Dear Gawd, she tasted like heaven and felt the same. Moving his hand onto her back, he moaned and pulled her closer and let his kisses slip to her throat. “Lass,” he groaned.
“Roderic!” she gasped, trembling.
“Lady?” Marjory called, knocking at the portal.
Their eyes popped open. They stared at each other from mere inches away, finding sanity with a jolt.
“Lady?” Marjory called again. “Are ye well?”
“I leave tanight,” Roderic whispered. “And ye will go with me.”
Flame’s lips parted soundlessly.
“Lady?” Marjory’s tone was distraught now.
“There has been a bit of trouble in the stable,” Roderic called in a voice he hoped did not sound like his own. “Lochan is unwell.”
“Who’s in there?” Marjory gasped.
“If ye play the game with me, none will be hurt,” Roderic whispered. “Otherwise, I can guarantee naught.”
Flanna’s body was stiff in his arms.
“Do ye hear me?” he asked, easing the dirk from her fingers.
“Do not fret, Marjory,” she called. “Lochan but kicks at his belly. Gilbert came to tell me.”
Roderic nodded his approval, then turned her about and nudged her across the floor toward the door. It opened silently beneath his hand.
“Me lady?” Marjory questioned.
“Sleep,” Flame ordered. “I will be back soon.”
“Aye …” The maidservant sounded dubious but did not move from her spot near the door.
Roderic tilted his head downward, hoping his borrowed bonnet would hide his features. The steps were cold against his bare feet The hall was typically quiet as they stepped into it. From the stairwell opposite them, Bonny whined. Roderic motioned to her and she came, bounding joyously through the dried rushes with the stealth of a crashing herd of swine.
Roderic winced.
“Lady Flame?” grumbled William, sitting up near the dwindling fire. “Is somemat amiss?”
She was silent for a moment. Roderic squeezed her, arm in warning.
“‘Tis only Lochan’s disquiet. I go to soothe him.”
“I will come with ye. ‘Tis na a fit night.”
Roderic squeezed harder.
“Nay,” she said quickly. “In truth, I couldna sleep anyway. I need some time alone in the stable. Go back to sleep.”
“Ye are sure?”
She nodded.
“As ye wish,” William said, and lay back down.
They moved on as a single unit, with Roderic walking close behind her. “Verra good, lass.”
She didn’t respond.
Outside, fat drops of rain splattered against their faces. ‘Twas a wicked night to escape, thought Roderic, but he had gone too far to turn back now.
The stable door creaked open. Even within the confines of the bailey, the wind gripped it so that Roderic struggled to pull it closed.
Bright torchlight greeted them.
“Lady!” Three men rose abruptly. Dice tumbled to the blanket beneath them. “What brings ye out? Who—?”
“Dunna move!” Roderic warned, gripping Flame’s arm from behind. “Na if ye dunna want to see her hurt.”
The men froze. “Forbes!” gasped one. “How—?”
“Though I would be glad ta relate me cleverness,” began Roderic, “I fear there is na time. For I must leave and yer lady will go with me.”
“Over me own dead body!” gritted one warrior, grabbing a nearby sword.
“Nay,” Roderic said, slipping Flame’s dirk from his belt. “Over her dead body.”
Not a soul moved.
“Verra good. I need a horse readied. You, with the bonnet. Fetch a mount,” Roderic ordered.
The man moved stiffly away. Taking a rope from a peg on the wall, he opened the stall door and latched the lead on to the steed’s head collar.
“You,” Roderic said, nodding to the next man in line, “get the saddle and…”
But suddenly the stall door was swung open. The first warrior ducked behind it and came up with his bow already bent. An arrow whizzed past Roderic’s head. Roaring with rage, he pushed Flanna behind him and swung his sword at the lantern on the wall.
It flew from its peg, landing on the woolen blanket and plunging the stable into darkness.
A man yelled and sprang for him. Not wishing to kill anyone, Roderic swung his fist. It thudded against askull. A body fell. The loose horse skittered down the aisle. Grasping Flanna’s arm, Roderic yanked her nearer and grabbed the stallion’s flying rope.
In an instant, they were outside. “Get on!” he rasped.
Flame moved toward the horse, but suddenly her elbow caught him in the side and she pivoted away. He dropped the sword and grabbed wildly for her with both hands. His fingers tangled in her hair. She stopped with a shriek of pain, but now his hand found her wrist and he yanked her forward, grabbed her by the waist, and tossed her aboard the stallion’s back.
Aided by pumping excitement and the sure knowledge that he had only one chance to escape with her, Roderic swung up behind. Gripping her against his chest, he forced the steed into a gallop.
“Let down the bridge,” he roared.
“Who goes there? What be yer business?” gasped a gnarled voice.
“‘Tis yer lady’s life!” growled Roderic. “Let down the bridge or she dies.”
The bridge creaked downward. Behind them, men yelled and swarmed across the bailey.
“Gawd’s wrath!” Roderic swore. Thumping his heels against the stallion’s sides, he forced the steed back into a gallop. The bridge had not yet reached the opposite shore, but the great beast thundered up, reached the end, and launched itself from its summit to the earth below. Its hind feet hit the rushing burn. His knees buckled, throwing his riders onto his neck. Roderic gripped the mane, holding Flame tightly against his body and urging the stallion to his feet.
“Let it down! Down!” someone yelled.
But in an instant, the stallion found his footing and flew into the night.
Chapter 15
Darkness rushed past them. Roderic’s arms entrapped her as he held the stallion’s reins in both hands. She should have fought harder to remain behind. She should have clawed and kicked and screamed, but he had kissed her, had spoken gentle words, and a thousand emotions had clouded her judgment, a thousand confusing thoughts had rushed upon her. Thoughts of his strength, his smile, his laughter had dazzled her. But it was the images of him dead on MacGowan soil that had decided her. He could easily have been killed by the burn. Dun Ard was not safe for him, and so she had come with him, had aided his escape, and in so doing, had abandoned her clan. ‘Twas a woman’s weakness that had brought her here. ‘Twas a Flame’s strength that would take her back.
“Stop the horse,” she ordered.
“Surely ye jest,” rasped Roderic, pressing their mount to greater speed as he glanced over his shoulder.
“Ye are safe now,” she said, wrapping one hand in the mane. “Let me go.”
“Nay.” They crashed through a darkened woods, finally emerging in a clearing, but the world was little brighter there, for the clouds seemed to hover around their very ears.
“Ye do not need me anymore,” she said. “I have served my purpose for ye.”
“Hardly, lass.”
She stiffened in his arms. “What do ye mean?”
He pulled the stallion to a shuddering halt and looked behind them as lightning illuminated the world once again. Their faces were very close. His thighs were hard behind hers, and his arms felt strong and warm.
“I mean… ye have captured me heart, lass.”
How many years had she waited to hear such words? As a child in a cold, gray convent, she had wept for strong arms to hold her. As a woman, she had longed for love. But she was the Flame now, and words like that would only destroy her.
“I must go back,” she whispered. “I am their leader. They need me.”
�
�Ye are a woman,” he murmured. “I need ye.”
Warmth suffused her. What would it be like to be loved, cherished, protected? All her life she had wanted those things.
He leaned closer. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her arm, could feel herself falling under his spell.
She had vowed to protect others. She could not go back on her word.
“Flanna,” he breathed, leaning closer.
“Nay!” she gasped. “I am not Flanna. I am the Flame.”
“Ye are a woman,” he breathed, “and ye are mine—”
“Nay!” she shrieked and slammed her elbow into his side. She felt the cartilage between his ribs bow beneath the impact, but there was no time to consider the damage. Taking advantage of his loosened grip, she threw a leg over the stallion’s neck and launched herself from his back.
Flame hit the ground on all fours. Behind her, Forbes hissed an expletive of wrath or pain. In an instant she was on her feet and running. Five rods away, the woods towered up to meet her, but already she could hear Cam’s snort of surprise as Roderic thumped him into a gallop. His great hooves thundered against the earth, echoing in her ears, and suddenly he was beside her.
“Flanna!” Roderic rasped. “Stop this. Stop!” he insisted, but she was nearly to the woods. Just a little farther and she could slip among the trees where the huge destrier would have to slow. ‘Twould be so simple to hide there.
“Flanna!” Roderic yelled again. “Oh hell!” Though she didn’t see him, she knew the moment he propelled himself from the horse’s back. She twisted away with a cry.
His fingers clawed at her back, throwing her off balance. She shrieked again. He hit the earth with a thud and a groan, but managed to grab her leg.
She fell with a snarl, kicking and fighting until she hit the ground with a lung-crushing jolt. Stunned and speechless, she lay motionless and in that moment he grappled his way up her prostrate form.
“Gawd’s wrath, lass,” Roderic rasped. “What is the matter with ye? I’m na going ta hurt ye.”
Every inch of her squashed body ached. She gasped for breath.
“What were ye thinking? Ye could have gotten yerself kilt.”
“Me?” she rasped. The single word sounded as if it had been scraped from the bottom of her boot. “Ye are the one who would kill me!”
“Nay, lass. What be ye talking about? I willna hurt ye.”
“Won’t hurt me!” His very presence threatened the Flame’s existence, and if the Flame was killed, Flanna would be all that was left. And Flanna was painfully vulnerable. “Won’t hurt me,” she said again, breathing more normally now and trying to calm the frantic beat of her heart. “Ye threatened to kill me!” Inches away, Bonny planted herself beside Roderic and thumped her tail.
“Oh, lass.” Absently, he stroked a strand of hair from her face. “That was just fer yer men. Surely ye didna believe such dramatics.”
No, she had not believed his threats, and there lay the problem, for her heart could not afford to trust him.
“Let me go,” she ordered, but the command was hopelessly breathy. “Let me go before—”
“Why would ye wish ta go after all I’ve done for ye?” he asked. Even in the darkness, his crooked smile was devastating.
“Done for me?” she asked, trying to be angry.
“Aye. I have saved ye from the villain who would kill ye.”
“He was trying to kill ye, ye braying—” she began, but suddenly his hand was clasped over her mouth and his body pressed more tightly to hers.
“Shh,” he hissed.
Out of the darkness, a score of horses thundered down upon them.
Flame tried to scream, to call for help, but before she could do so much as manage a squeak, the riders had sped past.
Roderic slipped his hand from her mouth and grinned. “Sorry. But that may well have been the villain himself.”
“You’re the villain, ye vile—”
But his hand was clasped to her mouth again. More horses galloped up.
“Can ye see any sign of them?” someone yelled.
“Nay! Damn Forbes’ black heart to hell!”
She watched that same blackhearted Forbes grin into her face like a smug gargoyle and listened as this new band of horses thundered off.
“Sorry,” he said again, easing his hand from her face for a second time. “But we canna risk being found. The villain could be anyone. Even yer most trusted warrior.”
“They’ll find us,” she said stiffly. “And then your heart will be—”
This time it was not his hand that covered her mouth but his lips. They moved upon hers with firm, slow warmth, taking her breath and her senses. His heart thrummed against hers. His fingers slipped along her neck, stroking her gently as they moved into her hair. One of his heavy thighs lay between hers, and the heat of his body seemed to sear her to her very soul.
“Pierced,” he murmured, drawing away to gaze into her eyes.
“What?” It was the best she could manage.
“Me heart will be pierced.” he said softly, then kissed the comer of her mouth, her cheek, the point of her chin. “It will be pierced by yer beauty.”
She blinked, trying to marshall her senses.
“Pierced by yer beauty, trapped by yer eyes, and healed by yer love,” he whispered.
She swallowed hard. This was ridiculous. What kind of fool would believe the words of a man who had abducted her at knifepoint? “Pierced by my arrow more likely,” she rasped. Her voice hardly trembled at all. “Let me go.”
“I canna, lass,” he said, but his words were little more than a breath of air against her cheek.
“Ye don’t need me any longer.” Panic rose within her. She hoped it was caused by her capture and not by the feelings that flooded through her.
“On the contrary, Flanna.” He touched her hair again, sweeping gentle fingertips through it. “I have needed ye from the moment I met ye.”
She forced herself to laugh. “As ye have needed every other woman ye have seduced.”
His expression was suddenly somber. “Nay, na lek that atall,” he said, and leaned forward again.
She scrunched back into the soggy earth beneath her. “They will return.”
He looked slightly disoriented. “Who?”
“My men.”
“Oh.” He sighed and caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I dunna think so, for the steed ran on.” His lips touched the corner of her mouth, sweeping a wave of heat through her system.
“He’ll soon stop!” she gasped, trying to push away. “They’ll see he bears no riders and turn back.”
“He’ll run on till he finds the mares,” Roderic corrected softly and gently kissed the edge of her jaw.
She shivered beneath his touch. “Don’t do that.”
He drew away ever so slightly. “Why?”
“Because I don’t like it.”
He questioned her with his eyes. “Because ye are scairt,” he corrected gently.
Employing every bit of strength she possessed, she drew her pride about her. “Not of ye, Forbes,” she said haughtily. “I will never fear ye. Ye cannot make me.”
“I am sorry if it seems that I have tried.”
“If ye let me go, I will not let them find ye. Ye will have safe passage back to your homeland.” Two raindrops hit her face with sharp force. For the first time, she noticed the wail of the howling wind.
“And what of yer safety?” he asked quietly.
“‘Tis none of your concern.”
Rain spattered against them with a sharp, regular cadence now, pinging off her leather hose and burning her face.
“I have made it me concern, lass,” he breathed and kissed her again.
All good sense was lost in the shock of his caress, the feel of his hand in her hair, his thigh beneath hers. The assault numbed her. She was left breathless when finally he drew away.
“Correct me if I am wrong, but I think it i
s raining,” he said.
No, it was pouring, coming down in great gray sheets of liquid ice, but she saw no reason to state the obvious.
He peered over her head, squinting into the rain. “‘Twill be a long night, lass,” he murmured. Slipping from her body, he set one hip to the ground and grimaced in pain. It seemed she had somehow wounded him. “And ye are such a delicate thing,” he said sardonically. “I hope ye be up ta the challenge.”
His voice sounded very casual, as if he had not just seared her senses to ash. She struggled to sound the same.
“I am certain I can manage anything ye can, Forbes.”
Four hours later, Flame wished she had never spoken. Nay. She wished she had never been born.
“Are ye well, lass?”
Every single fiber of her body ached. “Yes.” It seemed they had been walking forever, scrambling through the pelting darkness for a nightmarish eternity. It had given her far too much time to think, to remember that she was no more than his prisoner, and though he could kiss her until her mind turned to sap, she must return to her people.
But just now they stood in a ramshackle crofter’s hut. Or rather, she stood, he stooped, for part of the roof had fallen in, allowing them only an abbreviated, sloping space in which to escape the weather that howled outside. “I am fine,” she said and shivered.
He scowled at her and arranged a few soggy, scattered boards to cover the doorway. The gloomy light of predawn seeped in between them, allowing her to see his expression. “Nay ye are na,” he said.
“Ahh.” Rain dripped from her hair to slide chilling fingers down her throat and beneath her shirt. She raised one brow and shivered again, though she forced herself to ignore it. “So ye are an expert on women’s well-being as well as women in general.”
“Aye.” He grinned. Although he couldn’t straighten his neck completely in the cramped quarters, he looked disturbingly content. “I am that.”
She turned away with a snort, although away meant merely turning her face into the dank corner.
“Tek off yer clothes.”
She swung about so quickly that the muscles in her neck cramped. “What?”
Highland Flame (Highland Brides) Page 18
