“Nay.I told ye, I remember naught.Damnation, how many times do I have to say it?”
She jerked at his harsh words but lifted her chin.“Ye came here shortly after my marriage to the Laird—my dead husband and Gillean’s brother.”
Lorna eyed him as if expecting his memory to rush back.He bit off an impatient response.“I was a peasant boy, aye?”
“Aye,” she whispered.“But I knew ye were more than a mere peasant boy.Always.”She said this with such conviction, he puzzled over the emotion behind the words.“Ye worked by my side, leading my men after Walter died.”
He shook his head.“I worked for Gillean.I came here before the battle.”
Sheets gripped around her chest, she attempted to kneel on the bed, eyes imploring, but he saw the tremble of her body and she slumped down against the pillow.“Ye have been lied to.I dinnae know what Gillean’s plan for ye is, but ye have never worked for Gillean—always me.”
Logan narrowed his gaze at her.Was she lying?Did she hope to persuade him to release her?And why would Gillean lie?
“I see no profit in it for Gillean.If I worked for ye, that would make me the enemy.Why not let me die from my wounds?His staff tended to me, saved me from a malady that made me delirious.Why waste such time on a mere peasant?”
“I dinnae know, but ye must believe me.Mayhap he saw yer worth, just as I did.Ye were always a strong leader, Logan, and a powerful fighter.Ye were my closest friend.”Her voice trailed off and she lowered her lashes, hiding some emotion.
To cover her lies, mayhap?
Blood rushed in his ears.Some part of him longed to latch onto her words.Through her version of his past, his life had more meaning.According to Gillean, he was nothing but a peasant who had fought his way to the top.But the words coming from this beautiful woman’s lips spoke of an honourable man.
But, if he thought hard, he could not reconcile that.He was quick-tempered, gruff, angry...he longed for more.More land, more prestige.Something to distinguish him from the rabble.This man she spoke of could not be him.
He cleared his throat.“If ye think ye can talk me into releasing ye, ye are sorely mistaken, Lady Lorna.”
She lifted her lashes.“Ye dinnae believe me.”Her voice remained cold, rigid.
Lips pursed, the only hint of surprise lingered in her eyes.She was a master of disguise, he deemed.Going from tears to tight reserve in but a moment?A fine actress indeed.In spite of himself, he admired it.Here was a woman who would do anything to survive—a warrior of a kind.Much like himself.
“Nay, I dinnae believe ye.”How could he when he now had the measure of her?
“Ye must,” she begged breathlessly.“Ye must.Let us leave.Let us escape to Glencolum.There is much I must tell ye.”
Logan allowed his expression to shutter, in spite of the way her voice did something to his heart.A tiny rift had opened up in it, but he would not let a woman’s pleas enter.She had manipulated his memory loss to her advantage.Any recollection of her had to be from his time serving with Gillean’s army.
“There is food on the table.”He nodded to the coffer.“The maid shall be along with some clothes shortly.I suggest ye eat.Ye are frail.”Swivelling on one heel, he ignored the way the vision of her tucked into the blankets, her bare shoulders pale and delicate against the red, lingered in his mind, and he strode out of the room.
His name echoed in his ears and he paused outside the room.Shaking his head to himself, he slammed the door and motioned to the two guards.“Dinnae let her out, dinnae succumb to any of her tricks.”
With that, he strode off, endeavouring to put the lass out of his mind.Like the memories of his past, he hoped she too would vanish along with the churning sensation in his gut that now plagued him.
Chapter Four
At some point during the night, Lorna drifted to sleep.Exhaustion claimed her.She had not touched her food—her appetite had gone—nor did she attempt to drink and move except to use the chamber pot.For that, she relied on Anne to help her.It seemed her body had become weaker since Logan’s visit.Illness made her body shake and her skin went from fiery hot to freezing.
But as the blissful haze of sleep stole the aches from her muscles, her dreams haunted her.Logan and his whispered words of longing played through her mind.He had loved her with such devotion; yet she had always rejected him.She might act bold, but she had been terrified of being with a man again.It did not matter that she knew he would never hurt her as Walter had.Being that vulnerable again, loving someone, was too much for her to bear.
Mayhap this was her punishment for denying him.They had made love once—a frantic moment of weakness and desperation.They had not even undressed so he could not see her scars, but in her dreams, he touched her and her skin was perfect.But just as she had over a year ago, she sent him away, denied him.
And now she would never get him back.The sweet haze of lovemaking vanished and gave way to grief—a grief so painful it turned her thoughts black.She left him in the midst of battle and he had been killed, leaving her to bear their son alone.Forevermore, she would regret leaving him, though she could not regret their child—a dark-haired boy who never failed to remind her of his father.
“Ewan.”Her body jerked and she came awake.Waking to the unfamiliar sight of red drapes and a low burning fire peeking through the gap in the curtains surrounding the bed, it took her several moments to realise she was not on the cold floor of the donjon, nor in her cousin’s keep at Glencolum which had been her home since the battle.
The stinging pain of grief lingered in her chest and she rubbed it.Body stiff and painful, she muffled a cry as she shifted onto her back and stared up at the canopy.She pressed a hand to her breast as if it would ease the agony.
“He’s not dead,” she reminded herself.Shock still burned through her body.Over a year of mourning him and Logan wasn’t dead.
But he might as well be.
