Chapter Six

 

 

 

“What do you wish to discuss, Mackenzie?” Niall asked cautiously.

“It is rather fitting, is it no’?”

Niall felt his brows lower in confusion at Logan’s deceptively relaxed tone.

“What is?”

“That I endangered yer sister’s life all those years ago, and now it seems that my sister’s safety rests in yer hands.”

Niall stiffened, the familiar, twin stabs of rage and shame slicing through his gut. He wrenched his arm from Logan’s hold, meeting the man’s glare with his own.

“You think I would make Mairin pay for what you did to Rosamond?”

Logan watched him steadily. “Nay. Ye arenae that sort of man. Though I ken ye still hold a grudge against me.”

Niall clenched his jaw against the desire to growl. “You kidnapped my sister. What do you expect?”

“Naught less than yer rage, Beaumore,” Logan replied evenly. “Which is why I assume ye can understand the position I find myself in now. Ye ken how it feels to have yer sister’s life in danger, to be helpless to protect her.”

Sour bile rose in the back of Niall’s throat. He swallowed hard against it. Logan was far too keen, too knowing. He was coming dangerously close to Niall’s deepest shame.

“Aye,” he replied, his voice low and tight. “I do.”

“And if aught had befallen Rosamond thanks to me, ye wouldnae have rested until ye had my head on a platter, aye? Ye would have searched every mountain and every valley, turned over every rock until ye found my sorry arse.”

“Aye.”

“Good. Then ye’ll understand this warning.” Logan took a step closer, until only a sliver of air separated them. “If Mairin is harmed in any way on this mission—if one wee hair on her head is out of place, if a single scratch marks her skin, if she so much as stubs her toe—I’ll hold ye personally responsible, Beaumore. And I willnae rest until ye pay for her suffering tenfold.”

Niall realized belatedly that his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles ached. “I comprehend your desire to protect Mairin quite well. But your threats are misplaced.”

“Oh?”

“Mairin is a warrior, a member of the Corps. You are lucky she isn’t here to overhear you, for she’d likely make you pay for assuming she can’t protect herself.”

To Niall’s surprise, Logan’s mouth curled into a reluctant smile. Some of the tension dissipated in the air around them.

“Aye, ye have the right of that. She’d hand me my arse twice over, no doubt.” Logan’s face dropped into serious lines once more, but instead of directing his glare at Niall, his eyes grew distant. “But this is different.”

“Aye. Because the mission is in England.”

Logan’s gaze snapped back to Niall, his eyes narrowing. “How much do ye ken?”

“Only what is plain to observe,” Niall replied. “When you and Mairin arrived at the camp four years past, she was more ghost than girl. She was half-starved, pale, and could barely speak. I knew you’d just escaped the Order, which operated in England, and that she flinched whenever she heard Lillian or me speak. It was obvious she had been harmed in some way. Even now, all things English take her back to her pain.”

Niall worked his jaw for a moment, fighting back the rage that surged through him at the thought of Mairin being hurt. All these years, his mind had tormented him with fears of what she’d endured. She’d never offered him information, and he’d never asked, though he dreaded the possibility that even his imagination couldn’t conjure all she’d suffered.

Logan muttered a curse and rubbed a hand over his face. “No’ all of it is my story to tell,” he said. “But some is. No’ long after I joined the Order, Roland Gervais, the man who ran the organization, had Mairin kidnapped from Eilean Donan, the Mackenzie clan keep. She was only ten summers old.”

A sharp exhale hissed past Niall’s lips. Logan continued.

“Roland held her captive in a cottage in central England—in the cottage’s root cellar, more precisely. He used her as leverage over me, ensuring that I would stay in line and do as I was ordered—including kidnapping innocents like yer sister.”

Abruptly, some of Niall’s animosity toward Logan drained away.

Logan had tried to make amends for the wrongs he’d done as a bounty hunter with the Order when he’d first joined the Bodyguard Corps. But Niall had been too filled with fury and shame over the fact that he’d failed to defend his family to accept Logan’s apology. Yet Logan had only been acting to protect his own family—Mairin.

“When Kirk and I destroyed Roland—and the Order along with him—I went searching for Mairin. With Roland dead, the coin he’d been paying the men who were watching her dried up, and they abandoned her, still locked in that damned root cellar.”

Logan’s lips curled back in a feral growl.

“She was almost dead by the time I found her,” he said. “She was too weak to stand, too weak even to cry. I dinnae ken how long she’d been without food, but the only way she survived was to lick the moisture from the walls and eat whatever vermin crawled by.”

Now it was Niall’s turn to curse. It felt as though a boulder rested on his chest, crushing his lungs and heart. Mairin. Good God, how had she endured?

“It took me three months to nurse her into good enough health to get her the hell out of England. That was when we came to the camp.”

“She was sixteen, nearly seventeen, when you arrived,” Niall said slowly.

“Aye.”

“She was held captive for…six…bloody…years?”

Logan’s slate gaze met Niall’s. “Aye.”

Blindly, Niall fumbled for one of the nearby chairs. He sank down, fighting against the urge to heave, to bellow, to flip over the table.

“Mairin vowed never to return to England,” Logan said quietly. “The closest she’s ever come since escaping captivity is Craigmoor. Even with the castle on the Scottish side of the border, it was…difficult for her.”

Niall could only imagine. Knowing what she’d been through, it was a miracle she could stand the presence of an Englishman in the training camp at all. It would no doubt be a struggle for her to travel in such close proximity to him. And that would be naught compared to what she’d have to face once they actually reached Lancaster in England.

“Mairin is strong,” Logan continued, seeming to read Niall’s thoughts. “She has overcome enough hardship to last ten lifetimes. But she’s never been tested like this before. Now do ye understand why I fear for her on this mission?” Logan asked. “And why I am charging ye with protecting her?” 

“Aye, I do.” He met Logan’s gaze. “I will not allow any harm to befall her. I vow it.”

Logan lowered himself into a chair beside Niall’s, letting a suddenly weary breath go.

“Ever since I pulled her out of that bloody root cellar, I made a promise never to let her come to harm again. I dinnae enjoy being in this position—no’ able to ensure her safety myself—but I am under the Bruce’s orders to return to Scone.”

Logan pinned Niall with those too-knowing gray eyes then. “Yet I ken ye take her protection seriously, too. I have seen the way ye watch her, the way ye look out for her. Ye care about her, dinnae ye?”

Ever since Rosamond’s kidnapping, Niall had shouldered the responsibility of defending his family—including those in the Bodyguard Corps. His failure to protect his sister had spurred him to make a vow to himself—no one under his care would ever come to harm again.

But it was so much more than that with Mairin. She wasn’t his sister, nor was she merely a fellow member of the Corps to him.

“Mairin is…” When no further words came, Niall simply said, “Aye.”

Logan nodded, but his eyes narrowed. “Then I expect ye will keep her safe from all dangers on this mission. If ye think that this is yer opportunity to be alone with her, to weasel yer way into her affections or seduce her in any way, let me assure ye, Beaumore—”

“There is no need for such a warning,” Niall cut in sharply. “Mairin has made it more than clear that she doesn’t return my…regard.”

And why would she? Niall represented everything she hated. He understood that more perfectly than ever now that he knew she’d been held captive—and God knew what else—for six years by Englishmen.

“Good,” Logan said, still eyeing Niall warily. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

Niall rose. “I had best begin packing for the journey.”

Logan did the same but to Niall’s surprise, he extended his hand.

“I am trusting ye, English,” Logan murmured. “Trusting ye to see this mission done, but also to look after my sister. I hope I havenae made a mistake.”

Slowly, Niall clasped forearms with Logan.

“You haven’t.”