“Where is yer brother?”
Logan was hoping to avoid this, but he couldn’t. “He is with Ewen, Steafan, and Jamie.”
“Doin’ what?” his father asked.
“They went after Roderick Woodburn. Miss Woodburn’s brother.”
“Why did they go after him?”
“He kidnapped her,” Logan told him candidly. He hoped the conversation was over. He knew it wasn’t.
“Why would a brother kidnap his sister?” his father asked. “If he didna want her with a Cameron, mayhap he simply took her, she bein’ his sister and ye bein’ his enemy. Why do ye call it kidnappin’?”
Logan looked at Elspeth. Should he explain to his father? When she nodded, as if sensing what he wanted to ask her, he looked away and let out a breath he’d been holding.
“Father, let us go to the sittin’ room.”
“I dinna feel like sittin’, Son. What is goin’ on, and why did ye get Ealar involved in it?”
“Ealar got himself involved—and earned my respect fer it.”
His father might have wanted to say something, but he remained quiet.
So, Logan continued. “Roderick Woodburn confessed to his sister that he was the one who killed his kin.”
Near him, Logan’s mother gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “His parents?”
“And our younger brother,” Elspeth said, unleashing a fresh storehouse of tears.
Logan took her hand. Both of his parents took note.
“Miss Woodburn,” his mother hurried around him to reach Elspeth. “What a terrible shock fer ye. Come, let me make ye some delicious heather ale.” She put her arm around Elspeth’s shoulders and led her away.
Logan watched them go. His mother would be kind to her.
“Son,” his father’s voice pulled his thoughts from Elspeth, “did Woodburn say why he did it? It takes a poisoned soul to kill one’s kin.”
“I didna ask Elspeth if he told her why. I dinna know how or why he came back fer her. How did he know where to find her?”
“He obviously doesna care fer family, so why spare her?”
Logan looked at his father. Aye, he’d wondered the same thing.
“If the lads dinna catch him—” Logan began.
“I will go lend my aid,” his father said, already turning to leave the hall.
“Father, nae. Ye stay, I’ll go.”
His father narrowed his eyes on him. “Do ye think I’m too old and feeble to handle a young fool like Woodburn?”
“Nae,” Logan chuckled. Never that. His father could still beat him in practice. “I dinna want ye havin’ to go oot when ye just arrived. Besides, a storm is brewin’.”
“Logan.” His father lifted his palm, signaling for silence. “I will send Ealar back to let ye know Woodburn is on his way to Tor prison.”
Without another word, the Lochiel of Lochaber disappeared into the sitting room, kissed his wife farewell, then left the house.
“If it were anyone else, I would feel sorry fer Roderick,” Elspeth said softly. “Having the Lochiel after ye is a frightening thing indeed. But my brother deserves whatever punishment he gets.”
