Highland Flame (Highland Brides) (16 page)

Haydan's brows lowered slightly. Intelligence was etched hard and clear on his face. "Why do you call me that?"

"Because ye have the heart of the prince of the skies."

"You mock me." The words were spoken with pride, though Roderic could hear the pain behind them.

"Nay. I dunna."

"Do not judge my mind by the size of my form." He spoke like a scholar and yet the top of his head would barely reach Roderic's lowest rib.

"I dunna. And neither do I confuse fear for cowardice."

"Are they not one and the same?"

"Nay," Roderic said. "Fear is borne of intelligence and caution. Cowardice is borne of a weak heart."

The dirk lowered slightly as the lad perused him. "The physicians say that I
have
a weak heart."

"The physicians are wrong."

"How do you know?"

"Because a lad with a weak heart would have awakened the lady and begged her to protect ye from a monstrous Forbes."

The slightest shadow of a grin lifted the boy's mouth. "Are you a monster then?"

Roderic shrugged. The boy looked weak enough to collapse. Such an event would surely cause him great shame. "If I am, I am a weary monster. Do ye mind if we sit so we might finish this discussion?"

"I see no reason to think you would be more dangerous seated than standing."

Roderic smiled and found a spot with his back to the wall. "And ye would be less dangerous," he said, nodding to the pallet.

Though his knees shook, the boy remained standing. "I have your word that you will not harm her?"

"I swear it on my father's grave," Roderic assured him.

After a moment, the lad seated himself on the edge of the mattress. He pulled his nightshirt over his bony knees and watched Roderic's face. All was quiet.

"She does not speak of you to me," Haydan said finally.

"Does she speak ta ye of other things?"

"Yes. Everything."

It seemed rather pitiable to be jealous of this frailchild, and yet perhaps it was not. "So this is where she comes when she canna sleep?"

The boy let the dirk droop to his lap as he turned to gaze at the lady on his floor. "I am usually awake and I would give much to help shoulder her burdens," he said quietly. Never had Roderic seen love shine more brightly than it did in this lad's eyes.

"Then be content, young Hawk," he said. "For ye have obviously done that, for she wouldna sleep so peacefully if yer words had not soothed her mind."

"Words!" The exclamation was scornful and surprisingly emphatic. "'Tis all I offer, when I would take a sword and..." He stopped and drew several heavy breaths as if even that simple task was difficult. His lips turned a grayish blue and his throat convulsed as he struggled for air.

Mercy made Roderic wish to rush forward and help him, but mercy also held him back. For the lad needed to retain some pride.

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 Hawk 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?"