“The news we heard about my sire was wrong. There was no information to be found about him anywhere near Ayr. The lad who gave us that information must have been daft. I was about to return to the Highlands when the reivers set upon me. I’m practicing everything you’ve taught me, Uncle.”
“Apparently not. I’ve taught you that the most valuable weapon you have is your head, yet you keep getting it beaten. You’ll have no brains left if you keep going on in this manner.”
When a rustling from the forest reached his ears, he jumped up and grabbed for his dagger, though he came up with naught. Logan’s wife, Gwyneth, emerged from the trees a moment later, her boots crunching on the thin layer of snow on the ground. “Leave off, Logan. He’ll have enough pain without you making it worse. Loki, where are you hurt besides your head?”
Loki paced in a circle, moving about awkwardly at first, but then settling into a limp.
“How old are you, lad?” Logan asked, his green eyes narrowing.
“How in hell would I know the answer to that?”
“Dinna rail at me. How old did your mother and father decide you were when they found you and took you in?”
“Seven or eight summers. Would make me twenty and four or five.”
“Well, you look and act like you’re an auld man. You better start using that quick mind of yours or you’ll soon be in trouble. There is no call to lose your head because you could not find your sire. You knew ‘twould not be easy.”
“Enough, Logan. Let him get his bearings before you chew his arse out.” Gwynie made her way over to Loki, carrying a wet linen she’d presumably brought from the creek.
“I do not need it. My thanks.” Loki Grant had two goals in life—to find his true parents and to marry Arabella Lewis. At this point, he faced failure on both fronts. Despite his best efforts, he could not find his sire. Thus he could not prove his worth to Bella’s father, who would not allow his daughter to marry a man of uncertain blood. This trip had been intended for a dual purpose—to begin training to work for the Scottish crown and to search for his sire. This most recent experience had forced him to concede to the impossible. Since he could not measure up to Bella’s father’s standards, he might as well leave the clan and work for the Scottish crown as his aunt and uncle had done for years. But he knew Bella, the love of his life, would not be happy about his decision even though he’d attempted to get her ready for the possibility by telling her this trip was to train for work with the crown.
The truth was he didn’t wish to tell her he’d failed again on obtaining the information necessary to make their marriage possible.
Gwyneth held out the cloth and charged toward him. “I’m cleaning it, whether or not you wish it. You’re not thinking clearly yet. Now hold still.” Gwyneth set to work on him, not speaking during her ministrations. His aunt had the magic intuition of knowing when to speak and when to keep quiet. Her dark leggings and forest green tunic, her favorite colors, almost made her melt into their surroundings. Still as thin as a young lass, she was agile and tough. Whereas most lasses he knew were proficient at needlework, his aunt was a renowned archer and hunter.
Loki did as he was told. He loved his aunt and uncle as much as he loved the rest of his adopted family. His real mother or father had left his life, for whatever reason, too early for him to recollect either one of them. Brodie Grant, his adopted sire, had found him living in a crate behind a tavern, and the two had worked together to save Brodie’s new wife, Celestina. Afterwards, the young couple had brought him back to the Highlands and accepted him as their son. Loki adored them both for all they had done for him, and someday, he hoped to be able to tell them how much, especially his mama, but not yet. He didn’t know why, but whenever he tried to express his love and gratitude, it was as if he turned mute.
But while his adopted family never made him feel less than accepted, other members of the clan liked to remind him that he was not truly of Grant blood. Now it was his job to prove himself to everyone, but he was still making a fool of himself. When Gwyneth finished cleaning the dried blood off his face and placed some salve on him, she said, “You know, you do not have to do this. You’d be happier if you stayed at the Grant castle in the Highlands. ‘Tis where you belong. We all know it but you.”
Loki nodded his thanks for her ministrations, then stalked off into the woods to relieve himself. Once finished, he found a nearby creek and knelt down to throw some ice cold water onhis face, pausing to wash his hands and neck as well. He had few memories of the battle, only that five men on horseback had stolen all his weapons and his horse and knocked him out.
He’d failed again. Mayhap his aunt was right, and it was finally time to head back home to the Highlands—only to leave forever. He returned to the clearing and shrugged his shoulders at Logan. “My decision is made. I’ll return to inform my parents that I’ll be working for the crown from here on out. Then I’ll meet you wherever you would like to complete my training. I’ll not go searching for my sire again.”
“Loki,” Gwyneth said, “I think you’re making the right choice about your sire. You have two adoptive parents who love you. Give up on your true parents. You may never know, and there’s no point in allowing it to ruin your life. But are you sure you do not wish to reconsider and marry Bella?”
“I cannot, Gwyneth. Her father will not allow it. So I’d rather leave and work for the crown than see her marry another. Will you train me?” He glanced from Gwyneth to Logan, feeling the defeat weigh down his entire body. All his sword work, all the careful training and eating he’d done to increase his size and his muscles, suddenly taunted him. As a young lad, all he’d desired had been to train as a Grant warrior, to live in the Highlands and fight like the renowned Alexander Grant, his uncle, and now that he was close to accomplishing that goal, it had lost all its power over him. Perhaps he should have done something entirely different with his time.
Logan nodded his head. “Aye, we’ll train you. Gwynie can ride with me. We’ll go with you to your keep.”
“Mayhap we can stop at Drummond or Cameron land and get a horse. That way you can have a shorter journey home.”
“Nay,” Logan snorted. “We’ll travel with you all the way home. Your father would have my arse if I let you ride alone, looking like a lad with no brain to use his brawn. Then, whenyou’re ready, we’ll leave together. You’ll just have to stop at Clan Ramsay for a bit afterwards.”
Rather than argue, Loki climbed onto one of the horses and flicked the reins.
Logan helped Gwynie mount and climbed up behind her, wrapping his plaid around the both of them. Silently, Loki cursed himself for having made them come out in such cold weather. It was not quite winter yet, so they could still navigate, but it would not be the best of treks through the Highlands at this time of year. He’d try to talk them out of following him the entire way later. He didn’t have the energy right now.
“Did you find out anything at all about your true sire?” Gwyneth asked.
“Nay.” Loki frowned. “I really do not care any longer. I’ve ended my search.”
“Whenever you change your mind,” Gwyneth said, giving him a knowing look, “we’ll be glad to help again.”
“My thanks,” Loki muttered. It was hopeless. He’d never find out who he truly was and why he’d been living in a crate at seven summers in the royal burgh of Ayr.
His interest in his past had finally been beaten out of him.
Chapter Two
