Highland Flame (Highland Brides)

by Greiman, Lois

  “Flanna!” Roderic gasped, holding her in his arms.

  Behind her, two stallions screamed and clashed, but she could see nothing but Roderic’s face.

  “Are ye hurt?” he breathed.

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t lift her gaze from his eyes. Worry was etched there. Worry for her. His arms trembled.

  She opened her mouth to answer the emotions she saw in his eyes. But Bruid screamed again, snapping her from her trance.

  “Nay,” she yelled. Breaking free of Roderic’s grasp, Flame launched herself toward the thrashing stallions.

  “Flanna!” Roderic roared and leaped toward her to grasp her by the shirt and toss her out of harm’s way.

  “Nay!” she cried again, terrified for the horses’ safety, but just then Roderic threw himself into the fray.

  Grabbing Bruid’s head collar, he tried to drag the horse to a halt. But the stallion was enormous and enraged, and he reared again, whipping Roderic into the air like a stubborn autumn leaf.

  Men stood immobile and transfixed as they watched in horror. From Flame’s spot on the floor, every incident seemed to be played out like a scene upon a stage. She saw the stallions rear in slow motion. Saw Forbes lifted from the ground. It almost seemed as if she saw herself rise. Saw herself propelled forward to grasp Dubh’s headstall and drag him around. From nowhere, Troy appeared, lending his weight as he, too, pulled at the black.

  Bruid crashed his forefeet to the earth and finally men swarmed forward with hay forks and loose timbers. With shrieks and threats, they drove the great stallion backward. Leaning into the gray’s shoulder, Roderic forced the beast around and back into his stall. Gilbert thudded the door closed behind, opening it only far enough to allow Roderic to slip back out.

  But for wild trumpeting and the thudding of hooves, all was silent.

  “I’ve said a thousand times we should be rid of the beast,” Troy said. “How did he get loose?”

  Roderic turned toward the old warrior, his hand still on the door. “The latch has been tampered with.”

  The two men’s gazes met with a clash and held. Flame watched, barely noticing when someone took Dubh from her.

  “Nay!” she said, striding forward. “Ye were both on the green. No blame can be cast.”

  “‘Tis na true,” Roderic said. “Someone is ta blame.”

  Troy said nothing.

  All stood immobile, watching, listening.

  “‘Tis enough,” Flame said, turning abruptly on shaky legs. “The entertainment is ended. ‘Twas an accident and nothing more.

  “Magnus, make certain Bruid’s stall is mended. Ye others, see to your mounts then go to the hall.” She tried a tentative smile, though she wondered if it looked ghoulish and frightening more than soothing. “Go fetch your meals. We cannot have the great MacGowan warriors so famished they grow weak.”

  The men seemed to shake themselves from their trances as they watched her.

  “My lady!” gasped Nevin, rushing into the stable. “I heard a commotion and feared for your life.” Bruid crashed his hind feet against his stall, and Nevin jumped and veered sideways. “The beast got loose!” he gasped, shifting his gaze from the shattered latch to Flame’s face. “Sweet Mary, ye could have been killed.”

  “I am fine,” she said.

  “But, lady,” Nevin said, his voice choked with emotion, “ye are as pale as death. Ye must go rest after such a fright.”

  She managed to laugh. “I assure ye, I am fine.”

  “Where have ye been, Nevin?” Roderic asked.

  Nevin turned slowly to Forbes. “You!” he said, his voice a growl. “‘Twas you that caused this.”

  “He was on the green all day,” Magnus said.

  “But what of before?” Nevin asked. “Who watched him while ye were saddling your mounts?”

  No one spoke.

  “Lady,” Bullock said, “I should have watched him myself ta make certain he caused na harm. But ye are unhurt?”

  “Aye. I am unhurt. ‘Tis time for the incident to be forgotten.” Though Nevin and Roderic still eyed each other, it was easier for Flame to smile now, for perhaps Forbes had been right. Perhaps these men were loyal to her. They were certainly concerned. And perhaps they would appreciate her praise. “I am unharmed. ‘Tis a fine job ye did with Smitty today, Bullock.” His chest seemed to swell. Her knees felt steadier. “And Bryce,” she called, “no one has handled Dana better.”

  By the time the warriors made their way to the hall, they were chatting and laughing again. Even Nevin had lost his pallor.

  “Come and eat, lady,” said Bullock, filling the doorway with his great bulk. “We canna allow our lady to become famished, for who would tame the beasties for us wee men?”

  Flame laughed as an unfamiliar warmth spread through her. Comradery was a strange feeling. Was it caused by her simple compliments to the men? Should the credit go to Roderic’s suggestion? “I will be along shortly. I only wish to spend a moment or two with Lochan.”

  He nodded and turned to follow his friends.

  Only a few warriors remained with their mounts now. Troy and Roderic stood in the aisle, watching her.

  “Go eat,” she said softly.

  “Nay,” they said in unison.

  She scowled first at Roderic then at Troy. “What is the matter with ye two?”

  The men remained silent.

  “‘Tis fine then. Starve if ye like.” Turning her back to them, she spoke a few words to Lochan and stroked his face. Behind her, her protectors watched. Flame remained as she was, trying to find the serenity the stable usually granted her, but there was no peace to be found with these two men lurking about in her wake. She moved on, stepping into Dubh’s stall.

  He was beginning to calm down, but a large patch of hair had been torn from his neck. A swelling as large as her fist protruded from his shoulder. She set a hand gently to it. “Dubh,” she said reproachfully, “ye should know better than to scrap with the likes of Bruid. But…” She sighed, not looking behind her at the men who hovered at the stall door. “So is the way of men, I suppose.” She moved closer, appreciating the stallion’s warmth, his solid presence. Her fingers touched the muscle of his cheek before running down the powerful neck and back to his wounded shoulder.

  From the doorway, Roderic held his breath. He couldn’t pull his attention from her hands. They seemed so small and delicate against the huge animal’s body. They seemed so gentle and tender. And there was nothing he wanted more than to feel that tenderness against his own skin.

  “Aye, ye look and ye dream,” rumbled Troy in his ear. “But do ye have the stones ta act?”

  Roderic turned irritably toward the speaker. “What are ye yippin’ about now, Wolfhound?”

  Troy shook his head in disgust. “Chance is lek a bird.” Lifting one huge hand, Troy gripped it into a fist. “Tek it now or it will fly.”

  “Gawd’s wrath! What is that supposed ta—” Roderic began, but Troy raised his voice and shifted his gaze to Flanna.

  “Please come, lass,” said he, “while the lad makes up his mind.”

  Outside the tower, lightning flashed like golden pitchforks across the ebony sky. Thunder cracked. Roderic paced. He should be with her. He should be guarding her. He should surely not be here, confined to this high stone Hades. But he doubted whether the MacGowan warriors would allow him to sit at the end of Flanna’s bed as she slept.

  Roderic paced again. Storms made him feel edgy. The thought of Flanna in danger made him feel violent.

  And there was danger. But from where did it come? Who was the culprit?

  Chance was like a bird, Troy had said. What the devil did that mean?

  Who had shot the arrows? Who had tampered with Bruid’s latch? He had to know. But he did not. And so he must keep her safe. But neither could he do that.

  And so …

  He stopped abruptly. Bonny’s wet nose bumped his bare leg. He glanced at the shutter. It was boarded up. He looked at the
ceiling. Without the furniture, it was far beyond his reach. The door held the only possibility of escape.

  But how? Glancing desperately about, his gaze fell on the hound. She smiled adoringly up at him.

  It might work. He squatted down and stroked the dog while he studied the dark outline of the door. It would work. He would leave—tonight. But he would not leave alone.

  Chapter 14

  Beneath the plaid, Bonny wagged her tail against the straw tick. Roderic whispered to her, stroking her face and pulling the woolen over her head.

  Thunder shattered the stillness but very little light invaded the room.

  He stroked the hound’s face again, waiting for the quiet to return. In the darkness, he checked the tautness of the plaid he had tied around Bonny’s neck and run beneath the mattress. It felt solid enough to hold her for a few moments at least.

  Sending a silent prayer to his maker, Roderic reviewed his plans. When all was ready, he rose.

  Taking a deep breath, he waited a moment and shrieked, “Nay!” in a terrified tone that fairly shook the roof. In a moment, he was flying silently across the room to press his back against the wall beside the portal’s hinges.

  There was the sound of someone bumping to wakefulness, and then the door burst open.

  “Forbes!” Bullock called. Through the crack between the door and the wall, Roderic could make out the broad warrior’s form. Though his features were sleepy, his sword was drawn.

  Diffused light fell across his tousled hair and onto the bright MacGowan tartan that covered the lumpy mattress. Beneath the woolen, Bonny wriggled wildly.

  “Forbes!” Bullock called again.

  “What is it?” Gilbert gasped, pressing in beside his partner.

  “‘Tis Forbes,” Bullock snorted, his tone calmer now as he shook his head. “Another of his damnable dreams I would guess. Ye stay here. I will shake him awake.”

  Roderic tensed. Bullock strode forward.

  Bonny wiggled. The plaid fell aside, exposing her long, furry head. Bullock gasped at the same time Roderic threw his weight against the portal, slamming Gilbert against the wall.

  There was a shriek, a gasp, a curse, and a howl. But suddenly, Gilbert’s sword was in Roderic’s hand, and Gilbert’s back was pressed against his captor’s chest.

  No one breathed.

  Bullock raised his arms carefully, sword tilted downward. “The hound took yer blanket?” he guessed cautiously. “And ye want yet another?”

  Roderic granted him a grin for his humor. “I fear me complaint is more serious than that tanight, lads,” he said.

  “Ye want fresh bandages for yer wound?”

  “I must leave,” Roderic said.

  “Good riddance ta ye,” gasped Gilbert. “May auld horny himself go with ye.”

  Roderic’s smile increased. “Will ye never believe that I had nothing ta do with Simon’s death?”

  The room was silent for a moment “‘Tis a strange one ye be, Forbes. That I say.”

  “Well, I didna,” said Roderic, and moving quickly, he shoved Gilbert away.

  He crashed forward, nearly ramming into Bullock, who steadied him with his hands.

  Upon the mattress, Bonny slipped from her woolen tether to bound across the room to the door.

  “And neither will I harm yer lady if ye do what I say.”

  Thunder rumbled like a feral growl through the heavens. Lightning crackled. In the scattered light, Roderic could see the guards’ faces pale.

  “Nay.” Bullock shook his head and carefully hefted his sword. “Ye willna harm her for ye willna touch her, Forbes.”

  “’Tis sad I am ta worry ye,” disagreed Roderic gently. “But she will leave with me. I only ask that ye do me bidding, so that she may remain safe. Promise ta keep quiet.”

  The guards’ mouths fell open in unison.

  “I will tek your word as yer bond,” he said solemnly. “If ye promise na ta call for help until the dawn, I willna harm her in any way.”

  Thunder crashed, followed by stunned silence.

  Bullock watched him with narrowed eyes. “I dunna think ye will harm her anyway, Forbes,” he said softly. “Or else why go through the effort of saving her from Bruid today?”

  Roderic canted his head in concession. “’Tis the truth ye speak, Bullock. I couldna harm her. But I tell ye, if ye vow ta keep still until morn, I will see her safely returned ta ye. If na…” He shrugged. “The Forbeses have the power ta hold her forever.”

  “‘Twould be better for us if ye bumped us on the head and tossed us from the window,” said Gilbert. “For when the others find her gone, they will surely do worse ta us.”

  “The others is the reason I am taking her, for I know na who she can trust. But I have a message for the Wolfhound. Tell him that if he had any sense, he would have had ye guarding the Flame instead of guarding the Rogue. And tell him…” He grinned, feeling the exhilaration of impending freedom wash over him. “Tell him that I wish it had been he guarding the door. For it would have made na difference. When Roderic the Rogue decides ta leave, he leaves.” Thrusting the sword beneath his belt, he gripped his plaid near his chest and drew a deep breath. “Do I have yer vow of silence?”

  “Aye.” Their acquiescence came reluctantly, but it came.

  “Good lads. I willna forget your cooperation.” Without shifting his gaze from the two by the mattress, Roderic retrieved his boots and backed away. In a moment, the door was barred behind him.

  Bonny laughed up into his face. Thunder cracked again. Roderic shoved the tops of his boots beneath the strap of his sporran. They dangled against his backside, leaving his feet bare and silent. Stealth was a necessity if he hoped to live out the night.

  Silently, he moved down the stairs. The hall appeared much the same as always in the dim light. With a signal from her beloved, Bonny sat at the bottom of the steps and waited as her master slipped across the hall.

  Marjory again slept before her mistress’s door. Wasting no time, Roderic stepped over her and lifted the latch. The shutters were closed against the wild weather, and the fire had burned down, leaving the room steeped in darkness. He made his way to the draped bed. His heart was beating rapidly now. Whether it was caused by his own furtive mission or Flanna’s proximity, he wasn’t certain.

  Memories of seeing her abed numbed Roderic’s senses. He wished he had time to delay, to wake her slowly. To stroke her hair and soothe her, for though she seemed the fearless leader of the MacGowans, she was a woman at heart, soft and fragile and sweet.

  “Move and you’ll wear my dirk between your ribs.” Her words came from behind him and were spoken through gritted teeth in a low and angry voice.

  “Lass?” Roderic questioned, remembering, a bit belatedly, that sometimes she was sweeter than others. “Is that ye?” he asked, turning slightly.

  “Do not move if ye value your life.”

  He did and found that her dirk was just as sharp as the last time he had encountered it. It was placed between two ribs about halfway down his back. ‘Twould be an ugly wound if she but thrust a bit harder.

  Roderic shook his head gently. “Nay, lass, I wouldna even consider moving. I may never move again. In fact, if ye like, I could—”

  “Shut up!” she said, thrusting the dirk a bit harder against his back.

  He nodded once. “I could do that, too.”

  Thunder crackled, then rumbled to silence.

  “How did ye escape?”

  “Well…” Roderic cleared his throat. He had been quite clever really and didn’t mind relating his exploits to an appreciative audience. “I—”

  “How did ye get past Marjory?”

  He opened his mouth to speak again.

  “What the devil are ye doing here?”

  “Which of those would ye like answered first, lass?”

  “Ply me with your glib tongue and I’ll feed ye to the hounds, Forbes.”

  “Most unsavory. Are ye fully dressed?”

 
The knife was pressed in earnest now and she gripped his hair in her other hand. “Why are ye here?”

  “Is it the truth ye wish for, lass?”

  “The truth or your death.”

  He nodded once. “The truth is, I couldna keep meself from ye any longer.” He paused, expecting her to speak, but she did not. “Every moment away from ye is torture. Each night is an eternity. Yer presence is me very breath.” Raising his arm, he gripped his plaid over his chest. “The very beat of me heart.”

  Silence echoed in the room.

  ” ‘Twas ye that left the note?” Her voice was low and husky.

  “The truth again, lass?” he asked softly.

  “The truth.”

  He turned carefully to glance over his shoulder at her. “Aye. ‘Twas me.”

  “Ye lie?” The knife had slipped away a bit She pressed it harder, but now Roderic wondered if he felt it tremble slightly. “There is no way ye could have escaped the tower. Not alone. Who aided ye?”

  “Yer beauty aided me. None other.”

  “Ye lie!”

  Roderic arched his back away from the knife and grimaced. “Well, that I do, lass. But na at this moment. I had na aid. For me desire for ye canna be bound. Na matter how thick the walls or how high the tower.”

  “Do not speak to me in the deceitful tongue of the gallant knight. I have heard the words before.”

  He didn’t mean to turn. In fact, he had every intention of remaining immobile, of not frightening her. But the thought of her in another’s arms was unbearable and suddenly he twisted about. While managing to avoid the blade, he gripped her wrist in his hand.

  “But ye heard them from the wrong man,” he breathed.

  She ceased her struggling and stared into his eyes. “Why are ye here?” she whispered.

  Lightning crackled, but whether it occurred beyond the walls or inside the chamber neither could be certain.

  “I am here for ye, lass.”

  Beneath the simple, saffron shirt, her breasts rose and fell with each rapid inhalation.

  Every good intention slipped away, every fine sense of self-control and good sense. Despite it all, he kissed her. Her lips met his in a hard clash of emotion. Against his chest, he could feel the warm crush of her breasts.