Page 70 of Highland Steel

“Well, nay. He was already gone when I got there,” the guard answered nervously.

“What did ye say?” Drummond walked closer, holding the Sword of Triumph in his grip. “I ken ye let him escape, so just admit it.”

The guard looked from one man to the other, not sure what to do. Finally, he must have decided not to anger his laird further. “Aye, Chieftain. I let him escape,” said the man, only telling Drummond what he wanted to hear.

“Then ye’ll die for it,” said Drummond, stabbing the man through the chest. “And the same thing will happen to anyone who helps MacKeefe or my bride.”

Rhoswen gasped, not expecting this at all. The guard’s fingers loosened and his hand slipped off her arm as he fell dead at her feet. Looking down at her wedding gown, she saw it splattered with the man’s blood.

Bile rose in Rhoswen’s throat and she wanted to scream. She quickly looked away rather than gaze at his dead body. She had to stay strong. And she had to come up with a plan quickly on how to get out of here. Now that Logan was safely outside the castle walls, he couldn’t help her and she was on her own.

“Enough of this nonsense. Bring me the priest so we can marry.”

“The priest is waitin’ by the gallows,” said Tamhas.

“Bring her over there,” Drummond instructed his men as the crowd moved toward the platform that was constructed for Logan’s demise.

“Are we ready, my laird?” asked the priest, looking almost as nervous as the guards.

“Come here, Rhoswen,” said Drummond, yanking her toward him. She barreled into him and quickly stepped away. She didn’t want to be with him, she wanted to be with Logan. “Say the words quickly, Priest, or I’ll kill ye as well.”

“Nay, please,” said the man. “I’ll make it fast. Do ye, Ranulph Drummond take Rhoswen Asquith as yer wife?”

“Aye,” Drummond answered rolling his eyes.

“And do ye, Rhoswen Asquith take –”

“Nay,” Rhoswen answered before the priest had the chance to answer.

“What?” The priest looked up from his book in surprise. “Ye’re supposed to say aye.”

Little Lockie continued crying and Rona walked over by the wagon, seeing if Bug could help her calm the child.

“I canna marry him because he is still married. To my sister,” Rhoswen told him.

“Is this true?” the priest asked Drummond. “Because I canna marry ye if ye already have a wife.”

“My wife died,” he told the priest. “I assure ye, I am free to marry again.”

“I’m not dead yet, Husband, but not because of your lack of trying.”

Rhoswen spun around to see her sister, Ailsa, standing in bare feet and just a torn shift at the back of the wagon. Her body was thin and her eye swollen. She had cuts and bruises all over her. It terrified and saddened Rhoswen to see her sister looking this way. Yet, she was elated to see her still alive.

“Ailsa!” cried Rhoswen, turning and running for her sister. She managed to dodge several guards, and pulled her sister into a hug, crying. “Oh, Sister, what did they do to you?”

“Give me my baby,” said Ailsa, looking over at Rona who was jostling the crying baby in her arms.

“Gladly,” said Rona, about to hand it over until Drummond stopped her.

“Nay, bring it to me,” he said.

“My laird?” asked Rona, her eyes darting to Drummond and back to Rhoswen.

“Let my first wife bring it here.”

“Why?” asked Rhoswen, figuring something horrible was about to happen.

“Do it!” yelled Drummond.