Page 6 of A Highlander for the English Widow

Amanda pursed her lips. “Perhaps you and your father would like to come to the estate and talk about how we might work together, in case the village is gripped in such a crisis again. I would not like to see a repeat of history. The thought of all this suffering… It is too much to bear.”

Amanda looked up and noticed Logan gazing at her with a strange look upon his face. It almost made her wonder if she had some blemish upon her cheek.

“Is something the matter?” she asked.

He shook his head as though dispelling a thought. “Nae at all. I was just surprised that an English lass would care sae much about us. In my experience, people from yer land dinnae hae much patience for us,” he said.

“I don’t think of England as my home. I haven’t thought of it as my home for a long time. This is where I rest my head at night and it’s where I see the dawn sun rise. It’s where my friends are, where the people I care about are… This is my home,” she said, almost for her own benefit as much as his.

“I am sorry if I caused offense,” he said.

Amanda waved away his concern.

“If I got offended at every little thing, I would never have made a life for myself up here, nor would I have survived my marriage.” She spoke without thinking and suddenly realized that what she said had been improper. Her cheeks flushed red as she stammered out an apology. “I am s-sorry. I misspoke,” she said.

Logan looked amused, although, for the sake of her modesty, he did not tease her about what she said.

“It must be difficult for ye now tae think of a future that ye haed nae planned,” he said instead.

It struck her as an insightful comment and one that perfectly captured her own thoughts. It was as though he had a window into her mind. She had never had anyone speak to her so plainly before.

“That’s exactly right,” she said.

“It’s always the same with death. There seems tae be something in the air at the moment. My da is very ill.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. There has been something going around the village. I hope he recovers soon. From what I remember of him, he is a vigorous man and will surely have the strength to fight off whatever ails him.”

Logan nodded, although he did not seem convinced.

“I hope ye are right, but I fear that his time grows near, as it does for every man. Ye start tae think about what is tae come and what is tae be, and it never feels quite right.”

“I suppose that would make you the laird,” she said, hoping to shake him from this melancholic stupor that seemed to have settled over him.

He nodded, but there was no glee in his eyes. She supposed it must have been difficult for him to only be able to gain such a great honor by losing his father. Amanda searched her memory but could not remember if Logan was married or not. He was not a young man—perhaps a couple of years older than her, at least—and from what she could conjure in her mind, she did not remember ever hearing mention of a wife. It was strange to her that he should reach such an age without being married when these Highland clans required consistency, but perhaps they did things differently than in England. She wasn’t going to mention it anyway, for fear of being rude.

“Aye, it will. Da haes tried tae prepare me for it my entire life, but now that the time is near, it feels different.”

“I felt the same way when my marriage was announced. I knew that it was going to happen, and I had spent all my youth thinking about the type of man I was going to marry. I attended all the balls and met so many very nice men. There was a point where it all seemed like a dream that was never going to end, and then my father came to sit me down and told me that he had found a husband for me. I was eager to meet him, and then…well, if I may confide in you, the duke was not someone who stirred my heart. I always expected myself to be thrilled when the wedding day arrived, but it was so regimented and nobody actually seemed to be happy for me. It was almost as though it was a chore that needed to be endured, and it somewhat soured the occasion. I hope that your reign as laird will not be the same, whenever it begins.”

“Thank ye, and I’m sorry that ye didnae hae the best experience with being married. I dinnae wish tae speak ill of the dead, but I think the duke may hae made a mistake in sending ye up here.”

Amanda’s heart lightened at the compliment and her eyes swam with intrigue. A smile widened upon her face; she was quite certain she had not met anyone like him before. He was plainspoken, and there was no agenda with him at all. And best of all was that he did not have that sneering, haughty tone that Hamilton had. Amanda felt a warm feeling flow within her. She knew she wanted to spend more time with this man. It was time for her to build new connections in life, and what better than with the man who was going to be the laird of this village? If she wanted to share her estate and care for the people in the village, then there was no better man to befriend.

As they walked through the village, they left the market stalls behind. They were not walking anywhere in particular, but Amanda did not want their stroll to stop. They spoke about idle things; Logan asked her about what England was like, and she spoke about a few things she hadn’t thought about in years. Her earlier reticence disappeared, though, as she found herself becoming more and more curious about this man. She was trying to think of a way to elegantly introduce the question of whether he was married or not (she knew it was not always the custom of Highland men to wear wedding bands), but just when she was about to utter those words, their attention was captured by a cry that came from a nearby alley. It was a plaintive, weak cry that struck her very heart, and by the way Logan moved, it seemed to capture his attention as well.

4

Logan had been enjoying the company of Amanda, so much so that he hadn’t been sure when their journey was going to end. He wondered if he would end up walking her straight to her door, although he tried not to think of what might happen beyond that boundary. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed the company of a woman to such a degree. She was witty and spirited, and it was clear that her emotions were never far from her lips, such as when she let her true feelings slip about her husband. He must have been a scoundrel to turn his back on her, Logan thought, although he thought it improper to say so allowed so soon after his death. Some men just never knew when fortune had favored them.

While their conversation flowed easily, Logan was filled with the sense that she wanted to ask him something, but before she could, there was a cry from a nearby alley. There was something vulnerable about it, and Logan knew almost immediately that someone was in trouble. He had been taught from a young age that it was his duty to help the people of the village, that as laird he was their protector and had to be the first line of defense. It was a duty that he took seriously—perhaps too seriously, some might have said, as he was all too willing to put his life on the line to protect those who could not defend themselves.

Logan surged toward the narrow alley, which was located between two tall houses, both of which were deserted at this time of day. Presumably, the occupants were at the market, the noise of which had faded into the distance. He hadn’t realized how far they had gotten from the market until this moment. His hand fell to his waist, and he unsheathed a dagger. He almost wished that he had bought that sword from Iain. Dull and rusted as it was, it would have served him better than a knife if someone was armed. His other weapons were back in the keep, for he had not thought he would need them during a walk through the village. It was clear that one could never be assured of safety.

The dagger gleamed as it caught the sun, and he motioned for Amanda to keep her distance. She peered toward the alley, just as Logan was doing, but she had nothing with which she could defend herself. There could have been anyone in the alley: a nefarious man, an armed bandit looking to take advantage of the market, or even a beast that was hungry and looking to prey on fresh blood.

Logan’s movements were slow and quiet as he crept forward. His footsteps were light and made no sound as the darkness of the alley beckoned. All his senses were alive, for an attack might come from anywhere. His gaze darted up at the roof, but he could see nobody perched, waiting to make an attack.

As he neared the alley, he could see a few crates stacked up by the side and an empty cart that cast a long shadow. He heard the cry again.