Captured Hearts and Stolen Kisses Read online

  Ann wondered if Logan was merely trying to distract his mother and switch her focus from revenge to caring for her son’s wound, or if he really doubted her ability as a healer. She would like to think he was right and if the circumstances were reversed, her father would be as gracious, but her faith in her sire was wavering. Regardless of why Logan said what he did, it had momentarily gotten his mother’s mind off her presence.

  “Follow me, Lady Ann. We will show you to your chamber. Mind you dinna try to run.” Thomas cautioned as he led her into the keep. Once inside, he took a torch from a sconce on the wall to light their way and headed up the stairs of the north tower.

  Unsure where he thought she might try to run, Ann followed Thomas, with James on her heels. Upon reaching their destination, Thomas slid a key into the lock, opened the door, then stepped to one side, allowing Ann to enter.

  As she stepped into the dark, dank room, she crinkled her nose and covered her mouth with her hand, hoping to block out the overpowering stench of mold and mildew.

  James moved to a window and shoved open the shutters, providing a much-needed breath of fresh air. “This chamber hasna been used in a long time. I am sure this isna the luxury a lady such as you are accustomed to.” He dragged his finger across a heavy layer of dust on a small table by the window, then wiped it on his trews. “Nor is it clean, but given the pit is the other choice, I wouldna complain if I were you.”

  Thomas lit a candle and placed it on the table, then pointed to a brassier in the corner. “There is a stack of wood and some peat, but I am na sure I would light it if I were you. Na unless you fancy a room full of smoke.”

  “She is a prisoner, na a guest at an inn,” James growled at Thomas, then turned his attention back to Ann. “I will have some pelts and plaid sent up for the pallet because his lairdship instructed me to do so. He also told me to fetch a bowl of water you can use to wash the grime from your face and hands, but I canna promise a tub for bathing.”

  James her belongings on the table, then returned to the door, and held it open so Thomas could leave. “You will be here for a while, m’lady, so best you make yourself at home until the laird decides what to do with you. Dinna get any ideas about trying to escape. Unless you can sprout wings and fly out the window, there is only one way in and out of here, and it will be guarded night and day.” He exited the room, slammed the door shut, then locked it.

  Ann sat on an old wooden chair, cradling her face in her hands. When she awakened in her comfortable bed this morning, she never expected to retire for the night in a room such as this, the prisoner of her enemy.

  Determined not to feel sorry for herself, and never one to back down from a challenge, she squared her shoulders and rose, again taking stock of the room. The chamber was far from elegant, but when she considered the alternative, she decided James spoke the truth, and it had to be better than the pit.

  She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, hoping to generate some warmth, but to no avail. She considered starting a fire, but after what Thomas said, she assumed like the room, no one had used in a long time, so decided to wait for the pelts James mentioned. Upon further exploration, she realized that while a layer of dust covered everything, she’d seen no sign of rats or other vermin so far, and was grateful for small favors.

  A rap on the door, interrupted her musing. She found it odd that someone would knock rather than just entering at will. James said he would send up some clean pelts and some water, so she could wash, but with the door locked from the outside, she saw no reason for him to knock. He had the key.

  “Who is it?” she asked when the rap came again, only louder this time.

  “Logan MacAllen.”

  Chapter 9

  Logan stood outside the door to Ann’s chamber with his hand resting on the latch. He was not sure why he was there, why his heart beat faster the closer he got to her room, or why he waited to enter. This was his castle and she was his prisoner, yet he felt the need to announce his presence before barging in.

  He’d ordered James and Thomas to go to the great hall for something to eat and told them he would guard Ann until they returned. Once they’d trotted off, he knocked again. “Are you dressed?” He felt foolish asking, but it was the first thing that came to his mind.

  “Aye,” she answered simply.

  Logan entered and glanced around the sparsely furnished room. It was worse than he remembered, and his mother could hardly consider Ann’s confinement here as hospitable. Moving her to a better chamber entered his thoughts, but he reminded himself of how fortunate she was to be where she was, and not in the pit where Brodie wanted her imprisoned.

  “Have you everything you need?” He cursed beneath his breath. He was full of addlebrained questions, but he recalled the look of trepidation on her face when he instructed James and Thomas to put her in the tower with only a change of clothing and her cloak. The women of his clan had lost all in the attack and Ann had two trunks filled with gowns, so his kinswomen could use them. He would sell her jewels to buy food for the survivors. The spoils of war, he told himself, but he still felt sorry for her.

  “I am fine. You need na have troubled yourself, m’lord.”

  “Were you na brought food and drink, or some water to wash with as I instructed?” He wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. After what happened between them on the riverbank, he vowed to keep his distance. But something he couldn’t explain drew him to Ann, and he was powerless to resist. Again, he found himself overcome with desire. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, and if she’d have him make love to her. But she was the daughter of his enemy and not for him.

  With downcast eyes, Ann wrapped her arms around her middle and took a step back, positioning herself out of his reach. “James said he would bring them when he had a chance. I have no reason to doubt him.”

  She appeared uncomfortable in his presence. Until now, she had presented herself with confidence and bravery. “I am sure you are right. I sent them down to eat, and am guessing they will bring you something upon their return.”

  “If that is why you came, I am sure you have other more important things to tend to, m’lord.”

  The formal way she addressed him and the fact she refused to look at him bothered Logan more than it should. He wondered if there was some truth in what Brodie and his mother both said. Had he become so taken by the lass that he had forgotten she was the daughter of his enemy and his prisoner?

  “I must again apologize for my behavior on the riverbank,” he blurted. “I had no right to take such liberties,” he lied. He wasn’t a bit sorry he’d kissed her and would again if he had the chance. He closed the gap between them and cupped her chin. “I wish things were different and we were na enemies. I—"

  “Logan, you must come at once.” Moira burst into the room, gasping for breath.

  “Calm yourself, lass.” Logan rushed to his sister’s side. “First tell me what the palaver is all about, and second tell me what are you doing here? This room is off limits to you and Catherine.”

  “Mother has taken ill,” Moira said.

  “What do you mean, she has taken ill?” Logan asked.

  “Mother was tending to one of the crofters who was injured in the attack when she suddenly felt faint and collapsed,” Moira explained. “Her cheeks are flushed and warm. I fear she has a fever.”

  “Where is she now?” He squatted beside the distraught lass and hugged her, hoping to offer some comfort.

  “One of the warriors carried her to her chamber, bid me get a healer, and told me to find you,” Moira sobbed. “We have no healer. She was killed in the attack and I fear Mam might die.”

  Logan dragged his hand across his beard-stubbled chin. His mother did not look well when he saw her last, but figured exhaustion from tending the wounded and dealing with the death of his father had taken its toll on her. If he knew Helen, she’d worked tirelessly since the raid, seeing to everyone’s needs, but her own.

&
nbsp; “Perhaps I could be of some help,” Ann said. “I was trained in the healing arts by my nurse.”

  “You are my prisoner and were na brought here to tend to my mother,” Logan said. After witnessing his mother’s reaction to Ann, he figured she was the last person Lady Helen would want to see. “I will send Thomas to Dunning Castle and request they send their healer at once.”

  “Mother needs a healer now, and I see no harm in letting her try. Please, brother, I beg of you.” Moira fisted the sleeve of Logan’s tunic and peered up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Dunning Castle is two day’s ride and the healer might not get here in time.”

  He could never stand to see any of his sisters cry and he was hard pressed to deny them anything they asked. If his mother was as ill as Moira claimed, Ann might be her only hope. He prayed it would not make things worse. “Verra well. You may look at her and see if there is anything you can suggest. But remember you are my prisoner and if you try anything that might do my mother harm, you will pay. In the meantime, I will send Thomas to fetch the Dunning’s healer.”

  “I will do what I can to help her, m’lord. Please lead the way.”

  ****

  Ann followed Logan and Moira down the tower steps to the second floor of the keep, then along a long dark corridor.

  “This is my mother and father’s solar,” Logan explained upon reaching an ornately carved oak door at the end of the hallway. He shoved it open, then waited for Ann and Moira to enter ahead of him.

  The room reminded Ann of her father’s chamber with its heavy furnishings and elaborate wall hangings. The closed shutters made the room hot and stuffy, Ann found it hard to breath. Assuming it did the same for Lady MacAllen, she immediately went to the window and opened it—the fresh air bring some relief.

  Helen MacAllen was resting on a bed beside the hearth, propped up on several satin pillows, with her youngest daughter sitting at her side, holding her hand.

  “What is she doing here?” Catherine asked her sister. “I thought you went for the healer.”

  “I would like to know the same thing,” Helen said, her raspy voice hardly above a whisper. She narrowed her gaze and made a feeble attempt to sit up. “I want her out of my room, now. I would rather die than have a MacRyan touch me.” Short of breath, she began to cough and brought a hand to her brow, then flopped back on the pillows.

  “You know our clan’s healer was killed in the raid. Lady Ann has some healing skills and offered to come,” Moira said, then rushed to her mother’s side, picked up her other hand, and brought it to her cheek. “Please, Mam, dinna send her away.”

  Helen tried to speak again, but she couldn’t manage to do so, her head rolled to one side and her eyes closed.

  “Mother,” Moira squealed, then her gaze darted to her brother. “Is she dead?”

  Ann moved to Helen’s side and pressed a hand to her brow. “She isna dead, but she does have a fever.” She lifted her limp wrist. “And her pulse is weak and uneven. Has she been eating and sleeping properly since the attack? Are any of the other crofters ill?” She had seen this sort of sickness following the plunder of a small village on her father’s holdings by a neighboring clan. A few days later, some of the crofters took ill after they resorted to eating spoiled or uncooked food, and drinking tainted water. Many of them died.

  “There were many wounded, and a few people have been complaining of illness,” Moira said. “Mam has been busy seeing to them all, so had little time to rest. As for food, there wasna much left after the raid and mother gave what little food there was to the bairns. She has tried drinking some water and ale, but none of it has stayed down.”

  “Has she ever had trouble with her heart?” Ann glanced up at Logan. Since she did not know Helen or for certain the exact cause of the illness, she decided to leave nothing to chance.

  “Na that I know of.” His expression grim, Logan stepped forward. “Can you help her?”

  “I will do my best.” She turned to Moira. “Do you know if the clan healer had any of these herbs in her hut, burdock root or leaves, willow bark, comfrey, motherwort, belladonna, or henbane? Mayhap she acquired some garlic from a merchant selling spices from the orient. If you have any whisky, it would also be appreciated.” She looked to Logan for the latter.

  “Some of those are poisonous,” Logan snapped. “Are you trying to kill my mother or save her?”

  She frowned, insulted that he would suggest such a thing. But given the centuries old feud between their clans, she could understand his concerns.

  “Aye, many of these can be dangerous or even deadly, but if given in the right amounts they can be most beneficial to the ill, and can prove more effective than leeches or blood letting,” Ann replied, then lifted her chin. “However, if you doubt my intent, send me back to my chamber to await my fate.”

  After a moment’s pause, Logan shook his head. “Nay, I dinna doubt you wish to help.” He went to a chest at the foot of his parent’s bed and took out a clay jug. “One of the few things your treacherous kinsmen dinna take. Father received many wounds in battles with the English, and enemy clans. He always kept a jug of whisky in his room, and had a dram or two before bed to help him sleep.” He handed Ann the container.

  She again spoke to Moira. “Do you know if the clan healer has any of the herbs?”

  “I dinna know for certs.” Moira lowered her gaze. “Beathag’s croft was burned in the raid and anything she might have had was likely lost. But I do know where to find some of these things.”

  “With your brother’s permission, could you fetch me all you can carry, and also have the cook send up a pot, some water for boiling, something I can use to crush the leaves, a ladle, and a mug or small bowl.”

  “May I go, Logan?” Moira asked, then waited for her brother’s approval. “Please. For mother.”

  “Aye, but it is dark outside and I dinna want you to go alone. Take two of my warriors with you and dinna stray from their sight. It is na safe,” Logan cautioned. “I will send one of the servants to the kitchen for the supplies Lady Ann has requested. I will also have one of my men search Beathag’s croft to see if any of her herbs survived the fire.”

  “Thank you. I will go as fast as I can.” Moira grabbed a canvas sack from a hook on the wall and darted out of the room.

  Logan moved to the other side of the bed and cupped his youngest sister’s shoulder. “It is late, Catherine. You should have been asleep hours ago.”

  “I want to stay with mother.” She brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn.

  “No one has been sleeping or eating properly since the attack. It is a wonder the entire clan is na ailing.” He clasped his sister’s hand and helped her to her feet. “Mam would not want you to make yourself ill. Go to bed and I will let you know if anything changes.”

  Catherine threw her arms around Logan’s waist and hugged him. “Do you promise?”

  “Aye. Now off to bed.” He kissed the top of her head, then patted her behind.

  The affection Logan showed his sisters touched Ann. In return, they obviously thought the world of him as well. She had often wondered what it would be like to have siblings, but was her parent’s only bairn, so never got the chance to find out. “They love you verra much.”

  “And I them. I have five other sisters, but they are either married or in the convent. Now that our da is gone, the two youngest are my responsibility.”

  Ann once again focused her attention on Helen, hoping Moira would return quickly with the herbs. The woman was quite ill and the sooner she was able to brew a potion for her, the better her chances were of surviving, however right now she had her doubts. For two young lasses to lose their father and then their mother so soon after, would be devastating. Even though Ann did not know them well, and their prisoner, she prayed she could do something to prevent that from happening and intended to do everything in her power to keep Helen alive.

  “Perhaps you should get some rest too,” she said to Logan. He looked tire
d and as if he were about to collapse on his feet. “You do have an injured arm and will be of no use to your sisters or your mother if you get ill.”

  “I canna afford the luxury of sleep. I have some important things to tend to, but will have guards at the door, so dinna get any ideas about running. Send word if there is any change in my mother’s condition.” He leaned over and kissed Helen’s forehead, then crossed the room, but paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  Ann settled in the chair by the bed. She dipped a linen rag into a bowl of cool water, then draped the cloth over Helen’s forehead, hoping to reduce her fever. Until she had the necessary herbs to make her potions, it was all she could do.

  Exhausted from the ordeals of the day, Ann closed her eyes while awaiting Moira’s return. But when she managed to nod off, she dreamed about Logan, their encounter on the riverbank, and what might have happened were they not enemies and free to explore their feelings for one another. She awakened feeling alone and uncertain of her future.

  She never imagined she could experience such strong feelings for a man, especially since they had just met, and he was her father’s sworn enemy. She was certain that by acknowledging her attraction to Logan and expressing her desire to be with him—even if it was only to herself—that she was betraying her father and her clan. But she could not control her true feelings any more than she could force herself to love the man her father had chosen to be her husband. Now that she had experienced what it was like to be in the company of a man that she found attractive on both a physical and emotional level, she shuddered at the thought of marrying Lord MacKenny. Should she ever return to her father’s castle, she was not sure she could go through with the union.

  When Moira finally came back with the herbs, Ann sent her off to bed—much to the lass’s dismay. As promised, Logan had the supplies she needed send up from the kitchen, but his man had found nothing of use left in Beathag’s croft. Once Moira was on her way to bed, Ann placed the pot of water over the fire to boil and began to crush the herbs she needed. It was going to be a long night.