Page 62 of Highland Steel

“Canna I kill the bastard?” asked his henchman. “I want to kill him.”

“Nay!” shouted Drummond. “MacKeefe will die, but it will be by my hand and no one will take that from me. But first, I will make him watch me marry and bed the girl he loves.”

“Excuse me, my laird,” said Bug, raising his finger in the air. “If ye’d just open the gate, I’ll be goin’. I have many more rounds to make today.”

“Nay, ye’ll stay here as well,” commanded Drummond.

“As yer prisoner?” asked Bug. “Now, now, I thought we were friends. Ye must realize by now that I had nothin’ to do with the girl bein’ in the wagon. I never even saw her before in my life until now.”

“Haud yer wheesht or I’ll kill ye along with MacKeefe,” spat Drummond. “I saw the wares in the back of yer wagon as well as the spices. Ye’ll unpack the wagon and use everythin’ inside for my weddin’ celebration.”

“Everythin?” Bug’s eyes bugged out even more if that was at all possible. “But these are my things,” he told them. “I am a poor man makin’ my livin’ by tradin’ and sellin’ my wares.”

“Well, I guess they are my things now, so get goin’. Unless ye want me to take off yer head right now, because ye are startin’ to irritate me.”

“Now, now, there’s no need for threats,” said Bug, holding out his hands. “I’ll just start unloadin’ the wagon if ye’ll just tell me where ye want everythin’.”

“Take the wagon around to the kitchen and help my cook prepare a weddin’ feast,” ordered Drummond. “Rona, prepare my bride, and someone send a messenger to town to collect the priest. The weddin’ will take place as soon as he arrives.”

“I’ll no’ let ye marry my lassie, Drummond. I told ye that before and I’ll tell ye again. She’s mine!” shouted Logan, pulling against the ropes the guards used to tie and hold his hands. A guard on either side of him held on to him tightly.

Drummond rolled his eyes. “MacKeefe, ye’re in no position to be makin’ any demands from me. I suggest ye pipe down because if ye continue to irritate me, I might just kill ye before the weddin’. And then ye’d miss the fun of seein’ me make her scream out in passion when I take her to my bed afterwards. And I assure ye, I can make her scream.”

“Arrrgh,” cried Logan as the guards hauled him toward the dungeon with him struggling every step of the way. “I hate ye, Drummond. Ye will die for this! I swear I will kill ye,” he yelled as Rhoswen watched him disappear into the keep.

“Come along, lass,” said the kind woman named Rona. “I’ll get ye cleaned up and dressed really pretty for yer weddin’. Drummond isna that bad as long as ye dinna anger him.”

“Who are ye?” asked Rhoswen. “Are ye his girl or perhaps his . . . wife?”

The woman chuckled. “Och, nay, I could only wish I were so lucky. He hasna taken a wife since he killed Ailsa.”

Anger once again coursed through Rhoswen’s veins to hear this. She didn’t want to even think about the wretched man killing her sister.

“I willna marry the cur,” she spat. “He is evil and needs to die.”

“Dinna say that,” said Rona.

“He killed my sister,” she told the woman. “I could never love a man who has taken the life of someone I love.”

“Dinna fight it. Ye have no choice.”

“Why do ye say that?” asked Rhoswen, feeling ready to strangle the man with her bare hands.

“Because if ye love that man named Logan MacKeefe who claims to love ye, then ye must do everythin’ in yer power to make sure that he doesna die.”

Chapter 20

“Let me out of here,” yelled Logan, banging on the bars of the dungeon door. They’d thrown him in here an hour ago, and no one had been back yet. The place was dark and dreary and smelled like urine and musty earth. He could hear dripping water from overhead and the sounds of occasional rats scurrying by, their nails clicking on the stone floor.

“It’s no use. No one will come until it’s time for your bread and water.” A small voice was heard from the next cell. It sounded like a female but he couldn’t be sure. It could be the voice of a young lad. The voice was so soft that he’d barely been able to make out what was said.

“Who’s there?” he asked, grabbing on to the bars, straining his eyes to see into the next cell. There was only one torch lighting the dungeon and it was back by the door that led to the underground cells. He was able to make out the silhouette of a small, crumpled form, huddled against the far wall in the cell next to him. “Who are ye?” he asked. “What is yer name?”

“I’m . . . Ailsa,” said the person, making Logan jerk back in surprise.

“Ailsa?” he whispered, leaning in closer to the bars to try to see the girl. “Are ye Rhoswen’s sister?”

“You know my sister?”