Page 1 of The Anguish of the Scottish Lairds (Clans of Mull #3)
Logan stood in the clearing waiting for his informant to arrive. He glanced over at his wife, situated in a tree with her bow ready to fire. “Logan, I don’t like this. You are no longer a spy and besides, everyone knows you were a spy so why would they trust you?”
“I offer an equal sharing of information, Gwynie, and you know that. I lie. They tell me something I need to know. Sometimes, I can send them in the wrong direction, but it’s best to keep your eye on your enemy.”
Gwynie let out a loud sigh. “As you wish, husband, but be careful.”
“I heard that eye roll, Eli’s grandmother.”
Gwynie giggled, something he didn’t hear often anymore. Her life was often painful still, but he still adored the woman he married so long ago that he didn’t recall how long it had been. She’d beat him fairly on the archery field, something he couldn’t ignore, so he married her.
“He’s coming, Gwynie.”
The man stepped into the clearing and said, “Tell me what I need to know.”
“I don’t know what you want to know. You tell me.”
“Tell me about the forces at Clan Grantham. How many did the old chieftain bring with him?”
“More than you have. Who is attacking the isle? And why don’t they leave the bairns alone?” Nearly everything Logan told the man was a lie, so he carried no guilt for meeting the fool. He hoped to stay ahead of the evildoers on Mull.
“They want the faery and the gifted bairn.”
“You touch my grandbairns or nieces and nephews again and I will hunt you down, you weak-kneed bastard.”
“They’re just bairns. What the hell good are they?”
Logan lost all control. Perhaps he was an old man, but only evil men picked on bairns. He rushed the informant, tripped him, then landed on him, his fist high in the air. “I’ll tell you this and you remember it well. You hurt any bairns from my clan, and you’ll regret it. I will hunt you down myself.”
The man snickered. “Why are you so upset? You got them all back, did you not?”
“We did, no thanks to you.” Logan climbed off him but stayed close. This was difficult for him. His experience told him that any time an enemy wished to speak with you, it was wise to take the time. Weak-brained men liked to brag about all they knew, and Logan preyed upon them knowing that. He always walked away with more information than he ever gave. But this fool’s ignorance was nearly more than he could bear, especially knowing he took part in the kidnapping of the bairns. He stared up at the canopy of the tree branches over his head, the leaves just starting to turn color. The glorious oranges and yellows brightened his outlook, the hint of red just beginning. He had to remain calm and learn what he could about the fools who would not leave them alone.
The man pushed Logan away. “I don’t have much time. They still want the green maiden. Is she the golden-haired one?”
Logan thought for a quick moment. If Lia were truly a faery, then she could get herself away from anything. It was the lad who worried him. Maitland and Maeve’s son. He walked in a circle, then replied, “Aye. The golden-haired one, not the white-haired one, is the faery. The white-haired ones are related to me, so you’ll pay if you touch them. Why do you want a lad?”
“Because it’s said he has special powers too.”
That comment confused him. No one knew of any powers Grant had.
“I need to know more about the attack on Mull. Who and when?”
“I have no problem telling you that. There are two who plan to take over different parts of the isle. One will start with Clan Rankin.”
“Why?”
“They say he’s the easiest one.”
“When?”
“Soon. That’s all I know. Your turn. How many?”
“He has three score, but that can change any time. You know the Grant forces are over a thousand, do you not?” Still lies, but it would get him the information he wanted. Grants and Ramsays with Menzies and Camerons were well over two thousand now.
“Aye, but getting men with swords and horses on the isle will not happen quickly. You know that. And horses won’t cross from Oban. Mayhap to Ulva you can get a few, but not from Oban to Mull without a big ship or two.”
Logan tugged on his mussy locks, knowing it was time to jump in a loch somewhere, but he’d been too busy. The thought of anyone touching Maitland and Maeve’s wee laddie was more than he could handle. “Leave the lad alone. Take the faery and leave the others. You’ll bring some powerful forces down on you if you are fool enough to persist.”
“I’ll pass on your warnings.” The man stared at him, a twisted grin on his face.
“What the hell is your name?”
“You don’t need my name. We don’t use them at all. Our chief refuses to use names.”
Logan stared at the man, taking in everything he saw. Dressed in black from head to toe, he wore no clan identification and spoke more like an Englishman than a Highlander. Perhaps he was from the Lowlands. “A Borderlands man up this far. That does not happen often.”
The man appeared flustered by his guess.
“Och, I guessed right.” Then it was Logan’s turn to grin. He had to leave the man unsettled and a bit afraid of him. “What powers have you heard the lad possesses?”
“Don’t know. Said they think he’ll be another Alex Grant, but he had no special powers that I was ever aware of.”
“It’ll be a long time before the lad can fight like the Grant. Time and many raggies. Who’s planning on changing them?”
“Not my concern. I just get the information, grab my coin, and run.”
“Names. Give me a name.”
“Don’t have any for you. I already told you that we are not allowed to use names.”
He could see this line of questioning was not productive, so he switched to the other issue at hand. “How soon for the attack on Clan Rankin?”
“Soon.” The man took a step back and said, “Later, old man.” He moved a short distance away, then turned around and chuckled. “I can’t believe you are fool enough to think I’d believe you were a spy.”
An arrow landed in the tree less than a hand away.
He ran like a wee bairn.
“Did you shite your raggie on that one, fool?” Logan called out after him. Then he chuckled. “Nice one, Gwynie.”