Page 63 of Highland Steel

The girl turned her pale face toward Logan, the scant light of the torch falling across one cheek. Her eyelid was swollen and her lip split. Bruises covered her neck, and she looked like she was close to death. She was gaunt, as if she hadn’t eaten and had barely any life in her at all.

“God’s eyes, what did Drummond do to ye?” he spat, feeling anger rising within him and the quest for vengeance rearing its ugly head. “Rhoswen thinks ye are dead. She’s come to save yer son.”

“Lockie,” the girl said, reaching out toward his cell with one shaky hand. Her other hand clutched at the shawl around her shoulders. She was barefoot and only wore a thin shift under the shawl. “Is my baby . . . still alive?”

“Aye, Lockie is fine,” Logan assured her. “Tell me, lass, why are ye in here? What is goin’ on?”

“Who . . . are you?” she asked, turning her head slightly to look at him through the eye that wasn’t swollen.

“I’m a MacKeefe. Logan MacKeefe,” he told her, his heart going out to her as well as to Rhoswen. “Yer sister, Rhoswen, is here at the castle.”

“She is?” Fear washed over her face. “Nay, she is not supposed to be here. Drummond will kill her. That’s what he plans to do . . . to my father.”

Logan hated to tell her, but the girl needed to know. “Yer da is dead, lass. Killed by Drummond’s men on the trip to the Highlands.”

“Nay!” she cried.

“Yer sister, Blaine, and brother, Newell, are safe at the MacKeefe camp.”

“What about Mother?”

“I’m sorry, lass,” he told her. “It seems she took her life when she got the message from the Highlands that ye were dead.”

Tears ran from her eyes and Ailsa leaned her head back on the wall. “It was all that bastard’s plan.”

“Ranulph?” he asked. “What do ye mean?”

“He wanted my father to think I was dead and that he killed me.”

“Och, nay. Why would he do such a thing?”

“Because he knew my father would want revenge. He said something about a sword that was stolen from him and that the English had it. He told my father he wanted it in trade for the baby. He thought my father would get it and come after him in anger. Drummond planned to steal it back.”

“The Sword of Triumph,” said Logan with a stiff upper lip. The sword had caused so much trouble that he was starting to wonder if it was really lucky at all.

“Aye, that’s the one,” she said, seeming too tired to even lift her head now.

“I dinna understand, lass. Why did he beat ye and imprison ye?”

“Because he knows Lockie isn’t his. My father betrayed him with the betrothal.”

“Aye, I understand that. What I mean is – and forgive me for soundin’ so blunt – but why didna Drummond just kill ye?”

“Because he . . . wants me alive. He planned on stealing the sword and then asking a ransom for me and Lockie.”

“But why did ye beat ye?”

“I tried to escape. Many times,” she told him. “He was afraid I would convince someone to help me. So he . . . did this to me. And told his clan . . . I am dead. Only the guard knows I am still alive.”

“Damn him!” Logan banged his hand against the bar and started pacing back and forth. “Dinna worry, Ailsa. I’ll save ye and yer baby. And I’ll save Rhoswen as well, because I love her and will never let that bastard go through with marryin’ her.”

“He’s marrying my sister?” Her one eye opened and she looked at him in confusion. “But he’s still . . . married to me.”

“That’s right,” said Logan excitedly, hoping he could use this to his advantage. If the priest knew Ailsa was still alive, he would refuse to wed Rhoswen to Ranulph Drummond. Now, all Logan had to do was get the hell out of here so he could do something about it.

He heard a conversation outside the block of cells, and thought he recognized Bug’s voice. Stretching his neck, putting his head up to the bars, he was able to see Bug on the other side of the door made of bars, talking with the guard.

“No one sees the prisoner but me,” snapped the guard. “Give me the food and I’ll give it to him.”