Page 13 of The Anguish of the Scottish Lairds (Clans of Mull #3)

Logan

Logan stood in the middle of the forest and scanned the area. His vision wasn’t quite as good as it used to be, but he could see more than Gwynie could. Though he hoped her accuracy would be there today. He didn’t know this fool who he’d met before, so he didn’t trust him either.

Gwynie was hiding in a tree, just in case the piece of slime had other plans.

“I know you’re here. I heard you before,” he called out. “Dumb arse.”

A man stepped out from behind some bushes. “What do you want? This is the last time I’ll come when you summon me. I control you.”

Logan snorted, the idea of anyone controlling him nearly more than he could handle, but he forced himself to calm down because he needed information first. Maitland was more upset than Logan had ever seen him. Avelina had seen a dark aura on her way over to the isle, something that didn’t bode well for any of them.

Logan loved his sister and wouldn’t argue with her because she was right. Something was about to happen, and at present, it was anyone’s guess. It was Logan’s responsibility to find out exactly what it was.

At present, he had no inkling what was brewing on the isle. Neither did Connor, who counted on Dyna to see things.

But they’d had two other bad indications. First, Tora had told Connor that he couldn’t leave because of the bairn. And she told him not to tell Maitland. Even that had made Gwynie pale. Tora had abilities that were just coming to light. Dyna didn’t understand her own daughter’s special skills. And Sandor was starting to act odd as well. Every once in a while, he would wave at something or someone when no one was there.

Once, Logan had asked him in front of everyone, expecting the lad to tell him he waved at a bird or some other creature.

But instead, he waved with a backward hand and said, “Gweetings, Gwandpapa. I wike yo swowd.”

Dyna had gasped, Connor had sat down hard on a nearby stool, and Gwynie had nearly fallen out of her chair.

And then there was Lia, the lass who Magni swore he found under a leaf in the forest. She’d told Avelina and Maitland some things that brought giant tears to Menzie’s face, though he told no one what she’d said.

Avelina had taken a hold of Logan’s hand and said, “Let it go, brother. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

Something bad was coming. He knew it, Gwynie knew it, and so did half the people at Duart Castle.

“What do you want?”

“I want to know why you lied to me.”

“I never lied to you.”

“The hell you didn’t,” Logan said, his hand going to the hilt of his weapon. “And don’t start lying now. You said someone was attacking Clan Rankin. Naught has happened. So, what’s the truth of it?”

“Look, old man. I tell you what I hear. I’m not the one who said they were attacking, so I don’t know why it didn’t happen.”

“You said they were going to take over the Isle of Mull, starting with Rankin land.”

“I had it wrong. Someone plans to conquer the isle, but not yet. They are building their forces, and I come over and check on the isle, make sure no one else is trying to attack. When I was here last, I heard another fool say he wished to battle the chieftain of Dun Ara. He’s the one you need to fear. The other won’t take place for several moons, but I can promise you, it will happen.”

“I don’t understand someone who is daft enough to tell me their plans.” Logan took in the man’s dark hair, his smaller sword, but an admirable one, and always searched for a crest or some other sign of his clan, but he never found one. He was tall, but not bulky, half the size of Connor or Alasdair.

He’d never been so confused by someone in all his years of spying.

“Ramsay, you will find out soon enough. What’s coming, you’ll be unable to stop. I’ll never tell you the exact day. I mind my own business and travel here once in a while to keep up with all that takes place. MacQuarie and MacVey both took wives. The Grants have brought a couple score of guards. Little else has taken place. Now I told you what I know. That’s all.”

“So, there is no imminent attack that you know of? No plan to overtake the whole isle in the next two moons?”

“Nay. None. One fool is spouting out his plans, but no one believes him. He’s being driven by the man on Kilchoan.”

Kilchoan. MacVey had mentioned Kilchoan. He had to push that.

“Who is he?”

The man shrugged and said, “I don’t know his name. He doesn’t want land. He wants things he can sell.”

Logan’s head nearly split in two, but he stayed calm.

“I’ve told you what I know. You need to return the favor, or you’ll never see me again, Ramsay.”

He hated that the man knew his name because he had no idea what his identity was, but he was rather well known. “Ask your question. I’ll answer if I can.”

“Which one is the faery?”

“I answered that question before.”

“But they say there are three golden-haired lasses. Are you sure the faery will grant wishes? She’s their priority.”

Logan could feel the racing of Gwynie’s heart at that question. He knew without asking his dear wife that he had to protect Dyna’s daughters somehow.

“The one who is the tallest of the three is the faery. We’ve discussed this before. Golden-haired, not white-haired. Why do you persist with the same questions?”

“And she will grant wishes? That’s who they’re looking for. If you tell me, they’ll just take the one. If you don’t, who knows how many they’ll take.”

“I don’t know for certain. I’ve heard talk of that, but I surely don’t know if she grants wishes.” Not really a lie , he thought.

“And there’s a lad. One who has more powers than anyone. Who does he belong to?”

“A lad with powers? I’ve not heard anything about that. Your sources are wrong. Who told you this?”

The man chuckled and mounted his horse. “A faery under a leaf told me. Beware. Someone wants those two and will pay much coin to find them.” He sent his horse down the path and laughed all the way out of the forest.

Hellfire, that was not what Logan was hoping to hear.

Lia was in trouble, but so were all the wee lasses then, Tora and Sylvi especially. But what lad was the one with the powers? Sandor? Or was it Maitland’s new son?

Logan glanced over into the trees at his wife, her tears visible from where he stood. When the other was gone, Logan moved to help Gwynie out of the tree. He hated to hear her words. After all their years together, she had the most common sense of anyone he knew, someone who could listen to all kinds of stories and consolidate it into one sentence.

“Logan, nay. They definitely want Lia, and I’m not worried about her. I know Lia can take care of herself, but the laddie cannot.”

“Which laddie, Gwyn? Which one are they after?”

“No doubt in my mind. They want Alexander Drew Menzie Grantham.”

Maitland and Maeve’s son was in trouble.