Highland Flame (Highland Brides) (39 page)

Here, stealth would do him little good, he knew, so he straightened the green plaid he had borrowed from the MacGowans and strode inside. It almost seemed as if he had never left, so familiar was the scene. But now Bonny did not greet him and Flanna did not sleep in her private chambers on the upper floor.

But Haydan did, and Flanna wished to see him healed. 'Twas as simple as that, for he had vowed to win her heart.

His bare feet were silent across the rushes, the steps cool.

No servant lay before the low, arched door where Haydan resided. No light flickered in the hall. With a single glance in each direction, Roderic set his hand to the handle and eased the door open. The hinges creaked. He should have brought mutton, Roderic thought, but before he had time to regret his neglect he was inside and the door closed behind him.

"Who's there?" The lad's voice creaked more loudly than the hinges.

Roderic stopped in his tracks, remembering that pain often kept the lad awake and thoughtful.

"Who is every man and every woman?" Roderic asked softly, in riddle fashion. "Who does each deed and tells each tale?"

"’Tis
I
, of course," breathed Haydan. By the flickering light of a tallow candle, Roderic could see the lad's small, quaking form. "But which
I
is it. I know of several," he said, his tone uncertain.

Roderic chuckled. If intelligence were strength, this lad could carry a hundred stone and sweep castles down in one blow. "'Tis the only
I
I refer to as I, lad," he said. "But sometimes the I is called the man of men, the scaler of walls. And sometimes I be called..."

"Roderic," Haydan gasped.

In the darkness, Roderic couldn't tell if the lad's breathy tone indicated relief or shuddering fear.

"'Tis I," said he, stepping nearer the bed.

"Ye took my lady." There was no longer any doubt about his tone. It was rife with sudden aggression.

"Aye. I did."

The room was silent for a moment as if the lad struggled to decide what to do next. "I am na man of valor," he said quietly, "or I would fight for her honor and her return."

"Whether ye are a man of valor or na is yet to be seen. But this I know, ye are a man of deep thought, young Hawk, and therefore ye would see there is na need to fight me na matter how great yer strength."

"Why did you take her?"

"Because she was na safe here," Roderic said softly.

"I would have protected her with the last breath in my body."

"I do not doubt yer word, lad. But I know na the source of her danger, so the battle is the harder here."

Haydan drew a sharp breath. It rattled down his throat. "You have kept her safe?"

Roderic sighed and stepped closer still. "It has been a long and tiresome ride. Would ye mind if I sit?"

"Nay."

The straw-filled tick rustled beneath Roderic's weight. "She is at—"

"Nay!" Haydan's tone was suddenly panicked as he raised a pale hand to stop the words. "Do not tell me, lest I inadvertently tell those who might do her harm."

Roderic could not help but smile. "She is where I mean ta tek ye now, lad."

"Me?" The word was barely audible, the tone breathless. "Did she ask ye to fetch me?"

"She said she wished ye were there."

Haydan was out of bed in less than an instant. Standing beside his pallet in his pale nightshirt, he looked frail enough to blow away. "Then I will go with ye."

"'Twill na be simple, lad."

He drew another rattling breath. "I go," he repeated.

The rope Roderic had secured beneath his plaid was heavy and chafed like unconfessed sin. He withdrew it as Haydan quickly dressed. It was simple to tie both ends of a blanket to the rope and toss the thing past the open shutter and into the outside air. The window in the tiny alcove was just wide enough to allow the lad to squeeze onto the stone sill. But there he stopped.

"Could I na just go down the stairs?" he questioned, his face deathly white.

"What if ye were seen?"

"I would tell them I but went for a stroll."

"Have ye ever strolled before in the wee hours of the night?"

The boy lifted his chin slightly. The movement reminded Roderic of Flanna. "There must be a first time for each new endeavor or nothing would ever be attempted."

Roderic contained a chuckle. Such pride should surely be housed in a stronger frame. “I willna let ye fall, lad.''

Haydan remained motionless for a moment then glanced stiffly toward the ground. It was far below, wreathed in mist and darkness.

"The MacGowans will worry for me safety. Troy..."

"I have brought a missive to explain yer disappearance," said Roderic. The note would also remind the Wolfhound that Roderic could scale the walls of Dun Ard whenever he wished. It was not an unsatisfying thought.

Haydan drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Lady Flanna, sh... she as ... asked for me?" he questioned again.

"Aye, she did, lad."

He swallowed hard. Even in the darkness, Roderic could see the sharp bob of his Adam's apple. And then he coughed. The sound seemed loud as a horn blast in the darkness.

"Please, lad," Roderic said, fretfully trying to muffle the sound with his hand. "Stealth would be desirable."

The boy nearly strangled on his noisy explosion, but he remained relatively quiet. "I swear to be silent," he assured Roderic solemnly, and with hands that visibly shook, eased over the sill and onto the woolen sling.

Roderic had wrapped the rope about a solid peg near the door. Holding it snug with one hand was no difficulty. Spreading out the blanket to secure the lad inside was harder. But finally the boy was settled. He looked no larger than a cornered hare and no less frightened.

"When ye reach the earth, climb out and tug hard three times on the rope," Roderic said.

The boy could manage no more than a nod, and in an instant Roderic was lowering the sling. Moments slipped by and finally all the length was gone and still the rope hung heavy and taut.

God's wrath! He had miscalculated the distance to the ground. With only one twist around the peg, Roderic kept a firm hold and peered out the window. Below him, coarse hemp slipped into the mist. Nothing more could be seen.

A quick glance about the room assured Roderic there was nothing else to add to the length of the rope. So, with a quick, silent prayer, he tied the end of the hemp to the peg and slipped from the room.

It seemed to take forever to escape the keep and longer still before Roderic had scaled the wall and run the length of the castle. Visions haunted him of the rope breaking, the boy panicked and fallen.

But when Roderic reached the proper side of the castle, the lad was there, dangling like a ripe apple some twelve feet above the ground.

"Hawk," he called quietly.

True to the boy's word, he was silent. Roderic winced, wondering if he had fainted, or worse yet, if the fear of being hanged from such precipitous heights had weakened the boy's heart unto death.

"Hawk?" he called again.

Above him, the sling wiggled and shook. A gaunt face, pale as morning, peaked over the side. Sharp, white knuckles gripped the blankets edge. Still the lad spoke no words.

"I fear ye'll have ta jump," Roderic informed him quietly.

The sling trembled more violently. A squeak escaped, causing Roderic to wonder if Haydan had tried to speak.

Minutes stormed by. Surely dawn marched behind.

"Lad?" Roderic called.

Rattling breath reached his ears, then, "You are quite certain she asked for me?"

"Aye, lad," Roderic said to the rocking sling. "Ye and na other."

Flame sat with her back against a pair of goose-down pillows. It had been two days since Roderic had visited her. He was gone. That much she knew, and though his family said he had but gone to make a few purchases, Flame doubted their word and agonized over his true location.

Perhaps he was with another. He had touched her, brightened her world, showed her the strength of tenderness. Never, not if she lived for an eternity, would she forget the expression on Haydan's face when Roderic named him Hawk. Yes, Roderic Forbes had educated her, had taught her a thousand things she should have learned long ago. How to laugh—how to love.

Dear God! Tears almost won the fight against her pride, but pride had been powerful for too long.

"Flanna?" Fiona opened the door and stepped hastily into the room. "’Tis glad I am ye're awake." She held a blanketed bundle against one shoulder. It looked no more substantial than a small sack of rags. "Agnus's bairn is coming early." Her words were rushed, but there seemed little sense to them.

"I fear I know little of birthing babes," Flame said.

Fiona laughed. "I am na asking your assistance with the birth. But I must leave immediately, and I need someone to care for wee Graham."

Flame's mouth fell open. "Surely Clarinda—"

"She's visiting her sister."

"Hannah—"

"Has a blister on her foot. I ordered her to stay off it."

"Devona?"

"She and Colin took their Sarah and Rachel to the cobbler's. I fear there is no one else," she said, approaching the bed.

"But..." Flame felt like a fool, but she had never held a newborn bairn. And now that the tiny, wrinkled bundle was being delivered into her arms, fear made her mouth go dry and her hands tremble. "What of his father?"

"Left early this morning."

"But surely there must be—" She was blubbering and pleading shamelessly.

"He'll be no trouble." Fiona pressed the babe against Flanna's chest. "He was just fed and swaddled and will sleep for several hours." She was already moving away.

"But—"

"Take care, Flanna. Clarinda shall be back before the nooning."

"But that's—"

Too late. She was gone.

"That's two hours away," Flame protested to the empty doorway. Panic roiled in her stomach. She knew less than nothing about babies. What would happen if he awoke? she wondered, staring into the tiny face. Oh, aye, she could orchestrate a midnight raid with her warriors. She could ride any steed with four legs. But to nurture a babe! The idea terrified her.

He whimpered in his sleep. Flame loosened her grip, suddenly afraid she was squeezing the poor bairn to death. Dear God, this was going to be the longest two hours of her life.

"So tell me," Flame whispered to the silent babe. "What are ye thinking in that wee head of yours?"

Little Graham lay snuggled upon the tick with the wall to his right and Flame to his left. His eyes, she now saw, were as blue as midnight and as wise as eternity.

"Do ye lie there hour upon hour and ponder the problems of the world? Or do ye merely marvel at life at large?"

He said nothing. But his fair brows lowered slightly, causing a tiny indentation above each. He had a wee blister on the arch of his upper lip and one fist had somehow escaped bondage to be nestled near his cheek.

"I'm not good with children," Flame said, stroking his tiny nails with the back of her index finger. "I was not meant to be a mother, ye know."

The babe's scowl increased.

"'Tis true. I have heard the rumors. Some say I am more man than woman." Something ached near her heart even as she said the words. But little Graham was not so affected, and suddenly his mouth opened in a toothless expression of glee.

It was a dawning moment of import to Flame. Never had she seen a baby smile. Her own mouth opened in surprise and then she laughed. "Oh, so ye think that's funny, do ye? Well, I assure ye 'tis not. I can ride as well as any man. Better than most. And as an archer there are few who can best my accuracy. Even Roderic ..." Her stomach pitched strangely when she said the name. "Roderic could mayhap best me. Roderic," she whispered to the tiny babe. Her throat ached with the words. "Why has he abandoned me? He promised me he would not. But what is the vow of a man? They cannot be trusted." The bairn's smile disappeared to be replaced by a look of surprise. "Maybe ye will be trustworthy, sweet Graham. Mayhap ye will be a better man.

"But Roderic said he was..." Flame closed her eyes. "Roderic again. What has he done to me? I was doing well." She knew her words for a lie. "I was ... surviving," she corrected, "in my own world, in my own way. Content enough. But now ..." The small fist opened and four tiny, warm fingers wrapped about one of her own. The marvel of a baby's trust. It seemed like a miraculous gift from God. "I want more," she whispered brokenly. "I want love. And Roderic. And a sweet babe of me own."

"Does he answer back?"

"Roderic!" Flame jerked her attention to the doorway. The baby jumped and began to wail, Roderic grinned, and Flame felt as if she would die of embarrassment.

"Now there, Flanna, lass, look what ye've done. Ye've set him ta crying," he said, striding across the room.

"Roderic," she murmured breathlessly.

"Aye." Reaching casually across her, he fetched the wee babe to his chest. "'Tis me." Graham wailed all the louder. "Ye look like ye've seen a ghost again." One hand on the babe's bottom and one on his back, Roderic jostled the bairn gently. Cries turned to whimpers, whimpers to sniffles. "Were ye talking about me?" he asked slyly. "Or mayhap ..." He moved closer, easing the babe to his shoulder where he patted its back as he seated himself close beside her on the mattress. "Mayhap ye did na think I would return."

She couldn't speak. His eyes entranced her. His voice mesmerized her. His very nearness made her stomach pitch and her head feel light. So this was love. It felt much the same as a rough sea voyage. She decided to treat it the same, by riding it out.

Flame raised her chin slightly. "Were ye gone? I hadn't noticed."

Roderic laughed, placing Graham in the cradle formed by his legs.

"What secrets did she tell ye, wee one?" he asked.

For a fleeting moment, Flame forgot that the child couldn't talk. She almost opened her mouth to deny every word he spoke. But just at that moment, Roderic's eyes smote hers.

"I have brought ye a surprise."

"I hate surprises."

He leaned closer until his lips were only inches from hers. Breath refused to come. Her heart forgot to beat.