Highland Flame (Highland Brides) (26 page)

His jaw tightened. "It was na written by me brother."

"How, then, do ye explain the presence of his seal."

"Someone must have duplicated it. 'Twould na be such a difficult task. I have asked meself who might have seen the seal and realized that anyone who has done some traveling might be the culprit. Troy mayhap or—"

"Damn ye!" she swore suddenly and swung the hare with all her might and rage.

The flaccid rabbit hit Roderic squarely in the face. He staggered backward in surprise, spitting fur from his mouth, but she was already streaking through the door. Not looking back, not thinking, she raced for the nearby trees.

"Flanna!" she heard him roar, but anger and panic propelled her on. "Gawd's wrath! Flanna!" he yelled again and sped after her.

She could hear his footfalls as he followed her but dared not look back.

"What the devil!" he rasped. He was nearer now, gaining on her.

Her lungs felt as if they would burst.

"Lass!"

Dear God, he was right behind her. His fingers grazed her back. She shrieked, and in one unplanned movement, swept a branch from the earth and swung.

It whizzed with incredible speed, bare inches from his face. He careened to a halt.

"Gawd's—"

"Don't come near me!" she panted. "Or next time your head will be forfeit.''

"Lass," he soothed, one palm stretched pleadingly outward toward her.

Dear God, she had almost hit him in the head. She swallowed hard and tightened her grip. "I don't want to kill ye."

"And I dunna wish ta be kilt. So why na drop the branch and we'll talk."

"We'll not talk," she said. "I'll leave."

"Why?"

"Why? Because the Forbeses have raided my herds and killed my kinsmen, and now ye have the gall to blame your deeds on others. To pretend my own people may have..."

Her words sputtered to a halt and she swung her branch with all her might. He ducked, grabbing the stick, and she fell with him atop her.

"Get off me!" she shrieked.

"Na until ye settle down and tell me what has riled ye so."

"Ye abducted me!" she stormed.

"As ye did me."

"Ye threatened me."

"As ye did me."

She scowled, feeling the anger drain from her. "Ye hold me against my will," she murmured.

"Again the same," he said and gently smoothed a strand of wild hair from her face. "What has truly angered ye, lass?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Could it be that ye know I am right? That ye realize it was na the Forbeses who have caused yer problems, and so ye must cast the blame elsewhere, perhaps on yer own kinsmen?"

"They are my people," she whispered. "I would give up everything I have, everything I am, for them. I could not bear it if they turned against me again."

His fingers skimmed the upper curve of her ear. "The MacGowans have na turned against ye, lass. But perhaps
someone
has. That does na mean there is something wrong with ye or yer leadership, only that there will always be those who cause trouble, who are filled with hatred."

"They're all I have," she whispered.

He skimmed his fingers along the edge of her jaw. "But ye could have more, Flanna."

It was difficult to breathe when he looked into her eyes. "Why did ye leave the note on my pillow?" she whispered.

"Is it so difficult ta believe that I meant what it said?"

"Yes," she breathed, "it is."

He gritted his teeth. "Damn yer sire. And damn the Frenchman," he said growled, and rising to his feet, pulled her toward the crumbling hut.

The rabbit was slow to roast, for the wood was damp and the fire fragile. The meal tasted like the very substance of life, but it was too small.

When darkness closed in around them, Roderic rose to his feet. "Are ye ready?"

She found his gaze with her own. "Ye are not going to allow me to return home?"

"Nay."

"The MacGowans have no wealth. Ye've seen that with your own eyes. You'll get nothing for me."

For a moment, she thought he would comment. Instead, he reached for her hand and pulled her into the darkness.

They traveled all night. It rained sporadically but hard, wiping out any tracks she might hope to leave behind.

Morning found them near a small noisy burn. The sun had risen some hours before and after fighting its way through the looming, dark clouds, had forced its bright radiance on a saturated world. It felt lovely against Flame's face. Seating herself on a rock near the burbling water, she pulled her boots carefully from her feet. They were blistered and raw.

"Why did ye na tell me of your wounds?" Roderic asked.

She held her breath and plunged her feet into the stream. The contact burned like the very devil. Gritting her teeth, she waited until the sharpest edge of pain passed. "They're
my
feet."

"Stubborn," he said and wading into the water, took her ankles in his hands.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, trying to pull them free.

"Stubborn!" he repeated irritably as he squatted to examine her blisters. The rushing water reached his knees, soaking his boots as it washed past. "Ye are surely the most stubborn lass in all the world. Why did ye na tell me ye were hurt?"

"And what would ye have done if I had, Forbes?" she asked. "Carried me all these miles on your back?"

He raised his brows and grinning, leaned closer. “Mayhap I could pretend ta be yer beast of burden. Ahh ... even better. I will be Lochan, with yer legs wrapped tight about me and yer hands—"

"You
are
a beast," she said, and pushing with all her might, shoved him backward with a foot to his chest.

He hit the water with a shuddering gasp of surprise. His plaid floated about him in billowing waves of browns and greens.

For a moment Flame sat perfectly still, watching in stunned silence, and then she laughed. Perhaps it was the sheer, aching fatigue that made her silly or perhaps it was simply him, lying in the stream, immobilized by the shocking cold, that she found amusing.

Whatever the reason, she laughed until her sides hurt, until she was doubled over on the rock and tears streamed down her face. Dear God, she thought, still hiccupping, he would be angry now, for men did not like to be made to seem like fooks.

She lifted her gaze and caught his.

He remained perfectly still, watching her, and for a moment, she wondered if he had died from pure shock right where he sat.

"I have never seen ye laugh,” he said.

She giggled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "I have never seen a Forbes make such a splash."

"Indeed." He lifted a corner of his mouth into that devastating grin that was distinctly his own. "I must make a funny sight. But methinks it would be more amusing yet..." He rose slowly. Water dripped from every inch of him. "If you joined me."

He made a grab for her, but she shrieked and fled her perch on the rock.

Bonny barked. Roderic roared and gave chase. But Flame's feet were blistered and bare. At the top of a grassy knoll, he caught her easily and swung her into his arms.

She shrieked again, but his lips were suddenly very near, his smile mesmerizing.

"’Tis glad I am ta ken I amuse ye, lass," he murmured.

Her chest felt tight and her head light, but she concentrated hard and managed a scowl. "Put me down," she ordered.

Nodding once, he let her feet slip to the ground. She backed away, and bumped into something hard and solid. Rough bark pressed into her back, and now Roderic's arms locked her in as he leaned his weight against the tree.

"I could be even more amusing," he said, leaning closer.

She pushed at his chest, trying to free herself before the frantic, exhilarating thrill of his nearness crushed her senses. "I believe ye tried that yestereve." Her tone was blessedly steady, despite the fact that her skin burned where his arms touched her, and her heart thundered in her chest.

The grin slipped slowly from his face. Drawing a deep breath, he watched her eyes and said, "About yestereve… ‘Tis sorry I be."

She blinked once, certain she had not heard him right, but he braced his feet a bit farther apart and took a deep breath. It made his nostrils flare, and even that slight motion fascinated her somehow.

"I am na usually known ta be so far from control."

"Not known?" she asked. "Does that mean ye are usually fully in control when ye rape women or—"

"Still afraid ta admit yer desire, lass?" he asked, leaning closer still.

She pressed into the oak trunk, wondering how long it had been since she had drawn a breath. "Ye flatter yourself, Forbes."

“Do I? Then let me flatter ye as well, lass.'' His hand ran down her waist to caress her hip. “Ye have the firmest behind and the softest lips I have ever—"

"Look!"she squeaked, turning her head away. "Is that a cottage?"

His gaze didn't move, though his lips lifted into a sardonic grin. "Ye are indeed a slippery one."

"It is ..." she began, but when she looked at him, her breath stopped in her throat. "A cottage," she finished, striving to strengthen her tone. "Look for yourself."

Hemming her in with his palms against the tree again, he turned his gaze downhill. "Where are we?"

She followed his line of sight and tried to think of something other than the intensity of his eyes, the tantalizing tilt of his lips. And though it was difficult to estimate how far they had traveled in the dark, she concentrated hard. The wee lochan to the right looked familiar. Mayhap that was still on MacGowan property. The cottage, however, was not, of that she was sure. "Lamont land, I would guess."

He sighed. "I, too."

"Our rivals," they said in unison.

He grinned at her, and though she knew better, she grinned back.

"Do you suppose they'd feed us before they kill us?"

Roderic shrugged. "If they're Lamonts, 'tis hard to guess. Unless…”

For a moment, she thought she saw a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, but he pushed away from the tree and turned abruptly away. "What?" she asked suspiciously.

"I dunna ken for certain where we be. Therefore, I canna guess how we might be greeted in yon cottage."

"Surely chancing it would be better than starvation."

Roderic shook his head and nodded surreptitiously toward the hound that sat happily at his feet.

Flame scowled. "Surely even a Forbes must feel the burn of hunger."

"Aye, I do," Roderic all but whispered. "But I dunna wish ta hurt Bonny's feelings." At the sound of his voice, the hound gazed longingly into his face and thwapped her tail against the bracken. "Aye, lass, 'twas a delectable meal ye brought us. Never have I had finer. Is it na true, Flanna?"

"Ye are a strange man, Forbes," she said.

He tsked at her and grinned. "And ye dunna appreciate the hound."

"Not true," she argued, squaring her shoulders to head back to the stream for her boots. "I would sooner be lost with the hound than with ye."

When she turned, boots in hand, he was still standing near the tree. But one fist was planted on his lean hip while his opposite hand rested on Bonny's sleek, narrow head.

"I am quite insulted," he said.

"'Twas my intent," she assured him, picking her way barefoot through the heather.

"Where are ye going?"

"To the cottage."

"Going ta tell them ye are the Lady MacGowan? Mayhap ye could ask them flat out if they would like ta hold ye for ransom."

"'Tis a fine idea, Forbes. But I did not plan to tell them who I am."

"Ahhh..." He turned to follow her course downhill. "And I'm certain they willna guess, for there be any number of women galivanting about in leather hose and men's shirts."

"Do ye have a better idea?" She didn't turn to look at him, for she knew the effort it would take to think straight if she did.

"Aye. We shall go to the wee lochan below so that ye may rest and I may decide our next course of action."

"I will not walk all that extra way when I could rest and ye, supposedly, could think right here?" she said, continuing on.

"Aye, ye will, lass."

She did turn now and raised a haughty brow at him. "No, I will not"

"Aye, ye will, lass," he argued again, hands on hips. "And 'tis fer yer own good."

She blinked her eyes and hoped she looked like the sappy, love-infested lass he was used to dealing with. "And tell me, oh great Forbes, how it is for my own good?"

His expression was deadly serious, but his eyes...

"I ken honesty is important ta ye, lass."

She could not hold the cheap smile much longer. "And pray tell what that has to do with anything."

"I willna make ye break yer vow."

"What vow?"

He shrugged and pacing up to her, prodded her toward the water. "Suffice it to say that I am ready ta let ye fulfill yer vow, and when I bathe I prefer the warmth of the lochan to the chill of the burn."

Chapter 18

Flanna stood frozen like a rock to the earth. A shapely rock, Roderic thought, but a rock, nonetheless. She stared into his face.

He stared back, granting her a carefully benevolent smile. "Dunna bother to thank me."

She said nothing, only continued to watch him with wide eyes.

"Lass," he said, lifting a hand to wave it in front of her face, "are ye alive?"

"I did not agree to your foolish wager. I did not promise to bathe ye," she breathed.

He brightened his smile. "Ahh, but ye did, lass. Ye said ... and I remember the exact words. 'What can I do but agree?'"

"I was being cynical!" she gasped.

"Ahh. Cynicism doesna become ye, lass. And it was still a wager."

"But... but I did bathe ye!"

"Ye pushed me in the burn, lass. 'Tis na quite what I had in mind. And ye well know it," he said and took a step closer.

"Damnation! There was no way for ye to escape the tower."

He chuckled gently, glad to see she was so greatly impressed by his deeds. "On the contrary, lass," he said modestly, "there were several at least."