Highland Flame (Highland Brides) (2 page)

"I must go!" she said, remembering her mission, her careful planning. Glancing about, she hoped to spot Fiona, but the only other people in the hall were clustered fast asleep near the long-dead fire.

"Must go? By the sins of auld horny, ye mustna, lass, for ye've been badly wounded."

He reached for her again, but she drew back with a jerk. "Nay. I have had na but a prick. Tis me sister's blood ye see."

His scowl deepened as he tried to decipher her wounds by the fickle light. "What say ye? Tell me this tale," he ordered, then clenched his jaw and swore vehemently. "Was it the brigand band?"

For the first time, Flame looked him straight in the eyes. The warriors would return soon, and she must be far gone. "Nay." Her voice was soft but even." 'Twas na brigands."

"What then? Tell me that I may pass the word to Fiona."

Such caring in his voice! Flame narrowed her eyes, trying to discern his thoughts, but there was no time. "Me sister and me were foraging in the woods. We were hungry. There's verra little..." She pushed a sob upher throat and let her eyes fall dramatically closed for a moment. "There's verra little since the death of our parents. Tis just she and I, and I... I dunna ken what I shall do if she ... Please!" she said, reaching forward to grasp his pale shirt in her bloody hands. "Please, dunna let her die."

"There now, lass, hush." To her surprise, he didn't pull her grimy fingers away, but held her steady by her shoulders. "Dunna fret. If there is ought ta be done, we shall do it. But ye must rest and tell me the whole tale. What is it that has happened to yer sister?"

Flame raised her gaze to the solemn face before her. His was a well-sculpted visage, lean and fair with heavily lashed eyes set deep and far apart. His hair was the color of barley straw and hung to his shoulders in thick waves. But that knowledge gave her no clues to his identity. "We were huntin'," she whispered, holding his gaze with her own and feeling her body tremble in his hands. "We heard a noise. I wanted to run. But me sister, she is so brave. And we were verra hungry. She thought it to be a hare or somethin' na more dangerous. Something we might snare and cook. But..." With a sob, she pulled her fingers from his shirt and dropped her face abruptly into them. "We didna ken it was a boar. Dear Jesu! We didna ken." She lifted her gaze again. Tears swelled in her eyes. "I will repay ye in any way I might," she vowed breathlessly, placing a hand upon his. "Please, if ye will only have pity on me, me laird, and..."

"Hush, lass. I will do what I can, though I am na the laird."

"Nay?" She blinked rapidly, finding her vision blurred by tears. It was said that Laird Forbes had hair as black as a crow's wing, while this man was crowned in gold. She must place him, assure herself of his insignificance. “But... surely ye must be of royal blood, for ye be so strong and..." She saw the hint of a smile lift his lips at the flattery.

"I fear I am but yer average untamed Scot, lass," he said softly. "Hard of head and soft of heart." She could hear the smile in his voice now, though she lowered her eyes and refused to lift them.

"Yet I will do what I may. Finlay, I will be bringing the lass's sister here. Tell—"

"Here?" Flame drew back with a start, her gaze flying to his. "Nay. Ye canna!"

His sharp gaze stabbed her. "Why?"

"Surely the journey would be too dangerous for me sister!" Dear Jesu! She must dissuade this man from coming, for she did not want to be the cause of his death. "She's ... she's badly hurt. I managed to get her to a broken stable. There I built a fire, and by that light I could see... the wounds." Her voice cracked into a sob. "She canna be moved."

"There now, lass. I have carried the wounded many times afore this. Even Lady Fiona would assure ye of me ability to do so. All will be well."

"Nay!" Flame repeated. "The lady must come with me. Ye must convince her of the necessity of all haste," she said.

He shook his head. "Fiona canna leave Glen Creag, lass, for she is still abed. I am here to make certain she does na overtax her strength on some errand of mercy as she is wont ta do. Though I was na happy ta be left behind for so light an injury as mine."

"She is... abed?"

"With her second babe," was the answer. "Just birthed. She canna leave. But ye have me promise to bring yer sister to her with all due speed."

"A wee babe?" Flame asked. Her plans were crumbling around her like so many grains of sand, leaving her on precarious footing. "But..."

"I see yer concern, lass," said the other, taking her hand gently in his own. "But I tell ye true, Fiona Rose must await our return here, for if harm should befall me brother's wife, Leith would wear me hide as a mantle and me teeth as an amulet."

The world creaked to a grinding halt. Air became trapped in Flame's lungs. She could feel the blood drain from her face. "Laird Leith is yer... brother?" she whispered.

"Aye." The corners of the blue eyes crinkled again. "He is that, lass, and though he acts the wee kitten beneath his Fiona's hand, we Forbeses are na always so gentle as we appear."

Not so gentle! "Then ye are ..." she began, but her voice failed her completely now.

"Roderic Forbes, lass. And ye?"

Damnation! He was Roderic Forbes, one of the men she had vowed to make pay through their lady's abduction. She had been so certain he would have left with the other warriors... and that Fiona would accompany her. "I... must return to me sister," she murmured, trying to pull away.

He held her still, his expression somber. "Aye. We will ride together. Finlay—"

Flame reached out without conscious thought, tangling her fingers in his voluminous sleeve again. "Please, sir. I dunna wish to bother ye, and I have heard of yer lady's kindness. Surely—"

"The babe needs her, lass."

"But surely there be another who nurses the wee one."

"Nay. The lady cares for her own and willna leave him."

Flame remained silent, watching the man before her. She was not a small woman, but he was much larger. For one shameful moment she felt all courage fail her. Then she remembered his betrayal. The Forbeses had vowed to be their allies, but instead they had chosen to raid her herds and torment her people. The wounds of the herd guards had been grievous enough. But Simon's death had steeled her will. Only the devil's own would slay a peaceful messenger. For a moment, Flame remembered Simon's raucous laughter, laughter that had been replaced by his widow's mourning keel.

"Then ye must come," she whispered.

"Aye. I will," Roderic said. He held her gaze for a moment before lifting it abruptly to the man behind her. "Return to yer watch, Finlay. With me brothers gone we canna neglect the gate."

"Roddy? Be there trouble?" A sleepy-eyed lad of twelve or so years approached on silent feet. He stopped at Roderic's side, watching him from beneath a tousled mop of flame-bright hair.

"Aye, Roman. The lass's kin needs Fiona's ministrations. I go to bring ..."

But the boy was already hurrying toward the door with a sheepdog at his heels. "I will fetch Mor."

Roderic nodded. "And ready a mount for the lass."

The door closed behind Finlay and Roman, but Flame barely noticed their exit, for her attention was caught on Roderic's words. She would not leave Lochan Gorm, for the stallion was her friend and prized possession. "I have me own horse, me laird."

"Have I na told ye I am na laird?" Roderic asked.

"I..." He stood very close. The seconds ticked away. "I have me own horse," she repeated uneasily.

"Aye, lass, but yer beast is bound to be weary. A fresh mount will speed our journey."

"Nay! It would not!"

He cocked his head slightly, studying her. "Mayhap yer animal be made of iron?"

She had sounded too haughty and too well educated. "Nay," she said more softly now. Was he laughing at her? Anger welled up, but she tamped it carefully down. "Of course na, me laird. He is but flesh and blood as any other steed."

"Then the decision is made. Ye will ride a Forbes mount."

"But..."

"Hush. What be yer name, lass?"

She watched his eyes, momentarily forgetting to breathe. "Cara," she said softly, "of the McBains. Me sister waits in a shelter just to the south of Forbeses'land." She let her eyes fall closed and added in a whisper, "If she yet lives."

Flame could feel his warm gaze on her face. "Come," he said abruptly, and leading her toward the table where he had sat, lifted a pewter chalice and pressed it into her hands. "Drink. Nay," he said, preventing her unspoken refusal. "Dunna argue, for yer sister waits and ye'll need the strength ta ride a Forbes steed." His eyes seemed to smile, and though she took no time to try to decipher his mood, she heard the boast in his voice. "We grow our horses large indeed at Glen Creag. And ye must ride like a seasoned warrior this night."

Holding his eyes with hers, Flame took the warm cup. She lifted it quickly, draining the potent liquid in one unending quaff.

"Be ye ready to ride now?' she asked, handing back the goblet.

Roderic glanced from the chalice to her face. "Already ye
drink
like a seasoned warrior." He raised his fair brows in amazement.

"Be ye ready?" she repeated.

"Aye. If ye can walk, lass, I be ready."

Turning, she strode quickly for the door. Thumping the empty chalice to the table, Roderic hurried after her.

The air outside felt heavy with humidity and anticipation. Lochan nickered and appeared from the darkness, a pale shadow in the night.

Behind her, Roderic cleared his throat. "So this be yer... steed?"

Flame placed a hand to the mane she had intentionally muddied, letting her emotions flow easily through that simple touch. Lochan tossed his head. "Yes. He is mine."

"Well..." Roderic said hesitantly. "I am sure he's a fine ride, lass, but Roman comes even now with our mounts. Yer animal will be well tended until our return."

"No." She spoke softly without turning toward him. "I will ride me own. I thank ye for yer generosity, but I am but a simple maid, me laird, and..." The lad stopped a pair of gigantic mounts nearby. They shuffled their heavily feathered feet restlessly, laying back their ears and turning white-rimmed eyes toward Lochan. The smaller stallion rumbled a low challenge and danced sideways at the length of his reins.

Flame pulled him nearer. "I am but a simple maid," she repeated, "and surely couldna control such a powerful beast as ye offer."

"Fear na, lass. I will see that na harm befalls..." Roderic began, but before he could finish his promise, Flame had vaulted onto Lochan's bare back.

"Me sister," she reminded him breathlessly. "She canna wait. And Lochan knows the way even in the dead of night."

"Verra well then, lass. Ye say yer sister waits at our southern border?"

"Aye."

"Then we should reach her just afore dawn," he said, speaking to the lad now. "Though the return trip will be slower, look for us three hours or so past first light."

"Could I na go with ye, Roddy?"

"I wish that ye could, lad. For I would feel safer with ye at me back. But we canna spare a single man this night." Roderic's teeth shone in the darkness as he spoke, and the boy's back seemed to straighten with pride at his words. "I am placing the safety of all here in yer hands until me return, for I know ye can do a man's job."

Roman nodded solemnly, then unbuckled a scabbard from his hips and handed it quickly over. "I have brought Neart, for ye canna go unarmed with brigands about."

Roderic reached for the long blade, then fastened it to his own lean waist. Flame's heart seemed to stop in her chest. She had hoped to bring the Forbeses' lady, not an armed warrior, but she could not turn back now.

" 'Tis a blessing ye are, lad," he was saying. "Put Skene back and make certain Fiona be prepared for our return."

The boy nodded as Roderic mounted his waiting stallion.

It was only a short distance to the castle's front entrance. With a word from Roderic, the portcullis was raised and the horses trotted over the wooden bridge. The big stallion's footfalls were cadenced and ponderous, Lochan's were quick and light.

With a single word of farewell, the iron grill was lowered. Night stretched out before them, welcoming Flame with dark, reaching arms. Lochan pressed into a gallop of his own accord, swallowing the leagues with his long, sweeping strides. Above, the beleaguered moon found an opening in the tattered clouds and shed its mercurial light across their winding trail.

Gnarled, mist-heavy bracken grabbed at Lochan's hooves, but he flew through it. He knew the destination and would not fail her. Flame laid a hand to his neck, feeling his strength. Cresting a hill, she gazed downward. The glen below was wreathed in shadow and cloud. Flame loosened the reins, letting Lochan choose the course into the sea of fog where the tumbled remains of a stable would lie shrouded and silent.

Mist lapped at their legs like a swelling tide.

All would be well now. Flame consciously slowed her breathing and tried to ease the tension from her muscles, but worry and fear held her in a tight grip. All would be well, she assured herself again. There was no one to stop her. It was only a little farther. A hundred rods or so and ...

From nowhere, a dark arm reached from the shadows. Flame screamed and jerked sideways. Lochan spun wildly away, nearly losing her. But the arm drew back of its own accord, sweeping upward on outstretched wings and materializing into a hunting owl. It was a bad omen. Flame straightened on Lochan's back, but failed to breathe. Someone would die this night.

"Lass!" Roderic was beside her in an instant, grabbing Lochan's reins and pulling him to a halt. Flame remained unmoving, staring into the mist toward their destination.

" 'Twas but a owl,” he assured her. “Are ye unhurt?"

She swallowed convulsively. "Aye. I am fine."

"Ye're shaking." His hand moved from the reins to her arm. Even through the damp woolen sleeve, his fingers felt warm and strong. For a moment her will weakened. "Come. Ye can ride with me."

"Nay," she breathed.

"I willna hurt ye."