Highland Sparks: Logan and Gwyneth (Clan Grant Series Book 5) (17 page)

She stared at him. He meant it.

Logan chuckled from the middle of the field. “I must admit, I wish I could be in your mind presently to see what caused that sly grin on your face.”

She scowled at him. “Aye, you have your promise. Now get on with it, Ramsay.”

He stopped and faced her, his arms crossed in front of him. “I’m waiting for you. Or were you dreaming about me so much last night that you can’t focus today? Take your shot.”

“What? Dreaming about you?” She stopped in midsentence and caught his grin. He had already started playing with her. She got into stance and took her first shot, trying not to think about the dream, how he’d run his hands over her entire body before kissing her. The slow sensual assault had caused her to awaken moaning before she fell back asleep and finished their lovemaking. She released her first bolt.

“Saints above, you
were
dreaming about me. What a lousy shot, Cunningham.”

Gwyneth stared wide-eyed at the target. Hellfire, he was right. She had missed it by an arm’s length. After shooting him a glare, she set herself up again and let the arrow fly. She heard it land and knew she had done better.

Dead on. She smiled and placed one hand on her hip, strolling in a circle for emphasis before returning to her favorite shooting spot.

“One for two, Gwyneth. That’s about what I expected from a lass.”

She whirled until she faced him, fury seething from her pores. How dare he! But his smile caught her.
Ignore him. He warned you he would do this.

Bull, but this was going to be more difficult than she’d thought.

“Aim at your target, woman. Can we not take all day at this?” Logan refused to meet her eyes.

She could handle this. Let him say what he wanted, she would continue. Taking stance again, she let another arrow fly, hitting a bit off center.

“Shooting like that, the only thing you’ll take out is a bird flying by. I might as well sit down. ‘Tis going to be a long day until you get your head straight.”

Gwyneth ignored him and let three more arrows fly. Direct hits for all three. She gave Ramsay a smug look.

“Sheer luck, Gwyneth. Most women couldn’t hit the broad side of the stables. Face it, you can’t compete with men when it comes to something as difficult as archery. You ought to take up needlework.”

That last comment struck a nerve. She snorted at the mere thought. Nocking and drawing again, her next mark was off-center. Curse it, she was letting him get to her despite herself. She raised her bow again, and her arm started to shake.
Forget the needlework comment. Concentrate.

Logan walked over to her and held her arm steady. “Are you tired already? Have you not been practicing much lately?”

She jerked her arm away from his touch.

“Gwyneth, I told you this would not be easy. I do not mean what I say. You need to ignore me. That is what I am trying to teach you.”

She fought the tears pricking her eyes. “I know. Go back. I can do this. Say what you need to say, make it more difficult. Make it as difficult as you can.” She stared at the ground, already disappointed in herself for her reaction to Logan’s barbs. She pulled on her bow and sent another arrow, forcing herself to keep her arm straight. Direct hit.

“Nice, sweeting.” Logan winked.

They continued for hours. After a while, she finally found her inner spot, a place where she could go to ignore him and concentrate on her aim. In fact, she became so focused, she never heard half of the insults he sent her way. That is, until the end of the day came around. Perhaps it was because she was tired, but he got under her skin again.

Her arms were tiring and her last two shots had been off the target. Still, she knew she could do better.

“Face it, Gwyneth. You have done well today. You hit the target many times, but you have been off as much as you have been on. Do you really think you have what it takes?”

She ignored him, taking aim. She missed by quite a bit.

“You’re too weak. A lass is too soft to compete with men. We have better aim, stronger limbs, but most of all, we have abler minds. You don’t have the ability to ignore what I say. You’re just like every other woman, too sensitive to insults. Aye, you can ignore some insults, but you know the truth.

“You are weak.” He began a slow, meandering walk toward her. “You were weak that night, weren’t you? You could have done something. Erskine killed your father right in front of you. Why didn’t you do something to stop him?”

She heard that comment, all right. Truth be known, she not only heard it—it ripped right through all her defenses. The shield she held up daily to protect herself had just been yanked away. Now she was open for attack—wide open.

“You know you could have done something. But you’re just a lass. Is that not right? A weak lass who can’t even stop a man in front of her from killing her loved ones. Aye, I suppose you had no idea he was about to kill your father, so anyone would excuse you for that.” Logan stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Sweat dotted her brow as she listened, but she forced herself to fire another shot through her anguish. She could not let him beat her.

“But what about your brother?” His steps were soft, purposeful as he made his way closer to her. “You could have done something. Any
man
would have been able to stop that second killing. Any
man
…”

She dropped her bow and stared at him. He had just uttered the words that had torn out her heart every day for seven years.

“…could have done something. If you were a man, your brother would be still alive. If you were stronger, you could have thrown your dagger into Duff Erskine’s heart. You could have pulled your sword and sliced his neck until his life’s blood spurted from his body. You were close enough to take him out.

“But you didn’t, did you? You poor, pathetic thing. No wonder it eats at you. ‘Tis all your fault, isn’t it? Say it.” He stood right next to her as he delivered this final insult. “‘Tis your fault your brother died, yours alone.”

Gwyneth pulled her arm back and punched his jaw as hard as she could. His head swung back from impact, but she didn’t let up. She shoved him in the chest. “Aye,” she screamed. “You’re right. Had I done anything, they might still be alive. But I didn’t and now they’re dead.” She swung her fist and connected with his arm as he ducked. He stepped backward and she marched forward, still ranting. “‘Tis all my fault. I could have prevented the entire thing.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as her breath hitched.

“All of it,” she whispered. “Instead I did naught and they died right in front of me. How bad does that make me?”

“Gwyneth,” Logan said, reaching for her. “Nay, don’t do this.”

“Why not? You’re right.”

“I’m wrong, Gwyneth. It isn’t your fault. I was trying to get in your head. Remember?” He grasped her hand and tugged her to him, reaching his other hand behind her head.

She gave up and let him pull her to him, grabbing at his tunic and pressing her face into his chest. “Something. I should have done something,” she murmured.

“Nay, lass. Erskine knew what he was doing. He fired two arrows from his long bow before you could react. Did you have your bow with you?”

“Nay.” Her hands still gripping his shirt, she sobbed into his chest.

“Then what could you have done?”

“I don’t know…” She cried so hard, her entire body convulsed with pain. “I could have punched him. I could have thrown myself in front of the second arrow. I could have scratched his eyes out. Something.” The level of her voice increased the more she talked. “Why didn’t I do something for my own brother?” Her yell echoed through the trees. “‘Tis all my fault Gordon is dead.”

Logan supported her as her trembling body crumpled. “No, sweets, ‘tis
not
your fault. I’m sorry, lass. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Logan held her tight until she had no more tears.

Several minutes later when she was finally able to stop sobbing enough to speak, she said, “Help me, Logan. Please help me fix this.”

Chapter Twenty

Logan left Gwyneth with her brother and headed toward the tavern in Glasgow, in need of some libations. Hellfire, he hated this task. Aye, he wanted to make her stronger, but he hated to upset her. He hadn’t realized how she would react when he taunted her today.

He left his horse at the stables and was walking over to the tavern when he heard his name bellowed from his left. He turned to see his brother, Micheil, galloping toward him.

“Micheil, what’s wrong?” He instantly feared the worst. “Mother is fine? The bairns? Wee Bethia?”

Micheil waved his hand before he dismounted. “All are fine. Quade and Brenna should be home with Mother by now. The messenger from the Grants told me you would be in Glasgow, so I decided to track you down though I’ve been searching for hours. Besides, I’ve been home long enough. Now that the battle with the Norse has ended, I just had to get away and decided to search you out. What brought you here?”

Logan wanted to dodge the question, but his brother knew him too well to fall for such a tactic. “An assignment.” He held open the tavern door and they stepped inside, locating a table and ordering two ales.

“How could you have received an assignment in the Highlands? According to Quade, you chased after a girl. I could hardly believe it.”

“I left because a foolish lass I met was intent on killing someone. So I followed her to Glasgow, talked to my steward, who gave me a different assignment, and I have been busy completing my orders.” Logan wasn’t about to tell Micheil that the lass was his assignment…or offer up the truth of how much Gwyneth meant to him. While both his brothers knew he worked for the Scottish Crown, no one else was aware of his duties. And he never shared any specific information about his assignments. By keeping everything secretive, he didn’t get asked too many questions. He liked it better that way.

“Who is this spitfire lass?” Micheil asked, a grin bursting out on his face. “I can see she’s eating you up inside.”

“Curse it, how could you know that?” He was usually much better at hiding his feelings. “Aye, I am focused on two different tasks at present. One is the lass I followed here, Gwyneth. The other is my assignment. I’m training her to improve her skills as an archer.”

“A lass as an archer? I’d like to see that. You will allow me along on a training session?”

“Nay, but the fair will be in town and I plan to have her compete in the archery contest there. You can watch her win it. And as long as you’re here, I have someone I want you to monitor when I’m with Gwyneth. I wish to make sure he’s still in town.” He wouldn’t be able to follow Erskine if he was training Gwyneth. Micheil was someone he could trust to get the job done.

“Sure, no problem. Give me the details later. I want to hear about the female archer. You think she has a chance to win? She is that good?”

“Aye, she is. Her brother and uncle have trained her for years. The lass watched a blackguard kill her brother and father, so she seeks retribution. Working with her has been a challenge.”

Micheil smirked. “I look forward to meeting the lass. She sounds perfect for you.”

A lass brought their ales over, setting them down on the table. “Can I get you something to eat?” she asked with a bright smile.

Micheil turned to her, a wide smile spreading across his face as he checked her over from head to toe. “I can think of many things you could bring me to eat, sweet one, but we’ll settle for two trenchers of stew, if you have it.”

She giggled and blushed before running off to get their food.

Logan gave his brother an exasperated look. “Do you never stop?”

“What?” The smile left Micheil’s face. “Just having a wee bit of fun with the lass. Besides, she liked it. Did you not hear her laugh?”

Logan’s face darkened. “I’m warning you now. I know you enjoy the lassies, brother, but don’t think of throwing your sweet talk at Gwyneth.”

“So you do want her. I didn’t think I’d ever see the day.” A grin spread across Micheil’s face as he stared at his brother.

“Just stay away from her.” Logan’s gaze narrowed as he saw the sheer look of delight dance across his brother’s features. Hellfire, this was not going to be easy.

***

A few days later, Gwyneth sat at the breakfast table with Rab. It was the first day of the fair and she was excited to finally be able to see all the exhibits and contests. Logan had suggested she enter the archery contest, and she had agreed. She stuffed her mouth with porridge as fast as she could.

“Gwyneth, are you sure you wish to do this?” Rab asked.

“Aye. Logan says it will be good practice for me. He is sure there will be some spectators who will harass me because I am a woman in a man’s contest.”

“Perhaps they will not allow you to enter.”

“Logan already checked the rules. It says naught about being a man. It just says ‘the archer.’” She ate another spoonful of her breakfast.

“Probably because they don’t expect any female archers. They could change their minds.”

“They can’t, he says. They can change the rules for next year, but they have to let me shoot. I plan to win.” Gwyneth could barely contain her excitement at the prospect of beating men in front of an audience.

“Gwyneth, I need to speak to you about something else that is important to me.”

Her spoon clattered on the table. “Rab, I don’t like the expression on your face. What is it?”

“I know you won’t like what I have to say, but I need to say it.”

Gwyneth had no idea what her brother had in mind, but the look on his face pained her.

“‘Tis about the way you dress.”

She frowned. “What?”

“I would like you to dress differently for the fair.” He shifted his gaze to his food after he made his statement.

Gwyneth glanced at the leggings she wore, the tunic pulled tight over her torso to allow free movement when shooting. “But why? I have always dressed this way. It helps me shoot better. I can’t have clothing come in the way of my draw. Da never cared.”

“Aye, because Da never knew where to find any skirts for you. Wearing Gordon’s clothing was easier. You will be in front of everyone when you shoot, and most will stand behind you. Gwyneth, ‘tis unseemly now that you are older.”