Highland Flame (Highland Brides) (38 page)

Flame felt Roderic's gaze return to her face but refused to lift her eyes.

"Dunna draw away, lass," he said softly.

But the choices were so clear. She must draw away or lose her heart. "Let me go home."

She felt the muscles of his arms and chest tense where they touched her.

"Please," she murmured.

He said nothing, only turned and carried her back to her room.

"Ye canna keep her locked away here forever," Roderic said, leveling his best glare on Fiona.

She stood in the doorway of the infirmary with fists planted on her narrow hips and the light of battle in her eyes. "In case you have na noticed, the Lord has worked a miracle here, Roderic Forbes. And He has put me in charge of making certain you don't botch it up."

Intimidation worked about as well on Fiona as it did on Flanna. Roderic tried a smile instead. "When have I ever botched things up, lass?"

Her snort was, by any standards, unladylike. "I dunna have all morning as you well know."

"'Twas me verra point," Roderic said. "I felt ye were too busy. Ye dunna have time ta help herd the beasts."

"What the devil be ye speaking of?"

"Flanna is particularly fond of livestock."

Fiona's left brow lifted over her entrancing eyes.

Roderic cleared his throat. "Isn't it true, Lady MacGowan," he asked, turning to the lady under discussion, who lay in the bed across the room. But the lady was, apparently, far too wise, or perhaps too amused to join in this particular fray.

"Are ye threatening to squeeze that lop-eared horse into my infirmary again?" Fiona asked.

"Nay," denied Roderic, trying to appear offended. "But William MacMurt's sow just birthed piglets. And of course they be too young to leave their mother. So mayhap I could simply carry the wee ones whilst ye and Roman shoo the sow up the stairs to—"

Fiona's laughter interrupted his gesticulations and commentary. "How is it that your brothers have put up with your foolishness all these years?"

Roderic shrugged and grinned. 'Twas a heady feeling being near the two women most dear to his heart. "’Tis a wonder, me lady."

"'Tis indeed." She laughed, then said, "Go on then. Take her down to the bailey, but no further. And I warn ye," she added, shaking a finger at him, "if she becomes chilled or fatigued, 'twill be on your head."

"Aye, me lady," agreed Roderic, employing his most boyish charm. Tucking a pair of blankets firmly to Flanna's sides, he scooped her into his arms.

Their gazes met and for a moment he thought she held her breath.

"Did I hurt ye?" he murmured.

Rosy color dappled her fair cheeks. "Nay."

"Ye are bonny indeed this morning, Lady Flanna."

Flanna blushed a bit brighter and hurried her gaze to the doorway, but Fiona was already gone. "And ye are a flirt."

Roderic laughed. "Aye," he agreed. Her hair was loose and had been brushed to a fiery glow. It flowed against his arm like a river of flame and crackled between their bodies. "Be ye ready to meet the day?"

"Nay." She blinked and found his gaze again. "I am not even dressed.''

He eyed her demure night rail with a scowl. "If only 'twere true."

Flame laughed again. Roderic had long since taken her from the bailey. They sat on the sun-dappled slope of a verdant hillock. Magpies called from the woods behind them and wild irises raised their delicate heads to smile at the sunlight.

"'Tis true," Roderic promised. Stretching his powerful legs out before him, he settled back upon his elbows. "Ta this day auld Alpin still thinks that gray mare can talk."

His sapphire eyes looked into hers. Flame caught her breath and pulled her attention from his face with an effort. But it did no good, for she could still feel the warmth of his gaze as he studied her.

"'Tis ..." she began, but it was difficult to think when he was so close and nearly impossible to speak. "'Tis a bonny spot."

He had wanted to carry her through the village to entertain her with the wares sold there, but the thought of others seeing her so scandalously clothed appalled her. They had settled on this small piece of paradise.

"Aye," he said, "'tis bonny. When I was a lad I used ta scout the woods behind us with me brothers. We imagined ourselves great, fearsome warriors with muscle of iron and wills of steel."

She didn't allow herself to look and confirm the fact that his muscles were indeed as hard and smooth as cooled molten iron. Nor did she let herself remember how he looked with his back to her and his arms outstretched as he battled a score of villains with nothing more than a flaming brand of wood. He had fought for her, risked his life to save hers. But she would not think of that, for it weakened her will and softened her heart. And a soft heart could so easily be crushed.

"Ye must have had an idyllic childhood."

"Idyllic?" He gazed down the hill. At the bottom, the burn sparkled and chuckled. "I had a fine father, though he was a wee bit hot-tempered. I had Leith ta look up ta, Colin ta jostle, and me aunt ta soothe me hurts."

Flame knew she shouldn't ask. "And what of your mother?"

"The birth of twins is rarely done without great loss, Fiona tells me."

Against her better judgment, Flame turned toward him. His expression was somber as he watched the sweeping flight of a hunting kite.

"I am sorry." The words came without bidding.

"As am I."

"Ye never knew her?"

"Nay."

How, then, had this man learned such gentleness without a mother's loving hand? "And your father?"

"Died during battle when I was a lad."

So hardships had not avoided him. And yet he viewed the world with a wondrous optimism that brightened the very day around her. Never had she been happier than during the moments she had spent with him. Never before had her heart sung.

"Ahh." His leonine head turned. "I fear me goose is fat for the fire."

"What?"

He nodded toward the castle. "Lady Fiona has sent her wee warriors ta gather ye home and pluck me feathers for taking ye so far afield."

Flame looked in the indicated direction but saw nothing more frightening than a lean lad and a tiny wren of a girl running across the hillock toward them.

"Roman and Rachel?" she guessed.

"Aye."

"’Tis not too fearsome a foe for a man of men such as yourself," she chided gently.

He turned slowly toward her. The cords in his neck stood out taut and hard beneath the golden skin of his throat.

"Be ye flirting with me, lass?"

Flame's jaw dropped slightly. "Nay. I..."

"Dunna get me wrong, Flanna, I have na objections. In fact—"

A blast of childish woe erupted from the hillside, drawing the two from their talk. Turning in unison, they saw that Rachel had fallen and was tearfully relating her problems to her brother.

But Roman was all of twelve years old. A young man, Flame thought, a warrior in the making, and surely not willing to ease a wee lassie's hurts. Old wounds of her own suddenly nagged, but in that moment she saw Roman squat and pull the tiny girl into his arms.

Unabashed and seemingly unsurprised, Rachel leaned her face against her brother's tunic and encircled his neck. Even from a distance, Flame could see the caring in his eyes. And though his movements were a bit awkward, he stroked her sable hair and lifted the tiny body carefully into his arms.

Tears flooded Flame's eyes. She could neither explain them nor stop them, but suddenly her throat was choked with tension and her heart stung for a love she had missed.

"Are ye hurting, Flanna?" Roderic's voice was low.

Flame swept her gaze quickly from the approaching pair to the distant burn. "Nay," she said, though she knew it was a lie, for her soul ached.

"Dunna draw away," he said softly.

She had heard those words from him before but they were even more powerful now, for she had glimpsed a different world—a world where girls were coddled and cherished, where women were loved and respected. She raised her gaze, catching his.

"Do ye hurt, lass?" he whispered.

She swallowed hard, unable to turn away. "Only in my heart."

"Is it that ye miss yer own people?" he guessed.

"Nay." She barely breathed the word past her lips. "It is that I do not."

His brow wrinkled. Every living fiber in her wanted nothing more than to open her arms, to draw him against her breast, to feel his vibrant strength and know she was loved by him.

"What say ye?" he asked.

She was the Flame of the MacGowans. And she had to be strong. "Ye are lucky to have the Lady Fiona." Her voice was admirably firm. "To tend the wounds of your people,"

Roderic watched her, not speaking, not moving.

Flame tightened her jaw and turned away. "I wish Haydan were here. Under your lady's gentle hand he might yet grow strong. I would give half my tomorrows to see him healed."

Roderic's gaze was like a sunbeam on her face. She need not look directly at it to feel its heat.

A pair of sturdy boy's legs entered Flame's vision.

"I wounded my knee," Rachel said from the safety of her brother's arms.

Flame felt Roderic's attention being drawn slowly from her face. "Are ye badly hurt, Peepsweep?"

"Aye." Her small chin lifted slightly. "Roman had ta carry me just like ye carry Lady MacGowan."

Above Rachel's dark head, Roman's face flushed slightly, and though Flame felt some compassion for his embarrassment, she felt admiration with more potency. It took a strong man to be gentle, she realized suddenly. Perhaps the same could be said of women, and yet she knew she lacked the strength to show her weakness to this man beside her.

Roman cleared his throat. "Methinks ye'd best hasten ta the keep."

"Yer mother's in a fury?" Roderic guessed.

"She sent us from the room before she would speak to Da," Roman answered.

Roderic scowled. "It bodes ill."

"There was talk of a scourging."

Against her will, Flame gasped. She had known men to die beneath the lash. All eyes turned to her.

"'Twas a jest," Roman said quickly.

"Aye, lass," said Roderic. "'Twas a jest... I hope."

"What the devil were ye thinking?" Leith fumed, skirting his brothers' stools as he paced the solar for the third time.

"She is me own responsibility," Roderic reminded him. It was not the first time he had been closeted here with his laird, nor, he hoped, would it be his last. "She was as safe as a bairn in…" He jerked a nod toward where Fiona sat rocking wee Graham. "…in his mama's arms."

"She was in her nightgown and naught else!" reminded Leith.

"And think ye I couldna control meself, brother? That I might lose all sense and fall upon her in the broad light of day with all of Glen Creag looking on?"

"Aye," growled Leith, "I do."

"It's happened afore," reminded Colin.

Roderic smiled. "I dunna lose control."

"But they lose their virtue."

"Well, she has na," said Roderic evenly.

"She was in her nightgown!" stormed Leith. "What be ye thinking?"

"What be I thinking?" Roderic rose slowly to his feet. "I be thinking ye are a pair of lady's maids with too little ta occupy yer minds. Will ye be worrying that her shoes dunna match her bonnet on our next outing?"

"Watch yer—" Leith began.

"Does me memory fail me?" Roderic interrupted. "Or was na yer lady a postulate of the holy order of Mary when ye blackmailed ...
blackmailed
her into returning with ye ta Glen Creag!"

Leith was silent for a moment then said, "That was different."

"Aye," agreed Colin, "we were on a sacred mission."

"And, ye!" scoffed Roderic, rounding on his twin. "Dunna think yer Devona hasna told me of yer proposition to her on yer first meeting."

"Well, I..." blustered Colin, drawing himself straighter. "That was afore."

"Afore what?"

"Afore me own Sarah was born."

"Huh!" laughed Roderic.

"I never paraded Devona about in her nightshift!" proclaimed Colin.

"Well ye—"

"Gentlemen!" said Fiona, rising to her feet with Graham cuddled against her shoulder. "Ye are disturbing the babe. And accomplishing very little, I might add."

Colin grumbled. Leith paced. Roderic scowled. She was, of course, right again.

"The point is not that we do not trust ye, brother," she said softly to Roderic. "It is that she is the lady of the MacGowans and that her clan is a breath away from attacking Glen Creag. What if she had caught a chill? Ye know the ordinance set forth by her kinsmen. If she is not returned to them hale and whole in a prescribed amount of time, there will be bloodshed. And that time is running out."

"Who struck her with the arrow?" asked Roderic, fury causing his teeth to grind. "There is na proof that it was na one of her own."

"Nay," Fiona said softly, "there is no proof."

"Then I will na return her," Roderic vowed, "until I know she is safe."

"Is it her safety or yer heart that worries ye more, brother?" asked Leith quietly.

"It matters naught," Roderic said. "For she stays."

"Even against her will?"

"If needs be."

"Then ye'd best fortify the castle walls," said Leith solemnly, "and keep yer hands ta yerself."

Roderic raised his palms in an expression of innocence. "Ye needn't worry about me hands," he said, "for I'll be taking them with me when I leave."

"Leave!" echoed three voices in unison.

"Aye," said Roderic, "I go tanight."

Chapter 28

The night was very still. Roderic smiled into the darkness. He had reached Dun Ard in record time and now stood in the lee of the timber palisade and listened. In the woods behind him, a chestnut stallion awaited his return.

The climb over the wall and into the village was child's play, given the great length of rope he carried with him. The climb into Dun Ard itself was a bit more difficult. Now he stood beside the stable, catching his breath and getting his bearings. And then, stealthy as a wildcat on the prowl, he crept along the palisade toward the hall.