Page 29 of Highland Steel

Newell frowned and hung his head.

“Now, that’s no’ true,” said Logan. “I canna think of anything more important. Newell, I’d be happy to teach ye.”

“Really?” Newell asked excitedly. “Can you teach me that trick how to flip an opponent’s sword in the air the way you did when you sparred with my sister?”

Logan chuckled. “Now, now, one thing at a time, lad. After all, wielding a sword takes a little more practice than skippin’ stones.” He looked back over his shoulder and winked as Rhoswen.

Once again, her stomach flipped, and her thoughts of Logan made her feel so naughty. Because there were a few other things she’d like for him to teach her and none of them had anything to do with swords or stones.

Chapter 11

Logan escorted Rhoswen to the campfire where the clan often held their council meetings. Blaine was already there as well as Logan’s father, Aidan. Storm, Wren, Ethan, Caleb and Hawke were there waiting as well. What he didn’t expect was to see the king’s chronicler, Brigham and his daughter, Bridget, joining this meeting. They’d been sent to the MacKeefe Clan to record the heroic deeds of the clan members, writing them into a book that the king commissioned. It started out with adding Logan’s father and all of the fathers of his friends. Recently, Hawke and Ethan were added to the book of chronicles as well. Logan wished his name would be mentioned but, so far, it hadn’t.

“They’re still here?” he grumbled to Caleb, as he took a seat next to him on a log. Rhoswen was on his other side.

“I ken,” mumbled Caleb, smiling at Bridget. “Nice, isna it?”

“That’s no’ what I meant.” Logan felt that the pair was only a distraction. He didn’t like them there, and they’d been visiting with the MacKeefes for months now. He never felt at ease around them, since there was no telling what they’d write in their book or tell the Scottish king. Logan only hoped that if he ever was mentioned, it would be on a good note and not bad.

“Who are they?” whispered Rhoswen.

“They’re the king’s chronicler and his daughter,” Logan relayed the information.

“Why are they here?” she asked.

“They’re recordin’ happenin’s in that book of theirs and then they’re goin’ to present it to the king.”

“Oh, so a chronicle of events,” she said with a nod.

“Somethin’ like that,” he scoffed, thinking it was naught but a bunch of bragging rights and he didn’t give much mind to it.

Jack ran up and lay on the ground at Logan’s feet. “Where have ye been, Jack?” he mumbled, having not seen his wolf all morning. Oftentimes, the wolf would go out hunting and not return all day. But Logan had to keep a closer eye on his pet. Sometimes the wolf disobeyed him and hunted down one of the sheep if it was really hungry. The last time he did that, it didn’t go over well with the rest of the clan. One sheep eaten by a wolf meant one less sheep to feed the flock – the MacKeefe Clan, that is.

“I call this meetin’ to order,” said Storm, sitting on a log and looking straight at her. “We’re here to find out the reason why Lady Rhoswen and her siblin’s have dealin’s with our enemies, the Drummonds.”

“Oh, please just call me Rhoswen,” Rhoswen spoke up. “And I’m sorry, I had no idea the Drummonds were your enemies.”

“Why are ye even on this side of the border?” asked Aidan.

“Da, I already told ye,” said Logan.

“It’s for the records,” Aidan explained, nodding at the chronicler. Bridget handed her father the book and also a quill and a bottle of ink.

“They’re goin’ to put this in the chronicles?” asked Logan in disgust. He didn’t want Rhoswen’s horrible incident scrawled across the pages of the book for the king and the whole of Scotland to see.

“I have nothing to hide,” Rhoswen spoke up. “I’d be happy to tell everyone my story.”

Logan glanced over to her, shaking his head slightly. She reached out and patted him gently on the hand before she started.

“My father and siblings and I came to Scotland to collect my late sister’s young son, Lockie,” Rhoswen told the others, talking and making eye contact with all of them. Logan was impressed with how she handled a crowd.

“Where is yer nephew?” asked Storm.

“My sister was Ranulph Drummond’s wife – married to him for alliance purposes about a year ago.”

“The Drummonds made an alliance? With the English?” Aidan called out. “That’s naught but a bunch of –”

“Da, please,” said Logan. “Let her speak.”