“Scared of what?”
Lorna gulped, the noose of fear knotting her throat.She had endured beatings and survived battles but nothing scared her as much as the vulnerability she had felt that came with loving Logan.
She stroked her fingers down the rough hair covering the scar on his neck.“Scared of loving ye,” she finally admitted.
Chapter Eight
The laird arrived early the next morning, with several Norsemen in tow.The skies grew dark with their appearance and he hoped it wasn’t a sign.Logan dipped in greeting and waited for the three Viking men to settle themselves at the top table and tucked hungrily into the food.Not all of them spoke Gaelic it seemed.The rumble of their Norse language echoed from the rafters, punctuated by laughter.
The noise didn’t drown out the memory of Lorna’s soft words.Loving you...How could he believe a woman like that would ever love him?Even the woman of his own ranking gave him a wide berth.The few who had shared his bed wanted nothing more than a wee bit of pleasure.
He approached Gillean once the meal was finished.“A word, my laird.”
The grey-haired man stood and motioned for him to follow him up to the solar.Gillean pressed open the door.Logan had stepped foot in this room many times since gaining his position as chieftain but an odd sensation toyed in his gut when he eyed the grand bed with its gold trimmed drapes and wide mattress.He had certainly never slept in such a bed so why did the plush pillows spark some kind of remembrance?A memory perhaps?He had the occasional flashes but nothing he could latch onto.Surely he’d never slept in the laird’s bed though.
“Logan?”
He jerked his head away from the bed and settled his gaze on Gillean as the laird sat down behind the grand desk positioned in one corner.The carvings of beasts and flowers mimicked that of the woodwork around the castle, and Logan had concluded they must have been commissioned at the same time.Gillean’s brother had fine taste.
“Why does it look as though there has been fire damage out there?”Gillean thrust a finger toward the door.
“A minor incident with a torch.Dinnae concern yerself, my laird.We had it under control quickly.”
“Good.And the men are ready?The defences strong?”
“Aye, my laird.However—”
“The Norse army is amassing on the coast and will join us here in no more than two sennights.Once we bring our forces together, we shall march on the surrounding lands before making our way to the coast and claiming the isles.Once I have the other clans’ allegiance, none shall be able to defeat us.”
“Aye, my laird.”
Logan grimaced internally.The laird was in a fine mood and he was reluctant to spoil it.Gillean’s hard temperament and single-minded nature made him a hard man to deal with at times.Logan was one of the few who bore it with ease.But what other choice did he have?He had sworn allegiance to the laird and the man had saved his life.There was no other oath as strong as one from a man who owed his life to another.
“Ye have served me well these past months, Logan.I hope ye are ready for yer reward.”
“I am, my laird.”
“And...”—he stroked his beard thoughtfully—“there is no sign of yer memories returning?”
“None at all.”
A smile flickered on Gillean’s lips.“Ah, well, ye shall create a new life for yerself after this battle.”
“My laird,” Logan tried again.“While ye were gone, we caught an intruder.”
The smile dropped.“Aye?”
There was no way to delay the truth though the tightening if his gut almost prevented him from saying her name.How would Gillean react?“Lady Lorna.”
Gillean’s expression froze.“My brother’s wife?”
“The very same.”
“And has she said why she is here?”
“Nay, my laird.”
“She can be up to no good,” Gillean mused.“Ye have spoken with her?”
