The Highlander's Stolen heart (Macinnes Sisters Trilogy) (2 page)

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to a stump.

“Time is wasting. I need to be on my way.”

“Not until I see to your wound,” she said and stepped between him and his horse.

Dunnan mumbled, but sat.

One look told her what she feared. “The wound is too serious for you to travel.”

“Wrap it, I will be fine.”

“No, you will bleed to death before you reach MacClennan land.”

“Nonsense.”

She jostled his arm. He let out a yell, blood running down it, and paled considerably.

“I will tend it and you will use it as little as possible so that it will heal properly.”

“Who will go and fetch the MacClennans?”

“I will,” she said as if it was a command. She would have no choice. There was no one else fit to go. She would have to go alone.

Dunnan protested her decision the whole time she tended his wound, insisting her father, and most of all Patience, would have all their hides if they allowed her to continue on unaided. The other warriors agreed, saying they would not let her go.

“I waste precious time standing here arguing with all of you,” she said hands on hips, facing them. “I have already wasted time caring for your wounds. I will go on alone and return with help, and I will hear no more about it. You will obey me on this.”

Not another objection was made. Dunnan, who knew the land well, explained the trail to her and told her not to rear off it.

“The woods are thick in these parts and you will be lost for sure,” he warned.

She paid heed to his words, but did not let him frighten her. She often searched the woods on her own and always managed to find her way home thanks to Patience. She had taught her how to mark a trail and it had helped her on many an occasion.

With one last check on the wounded, she mounted her horse and was on her way. She kept a good pace and kept her focus on her task. She would not fail Heather or Patience. She would bring help and find them both.

A roll of thunder had her casting a glance to the graying sky. “Please, please don’t let it rain,” she whispered. The rain would wash away any tracks and make following Patience that much more difficult.

She rode hard, praying as she went. The rain started a short time later. It was not long before it was pouring buckets and not long before she was soaked through, her wool cloak doing little to keep her dry. She kept going, wiping the rain from her eyes and holding back her tears.

The MacClennan village came into view over a small rise. She halted her mare to have a look. Cottages comprised most of the outer bailey, while the inner bailey held the stables and storehouses and beyond that lay the large stone keep. A high stonewall encircled them all. She hurried the horse along, entering through two tall, thick wooden doors that stood open with not a guard in sight. Once in the village, she headed for the keep. No one was about, though when she reached the steps a young lad suddenly appeared.

“You be a Macinnes,” he asked.

“I am,” Emma said.

“I am to tend the horses.”

He looked around, expecting others to be with her, but he would not ask. It was not his place to question. She handed her mare’s reins over to him and hurried up the few steps to the keep.

She paid no heed to her appearance, though knew she had to look a sight, soaked through as she was and her hair dripping wet. She rushed into the Great Hall, not as many warriors or villagers there as she had expected, but her greeting was exactly what she had expected.

“The plain one leads the way,” Angus MacClennan shouted from the dais with a raise of his tankard in welcome. “We were worried the storm would delay your arrival, though it appears it got you good. You look like a drowned cat.”

She ignored Angus’s thoughtless remark, seeing that he was far into his cups and would be of no use to her and demanded, “Where is Rogan?”

“It is not your place to be asking about him, lassie, he belongs to your sister,” Angus said, standing, though swaying. “I made that clear to your da.”

Emma noticed that though Angus had pure white hair that lay to his shoulders and some wrinkles around the eyes, he had fine features and his body was well-honed for a man of his years. She recalled his wife had been a beauty and a kind woman and from what her father had told her about him, Angus still grieved her loss these past three years now.

That did not, however, give him cause to be rude. She would not be put off by this man. Her sister’s life was at stake. “I would speak to you, but you are too far into your cups to be of help. I will speak to your son
now
.”

The wooden floor began to tremble and Emma turned to see a small group of warriors march into the room. Their leader wore a dark brown cloak, the hood pulled down over his head concealing his face.

“Rogan, Emma Macinnes demands to see you,” Angus shouted.

The cloaked warrior threw his hood back and stopped right in front of Emma. “Where is my intended?”

Emma never had her legs turn weak at the sight of a man, but this man caused her legs to tremble until she thought she would collapse. He towered over her and muscles ran thick and hard beneath his shirt and across his chest. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows and black leather arm cuffs covered the remainder of his arm to his wrist. His dark brown hair fell away from his face to an inch or two passed his shoulders. However, it was his face that made her breath catch. Never had she seen a man with such stunning features. Even the scowl he wore could not diminish his exceptional good looks. The young handsome lad she had once seen had grown into an even more handsome man.

“Answer me, lass.”

He did not shout like his father had, but there was a command to his tone that she imagined all obeyed without questions... as did she.

“Heather was taken by a band of rebels.”

His hand shot out and grabbed her arm so tight that it squeezed the rain water from her sleeve. “Where? When?”

“About four hours ago we were about to stop at a small clearing along the road when we were attacked. My sister Patience went after her with those of our warriors who were able. Those who suffered injuries wait for my return. You must get your warriors together and go with me now.”

His dark eyes remained fixed on her, and she could see that he was giving thought to her words. Her heartbeat quickened, upset that she had gotten no immediate reaction from him. When he did speak, she grew angry.

“You will tell me everything about the attack while you dry by the fire and eat. Night falls within the hour and the rain already hampers our vision. My warriors and I will leave at first light.”

Emma tried to free her arm, but she could not budge it. His grip was much too strong. “That is too late. We must leave now.”

He released her arm, though remained beside her. “That would be foolish for us to do. You will do as I say and stay here while I go and go and bring your sister home.”

She was more shocked than angry that he was not running from the keep ready to rescue Heather. She could not hold her tongue. “Since you are a
coward,
I will go find my sister myself.”

Gasps echoed throughout the hall, but Emma ignored them and turned to leave. Before she could take one step, a strong arm locked around her waist and she was swung around and slammed against Rogan’s steel-hard chest.

“No one accuses me of being a coward and lives,” Rogan said his nose pressed against hers.

Fear rushed through her, turning her stomach and shivering her flesh, but she refused to pay heed to it. It did not matter that this powerful warrior threatened her. It only mattered that her sister was rescued and returned home. “Then kill me and be done with it or let me go so that I can do what you will not.”

He let out a roar that Emma swore shook the rafters, then he grabbed her, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed out of the room.

Rogan dropped Emma to her feet once in a small bedchamber and slammed the door, then turned on her. “You will watch your foolish tongue or suffer for it the next time. I understand you are upset and that you have ridden hard to get here and get help for your sister, but you are here and you now have the help you need. There is no more you can do. I will see to this from here on.”

“No!” Emma shouted, stepping away from him, the width and breadth of him much too intimidating. “Heather is my sister, and I will not abandon her. I go with you or I go on my own.”

“It is good I chose Heather over you for a wife, for you are a willful lass.”

Emma’s chin shot up defiantly, though his thoughtless remark stabbed at her heart. It was one thing to assume that a man did not want her, but another thing to hear it from him. “I do not care what you think of me, and I am blessed that you will not be my husband. And since you will not be my husband, you have no say over me. I will not let you stop me from seeing my sister safe.”

“You think I cannot stop you?” he asked incredulously.

“I am not blind,” she said, recalling the ease in which he had hefted her over his shoulder and the strength of his muscled arms that had held her firm. “You are a mighty warrior, but I am a determined sister. I will not be left behind.”

Rogan itched to reach out and grab her and—throttle her. He did not need her interfering, getting in his way, being more of a hindrance than help. Rogan caught the shiver that ran through her and silently swore. Dampness was probably seeping into her bones from her wet garments.

“Get out of those wet clothes,” he ordered.

Her eyes popped wide. He could not expect her to strip naked in front of him. Could he? “Or what?” she dared him. Two long strides had him leaning over her and planting his face so close to hers that she could see that his dark eyes were dotted with specks of gold.

“Or I will strip you myself. Not that I will take any pleasure in it. You are soaked and need to get dry.”

Another thoughtless remark that tore at her, not that she would want him to touch her, but of course he had to let her know that stripping her would be a chore.

“I have no other garments,” she snapped, feeling pity for Heather that she should be stuck with this rude man—if they could find her. The thought of possibly never seeing her sister again caused her legs to go so weak that she had to grab the back of the wood chair, she stood beside, for support.

He saw that exhaustion and worry were taking their toll on her. She needed to get dry and rest. And if he was lucky, she would sleep through his departure. Then there would be nothing she could do but remain here while he saw to rescuing her sister.

“Sit,” he snapped frustrated with her foolishness.

“No!” she retaliated sharply. “I will have your word that you will take me with you or I leave now and see to finding my sister myself.”

His hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her from behind the chair and slamming her against his solid chest once again. His dark eyes blazed with fury, and she feared she had gone too far.

“Listen well, Emma, for my warning is not to be taken lightly. I rule here and I will not be disobeyed. You will do as I say or I will see you locked away in the tower until I return with your sister.”

His threat sent a chill to settle deep in her bones, but courage did not fail her. “You may rule here, but you do not rule over me.”

“Do not test me, for you will surely lose.” He released her, shoving her away from him.

Though she wanted to unleash her tongue on him, she wisely held it. Arguing with him was pointless. He would do as he wished no matter her protests, though one thing was certain—she would not be left behind.

“Finally, some sense settles over you and your tongue stills.”

Emma had to clamp her lips tightly shut to keep from spitting out her anger at the frustrating warrior. Poor Heather, her lot would be heavy with Rogan as her husband, and Emma felt a twinge of guilt for being grateful that he had refused to wed her.

“I will have food and dry garments brought to you. While I go find your sister and make the culprit pay for abducting her, you will look over my land and see what can be done to improve it.”

Emma stared at him stunned. He truly believed that she would concentrate on his land while her sister was in danger?

“Warm yourself,” he said with a nod toward the hearth. “Someone will be here soon to see to your needs.” With that he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Emma stared at the closed door, feeling as if she had been dismissed without an ounce of regard to her concerns. Rogan obviously was accustomed to being obeyed, especially by women. His handsome features and fine body probably had all women easily obeying his every command and seeing to his every whim. She, however, was not most women. Being plain in feature and mostly disregarded by men had made Emma view men differently than other women. No man had ever impressed her in speech or actions. They blustered and demanded and were never nearly as important as they thought they were.

She had paid mind to none. Even her father had had a difficult time with her. He could never understand her interest in things that most women cared little about. In a way, she had realized that she had been lucky to be born plain, for she had not wasted her time on a man, but had pursued her interests. She knew more about the workings of the land and animals than most men, and learned knowledge had greatly benefitted her clan.

A shiver ran through Emma and she quickly stepped in front of the hearth to try and warm herself, though it would do little good. She was well aware that she needed to rid herself of her wet garments if she hoped to chase the chill. But this would do until dry garments arrived.

A plan was already forming in her head. She would need to make certain that she shed her wet garments, ate, and got some rest before taking her leave. She had no intentions of being left behind no matter what Rogan had said. She intended to accompany him in his search to find Heather, and Patience as well, though she hoped that Patience had already found Heather. She was certainly a persistent and skilled enough warrior to do so. But if not, Emma was confident that Rogan would find her sister, and she would be there when he did.

Emma jumped, startled by the door flying open, and a short, stout woman with a generous smile hurried in. It was easy to see from the numerous wrinkles around her mouth that she smiled often and her soft green eyes greeted as generously as her wide smile.

“Good lord, you will catch your death in those wet garments,” the woman said, shaking her head and hurrying over to Emma. “Now you just let Bertha tend you and all will be well.”

Before Emma knew what was happening, Bertha had her out of her soaked garments and a blanket wrapped around her and seated before the hearth.

“We will get you all warmed up, food in your belly, and then you will sleep.”

The woman was as authoritative as Rogan, though in a more pleasant and caring manner and Emma could not help but like her.

Servants arrived with blankets and trays of deliciously scented food that had Emma realizing that she was hungrier than she have thought. And her limbs were beginning to complain from the hard ride in the rain. She needed to rest, but not too long. She had to leave before Rogan or she had no doubt he would do as he had warned and lock her in the tower.

“Here is a nice warm nightdress for you,” Bertha said, handing her a soft wool garment. She then gathered up Emma’s wet garments and boots. “I will see that these are dried and ready for you tomorrow, after you are well rested.”

“They can dry by the fire,” Emma said.

“Nonsense, they will dry faster by the larger fireplace,” Bertha said. “Now you get straight into bed and sleep and leave the task of finding your sister to Rogan. He will not fail to bring her home.”

Emma realized then that Rogan had ordered her garments taken from her, leaving her no recourse but to remain at the keep. What pained her heart even more was that she was losing her sister to this beast of a man. This would be Heather’s home soon and Emma would miss her greatly. But first Heather needed to be found, and Emma intended to be there when she was.

If Rogan thought that by taking her garments he would stop her, he was wrong. She would travel in her nightdress only, if she must.

Emma dared not chance lying on the bed, for she would surely drop into a much needed, and much too deep, slumber. She remained in the chair by the fire after slipping on the nightdress. She would doze until she felt the time was right to take her leave. She had eaten well, which would help to give her strength and with rest she would be fit to take to the road again.

The warmth of the fire lulled her to sleep, though she woke on and off in the hours that followed. It was well into the night when Emma decided it was time. She worried that Rogan may have posted a guard outside her door, but when she eased it open, no one was there. She supposed depriving her of all but a nightdress made him think he had solved the problem.

She kept her steps cautious and was relieved when she found the Great Hall empty, though she crept silently through the large room in case someone lingered nearby. She was thrilled to find a hooded, fur-lined cloak lying on one of the table benches. She hurriedly swiped it up and draped it over her shoulders to protect her from the chill of an early spring night. She was, however, disappointed not to find any boots. So, she left the keep with her feet bare.

The rain continued to fall, though not as hard as before. It took her a bit of time to locate her mare and ready her to ride. She searched the stable for boots, but found none. Like it or not, she would go barefoot. But it was little to suffer when she thought of what Heather might be going through. As she rode away from the keep and across MacClennan land, she prayed that her sister was safe and that they would find her before any harm could befall her and that Rogan MacClennan would not be too angry when he found her gone.