Highland Flame (Highland Brides) (34 page)

"Lass…" He drew away finally, feeling his breath rasp down his throat. “…I do hate ta call a halt but I fear I must afore it be too late. We stop now or na atall."

Her face was absolutely somber. But her breasts rose and fell dramatically with her breathing. "There is something to be said for not atall."

Never had Roderic been more flattered than when he saw the stark desire in her eyes. But he would not risk her life for a few moments of pleasure. If they were attacked once, they could surely be attacked again. "'Tis na safe here, lass," he said, managing to break the spell of her desire and his own raging need. "We must press on ta Glen Creag."

"Stop," Flame ordered.

Roderic turned to glance behind him. "What is it?"

"'Tis your leg," she said. "Ye cannot go on."

"Aye. I can," he argued, but before he could turn away she had caught his arm.

"Ye will sit and let me see to your leg or I will return to Dun Ard this minute."

Roderic scowled down at her. His thigh burned like living flame and he knew that she, too, should rest. But they must keep moving. "I would run ye down and drag ye the remainder of the way if needs be."

She planted her fists on her hips and laughed into his face. "You would be lucky to run down a three-legged flea in your present state. Sit.”

"Flanna!" he said sharply and deepened his scowl. He had learned the art of intimidation from his brother, Leith, and though he didn't utilize it often, he considered himself quite adept.

"Sit!” she ordered again.

Bonny thumped her rump to the ground with a whimper. Behind her, the misbegotten steed that she called Great Heart snorted and stopped.

Roderic hoped to show a bit more backbone. "Ye willna give me orders, lass," he warned darkly.

"No orders?"

"Nay," he said. "For that foolish steed has surely made tracks deep enough to show a half-witted dunce our trail." Flanna had finally agreed to turn the animal free, yet the debilitated beast had insisted on following them. Although he had grazed listlessly along the way, he had refused to turn back. "The brigands may be following even now. We must move on."

"No orders?" she asked again.

He shook his head, enjoying her soft expression but a bit baffled and wary of it, nevertheless.

"Then what say you of a bribe?"

Against his will, Roderic's brows rose. "Bribe? What sort of bribe?"

Her small face was very sober. "That depends, Forbes," she said, placing a hand gently to his chest. "What would you like?"

Chapter 24

Roderic licked his lips but forced himself to remain still. What would he like? He would like Flanna MacGowan naked and dancing before his fire. He would like her hot and wet beneath him. He would like her strong legs wrapped about him like a bottle around a potent drink.

But they must keep moving.

It
was
almost dark.

Her safety must come first.

If his leg wound worsened he might be unable to defend her. He needed rest

He did not know who the villains were and if they followed, he must be ever wary.

But the saucy wench was offering to
bribe
him.

"What be ye offering?" Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strangely hoarse.

"I am offering to see to your wound," she said, but her cheeks were flushed a rosy hue, denying the innocence of her words.

He lifted one corner of his mouth into a smile. "Somehow that doesna sound nearly so pleasurable an experience as I had anticipated."

"Sit down," she ordered again. Her eyes were sultry and her tone suggestive.

"But the wound is at the back of me leg. I would have to
lie
down."

"Then lie down."

"Na unless ye will lie with me."

He heard her exhalation of surprise but she said nothing.

"Well, lass? What is yer answer?"

Her breath was coming hard and fast now and her mouth was pursed in that characteristic expression of thoughtfulness. "What do ye mean by lie ... exactly?"

Roderic held her with his gaze. Never had desire had him in such a tight and enduring grip. Never had he wanted to ease his carnal desires more than now. And yet, there was so much more to be discovered of Flanna MacGowan than sexual pleasures. He would not lose himself in those pleasures again until he knew that she wanted every aspect of him just as he wanted her. But he had no qualms about feeding the fire of her passions. "Ye dunna ken what I mean by the word 'lie'?" He knew she thought he spoke of sex and was content to let her think so, for he wondered at her response. Ever so gently, he reached out to brush a wanton tendril of flame-bright hair behind her ear. She trembled beneath his touch. "What do ye think I mean, lass?"

He couldn't help but kiss her neck, it looked so soft and lovely, so smooth and elegant and was made only more so by the freckle of mud that bedecked her collarbone. "Well?" His lips were very near her ear now. He felt her shiver again and closed his eyes against the barrage of desire that battered him.

"I can only imagine what ye mean," she said and shivered.

"Ah." He kissed her ear. "Let me imagine with ye, lass."

"Roderic!" She stepped swiftly back. "I must tend your wound before ye become feverish."

He grinned. Never was she more alluring than now, disheveled and flustered and needy. "I am already feverish, lass," he countered, taking hold of her arm and stepping up against her. "Canna ye tell?" Between them his desire throbbed hot and insistent.

She swallowed and cautiously raised her gaze to his face. "I meant feverish with sickness."

"As did I." He chuckled low in his throat. "What else?" He hadn't thought her face could get any redder. It was not the first time he had been wrong about her. "I only meant it would be wise of ye to sleep at my side, lest the wound festers and I tek a fever."

"Oh." She swallowed, looking skeptical and skittish. "That's what I thought ye meant... of course."

"Naked."

Her mouth fell open. He fought down his grin and raised a hand to fend off her incriminations.

"Ye wouldna wish for me ta catch a chill. Surely 'tis a small thing ta ask that ye share yer body's warmth. I might die."

She stared into his eyes for a moment longer then yanked her arm from his grasp. "Ye might indeed if ye don't watch your tongue," she said, stepping around him to hurry up the hill.

Roderic chuckled softly as he watched her retreat. She had intentionally teased him with the thought of a bribe, but, it seemed, she was not so bold as to carry through. Instead, she hid behind hauteur again. But someday she would not. Someday she would come to him willing and eager, without guilt or uncertainty. But for now he had prodded her into continued travel. In a matter of moments, he reached her side at the crest of the hill.

Although he looked directly into her face, she ignored him, staring straight ahead.

"So ye couldna bear ta be parted from me, lass."

"Roderic," she murmured, lifting a stiff arm and pointing downhill. "Look."

Pulled regretfully from his examination of her face, Roderic swung his attention away.

"Gawd's wrath!" he swore. Two hundred warriors headed south at a rapid pace. Upon the banner at their head waved a wildcat atop a mountain. "'Tis Leith!"

Flame turned to him, eyes wide, air escaping in a rash. "They ride to Dun Ard?"

"Gawd's wrath!" he swore again, then, "Leith!" he yelled, waving his arms. "Leith!"

The company was nearly out of sight.

Beside Roderic, Flanna, too, yelled, joining her voice with his. But their efforts were to no avail. In a moment the troupe was hidden behind a hill.

Their cries turned to silence.

"Ye said he would not come for ye," she rasped.

"He wouldna. Na if he received the message I sent him."

"Then why?"

"I dunna know. Unless someone took my missive and sent his own."

"What will he do?"

"Gawd knows!"

"Ye said he wouldn't come!" she said again, but her tone was panicked now.

"I am his brother!" Roderic rasped, turning abruptly toward her. "Ye think he willna avenge me death?"

"Death!" she gasped.

"Yer people have na proof of me well-being. And neither will the MacGowans know of yer welfare. We must follow them. Make haste!" he said, turning downhill.

"God have pity," she begged, but instead of following him, she whirled toward the stallion that followed them.

The journey seemed endless. Although Roderic sometimes rode behind her, he spent more time running beside, holding the stallion's mane for support as they stumbled through the night.

Desperation drove them. But finally even desperation could not force them onward. Roderic fell to his knees and failed to rise.

"Forbes," Flame breathed and slipped from their mount's back to stumble toward him. "Roderic." His arm felt hot beneath her hand, but whether it was from fever or exertion, she couldn't tell. He struggled to his feet and staggered onward. "Ye must stop."

"Nay." He shook his head. "There will be bloodshed."

"I will go. My kinsmen will see I am safe. They will not fight I'll bring the Forbeses here to ye."

"There will be battle, Flanna. And I am sworn to protect ye."

His expression was desperate. "Why?" she breathed. "I am nothing to ye."

"Ye are wrong.” His eyes searched her. “Ye are everything I love. I willna let ye risk yer life."

She could think of nothing to say. In all her years she had never heard those words and now there seemed no way to respond, for she loved him more than life itself and dared not admit it.

"Ye must rest. Please, Roderic, I…" She faltered and licked her lips. "I’ve no wish to lose ye now."

He stared into her eyes.

"Please," she said again. "Rest, just for a short while so we may travel the faster."

He finally nodded and sank on the ground. "Join me.

"Aye." She nodded. "As soon as I see to the horse."

"Come rest," he insisted.

"I will," she promised with a smile. In a moment she was at the steed's side. Touching his neck, she turned back. Roderic was already asleep. "Good-bye," she whispered, and grasping fistfuls of mane, she swung onto the stallion's back.

Night stretched into day and day into evening. Fatigue blurred Flame's vision and numbed her pain, but still she could hear Roderic's scream in her mind. She had been half a league away when she heard him shriek her name.

He was following, but she must not let him catch her, for she would not risk his life. There would be bloodshed, he had said. But she would not allow that blood to be his. Not now, when she had finally found love. Flame leaned lower over the steed's neck. She was killing the horse. She knew that, but she would sacrifice his life and hers for the man who pursued them. If only she could reach the troop of Forbeses before the clans clashed. If only ...

She felt herself slipping and grabbed Heart's mane to pull herself upright. A hill rose before them. Flame slumped over the destrier's neck, struggling to remain lucid, to soothe her throbbing aches, to keep the animal moving, but suddenly he needed no more urging. His great head rose and a nicker escaped him.

Below them was an army.

The Forbeses! Dear God, she had reached them, she thought. But in that moment she saw the MacGowan standard whip in the wind on the far side of the dell. She heard a roar of rage as her warriors prepared to attack.

"No! Stop!" she screamed and pushed Heart down the final hill. She saw faces turn toward her, saw arms lift to point out her arrival, but she pressed the steed onward, thundering between the two armies. "I command ye to stop!" she yelled. "I am unhurt. Roderic is—"

She heard the flight of the arrow even before she felt its deadly bite. The realization of pain flashed through her system, but the reality did not strike home. She opened her mouth again, trying to speak, but suddenly she was slipping. The earth dipped toward her. The horizon tilted. Men screamed her name. "Roderic ... needs help," she rasped, but in the final moment before darkness took her, she realized she had only whispered the words to the sky.

"Ye've kilt her!" someone shrieked. Through the din of terror, Roderic heard the words. He stumbled from the woods, searching wildly.

"The Forbeses die!" a warrior yelled and charged. Steel clashed against steel, but most of the men remained immobile, staring at someone on the ground between the armies.

It was then that Roderic saw her. She was lying on her side with an arrow projecting from her body and the huge destrier beside her. "No!" he shrieked. The earth seemed to move beneath him, throwing him forward. Someone lunged at him, but he dodged, grabbing the man's sword hand and knocking him aside before running on, and suddenly she was beneath his hands. "Flanna!" he gasped. She did not move, but there at the base of her throat, he felt the flutter of her pulse.

"Sweet Jesu! Leith! Colin!" he screamed in anguish. An arrow hissed past his head. His hands formed to claws at his sides. "She is felled!"

"’Tis the Rogue! Dunna let him take her!" a MacGowan shrieked and rushed forward.

"Brothers!" Roderic screamed and gathered her into his arms.

Suddenly Leith was there, charging forward on his great white steed, knocking his opponents aside, shielding Roderic and the lady he carried. She was limp in his arms.

Behind him, men shrieked and cursed, but Roderic felt as if he were in another world where nothing existed but Flanna's pale, placid face. He raised his gaze, and there was Colin only inches away. "She canna die, brother," he whispered.

Understanding sparked between them. Colin nodded, pulling his destrier close. "Take her to Fiona. I will pray for her wisdom and skill. Take me horse. Today, I fight afoot."

Roderic remained still for an instant more. "The MacGowans are her kinsman," he reminded him.

"Then we fight for peace," Colin vowed.

Chapter 25

She would die. He had felled her with his own arrow, had watched the barb sink into her flesh. He had done what his hired brigands had failed to do. And soon, very soon, he would rule. Then they would rue the days he had been exiled from Dun Ard.