“Ealar also thinks his brother’s heart is lost to ye,” Jamie pointed out.
“Miss Woodburn,” Ealar said, coming closer. “I will be sure to tell my mother how ye have been helpin’ Logan use his arm again, and how ye saved his life.”
“Twice,” Jamie added and patted her on the back.
Ealar gave him a look that suggested Jamie was the most uncouth heathen in Scotland, and then bowed low before her, showing Jamie how it was done.
“’Tis true then,” Logan’s mother appeared, coming toward them after leaving his room. “Ye saved my son…” she looked at Jamie. “Twice.”
“He has been kind to me, my lady,” Elspeth answered quietly.
“Aye, he is kind to many,” his mother said almost absently. “But he has never been seen kissing any of them.”
“Kissing?” Ealar repeated wide-eyed.
“Come walk with me, Miss Woodburn,” his mother said and turned away.
“Aye, my lady,” Elspeth said, following her and casting a worried glance over her shoulder to Ealar and Jamie.
They left the house together and walked to the larger house. Elspeth followed her inside and her eyes opened wide when she saw the interior. The Main Hall and sitting rooms were twice the size of their son’s, and the house had been erected with two landings. Elspeth briefly walked through corridors covered in paintings to get to a smaller, private sitting room.
Once inside, Elspeth was offered a seat in a cushioned chair, upholstered in burgundy fabric, while Ismay Cameron checked a nearby jug, and shook her head. Elspeth was sure she heard Ealar’s name muttered as his mother poured them water.
“My son told me ye have had a difficult time since losing yer family,” she mentioned, handing Elspeth her drink.
“I made it through,” Elspeth told her. She didn’t want this woman’s pity. Could she truly make friends with more Camerons? Did she want to?
Ismay Cameron gave her a hard, knowing look. “Did ye make it through to exact revenge?”
“Aye,” Elspeth answered honestly. “But…”
“But?” the Lochiel’s wife pressed, almost demanding, but her gray eyes went a bit warmer on Elspeth.
Elspeth didn’t know why she lowered her gaze, breaking their eye contact. Mayhap it was because she was supposed to hate this mother of Camerons. But despite her being a Cameron, she was, first, Logan’s mother, and that mattered to Elspeth, so she lifted her gaze and answered.
“He isna what or whom I imagined.”
His mother smiled and ’twas like the sun bursting through the storm-filled clouds. Ismay Cameron was a truly breathtaking woman, with smooth, pale skin, and eyes with the gleam of lightning. If only for his raven hair, Ealar shared her ethereal beauty. Logan was far more masculine in appearance; broader, with a chiseled jaw, and more purpose and determination in his dark gaze.
The Lochiel of Lochaber must be a handsome man indeed if Logan resembled him.
“Aye,” his mother agreed, sitting back and eyeing Elspeth over the rim of her cup. “Logan isna like other men. Like his father, he is a warrior with honor. He dedicated his life to protecting his king. But he was captured and beaten and stabbed by yer father and his men. I truly am sorry yer family perished, Miss Woodburn. The Lochiel and I think ’tis disgraceful all the Covenanters that have been massacred. Logan also didna want to fight that war, but he was bound to the king. I dinna know the details, but I know my son and I know he was too weak to burn doun yer home or kill yer kin. He would also, under nae circumstance, ever hurt a woman—that being yer mother.
“Logan isna the man ye expected because he isna that man.”
Elspeth didna know Logan as well as she liked to believe, but she was also sure he wouldna hurt a woman.
“I know ye speak true, my lady. He has shown me nothing but kindness.”
His mother nodded. “He is kind to many. We often say he is too kind fer this world.”
Elspeth’s heart thrashed as if to escape its prison and fly free into Logan Cameron’s arms. She had found him. She had found the man with a good heart. A savage with the heart of compassion.
Och! Why him? Why? Instantly, tears formed and fell down her face.
“What is it, child?” his mother asked.
Aye, she washismother, but no one had called her child in what felt like a lifetime. She let out a little, mortifying sob and looked away. “Fergive me.”
