many fisherman’s sons in the clan, related to, but not in the direct line of succession of the MacDugall of that name. Logen leaned against the wall and thought wistfully about his years fostered at MacKyrie, and the months he’d spent with them after bringing the sad news about their losses at Flodden. He’d thought he could recover there, perhaps make a home, but despite the number of lasses who had been made husbandless by the battle, in truth no one had tempted him to stay. Eventually he realized, if he hoped to wash the blood of Flodden from his soul, he must return to the sea.
If he’d known what he would face here, he might have chosen to stay and help Ellie rebuild her clan. But nay, he belonged here.
After he returned and the story of his survival got out, the clan hailed him as a hero. When someone put his name forward to replace the latest in a line of ill-fated lairds who hadn’t survived the clan’s in-fighting, he’d laughed it off and gone fishing, never expecting to be selected. But the vote had been taken, and now that he led by the will of the clan, he would do the best job he could.
As a near-outsider, he should find dealing with the factions easier, since he could not be accused of being partial to any of them. But he also lacked the friendships and loyal followers that developed over years spent hunting and fishing, or fighting Campbells and other western clans together. Without those, it was nearly impossible to gain insider knowledge of the conspirators’ plans or of their goals beyond gaining control. And when gaining control of the clan meant eliminating him, that knowledge became crucial to his survival.
He’d been sloppy the day the fishing boats came in. Too comfortable in familiar surroundings, doing familiar work, he hadn’t believed he was in any danger. Aye, he did believe the dunking was an attempt on his life, or at least a warning. There could be no question that he’d been warned. So he must find the malcontents and deal with them, or he’d be forced to die trying.
He could step aside, but the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. He wasn’t a quitter. And with Coira’s arrival and her gift, his odds for surviving improved tremendously. Her ability frightened her, but if she could learn enough control to protect herself, she could be very useful.
He’d come too far, lived through too much, to allow anyone inside his guard. Yet, she had slipped through his defenses like no one else ever had—or could. Her determination to make a better life for herself appealed to him. She meant to win friends and allies among the very people initially suspicious of her. Her willingness to help him, even though she suffered for it, proved to him that no matter what had happened to her in the past, she had a caring heart. He even let himself believe she cared for him, not just for the laird she sought to protect.
And like him, she was newly returned after years away and beholden to no one inside the clan. If they were smart, and careful, all would be well.
If only he could believe that.
Chapter 5
Coira paced within her small chamber. Her thoughts kept running in circles replaying the comments she’d overheard while in the garden—the women’s decidedly unfriendly emotions and then Logen’s disappointment in her. Why had the Lathan Healer done this to her? Could it be undone? Or was she condemned to know, intimately, every feeling of every person near her for the rest of her life?
This had been her clan, long ago, before she’d changed, before so many had been killed at Flodden, the clan itself had changed. She had expected to be unwelcome here, but with the old laird and most of his men gone—dead—things could be different.
If Logen succeeded, this could become her home again. She had promised to help him, days ago. Today, for her own protection, she had all but refused to do what she’d promised.
What other choice did she have, but to help him? Where else could she go? Not
If he’d known what he would face here, he might have chosen to stay and help Ellie rebuild her clan. But nay, he belonged here.
After he returned and the story of his survival got out, the clan hailed him as a hero. When someone put his name forward to replace the latest in a line of ill-fated lairds who hadn’t survived the clan’s in-fighting, he’d laughed it off and gone fishing, never expecting to be selected. But the vote had been taken, and now that he led by the will of the clan, he would do the best job he could.
As a near-outsider, he should find dealing with the factions easier, since he could not be accused of being partial to any of them. But he also lacked the friendships and loyal followers that developed over years spent hunting and fishing, or fighting Campbells and other western clans together. Without those, it was nearly impossible to gain insider knowledge of the conspirators’ plans or of their goals beyond gaining control. And when gaining control of the clan meant eliminating him, that knowledge became crucial to his survival.
He’d been sloppy the day the fishing boats came in. Too comfortable in familiar surroundings, doing familiar work, he hadn’t believed he was in any danger. Aye, he did believe the dunking was an attempt on his life, or at least a warning. There could be no question that he’d been warned. So he must find the malcontents and deal with them, or he’d be forced to die trying.
He could step aside, but the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. He wasn’t a quitter. And with Coira’s arrival and her gift, his odds for surviving improved tremendously. Her ability frightened her, but if she could learn enough control to protect herself, she could be very useful.
He’d come too far, lived through too much, to allow anyone inside his guard. Yet, she had slipped through his defenses like no one else ever had—or could. Her determination to make a better life for herself appealed to him. She meant to win friends and allies among the very people initially suspicious of her. Her willingness to help him, even though she suffered for it, proved to him that no matter what had happened to her in the past, she had a caring heart. He even let himself believe she cared for him, not just for the laird she sought to protect.
And like him, she was newly returned after years away and beholden to no one inside the clan. If they were smart, and careful, all would be well.
If only he could believe that.
Chapter 5
Coira paced within her small chamber. Her thoughts kept running in circles replaying the comments she’d overheard while in the garden—the women’s decidedly unfriendly emotions and then Logen’s disappointment in her. Why had the Lathan Healer done this to her? Could it be undone? Or was she condemned to know, intimately, every feeling of every person near her for the rest of her life?
This had been her clan, long ago, before she’d changed, before so many had been killed at Flodden, the clan itself had changed. She had expected to be unwelcome here, but with the old laird and most of his men gone—dead—things could be different.
If Logen succeeded, this could become her home again. She had promised to help him, days ago. Today, for her own protection, she had all but refused to do what she’d promised.
What other choice did she have, but to help him? Where else could she go? Not
Similar Books
