He couldn’t stop the grin from covering his face. How he loved to see the talents and characteristics of generations carriedforward. That’s why the Scots were the strongest in the land. They believed in the power of their lasses, not just their lads.
“What?” Her brow furrowed, and he knew exactly why. She couldn’t understand how he could smile about such a tragic event. What she didn’t know was how many times their two clans had worked together to fight various evil minds. They’d take care of the bastards again, of this he had no doubt.
He wouldn’t tell the lass that his skills as a spy for the Scottish Crown told him she had exactly the right talents necessary to find the bairns.
“I notice you said you were going to save the bairns, not that youhopeto do it. That speaks to me of your grandfather Alex, probably my closest friend over the years. When he made his mind up to do something, naught would get in his way. You remind me of him with your dark hair.”
“Da said I’m more like Grandmama.”
“There’s no doubt that you’re special like Maddie. You are a chosen one of the fae, just as my sister Avelina is. Don’t think that because you don’t use a bow or a dagger that you aren’t strong. Some of the strongest women I know never learned how to use a weapon.”
This comment made her sit up. As a wise old man, it was his job to build this lass’s inner strength. “Who?” she asked quietly.
“My sister Lina, your grandmama Maddie, and Brenna. All highly intelligent women. You will make them all proud. A strong mind can be as powerful as the sharpest sword, lass. Never doubt it.” He tapped his temple. “It takes a quick mind to outsmart the evilest ones in our land, fae or true.”
“I hope so.” Her face fell and she stared at the ground. “I just pray that I’ll do the right thing, because I have to save those bairns.”
“May I pass along a wee bit of advice?”
“Of course. Advice about how to deal with the Unseelies? Because that seems to be a bit of a challenge since it’s new to most of us.”
“Nay, lass. Advice about anything in your life. True that your heart is like your grandmama’s, but you need more than heart sometimes. Don’t think on it. Whenever you’re in doubt about what to do next, you’ll know in your gut what’s right and what isn’t.”
Her brow scrunched again and she tipped her head. “How will I know?”
“You’ll feel it,” he replied, his hand going to his belly. “Here. You’ll know what to do, just do it and don’t hesitate.”
“I will. Many thanks to you, Uncle. The thought of living in a faery hill scares me. I hope we’ll figure out how to find them. If you’ll excuse me, dear Uncle, I have to go see Mama. We can chat later.” And she was gone as fast as the flash of a blade.
As the young are. He’d been that quick once.
Logan could have suggested a few things to look for. He thought back on all he’d seen in his eight decades. Cruel men stealing bairns to sell across the water, men who hid bairns and captives in the ground to right some old wrong they believed was done them. The English were the worst. They’d even kidnapped John as a toddler.
He spat off to the side at that thought.
“Grandda, you’ll not spit in my home!” Eli bellowed from the balcony, rushing down the staircase.
“If you mention the word English,” he stopped to spit, but she appeared in front of him, her hand now pinching his cheeks.
“Do not dare do it again.”
He brushed Eli’s hands away so he could speak. “Hell, lass. Even John knew he had to spit whenever that word was said.”
“Not here or you’ll be cleaning the floors, Grandda.”
Logan laughed as if she thought she could force him to clean a floor.
Eli leaned her face down close to him and whispered, “I’ll have a word with Grandmama, and she’ll find a way to make you clean it.”
“Och, leave my Gwynie alone. She’s earned her right to rest.” His beloved wife Gwyneth had passed on not long ago, something that haunted him at first light every single day.
Connor came in the door just in time to overhear Logan’s granddaughter make her threat. He shuffled over to the hearth, stood in front of it for a few moments to warm his hands before leaning over to whisper to Logan. “Don’t think she won’t do it. Alaric doesn’t take her threats lightly.”
Logan snorted. “Always said he was a wise one, but Gwynie’s been gone a long time now.” He’d lost poor Gwynie nearly six years ago after they’d made a life here on Mull. He’d been lost for a wee bit, but like everything else, life moved on.
He spent most of his time in the great hall of Duart Castle, watching over all the events that happened at the keep. He’d decided to stay since his only remaining sibling was also here. Avelina was still spry and stayed with her youngest son, Maitland, after she’d lost Drew two years ago. Logan was still quick in his mind, but he didn’t get around the way he used to. He could still walk and ride a horse, but there was no running in his life. He’d stopped counting his summers when he hit five and eighty a few years ago.
His favorite activity of late was watching over the smallest hellions of the clan with a wee dram of the famous Rankin brew. He’d given the lasses a few different names.
