Highland Flame (Highland Brides) (6 page)

She stopped directly in front of him. Their gazes held again, and for one moment he thought she might slip the dirk between his ribs. But instead, she cut the ropes. With one quick slice, his bonds fell away.

"Ahh," Roderic sighed, pulling his arms apart. " 'Tis kind ye are, lass. Or—" he leaned slightly closer to prevent the others from hearing his words—"could it be ye have cut me free because ye are scairt of being near a
real
man. Feeding me could be verra ... stimulating."

She leaned toward him, still holding his gaze. "Or it might just be"—she sniffed—"nauseating."

Roderic opened his mouth for a verbal parry. But she was right, he smelled ripe. "Wolfhound," he said, not breaking eye contact with her. "It seems I've a need to wash afore I eat."

"He's a cocky one. I'll give him that," Troy said.

"Me?" Roderic raised his gaze to the oversized warrior. "Surely ye misjudge me. I simply dunna wish ta offend the lady. I didna ask ye ta bring me here. But I am na complaining and willna ask ye ta lug water up those weary stairs. I be more than willing ta go ta yer well."

"He acts as if he doesn't know that our well has been poisoned, that our people have become ill from drinking it!" Nevin scoffed.

"It's not safe to drink the water there," Flame said, and didn't bother to add that there were those who thought a Forbes had somehow stolen into their bailey and dropped the rotting carcass into the water. It was true that the MacGowans were looking for a scapegoat for all their problems. Simon's death had been the catalyst that had fanned their anger into rage. There had been nothing she could do but retaliate.

"Poisoned?" Roderic asked. "Then I'll need ta go to the burn."

"Ye must think us dull-witted indeed if ye believe we will allow ye outside of these walls," Nevin said.

"Nay, na dull-witted atall," Roderic argued. " 'Twas a clever plan ye devised ta bring me here. And ta show me appreciation for a good ploy, I will vow na ta escape before the sun sets."

"Ye are arrogant beyond words," said Nevin, "to think ye can speak to me lady, for she is all that is good and..."

"Quiet," Flame said, raising a hand. "Why should we trust your vow, Forbes?"

Roderic straightened slightly, reading the nuances in the room. "Because I dunna lie," he said softly. "Even ta snakes and vermin. But I will escape. Like that." He snapped his fingers. "If ye dunna allow me some freedom."

"Ye would have a hard time getting through me, Forbes!" Bullock said, stepping into the room.

Roderic shifted his gaze to the stout warrior. "Do ye think so?" he asked, smiling. As a boy, he had driven the serious Leith to distraction with his blithe moods and practical jokes. Now, he leisurely skimmed his attention back to the clan's bonny leader. "What say ye, lass, do ye grant me this courtesy as a sign of goodwill or must I leave before we get a chance to become better acquainted?"

"A little freedom is a small price to pay for a bit of the Rogue's goodwill, lass," Troy said softly.

Flame remained silent for one thoughtful moment, then nodded. "All right, Forbes. Ye may wash," she said quietly. "But be assured, I'll be watching ye."

Roderic all but beamed. "Be assured," he said softly. "That's the way I like it."

Chapter 4

Perhaps she was a fool to allow Forbes to go outside the protective walls of Dun Ard, Flame thought. Or perhaps, as Troy suggested, this bit of compromise was well worth the effort. There was something about their prisoner that almost made her believe his boasts about his ability to escape. And something that made her believe his vows not to. It appeared she had learned little about men and their deceptive ways, after all.

But he did need to wash, for there was a narrow band of dried blood running down his forehead and it bothered her, though she knew it shouldn't. Although she planned to make the Forbeses pay for their sins, she was not fool enough to poison the man with their well water. Thus she brought him here.

The Geal Burn twisted and gurgled along in its rocky course beneath the drawbridge. As a child of seven, Flame had spent many hours here. It was a peaceful spot, sheltered from the Highland winds by a rough border of hills that followed the winding course of the fast-flowing stream. Yellow flowering gorse grew in abundance, and bent hazels canopied the rock-strewn water. Long ago, she had climbed one of those gnarled trees and later had hurried to her father to proudly tell him of her feat. She remembered her shock when he had called her a liar, for never in her short life had he wounded her in any way. She had had no way of knowing it was only the beginning.

"What be ye thinking?"

Forbes' question wrested her from her thoughts and reminded her that she was not alone. Troy stood not far away, and Nevin had followed with a hand on his sword. She shifted her attention to where Roderic squatted beside the clear, rushing water. He had rolled back the cuffs of his soiled shirt, exposing broad, golden-haired forearms. He had also scrubbed the blood from his forehead with his bare hands.

" 'Twas thinking ye are slow indeed at washing," she lied.

He smiled, showing straight, white teeth. Water dripped down the dimple in his right cheek. " Tis good ta know ye be thinking of me atall." He turned away, glancing about. " 'Twas thinking meself that this be a bonny spot. Did ye play here as a wee lass, Flanna?"

"I am called Flame," she reminded him.

Roderic twisted toward her so that his back was to the water. He wore the traditional plaid of the clan Forbes with unspoken pride. It was made of muted browns and greens and rose higher as he moved, showing a bit more of his muscular thighs. His knees were bare, of course, and he had removed his deerskin boots to reveal his corded, powerful calves. "Why? Flanna is yer name, is it na?"

His jaw was broad and clean-shaven, his eyes blue as the heavens and deep set. And ... Damn! She had lost the course of their conversation. He smiled again. The expression did nothing to clear her thoughts and seemed to speak of his own elevated opinion of himself.

"Why do ye prefer ta be called Flame?" he repeated, as though he perfectly understood her inability to concentrate while in his presence.

She lifted her chin. She was not some blushing lass who would swoon at the merest show of his dimple, and damn him for making her feel like one. " 'Tis the name me sire gave me."

"Indeed?" He watched her closely. "And what of the name yer mother gave ye?"

Flame remained absolutely still. It had been a long while since she had allowed herself to think of her mother. For such thoughts promoted a softness she could ill afford.

"Flanna be a bonny name," Roderic said softly. "Seems a shame ta leave it behind."

Flame sternly reminded herself to think clearly, to remember who he was, to realize his ploy. The brothers Forbes were not known for their foolishness, but for their savvy. And this one ... This one had hair as gold as sunlight, skin dark as a hawthorn's bark, and eyes so blue they could enchant an angel.

But the Flame of the MacGowans had no illusions. She was not an angel.

"Are ye trying ta distract me so that ye can escape?" she asked, keeping her tone light.

"Nay. If I were trying ta distract ye, lass," he began, quickly setting his fingers to the brooch that held his plaid to his shoulder, "I would remove me shirt."

It all happened very quickly. Suddenly his brooch was undone, and his chest was bare.

She blinked. Behind her, Troy rumbled low in his chest.

Roderic's gaze failed to leave hers. "Here, Wolfhound," he said, tossing the soiled shirt to the huge guard. "See that this gets cleaned. And, Nevin, bring me meal. 'Tis a bonny day. I wish ta eat outside."

Troy strode forward and casually retrieved the garment, but Nevin remained as he was, his back straight.

"I take me orders from me lady. Not from the man who killed me kinsmen. I would sooner die on me own sword than take your orders, Forbes."

"Bring me food first," Roderic said.

Troy looked down at their prisoner and shook his head. "Shall I drag him back ta the tower for ye, lass, or shall we let him crow out here for a wee bit longer?"

Flame smiled up at her faithful old warrior, and for a moment Roderic could imagine her as a child. Even now, firelight wisps of hair curled down to caress her face. As a babe that hair would have been kitten soft and loose. Her eyes would have twinkled with merriment, and she would have giggled as her father tossed her in the air.

Strange, he thought, that the sight of such a warrior woman made him think of children.

"He has promised to be good," she said now, glancing quickly in his direction. "Can we take ye at your word, Forbes?"

"Aye." Roderic nodded once, feeling unusually sober. "Me word is as good as me blood, lass. If I say I will stay, I will stay. If I say I will go, I will go. But this day I willna escape."

Their gazes held for several seconds before she turned back to her guard. "Then let him stay, Troy," she ordered quietly.

The Wolfhound drew nearer. The earth all but shook beneath his footfalls. Not far from Roderic's squatting form, Troy bent. "I have a wee bit of wisdom ta impart with ye, lad. 'Tis the toughest shell that yields the softest yoke. Hurt her, and I'll test me blade on yer bonny neck." Straightening, the huge warrior slapped Roderic's shoulder as if they were the best of friends. Then he turned his attention to Flame. “Young Mary has gathered early berries, and I've na seen Haydan for some days, lass. With yer permission, I shall bring him the fruit and news of the day."

Roderic scowled. What kind of man would threaten him with decapitation, then blithely speak of berries and news? This Dun Ard was a strange place.

"Go, and tell Haydan I will be there shortly."

In a moment, Troy had turned away, and they were left alone with only one glowering guard.

"Ye may bring his meal, Nevin." Flame said.

"Nay!" Nevin's tone was harsh. Roderic watched Flame turn in that direction.

"What say ye?"

"My apologies, lady. But I cannot bear to see ye with his kind. Let me guard him, for your life is worth a thousand of my own and I would sooner cut my heart from my chest than see thee hurt."

This Nevin was a dramatic one, Roderic thought. But Flame's expression softened.

"I appreciate your concern, cousin. But I think I am safe enough for the time being."

"Do not trust him, lady. Do not sit too near. Indeed, ye should return to the comfort of your rooms and let me see to his needs."

"That will not be necessary," she said.

So Nevin was her cousin, Roderic thought, but approaching footsteps captured his attention. A young woman drew near, carrying a bucket in each hand. She had wide, brown eyes and a full mouth. "Me lady," she said before dipping her attention momentarily to Roderic.

He smiled. "Hello, lass. What be yer name?"

She shifted her gaze rapidly to Nevin and back. "Marjory ..." She faltered, uncertain. "Sir."

"They call me Roderic."

Marjory shifted her gaze nervously to the water and tossed one metal-bound bucket in, but there was no way for her to fetch it back without wetting her shoes.

It seemed perfectly natural for Roderic to wade into the burn to fill and retrieve it for her. Marjory eyed his bare chest and blinked as he handed her the filled pail.

Roderic smiled. He loved women and women loved him. 'Twas an agreeable arrangement. " 'Tis a bonny day. What happened to yer wrist, lass?"

She pulled her arm back so that her sleeve could cover the discolored skin of her wrist. " 'Tis nothing. I but fell, sir..."

"Roderic," he corrected, and taking the second wooden bucket from her, filled it in the same manner.

"Thank ye," she breathed as her hand touched his.

"Me pleasure, Marjory."

She nodded, glanced quickly at Nevin, then turned and hurried back to the castle.

Roderic watched her retreat for a moment, then waded upstream to crouch before the lady warrior. Water reached halfway to his knee. "Ye MacGowans are na such a bad lot."

"I'm sure we're all very grateful to have earned your good regard," Flame said dryly.

Roderic chuckled, pulling up one knee to settle an elbow upon it.

Flame's gaze flitted quickly to where his plaid was displaced, and he watched, noticing her disconcerted expression. 'Twas not his fault he was a handsome devil, he thought and almost smiled.

"Yer people are na so much different than me own," he observed. "Each making his life the best he can. 'Tis a shame I canna stay longer."

For a moment she said nothing, but when he turned back to her, her brows had risen, and her green eyes looked cool enough to frost glass.

"Do ye plan to leave us soon then, Forbes?"

"Aye." He did smile now. He had seen a good bit of the world, from London to Madrid, and found that each place had its share of bonny lasses. Some were aloof and some were shy, but this woman had a combination of both attributes that intrigued him. "I dunna want ta go," he said, "but I fear I canna wait about for Leith's arrival."

"Nay?" She still held the jeweled knife with which she had cut his bounds. His gaze settled on it momentarily.

"Nay," he said regretfully and shrugged. "For ye see, I am a man that doesna like strife. Oh, I enjoy a friendly brawl as well as the next Scot, but I dunna like to see any man shed his blood for na good cause. Much as I would enjoy acquainting meself with ye and yers, I canna await me brother's coming."

"Indeed?" There was a strange tone to her voice, and when he turned to her he saw that her lips were pressed into a bonny pucker as though to prevent a smile from escaping.

He didn't guard his own expressions so jealously. "Indeed."

"And how, may I ask, are ye planning to escape? The stairs are the only exit from the tower and they will be well guarded."

He watched her in silence. The sun had found its way from behind a bubbly cloud and cast its golden light on her. Surely this lass had always basked in sunshine, he thought, for she was the only daughter of the old laird. She must have been the very light of his life.