After a few moments, a bit of color returned to the boy’s face. His breathing became less labored and his muscles relaxed.
“My father was the laird of the Forbeses,” said Roderic as though their conversation had never been interrupted. “He had great problems to ponder, great decisions to make, yet when he was weary he would oft come to me, though I was no more than a wee lad.”
“Why?” asked the black haired Hawk.
“Because I would tell him of me day.”
“Was your day so interesting then?”
Roderic smiled. “Nay. But I be an accomplished liar.”
The boy laughed, and for a moment all tension left his face. “Tell me a lie, then, Roderic Forbes.”
No one had ever accused Roderic of being short on words. Nearly an hour had flown by before he wound up his tale. “And so the saying—the meek shall inherit the earth—but the sneak shall inherit a first-rate pair of horsehide boots.”
Hawk laughed uproariously, but in a moment the laughter turned to choked wheezing.
“Haydan!” Flanna awoke with a start. She turned her frantic gaze to the empty pillow then jerked it toward the door. Her gasp was just loud enough to be heard over the boy’s tortured breathing. “Forbes! Why are ye here? What have ye done?” she demanded. Scrambling forward, she wrapped an arm about the boy’s shoulder. “Haydan, relax now. All will be well,” she promised, but the wheezing turned to wracking coughs. Still, she held him and crooned until the fit finally ceased and the boy was able to draw breath normally. “There now.” Her voice was gentle and though she smiled down at the lad, Roderic could see the worry, stark and deep, in her emerald eyes. “Were ye slaying dragons in your dreams again, lad?”
“Nay,” said Haydan and lifted his gaze to look into her eyes. In that instant, the scene was etched in Roderic’s mind—the lady warrior, soft and kind as she cradled a child against her breast. “Forbes told me a tale. It made me laugh.”
“Dragons seem to be safer than laughter for ye, rnon amie,” she said softly, and though a smile tilted her lips, there was a catch in her voice. “Ye’d best sleep now.”
“Mayhap ‘tis diversion he needs more than sleep,” Roderic suggested.
Flanna lifted her gaze to his. “Mayhap ye wish to entertain us by telling what ye have done with your guards?”
Roderic shrugged. “They were sleepy,” he said simply and changed the subject. “The lad needs a healer.”
She opened her mouth as if to reprimand him, but the boy interrupted.
“He calls me Hawk,” he said weakly.
“Hawk?” She turned her attention to Haydan, and then with a gentle touch she swept back a shock of midnight hair from his forehead.
“Yes,” the boy whispered. “For he says I have the heart of a falcon.”
“The heart of a…” she whispered and lifted her face to Roderic’s. In that moment, he saw her confusion, as though an enemy had just offered her a priceless gift. “A falcon?”
“He says there’s a difference between fear and cowardice.”
“’Tis true,” she said softly, still holding Roderic’s gaze. “But now ye must sleep, mon amie.”
Haydan eased out of her embrace and scooted across the pallet to push his legs beneath the covers. Flanna rose to her feet.
“My lady?” The boy’s eyes were already closed.
“Yes?”
“Hawk… it sounds a bit like Haydan. Does it not?”
“Indeed, it does,” she murmured. For a moment longer, she stared at him before opening the door and stepping into the hall.
Roderic followed. “Should we na douse the light?”
Flanna closed the door behind them. “Nay,” she said and offered no more.
“But he might knock it from its stand and ignite the chamber.”
“He’s scared of the dark!” she whispered, turning rapidly toward him. “He is scared. Can ye understand that? Have ye ever truly feared anything, Forbes?”
“Aye, lass, I—” he began, but suddenly her fingers gripped his shirt front and her lips found his in a kiss that trembled with emotion.
Shock stopped Roderic’s breath in his throat, but in an instant, she pulled away and ran down the hall toward her own chamber.
On the fallowing morning, Roderic sat at his usual table in the hall, half listening to a much-exaggerated tale. Why had she kissed him? he wondered. Where was she now? Had she already broken the fast, or had she not yet arisen?
It had been a strange night. He had not bothered waking his guards but had returned to the tower on his own. Still, sleep had been elusive, for Flanna’s image haunted him. He longed to go to her room and watch her sleep, to see her face softened in slumber, to see her defenses down and her hair spread like a blazing halo around her. But it would avail him little.
What he must do was to speak to her, to learn more about her, to touch her and kiss—No! He didn’t need to kiss her. He needed to apologize for being a cad, he needed to woo her and … God, he needed to kiss her.
But she didn’t trust him, and it wasn’t just because he was a Forbes. It was because he was a man. He knew that much. But he needed to know more. And he suspected Haydan could tell him.
Roderic let his gaze skim to Effie. She bore a trencher in one hand and a mug in the other. An idea sparked in his mind. He stood abruptly and crossed the hall to speak to the maid.
In less than a minute, he was in the lad’s narrow room.
“Good morningtide,” he said, trencher in hand.
“Roderic.” The boy looked up from the book that lay on his coverlet.
“Ye read?”
“Yes. Since long before I came to Scotland.”
Roderic approached the bed. “And where are ye from, lad?”
“Bastia in France.”
“And yer mother, does she still live there?”
The boy was silent for a moment. “Who takes and never apologizes, gives and never rejoices?”
Roderic settled himself onto the pallet. To a bedridden boy, riddles would become like precious pearls. “The English?” he guessed foolishly.
The lad smiled but shook his head. “Death. It takes life and gives heaven.”
“Is your mother in heaven then, lad?”
“Do you believe there is a heaven, Roderic the Rogue?”
“Where did ye hear that name?”
“From Effie. She says the lasses are agog at your good looks.”
“Of course they are. Did she na mention me charm? Or me astounding strength?” Roderic asked, leaning closer.
Humor sparkled in the boy’s intelligent eyes. “I wonder, do ye laugh at yourself or do you think yourself so marvelous, Roderic Forbes?”
“Which do ye think it be?”
The boy canted his head. “I think it is both,” he said.
Roderic laughed aloud. “And I think ye are clever far beyond yer years.”
“My mother is dead.”
The boy’s mind changed track with the speed of a winter gale. Roderic hurried to keep up.
“I am sorry.”
“Some say she was a whore and that I was her punishment.”
God’s wrath! Who would say such a thing! “And some say there isna hell, but I say those that told ye thus are bound ta feel its flame, young Hawk.”
Roderic thought he saw tears in the boy’s eyes, but in a moment they lifted.
“My lady,” he murmured.
Roderic turned. Flanna stood in the doorway with a trencher.
“I… I didn’t know ye had brought Hay—Hawk’s meal.”
The sight of her stole his breath and his thoughts, for she looked young and vulnerable again, as if she had been caught caring for the lad when she should be out roaring orders and wielding a sword. Roderic scrambled for something to say to beat down the barrier that just now seemed to be crumbling between them. “Mayhap we should call him Black Hawk, the Great.”
“Nay,” piped the scrawny boy from his pallet. “Haydan, the Haw
k of the Highlands.”
Roderic watched Flanna’s gaze lift to the lad’s. The caring there was painfully obvious, though she hardened her tone and tried to disguise her sentiments. “Ye should eat, young man.”
“But I am not hungry.”
“Ye must eat.”
“True,” said Roderic, turning to the boy. “What warrior can ride on an empty stomach?”
“The Hawk of the Highlands will sooner fly than ride,” said the lad quietly.
“What? Ye have na steed?”
“He cannot ride,” Flanna said quickly. “It makes him wheeze.”
Roderic shrugged, still looking at Hawk. “Women have been known ta make me wheeze. It doesna mean I avoid them.”
Haydan laughed.
“Troy needs to speak to ye, Forbes,” Flanna said. Her tone was suddenly cool.
“Troy?”
“Yes. Immediately.”
Roderic rose. “Verra well. Ye eat, Black Hawk and I will teach ye ta handle Mor.”
“Mor?”
“Me stallion.”
“And is he so great as his name implies?”
“Greater.”
“Better than Lochan?”
Roderic opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and leaned close to Hawk’s ear. “The lady already resents me, lad. I am trying to reverse the trend,” he said and winked as he drew away and raised his voice. “Nay. Na steed is as great as Lochan Gorm.”
“Forbes!” Her tone was frosty now.
“Aye. I am coming.”
The door closed behind them. Side by side, they strode down the hall.
“What be Troy wanting?”
She stopped and turned on him very suddenly. “Ye will not promise Haydan what ye cannot deliver?”
“What?” he asked, shocked by the tears that welled in her eyes.
“He cannot ride!”
“Why?”
“Because he is dying!”
“Dying? He’s small, true, but he’s only a child and—”
“He is twelve years of age and the physicians cannot help him.”
“Twelve?” Roderic repeated. The lad looked to be nine, maybe less.
“Aye.” She seemed calmer now and clasped her hands in front of her. “I but wish for him to reach thirteen.”
“Then ye canna treat him as if he’s already dead.”
For a moment he thought she would strike him, but she did not. Instead she pivoted on her heel and hurried away down the stairs to the hall.
“Flanna,” he called, cursing himself for a thousand kinds of fool and rushing down the steps after her. The sorrow in her eyes had made him desperately want to solve her problem, but once again he had acted the fool. What was it about her that brought out the barbarian in him? “Flanna,” he called again. Faces turned to watch him hurry through the crowded hall. “I must speak to you.”
She turned to him. Gone was the tender lass. In her place was a woman whose heart could not be touched by the injustices of this world. “No, Forbes,” she said coldly, “You do not.”
Chapter 11
The hall was absolutely silent as every person present watched them.
“Troy,” Flanna called, “I will be riding on the green if—”
“I wish ta try one of yer renowned mounts,” Roderic said. He needed to be speak to her, to apologize. But not here. Not now. Not with a hundred ears hearing his words. “I wish ta ride one of yer steeds…if ye are na ashamed of them.”
She turned toward him, her gaze sharp with anger and disdain. “If ye think to goad me with that feeble prick to my pride, Forbes, think again. I gave up shame long ago.”
“I am na convinced of the superiority of yer horses,” he said.
“And ye imagine that I care?”
“Has me brother agreed to yer demands, then?”
Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Nor will he,” Roderic said, his voice softer now. “Leith will na pay for me return, lass.”
“Then mayhap we will be forced to kill ye.”
“‘Twould be the act of a fool, Flanna MacGowan,” Roderic said. “And though ye have yer faults, ye are na a fool.”
She turned away after a moment. “I’ll be on the green,” she repeated to Troy, but Roderic stopped her again.
“I swore I would see yer horses returned if ye convinced me of their worth,” he said. “I canna be assured of their value until I ride them.”
“‘Twould be good ta get him from the castle.”
Flame scowled and turned at Troy’s words. The Wolfhound stood close beside them and shrugged apologetically.
“‘Tis the men, lass, they get nothing accomplished while Forbes is spinning yarns. Na ta mention the women.” He scowled. “‘Twould be good ta have him gone for a wee bit.”
Roderic scowled. Since when did the Wolfhound take his side? he wondered, but now was not the time to spit on a helping hand. “I wish only ta see what ye do with yer stallions.” Damn! Bad wording, he thought, remembering the horrid things he had accused her of earlier. “That is ta say, I but wish ta watch…” He stumbled, seeing her expression grow frostier by the moment. “I mean, they seem ta love ye so…” He winced outwardly now, seeing no hope of hiding his unusual clumsiness. “Well, Wolfhound, how are ye ta save me from her this time?” he asked in exasperation.
If Roderic wasn’t mistaken, there was a light of laughter in the huge warrior’s eyes.
“Methinks I will let ye blather on, lad, and see how she decides ta kill ye in the end.”
Roderic sighed and found her gaze again. “‘Twould be a kindness to make it quick,” he murmured tonelessly. If ever he had bumbled a plea, this was the time. ‘Twould serve him right if she did kill him. No one who acted as idiotically as he did of late deserved to live. And there wasn’t a chance in hell she would ride with him.
“Come along.”
Roderic raised his brows, certain he had misheard. “What?”
“Come along,” she repeated and turned away.
He followed in her wake but not so close that he could not admire her movements. She walked like no other woman in the world. But hardly did she walk like a man. Nay. There was a sweet smoothness to her movements, an easy, catlike grace that spoke of strength and control.
“Why do ye truly wish to ride?”
She had stopped and turned. Roderic halted and felt a hound’s wet nose bump the back of his bare knee. Raising his gaze abruptly to Flame’s eyes, he damned himself for not concentrating. She distrusted him already. There was no need to compound the problem by ogling her at every turn.
But he couldn’t help it.
“What?” he asked, feeling more foolish by the moment.
“I said, why do ye truly wish—”
“Ahh,” he interrupted, remembering her question. “I wish ta see for meself how yer steeds move.”
“Ye wish to escape,” she countered dryly.
Roderic took a deep breath. He was past the age of being smitten like a lovesick calf. Gawd’s wrath, he was six and twenty years of age. “Nay,” he denied softly. “I wish ta apologize.”
The morning was very still. Not a breath of air stirred. They stared at each other.
“For what?” she murmured.
“For the things I have said.”
“Ye called him Hawk, and ye made him smile,” she said softly and disappeared inside the stable.
Roderic hurried after her. Close at hand, a giant hoof thudded against a wall. Bruid’s deep-throated trumpet echoed in the dim building, but all Roderic’s attention was on Flanna.
“And so ye would forgive the unforgivable for one brief glimpse of Haydan’s smile.”
“He is but a child,” she whispered, “who has done nothing to deserve his plight.” There were tears in her eyes again.
“Flanna,” Roderic whispered, stepping forward, but she held up a hand.
“Ye have my thanks, Forbes. Don’t ask for more.”
“Flanna,” he repeated, b
ut she had already turned away.
“Ye will ride the bay in the next stall,” she said. Her tone was hard and cool again. “Know ye how to saddle yer own beast? Or do the mighty Forbeses have squires to do such lowly tasks?”
Silence settled over the stable.
“Well?” she asked, finally emerging with Lochan. But Roderic already had Cam saddled and was watching her.
“Why do ye hide yer kindness behind chilly words and hard expressions?” he asked.
She strode quickly past him, refusing to answer. Refusing to be impressed by the speed with which he could ready a steed. “Mount up if ye’re coming along.”
Roderic caught her arm. “I promise na ta escape this day. In case ye be worrying.”
Flame stared at him. He was less than two feet away. His eyes were as blue as a Highland Harebell and his mouth tilted like that of an enchanting boy’s—or like a scheming demon’s. Nay, she was not worried he would escape. She was worried he might not.
The truth hit her like a blow. Even in her own mind, she hadn’t admitted it. But now she saw it as fact. She had been a fool to bring him here. She had been a fool to think the MacGowans might extract vengeance upon the powerful Forbeses. And she was a fool to believe she might attract him as he attracted her.
“Do ye think ye could escape my arrows even if ye tried?” she asked, hoping nothing was revealed in her expression, hoping her tone was sufficiently haughty. But in her mind’s eye she saw every dream that had haunted her nights of late, every shameful, lusty image that seared away her facade and revealed her true self. A girl in a woman’s body, crying for love.
He stared into her eyes, and though she was certain he could see into her quivering heart, she could not draw away.
“Nay. I dunna think I can escape ye,” he murmured.
His mien was absolutely sober. His gaze held her in a steely clasp. She dared not breathe, lest she reveal all. It took every bit of strength she had to force herself to move past him and through the door.
The drawbridge wasn’t far away. It lowered with no more than a nod to the guard there. Lochan’s footfalls sounded hollow against the massive planks. Cam’s thudded after, but in a moment the bay destrier thundered up beside her. Forbes’ adopted hound romped ahead, tawny hide gleaming in the sun.
Highland Flame (Highland Brides) Page 13
