant manner. “Ale? Whiskey? Beef stew?”

“Beef stew sounds wonderful!” Nessa said eagerly. “And do you have rooms for the night?”

“Only one left, hen,” the man said regretfully. “There was a market in Wallaceneuk an’ we are fu’ up.”

Nessa and Bryce exchanged glances. “Should we take it?’’ she whispered. She did not want the whole room knowing their business, especially the fact that they were not married.

“You are the lady. You decide,” he replied. “We will only be here for one night, so I can sleep on the floor.”

“You are injured,” she pointed out. “You cannot lie on a hard wooden floor.”

“Let us take the room and argue about it upstairs,” he suggested.

“If you wish,” she replied, frowning at him. She turned back to the landlord. “We will take the room,” she said firmly, then she lowered her voice. “And please give us one extra mattress to put on the bed. My husband has problems with his back.”

The landlord smiled at them amiably. “Of course. Come this way.”