When her hand was free, she tried to strike him.
Without another word, he bent forward and curled his arm around her legs, then hefted her over his shoulder with a bounce that knocked the breath out of her.
“What are ye doing?” she cried out as he carried her home. “Put me down!”
“I told ye if ye struck me again, I will no’ let it go.”
“What are ye going to do?”
He was not sure yet, so he didn’t answer her.
She kicked her legs and pounded his back with her fists, but he carried her thusly to his front door. He entered and carried her to her room, dumped her on the bed and then left, locking her inside.
He left the house to go hunting for their next meal—that he would prepare. He heard her pounding on the door as he left the house, so he returned and called through her locked door that he was going hunting. He would return. She should stop all the pounding.
“What if ye dinna come back?” she called out, fear staining her voice. “What if ye are killed by a wild boar or mauled by a bear?”
“There are no boars in the Highlands. I will return,” he’d promised and left the house again.
Why had he not taken her to the nearest village? Then he could be rid of her once and for all. It was not too late. Mayhap after supper tonight…
Ye were told ye would never use that arm again. But ye will use it, and ye will show them all that ye can do whatever ye set yer mind to.
Something that had grown cold within him began to thaw. He pretended to not let it affect him, but as he entered the forest,he realized he was clutching his bow and arrow instead of his pistol. And he was clutching them with his left hand.
It made him smile, despite his best efforts to quit thinking of Miss Woodburn. She was helping him. He wouldn’t leave her, and he wouldn’t bring her anywhere else. He would strengthen his arm first and then go fight for King James and protect him from William of Orange.
The king needed him and finally…finally he might be able to fight. He raised his left arm in joyful victory then nocked his arrow and hid behind a rock to catch his supper.
Almost instantly, his arm grew tired, until holding the bow felt exhausting. He could not give up though. He didn’t have his pistol. He could go home and get it, but he would have to let Miss Woodburn out of her room or at least speak to her through her door again.
He was thinking of her and what he should do when a roe deer strolled through the trees and into Logan’s line of vision. It stopped to graze.
Did he have the strength to pull back on his bow? He had to. The deer meant no hunting for at least another sennight.
Keeping his eyes on the beast, he nocked his arrow and pulled back. He had to stop and try again. In that time, the deer heard him. It stopped eating and looked up, sniffing the air.
Logan didn’t breathe. He knew how to do this. He used to be an excellent archer, trained by Jamie’s father, Lochaber’s most skilled archer, Lachlan Cameron.
Slowly, he raised his arm again and nocked his arrow to the string, then held it up parallel to his shoulder. Using all his strength and force of will, he drew the string back to the curve of his jawline. With breath still held, he aimed, aligning the arrow with the target. When he had it perfectly aligned, the deer looked straight at him.
Logan released the arrow. It sailed into the deer as the beast fell to the earth.
Exhausted, Logan sat back against the rock and took a moment to go collect his kill.
He did it. He closed his eyes and smiled, finally letting himself take a cleansing breath. He looked down at his left arm, his fingers loose on the bow.
She helped him do in one day what he could not do in six years, just by reminding him to use his arm, not just in trying to use it for fighting, but for everyday, non-vital things. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it. All his practice wasn’t for nothing; it had made his arm strong enough to begin doing what his head told it to do. Now, it was just a matter of time before he could rejoin the king’s army.
He had Miss Woodburn to thank. He forgave her for slapping him and would prepare a lavish supper for her. He hoped, on his way home, pulling the deer by a rope behind him, he hoped that mayhap, he could heal her heart the way she healed his thoughts and his arm. At least then, he could eat what she prepared and not worry about her poisoning his food.
When he reached the house, he saw his cousin’s three horses grazing with his in the wooden gated-off section in the glen. He dragged the deer to the back of the house, to the butchering station he’d built a few years back, along with a meat drying shop against the kitchen wall. It was a perfect place to store the meat. It locked and only he had the key.
Locking up the deer until he could butcher it, he entered the house through the Main Hall back door.
He found Jamie rummaging through a bag of apples. When he heard his cousin, he looked up and grinned. “Logan! ’Tis good to see ye alive. We worried about ye and asked the lass where ye were. She told us…Logan?”
Logan hurried to the door to her room. It was open. He went to the sitting room and found her sitting. She appeared afraid when she saw him.
