Chapter 31

Sitting about a table in the great hall, the MacGowans and the Forbeses had discussed the coming union. Troy was there, flanked by elders from the villages and a few of Flame's warriors. Nevin had not come, for he had been called to Inverness regarding his father's property.

Leith had made a solemn oath to all present that his clan had had nothing to do with Simon's death and the raids on MacGowan stock. He also promised to find out who had, and that had eased the way for further negotiations.

True to Roderic's word, the Forbeses had asked for no dowry from the MacGowans. In fact, Colin had said that if they would but take his twin, the Forbeses would be willing to pay. There had been laughter then, echoing about the great hall like music. There had been laughter every day since, for Roderic was always near at hand, telling her tales, holding her hand, watching over her, or simply watching with those eyes that promised heaven. And when no one was looking he would kiss her until the world melted away and all that remained was desire.

She would have made love to him if he had but asked. Flame knew it and wondered if she should be ashamed. But he had not asked. Instead, he said that he would wait until she was his completely, with no one to dispute his claim.

Laughter welled up from the hall below. Flame could hear it as she stood in the sanctuary of the solar whereshe had slept for the past few weeks. Wedding guests were arriving, she thought. Panic gripped her.

Marriage! She had vowed against it, but that had been selfish. She was doing this for her people, binding them with the great clan Forbes. Flame watched her reflection in a gilded mirror beside her bed. Who was she fooling? She was doing this for herself, because she wanted him, because she could no longer resist Roderic's caring, could not disbelieve his vows of love.

Sweet Jesu! He loved her! Didn't he? But why? Her palms were sweaty. She wanted to dry them on her gown, but it was too lovely.

She slowed her breathing and concentrated on her attire. The gown was white brocade, slashed in front to reveal a silver underskirt The neckline was cut low and softly rounded. The diamonds at her throat were a wedding gift from Roderic. The pearls in her upswept hair were from Leith and Fiona.

"My lady," Marjory breathed. She had arrived some days before to help with the preparations, but she had been jittery the whole time and now her voice shook.

"Is something amiss, Marjory?" Flame asked, turning away from the mirror.

"Nay, lady, nay. I just..." She stopped and glanced toward the door. "'Tis just that ye are so bonny and Roderic, he loves ye so." Tears sprang suddenly to her eyes.

"What is it?" Flame asked, gripping the other's hands.

"'Tis naught. Truly, I but worry ..."

"Worry?"

Someone knocked at the door. Marjory jumped, and Clarinda's voice called out. "My lady, if it be na too much trouble, they are asking for yer maid's help in the hall for just a moment."

"Marjory, are ye all right?" Flame asked, noticing the girl's wide eyes.

"Aye. I am fine, my lady. 'Tis nothing. I will help in the hall?"

Flame nodded.

"I will return shortly," Marjory promised and closed the door, but in a moment it opened again.

"Did ye forget something?" Flame asked, not looking about

"Aye." Roderic's voice quivered in her ear. "I forgot this," he said, and turning her, kissed her on the mouth. His lips were firm and warm and magic, searing everything from her mind but his presence, his kiss, the feel of his fingers, strong and sure as they cradled her against him. She opened her mouth to his and felt his tongue glide across her lips. A shiver escaped her. She gripped his arms for support and he held her as he kissed her into oblivion.

"My lady, they didna need me help in the ..." Marjory stopped in the doorway and gaped.

Roderic drew the kiss to an end. "Ye must quit trying ta seduce me, lass."

Something in Flame's mind told her she should be offended. "I will try," was all she could manage.

He smiled, but his eyes spoke of flaming passions. Her knees went limp, "'Tis only till tanight," he murmured and forced himself from the room like a wooden puppet.

They were married in the hall, for the bumpy clouds threatened rain. Hundreds of guests spilled out the doors and into the bailey. MacGowans mingled with Forbeses and Lamonts and MacAulays. Laughter was everywhere. Drinking abounded. The feast rivaled that of a royal wedding, and yet Flame could think of nothing but the night to come, for Roderic was forever at her side, touching her hand, whispering in her ear, watching her every movement, as if he feared she would be whisked away if he so much as blinked.

Finally night arrived. Sconces were lit. Their heat brought out the fragrances of the dried heather that hung upon the walls. The music of pipers and fiddlers filled the air. But it all seemed distant and unreal. Flame's hands trembled slightly as she lifted her gaze to her bridegroom's.

"It has been a long day," she said softly. The great double doors of the hall had been left open. Lightning cracked outside, and she jumped, feeling foolish.

Roderic tightened his grip on her hand. "And 'twill be too short a night," he said. "Perhaps we should leave the merrymakers and find our own amusement."

Heat seared her senses as his lips grazed hers. "I…" Words failed her. "I will go prepare for..."

"Nay," Roderic murmured, "let me prepare ye."

Her face felt hot There was an ache that spread from her breasts to her loins. "I but meant Marjory could take down my hair and—"

"Let me take down your hair," he murmured. His breath was warm against her ear.

They were in the midst of a roiling sea of revelers, and yet it seemed there was not another soul left in the universe.

"She could remove my gown," Flame breathed.

Roderic touched the bare skin of her shoulder and slipped his hand to her back. "I can remove it."

His nearness filled her senses, and yet she was scared and not too proud to admit it, at least to herself. "But..." Her words stopped as he lowered his lips to her neck.

"Shh, lass," he whispered. "I dunna fancy meself as a lady's maid, but there are certain things I am quite adept at. Let me show ye."

All she could do was nod. The journey up the stairs didn't seem real, but finally the door of her bedchamber closed behind them. Thunder rumbled outside. Flame gripped her hands together and paced across the room. It was dark, with not a single candle lit. "I... I should have asked Marjory to keep a light burning."

"I think we can start our own fire." Roderic's voice was deep and quiet behind her as he placed his back to the barred door.

"Oh," she breathed and set her fingers to her hair. They trembled against her scalp, but in a moment he was behind her, brushing her hands aside to pull the pins from her coiled tresses. He removed the string of pearls and laid it gently across the back of her neck. They fell smooth and cool against her bare skin, and where they fell, his kisses followed, tender and hot, raining across her shoulders and back. Her breathing escalated. She shivered against his touch, and in a moment his fingers moved to her hair again. Flame felt the braid fall loose, felt his hands glide through it and up to her scalp. There, his fingers massaged as he kissed her throat, her cheek, the tender, aching hollow below her ear.

A spasm of hard desire shook her and she jumped, breathing hard as she moved away a fraction of an inch. "Roderic!" she gasped.

"Aye." His tone was husky.

"I... I'm not good at this."

"Was that the general consensus of all those hundreds before me, lass?" he asked, following the pearls with a single fingertip.

"Um..." Sweet Jesu, how could he talk at a time like this? "Yes." His fingers dipped lower, along the curve of one breast. Her breath came out in a rush. Lightning crackled outside their window, but it felt as if it were within the confines of her chest. "Yes, it was."

"Well then, let us prove them wrong," he murmured and drew her nearer.

But suddenly a movement caught her eye. A shadow reared up behind him. Flame tried to scream. Something crashed down on Roderic's head and he fell.

Terror spilled through her. She stumbled back. Lightning flared, illuminating the room for an instant eternity.

"Nevin!"

He was crouched beside Roderic with a dirk pressed to his neck. "He has a hard head," Nevin said quietly. "I didn't kill him with the rock, but one scream out of ye and I'll slice his throat, my lady."

"No." The word was a whimper. "Ye wouldn't."

He laughed. The sound was low and ugly. "I assure ye, I would," he said and stood. "Just as I killed Simon."

"Not Simon." She shook her head and backed away a step. The door behind her was barred. She would never open it before he caught her, and the revelry from the hall below would muffle any noises she might make.

"Aye. Simon." Nevin laughed again. A fork of lightning illumined his face, and in that moment Flame knew he was mad. "He was still pleading for his life while choking on his own blood."

Flame's stomach roiled. "Nay."

"Aye!" Nevin said, advancing. "Ye thought me such a fool. Poor Nevin, the son of a lowly cloth merchant."

"I never thought that."

"Aye, ye did!" he growled. "But I am not a fool. I have planned. For years I planned. For every time someone laughed at my humble position, I planned a death."

The door was at her back now, but she couldn't escape that way. Flame sidled along the wall. "We took ye in. We shared…"

"Shared!" he snapped. "Ye think I am content to share with a people who would take a woman as their leader? A whore? Nay." In the flash of lightning, she saw that he had raised the knife above his shoulder. "I was meant to be laird. But I was cheated. I was born to the wrong man, to a groveling merchant instead of a chieftain. Gregor, your brother, would have ruled in my stead. So I had to kill him, of course."

"Gregor," she breathed the name.

"Aye, and cleverly. 'Twas very simple to make it seem like an accident, for I had practiced on my father."

"Ye killed Lawrence?"

"'Twas a delight to slit the old fool's throat and set the house afire, but only after I salvaged the few valuables he had. And then there was only the old laird left. And he was dying. Never did I think the MacGowan scum would choose a woman over me. Never!" His knuckles were white against the dirk. "But they did. So I tried to help them realize their mistake. But they are fools. Couldn't they see that ye were leading them to destruction? The poisoned well, the raids, the deaths."

"They were all your doing," Flame breathed.

“Aye. It was all part of my plan. I thought they would see the consequences of having a whore lead them. I tried to help mem understand the error of their ways. But they would not. So I formed the brigand band and paid them with your stock and my father's hoarded money. They hide in the North Woods even now and await my bidding. They helped me trap Simon, but I butchered him myself, and cast the blame on the For-beses. I thought the MacGowans would attack them, and I knew the Forbeses would annihilate ye. But ye decided to take a hostage instead. So much the better. For the hostage would die and then the Forbeses would sweep down upon ye like a tide. But Forbes has not died yet, has he? And ye've fallen for him."

Flame shook her head. "No. You're wrong. I don't care for him," she gasped, but Nevin only laughed as they continued to inch around the room.

"Ye lie! Ye have fallen for him. I wish ye could watch him die, but ye must go first." Nevin laughed again. The sound echoed in the room. "He will awake and find ye dead. Our honorable kinsmen will think he murdered ye on yer wedding night. Troy, that hulking fool, will give his life to avenge the daughter of the whore that bore him a child. And then this keep will be bathed in blood. There will be no one left to claim leadership of the MacGowans. No one but me."

He was closer now. He had been content to follow her and tell her of his cleverness, revel in her terror, but Flame's time was running out, and she knew it.

"But ye want to be laird," she said. The bed was at her right, stopping her from going farther. "Surely ye don't wish all your people to be killed."

"They betrayed me," he said. "Now they will pay. I wish I could watch my plan unfold in the North Woods, but I must not be here, lest I be tied to the murder." He smiled. "That would ruin my plans, and Dun Ard would be left without a laird. I couldn't allow that. I will return and show them how a man rules."

"But ye’ll have no subjects," she said, her back crushed against the wall, her mind churning. "And ye'll have to wait until the fighting subsides." He was stalking her again, but she had nowhere to go. "Spare Roderic's life!" she said quickly. "Spare it and I'll take my own. I'll leave a note saying ye should rule in my stead."

Nevin stopped. In the unsteady flash of lightning she saw that his eyes were narrowed as he thought, "So ye love him so much that ye would commit the ultimate sin." He chuckled. "'Tis almost tempting, but I prefer to have the pleasure myself," he said and lunged for her.

Flame screamed and leaped sideways. She felt the blade rip her gown. His hand clawed at her arm, but suddenly he was twirled away.

Roderic roared and dragged Nevin to the floor.

They thrashed about, wrestling for supremacy. She rushed forward, ready to tear at Nevin with her bare hands, but she tripped over something and fell. In that instant, lightning flashed. Every image was etched in silver detail. Nevin, his face a mask of hatred, straddled Roderic. Light gleamed on his upraised blade.

The scream tore at her throat. Her hands formed to claws as she pushed herself from the floor. The rock was there, hard and smooth. She lifted it and swung with all her might. It hit Nevin's shoulder, knocking him sideways. He rose with a roar and lunged for her.

His fingers snagged her bodice. He yanked her toward his dirk. She could smell death, knew it was coming for her.

"No!" Roderic shrieked. She saw him rise slowly, saw him raise the rock, and heard it smash with dull finality against Nevin's head.

For a moment, she saw Nevin's shocked expression defined by the crashing light from the sky. And then he fell, sliding into death with a crushed skull.

"My lady!" screamed Marjory, banging on the door. "My lady!"

Roderic stumbled over to lift the bar and the maid rushed in. Light from the hall fell upon Nevin's staring eyes. She lifted her fists to her mouth. "Is he dead?"

"Aye, lass. I am sorry," Roderic said, but Marjory shook her head. "He wasna what I thought him to be. He wasna kind," she whispered, touching the bruise on her cheek. "And I feared ..." She swallowed hard and turned to look at Flanna. "I feared for yer safety, my lady, for sometimes he would say things that..." Shaking her head, she glanced at the dead body again. "But then he was called to Inverness and I believed ye were safe." She shivered. "'Twas Bullock that thought he saw him in the crowd here. And then I knew. I knew he planned evil. But now ye are safe. There are only the brigands to disturb our peace."

"The brigands," Flame whispered. "Nevin was their leader. They wait in the North Woods for his command even now."

"Then I go to the woods," Roderic said.

"Nay!" Flame gasped, but he had already turned away.

"Stay with her, Marjory. I will send Troy ta guard yer door."

Two days had passed since the wedding. Night had fallen again, and still no word had come regarding the outcome of the battle against the brigand band. Flame paced her chambers. Fiona had insisted that she rest, but neither her conversations with Troy nor Haydan's company had eased her mind, for worry gnawed at her.

All this time she had been a fool. Every day she had turned away from Roderic she had wasted one more chance at love, one more day of happiness. There were no guarantees in life. She knew that now, but to throw away the opportunity for love was worse than throwing away life itself. She paced again. If he came back alive—if God but granted her one more chance, she would grab it with both hands and not let fear rule her actions.

A noise sounded in the hallway. Flame stopped, not daring to breathe. The door eased quietly open, and then...

"Roderic." She said his name like a prayer and took one stilted step forward. "Roderic," she managed again.

"Lass." He closed the door behind him and leaned his weight against the heavy timbers. Their gazes met and held. "We routed the brigands."

There were a thousand things she needed to say, but none of them would come, for all she could do was stare at him and realize that he was alive, that he was safe.

He remained as he was, watching her closely. "With our combined warriors, we rid the Highlands of them."

Some numbed part of her mind realized that he must have washed, for his hair was damp and the cuffs of his shirt were folded away from his broad wrists. She searched his face, his hands, his clothing. No blood stained his person. Tears, hot and unheeded, sprang to her eyes.

"Dare I hope ye worried for my safe return?"

The tears spilled onto her cheeks.

"Flanna, lass, ye're crying," he said and took a step forward.

"Roderic," she cried and flung herself into his arms.

He folded her into his embrace and she clung to him, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the hard strength of his arms. He was alive. He was well. God was in His heaven.

"Ye did worry," he murmured, stroking her hair. "Ye did worry, lass. And I wish I could say I am sorry, but ta know ye care, means more ta me than all—''

"I love ye," she whispered against his chest.

The world stood still.

"Yer pardon?" he said softly.

"I love ye," she repeated, and drew back far enough to look into his eyes. "I've known for a long time, but I dared not admit it for I am a coward."

"Nay, lass—" he began, but she rushed on.

"There is so much pain, Roderic. So much hatred. Nevin ..." She shook her head. "I thought he was kind. I thought he was good, like his father. But he was not. He was evil. Good does not always beget good. And evil does not always beget evil. I am good, Roderic. Ye make me feel that I am good, that there is hope.

"So many aren't given the chance I've been given. Troy," she whispered. "He loved my mother, worshiped her, and in her loneliness she turned to him. He told me the truth. Haydan is his son. Mother made him promise not to tell father, lest he kill the child. And so Troy denies leadership of the MacGowans because of his guilt. But what good does guilt do, Roderic? We're given so little time. We must cherish what happiness we can find. If ye still want me, if ye don't hate me for all the things I've said and done, then I am yours."

She saw hope light his eyes. He cupped her cheek with his hand. "Never could I hate ye, lass. Never."

"Then I am yours, tonight and always."

"Aye." Bending, he lifted her into his arms. "For always," he breathed, and in their minds a child laughed.

**

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