The Highlander's Stolen heart (Macinnes Sisters Trilogy) (20 page)

“Stay behind me,” Rogan ordered Emma, his hand clenching his sword ready to fight. He would see them all dead, and die himself if he must, before he would let them take his wife. There were eight warriors, a substantial amount against one, though he was a superior swordsman, but then so were they from what he had experienced.

That they made no move toward them worried Rogan. What were they waiting for?

Anger gripped Emma, squeezing so tight she thought she would never be able to breathe again. With courage born of fortitude, she hurried around in front of her husband, keeping a wide birth so he could not reach out and stop her. She halted not far from one of the warriors. Her arm shot out and she pointed a finger in his face.

“I demand that the Dark Dragon return my sister?” she said with a ferocity that quivered her voice.

Silence so chilling seemed to freeze everyone where they stood, except Rogan. He moved to stand behind Emma, protecting her back and ready to defend.

Suddenly, one warrior tossed something to Emma. Her eyes followed the small pouch as it sailed through the air and she caught it with one hand. She gripped it tight and looked up at the warrior, but he was gone along with the others.

Rogan stepped around her. “You will be the death of me with your foolish actions.”

“If they had come to kill us, they would have been on top of us in an instant. They were here to deliver a message,” Emma said.

“Then why the painted faces?”

“A warning,” she said and opened the pouch, dropping the contents in her hand. She gasped, all color fading from her face.

Rogan wrapped his arms quickly around her. “What is it?”

“A ring.”

“So this ring confirms that the Dark Dragon has Heather and the face paint warns they are ready to battle if we attempt to rescue her,” he said with a heavy heart, knowing how painful this must be for Emma.

Emma pulled out of his embrace, shaking her head. “No, the Dark Dragon may have intended that message, but Heather did not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Patience was always concerned for our safety so she made us agree that if there should ever come a time or situation where one of us needed help we would send a message that only we would understand. Patience would send the silver clasp that ties her hair. I would send my healing pouch and Heather would send,” —Emma paused a moment— “our mother’s pin she always wears.”

“But she sent a ring,” Rogan said.

Emma held the small ring up. “Heather wore this on a string around her neck. The lad she had been in love with since they were children had forged it for her and declared his love when he had given it to her. She never parted with it. Her sending this means—” Tears choked her words and her heart hurt so badly that she surely thought it would break. “It means she begs for help.”

Rogan caught her in his arms as her sobs caused her to stumble. He held her tight, her pain his pain. “I swear to you and the heavens that I will do whatever it takes to bring Heather home.”

She let her tears fall, seeking solace in her husband’s strong arms. Some of her pain faded with her tears and left her more determined than ever to help Heather.

“We should return to the castle and inform my father,” she said, having no intentions of telling him the significance of the ring. She did not want to weigh him down with any more worry.

As soon as they entered the keep, Emma left her basket of plants and cloak on one of the tables in the Great Hall before hurrying up the stairs to her father’s bedchamber, Rogan keeping pace behind her.

To Emma’s relief, the door sat open. She entered and was pleased to see him sitting in the chair by the hearth, with color in his cheeks that she had not seen in some time.

“What is wrong?” Donald Macinnes asked as soon as he saw Emma.

“I never could hide anything from you,” Emma said, recalling how when she was young she felt her father was this magical creature who knew her every thought and could solve every problem. For a moment, she wished she was that little girl again.

“Heather was the only one who could do that, though I feared it cost her dearly. Now what is wrong?” he said in a father’s no nonsense voice as he stretched his hand out to her.

Emma grabbed his hand greedily, needing the love and support only a father could give his daughter. She no soon as hunched down in front of him then words spilled from her lips, though the true purpose of the ring went left unsaid.

Rogan remained near, hearing desperation in his wife’s voice and seeing concern shadow Donald’s face.

Donald held his daughter’s hand firmly and when she finished, he took her hand in both of his. “We know now, without a doubt, the Dark Dragon has our Heather. Now we must find out what he wants. I will change what I was going to inquire of the King and demand the Dark Dragon be called to task for this. We will have answers and we will get our Heather back.”

Donald coughed and reached for his tankard on the table beside him. He coughed again, and then shook his head. “I forgot. Maura went to make more of your brew. Could you—”

Emma jumped up. “I will brew you enough to last the day.” She turned to Rogan. “You will stay with him until I return?”

“Of course,” Rogan said and as soon as the door closed behind her, he turned to Donald. “What is it you want to tell me that you did not want your daughter to hear?”

“You are observant,” Donald praised, “that is good. My Emma will be safe with you.”

“If she does not drive me completely insane first,” Rogan said with a laugh. “But then I do love a challenge.”

Donald smiled and chuckled softly. “Emma can be challenging, though not half as much as Patience. The man Patience weds,” —Donald sighed— “will be in my prayers every day.” His expression turned serious. “I fear the longer Emma remains here, the more likely she will be to makes plans to go find the Dark Dragon and demand her sister’s return. She would be much better off acclimating herself to her new home and family.”

“Emma would worry and plan no matter where she was,” Rogan said.

Donald’s smile returned. “Not when she sees what she could do to improve your keep and land. She will not be able to help but take on the task of making all the improvements she feels is necessary, giving her less time to dwell on her sisters. Nothing can be done until we hear from the King and see if he is aware of this problem, and if he will help to resolve it.”

He could not fault Donald for being truthful or for being right. Nothing could be done until they heard from the King and being here, being reminded of what her life had been rather than living her life as it was now, could make it all the more difficult for Emma.

“I have told her that we would be staying a while and she does need rest,” Rogan reminded.

“If my daughter can walk the woods in search of her plants, then she can ride to her new home in a pace suitable to her condition.”

“You are persistent about Emma leaving,” Rogan said with a curious tone.

“I am determined to see Emma safe and a chance at a good life. If I felt she could do something, make a difference in finding her sisters, then I would demand that my daughter remain here until things were settled. I may not be well, but my mind is as clear as it has always been. And I do what is right and good for Emma. You are a good man and will do the same someday for your own daughter if necessary.” Donald smiled. “I expect many grandchildren, another task that can keep her busy.” His smile faded. “I need to know Emma is safe and with someone who will prevent her from doing anything that could cause her irreparable harm.”

“Now that we are family, it is not necessary that you take the burden of this situation and your clan all on yourself. Let me help,” Rogan offered, seeing not only the concern, but fear for Emma in Donald’s aging eyes.

“You have helped much already and you will help much more when the time comes, that I promise you.”

“Then I will see that we leave here in the next couple of days,” Rogan agreed.

Donald’s whole body seemed to slump in relief. “You have lifted some of my burden already.”

“You should rest,” Rogan said, seeing how weary the man suddenly appeared.

“Aye, the day wears on and so do I.”

“Let me help you to bed,” Rogan offered.

As he reached for Donald, the door swung open and Emma entered along with Maura.

“What is wrong?” Emma demanded, rushing to her father.

“Nothing. Nothing,” Donald insisted with a wave of his hand, chasing away her concerned fussing. “I grow tired that is all.”

Maura reached him before Emma could. She placed the pitcher of Emma’s special brew on the table beside Donald, then turned to Emma. “I will see to your father, go and see to some rest yourself.”

Rogan settled his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “Maura is right. You have had quite a morning and could use some rest.”

“We will talk more later,” Donald said.

“Before supper I will come visit with you,” Emma said, wanting to tend her father, but seeing he had become quite comfortable having Maura look after him.

Rogan took her hand and was not surprised when she tugged him to a stop once outside the bedchamber.

“I have no need for rest. There are things I must see to,” she said quite empathically.

“I will accompany you.” Before she could object, he took her in his arms. “You know you have a husband now, do you not?” He grinned. “And, to his surprise, he very much wants to spend time with his wife, and not only in the bedchamber. Of course, if you wanted to go there now, I would most certainly oblige you.” He nuzzled his face in her neck, kissing and nipping her soft skin, needing to taste her.

A tingle raced through her and she shivered.
Husband.
She had a husband and the thought brought her both tremendous joy and absolute fear. She was much too accustomed to spending her time on her own or with her sisters. She was not accustomed to being answerable to anyone. Her father had given her much freedom, though truth be told she had taken the freedom for herself, and she was not about to surrender it. However, she had to admit that a stop in her bedchamber with him sounded mighty appealing.

His lips found hers and she returned his kiss with vigor and a need that tingled her senseless.

His lips left hers to urge, “To the bedchamber, all else can wait.”

His words tempted far too much. “I have things that I must see to.”

He took her hand and placed it on his rock-hard arousal. “Aye, you have something that needs your immediate attention.”

She laughed softly and gave him a squeeze. “Did I do that?”

“Aye,” he said again, “and I would be most grateful if you would relieve his suffering.”

“And will you relieve mine,” she asked on a whisper, then brushed her lips over his.

“Many times, you have my word on it.”

“Then let us not delay, for we have much to do.”

He took her hand and hurried her down the hall, their smiles growing with every step.

They were brought to an abrupt halt at the top of the stairs, almost colliding with a servant hurrying up them.

“My lady, George says you must hurry there is a problem at the mill.”

Emma did not even acknowledge Rogan, she shooed the servant down the steps and hurried down behind her.

Rogan watched her disappear down the curved staircase, shook his head, and followed down after her. He was annoyed that she would take her leave of him without a word, or that it seemed it did not matter to her whether he joined her or not. And it also annoyed him that the miller’s message was a demand not a request. Or was it that Emma had not hesitated to do as the miller asked, leaving her husband behind without thought?

Rogan shook his head as he entered the Great Hall and saw that his wife did not grab her cloak off the table where she had left it earlier. He snatched it up as he hurried his pace.

He was glad he had. A slight crispness lingered in the spring air today. Of course, clouds hiding the sun did not help any. As far as his pace, he had to double it to keep up with her, since his wife moved with remarkable speed. An image of her naked popped into his head, and he now understood why her legs, arms, and just about all of her had retained such firmness. She was forever active, and he had no doubt she was involved with far more strenuous work than most noble women.

He saw then that villagers started running in the direction Emma had taken and he rushed along with them. The crowd stopped on a slight rise, a few feet from the mill. It was an impressive structure with a sizeable wheel that was not moving. He made his way through the crowd, though everyone parted quickly enough when they saw it was him.

The sight that caught his eye had him running full speed. Men were yelling, an older woman held a young woman in her arms and they were both crying. Then he saw the problem. The large mill wheel sat immobile. A man appeared to have gotten jammed in it. The man’s head was being held up above the water by another man. His expression was one of pain mixed with fear as he relied on the other man to keep his head tilted back, the water resting at his chin.

Before he could join his wife, he saw her remove her boots, blouse, and skirt, leaving her in her shift, and then she jumped into the stream, the water covering her to her shoulders. When she got her footing, the water settled just beneath her breasts, her soaked shift clinging greedily to her two firm mounds and hard nipples. Next thing he knew, she disappeared beneath the water.

Rogan dropped her cloak on the ground, ripped off his boots, and hurried into the water to find his wife.

She broke the surface as he reached the spot where he saw her go under.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his worry sounding more like anger.

“Daniel is wedged in the wheel.

“Is the wheel secure?” Rogan asked.

Emma gave a nod to the burly man holding Daniel. “George would not be where he is if it was not secure.”

“Is it George?” Rogan snapped, fearing that his wife could get swallowed up by the churning wheel.

“Aye, it is secure, and I have two men making sure it stays that way.”