Highland Sparks:Logan and Gwyneth(7)By: Keira Montclair
Father MacLaren said, “Gwyneth, these are the men who fight for the Scottish crown. They aren’t here to hurt you.”
“Your pardon, Father. Other than you and my brother, all men are the same to me right now. Three kidnapped me and threw me on a boat, and another tried to rape me. So don’t expect me to be grateful. Get me to Glasgow, and you’ll never have to see me again. Just give me my bow and arrows and my knife, and I will leave a happy lass. And don’t try to tell me they aren’t here, because I know the rotten bastard intended to sell my weapons, too.”
Logan celebrated inwardly; she was a fighter and an archer. There were not many lassies able to use a bow and arrow correctly; this he would beg to see. The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know. He smiled at her when her gaze caught his.
“Do that again, and ‘twill be the last thing you do, warrior or not.” She leaned in, so she was nose to nose with Logan. “You don’t frighten me. I could kill you easily.”
He had to give the lass credit. He could see in her eyes how close she was to falling apart. Somehow, he knew she would hold it together. He would not do anything to make it more difficult for her. “I have nae doubt you could, lass,” he said. “I’ll keep my hands to myself until you request otherwise.”
The two stared at each other for a long moment, complete silence as everyone else in the room waited to see what would happen next. He let her set the pace, something he rarely did for a woman. Even the way she wore her hair, pulled straight back and plaited from a spot high on the back of her head, enticed him. Something about the glossy sheen made it look stronger, cleaner, and more beautiful than that of any other lass. Much to his delight, the lass held strong under his gaze. Logan had found a woman who would stand up to him. The urge to kill the bastard who’d put her in this position raced through his body again, unstoppable as flames through a field of wheat.
Finally, Father MacLaren cleared his throat and said, “Come, lass, I’ll give you your things as long as you promise not to use any of your weapons on these men. And please give my regards to your brother.”
Gwyneth limped along behind the priest. “Father, I intend to get back to my home in Glasgow, but if anyone tries to prevent that, I’ll do what I need to do. As long as no one touches me, you have my word. If a man dares to lay a hand on me, believe me, his life will be in my hands.”
Gwyneth climbed into the cart after helping the other victims get settled. Still restless from all that had transpired, she was even more ill at ease from the looks the braw warrior, Logan, was sending her way. True, she couldn’t deny his good looks, but she didn’t care at this point. She needed to get to Glasgow, talk to her brother, and seek out the bastard, Duff Erskine.
She had begged to ride a horse, but there were only enough horses to pull a cart and one for each warrior. Logan had offered for her to ride with him, but she had rejected him in a hurry. After all that had occurred, she couldn’t deal with any part of a man’s body touching hers for now. She attempted to rest, but each time she closed her eyes, the wild Norsemen took over her thoughts.
Bolting upright, she decided to forego any sleep. Probably better to stay alert. Who knew what would happen when they passed through the burgh?
Logan pulled his horse up next to the cart and tossed a blue plaid over to her. “Here, lass, rest your head on this.”
Gwyneth caught it and tossed it back. “No need, warrior. Keep it.”
Logan sighed. “I know where your head is right now. You’re thinking of ten different ways to kill the bastard who did this to you.”
“Aye.” She stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with him. For some reason, he unsettled her, and she didn’t like it.
He grinned. “And what is your preference? What would serve justice best?”
She glanced at him before bringing her gaze back to the front. “An arrow right between the eyes.”
“You know him?”
“And you know where to find him?”
“Well enough, though he often moves. I’ll take care of him, make no mistake.” Peering at him, she had to admit he was impressive atop his stallion. Light brown hair, a strong jaw line, and massive muscles rippled through his tunic. “Your name again, warrior?”