A Highlander Christmas by Sophie Renwick Cindy Miles Dawn Halliday Page B

to move their mounts aside as she barreled through them, kicking up flurries of wet snow in her wake.
    Logan exchanged a glance with Torean and then made to follow her, but Torean clasped his arm and pulled him back. “Let her go, man. She’s in a fit of righteous rage, something every man should avoid at all costs.”
    Logan stared after her. Hell. He didn’t want her to go. Would he ever see her again? Hold her again?
    Yes. Damn it, yes.
    Torean grabbed his horse’s reins and then turned back to Logan, chuckling. “You look like a man in need of a pint. Come, I’ll walk to the tavern with you. We’ve good ale here.”

Chapter Seven
    The morning of Hogmanay dawned clear and bright. A warm sun had melted the snow, swelling the river that curved behind the castle and turning it into a brown tempest. Dampness gleamed on the barren stalks of trees a and shrubs, and churned mud covered the common areas between the castle and its out buildings. The castle women had woven rectangular wicker flats, and the men had laid them over the deepest, wettest areas so people could walk in the courtyard without sinking to their shins in mud.
    Maggie had awakened early in the guest chamber she always used when visiting Torean; it was a small, cold, stone-walled room high atop one of the turrets. Deep red-and-brown tapestries draped the walls, and a similarly colored thick carpet covered the floor from one rounded wall to the other. The bed was wider and softer than her bed at home, and the window, though narrow, was nearly as tall as she. It looked over the courtyard below, which had filled early with workers erecting the stage where Innes and Logan would duel.
    A servant woman patiently worked through the tangles in Maggie’s wild hair while she stared out the window, gazing down at the arena upon which her future would be determined.
    Freedom or slavery. She wished she had the power to make that choice for herself. Or, if not that, she wished she were strong enough to duel Innes herself.
    Maggie flattened her hand over the narrow pane of glass. Despite her misgivings about the entire affair, she thanked God for Logan. If not for him, she’d have no hope at all. Torean and Innes would have already forced her to submit to their will.
    The duel would take place before the noonday meal. Once the bloodshed was over, the MacDonalds would tumble back into the castle to eat and drink and be merry. No matter the outcome, they’d continue to celebrate long into the night, and they’d awake to a New Year with rolling stomachs and pale complexions.
    Maggie didn’t fear Logan would lose. He was a pillar of strength compared to Innes Munroe. Taller, more muscular, and certainly he possessed more experience in battle. Yet last night at dinner, Innes didn’t look the least bit nervous. In fact, he’d boasted of his imminent victory. Did that mean he possessed a skill with swords Maggie didn’t know about? His confidence made her feel uncomfortable and edgy, as though she might jump out of her own skin.
    A knock sounded on the thick planks of her door, and Maggie looked up in surprise. People didn’t often venture up this far. The reason she’d chosen this room so long ago was for its comparative privacy in the bustling environs of the castle.
    As she turned from the window, the servant bustled to answer the door. When she swung it open, Logan’s body instantly overwhelmed the tiny space.
    Frightened by his towering presence, the woman stepped aside, her eyes wide. Logan didn’t seem to see her at all. His eyes met Maggie’s and his low, rumbling voice washed over her. “Good morning.”
    She couldn’t prevent the flush of heat that washed through her from being in such proximity to him. “Logan . . .” I missed you. But they’d only spent two nights apart, hadn’t they? It seemed like an eternity. “Why are you here?”
    “I wished to see you.”
    “Ah.” Glancing at the woman, Maggie gave her the signal to go. Logan stepped