Highland Flame (Highland Brides) (33 page)

"Nay. Ye are wrong. I—"

"Flanna," he interrupted sharply and raised his head. Something was wrong. It was too quiet. Too ... "Run!" He yelled the word before he knew his own reasons. In the woods, a twig cracked. He wasted no time looking that way. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her to her feet.

"What?" she gasped.

An axe flew through the air and bit into the log where she had rested her back. But its thud was drowned by the terrifying shriek of a battle cry.

Chapter 23

Men crashed from the woods toward them. Flame knew she should run. She heard Roderic's command to do so, felt him push her toward the shelter of the trees. But her legs wouldn't move.

She stood, immobilized by fear as the outlaws rushed toward them. They were armed, Roderic was not, and yet he braced his legs, swept a glowing log from the fire, and stood his ground.

"Flee!" he yelled as steel crashed against wood. Sparks flew. Flame screamed. Jolted from her trance, she spun away. Then she saw the others.

They swarmed at her from all directions. Her next scream died in her throat. Desperation made her whirl toward the fire. Somehow, Roderic was holding the villains at bay with his flaming brand.

She reached toward the blaze. A branch came away in her hand. There was no time to think, only to swing. Fire burst in a bright arc of sparks.

A man screamed and clutched his burning scalp. But there were many more. She swung again.

It was a blazing, clashing nightmare. She felt her back bump Roderic's, and suddenly she remembered his words. He would give his life to save hers.

Something swelled in her chest. With a war cry of her own, she swung again. A sword slashed at her brand, knocking her aside.

She fell with a shriek, trying to bring her weapon to bear, to shield her face from the snarling devil who lunged at her, but her arms were weakening, her reactions slowing, and she knew she would die.

From beside her came a roar of savage outrage. Like a beast protecting his mate, Roderic pivoted about and swung for the villain's head. Blood sprayed. The man fell, dropping his claymore, and suddenly it was in Roderic's hand.

With one thrust the villain was dead. Roderic wheeled about, both hands on the hilt of his captured sword as he slashed and cut.

But there were too many.

From his left a dark man lunged at him.

Flame screamed and Bonny leaped! The villain shrieked as the hound pierced his sword arm.

The weapon fell and Flame snatched it up.

From nowhere, another sword swung at her. She blocked the blow with a weak parry and shrieked with fear.

The sword swung again. She watched it arc and prayed for her own immortal soul.

But suddenly Roderic was there, standing over her. His claymore sang of death. Another villain fell, gurgling on his own blood.

"To their horses!" Roderic gasped. "Get a horse and ride!"

"But..." She could not leave him.

He gasped in pain. Blood spurted from his arm. He swung wildly about, clanging his claymore against his opponent's sword with a roar.

She couldn't stop them. There were too many. Flame stumbled to her feet. He had cleaved a path through the midst of the outlaws.

Terror drove her down that path and into the woods.

She heard her pursuers follow. Branches snatched at her face. Bracken bound her feet. From up ahead, she heard the fearful snort of a horse and then its dark form loomed suddenly before her.

Her fingers felt numb against the tied reins. The animal snorted again and tried to pull away, but she held on and soon it was free.

Behind her, a man swore and sprang through the darkness. She grabbed the steed's mane and swung upward. Hands grappled for her leg. She screamed and kicked with all her might.

Something crunched beneath Flame's heel. Her mount lunged frantically away.

But Roderic was behind her and she could not leave him. She spun the destrier about and forced him back through the woods.

From her right, men yelled and charged toward her. But she was astride now and knew what she must do.

Roderic looked up just in time to see a monstrous beast explode from the woods and fly toward him. It burst from the darkness like the devil incarnate and bore down upon him, plowing over everything in its path.

"Gawd's wrath!" he gasped and jumped aside just in time to save himself from being knocked to the ground.

"Forbes!" someone yelled.

He gathered his wits and brought his sword to bear.

"Come!" she screamed and suddenly he realized the rider was Flanna.

"Go!" he ordered.

"Come!"

Already, men were racing toward them, swords uplifted, teeth bared.

Roderic swung his claymore as warning and yelled again for her to leave, but in that moment, he knew that if he died she would die with him. Damn her stubborn hide. There was nothing he could do but reach for the animal's mane and swing his leg toward the steed’s back.

Something sliced the back of his thigh. He gasped in pain and nearly fell, but Flanna's fingers twisted in his shirt. The stallion lunged toward him, aiding his assent, and suddenly he was aboard and they were flying across the clearing.

They hit one man square on. He shrieked and fell beneath the stallion's hooves, and then darkness wrapped about them as the firelight disappeared.

Behind them, men screamed and cursed and ran for their horses.

"Roderic!" Flanna's voice was raspy with fear. "Are ye well?”

"Are ye?"

"Aye." Her voice quivered but she sat upright and guided the stallion with finesse.

"Then I am too, lass," he breathed. "And I owe ye me thanks again for saving me life." He glanced back, searching the darkness for signs of pursuit. He could see nothing, yet he knew their attackers would follow.

Beneath them, the stallion stumbled, nearly falling to his knees. "Don't thank me yet," she gasped.

From close behind, a villain's battle cry shattered the night.

"I fear it might be now or never, lass."

He saw her twist about to peer into the darkness. Her face was pale with fear and yet she didn't falter but drove the stallion onward, through the trees and out into the open.

Overhead, the moon shone upon a wide stretch of rising meadow. Again, Flame turned to look back. Judging the distance between them and their enemies, she spurred the stallion ahead.

The destrier's hooves thundered across the grass, but his breath came in great gasps and his gait was rough and labored.

"They're nearly upon us!" Roderic warned.

Flanna bent low over the stallion's neck. Though Roderic could not make out the words she spoke, he could feel the animal's desperate burst of speed.

They hit a narrow valley. Momentarily hidden from their pursuers, Flanna pulled their mount to the right. He stumbled again.

"A little further, great one," she breathed, lying flat against his neck. "Just a wee bit."

Trees loomed up and swallowed them with their darkness. Thirty strides into the woods, Flanna straightened.
"He's spent!" --

Roderic leaped from the stallion's back. Dragging Flanna with him, he raised his sword to send the stallion away.

"Nay! We can not leave him to them," Flame cried, jerking her head to indicate the villains and reaching for the reins.

"What the devil—" Roderic began, but a sudden noise made him push her behind him and jerk about.

From the darkness, Bonny bounded into his arms.

"Sweet Jesu!" Roderic gasped and, hugging the dog to him, turned to Flanna again.

"We cannot leave him any more than we can leave the hound," she said softly.

"Gawd's wrath!" swore Roderic. "Get the nag under cover then if ye're set on forfeiting yer life for him."

She grabbed the animal's reins and dragged him away.

The ravine in which they hid was nothing more than a green slice cut from the leaf-covered ground of the woods.

In the distance, Roderic thought he heard hoofbeats thunder past, but it was difficult to be sure. They waited in silence. Flanna held the stallion's nose lest he decide to call to his companions.

But the stallion remained silent, his head drooping, his nostrils flared as he pulled great drafts of air into his laboring lungs.

By morning Roderic realized the truth. The animal was dying on his feet. Although he had managed to carry them several miles since dawn, he stumbled now, his strength spent.

Seated behind her, Roderic touched Flanna's arm. "The beast can go no further, lass."

"Then we'll walk and lead him."

"Flanna..." Roderic sighed. His breath fanned against her flame-bright hair. Fatigue weighed like a sack of meal across his back and his thigh burned like hell's fire. "He's been starved and can barely walk. 'Twould be a kindness to cut his throat and leave him in peace."

Flanna dropped her hand protectively to the stallion's neck. "I hope ye will agree to spare me from your brand of compassion should I ever dawdle."

Though Roderic tried to look stern, he couldn't quite contain his weary chuckle. "Must I remind ye that ye are na a horse but a person? We Forbeses dunna usually kill our women should they lose a bit of weight. But I have seen this kind of abuse afore, lass." Sliding from the steed's back, Roderic grasped his purloined claymore in one hand. "He is used up,” he said, but in that instant he noticed the tears that shone in her eyes as she looked down at him. They sparked defiance and gainsaid fear.

"Then ye'll go on without us, Forbes. For he saved our lives and I will not leave him."

"He will only slow us down."

"Me,"
she argued. "He will only slow me down. Ye can go on."

Roderic gritted his teeth. "Damn it all to hell!" he swore. "Why must I love a woman whose verra bones are stubborn?"

He watched her mouth fall open in surprise. "Roderic…" she murmured, but he scowled her to silence and raised one hand to fend off her words.

"Not now, Flanna. Ye didna hear what ye think ye heard," he warned. "Just keep silent and handfeed the crow-bait before he drops like a rock into death."

Damned if she didn't.

Roderic lay upon the grass and watched her. The back of his thigh still burned but he had felt along the gash with his fingers and decided the wound wasn't life-threatening.

Bonny lay flat out beside him, exhausted. But Flanna remained on her feet, picking choice shoots of grass to feed to the steed.

The horse was tall and still young. At one time he might have been a handsome beast. Now, his ribs showed like the bones of a long-dead carcass, his dark coat had faded to a frizzled brown, and his eyes were sunken within their sockets.

Despite his listlessness, he managed to lap the grasses from Flanna's palm. She stroked his stringy neck and whispered soft words into his drooping ear.

Roderic stubbornly assured himself that he did not envy the wasted beast for the tender attention he was receiving. He could not feel her hands feather-soft upon his skin or imagine her breath against the lobe of his ear. "Here." He rose abruptly with a scowl, feeling restless despite his fatigue. "Ye sit, Flanna."

She refused to turn toward him. "I know this horse," she said quietly. "He was one of our own."

"MacGowan stock?" Roderic asked, eyeing the miserable beast in disbelief.

"Aye." Flanna's hand slipped to a deep hollow above the stallion's eye. "’Tis Bruid's get."

"Bruid? That huge, ungodly beast that nearly tore ye piece from piece?"

"Aye. This lad was grazing with the other young stallions and taken in a raid."

Roderic drew a heavy breath and deepened his scowl as he realized her meaning. "So ye blame this on the Forbeses? Ye think they would tek yer beasts, then attack us both in an attempt ta kill ye?"

"Nay," she said, turning slowly toward him. "I do not." Her eyes met his with a jolt. "But the men who raided the herd those months ago were dressed in Forbeses' plaids."

Roderic remained silent as he watched her. "So we are in agreement," he said.

She nodded once. "Others disguised themselves to accuse the Forbeses of their crimes."

"Who?"

"I don't know," she said.

"But ye suspect. Who? Nevin? The Wolfhound?"

"Nay. Troy has sworn he would never be laird. And Nevin is the son of a merchant. He has no wish to rule."

Roderic shook his head. Never, not even at her most alluring, had he wished to hold her more than he did now. "Know this, lass, every man wishes to rule," he said softly.

"And does that include ye, Forbes?"

He watched her eyes, fraught with mystery and unknown marvels. "Aye," he murmured. "But some men would be content to rule the heart of a woman of spirit."

Her breath caught in her throat and he hoped it was a good sign. "To rule the
woman,
you mean."

"I fear there is na a man alive who could rule ye, lass, even if he were fool enough ta wish ta try."

She was holding her breath, he realized suddenly. "And what is your wish, Forbes?"

For a moment he had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms and tell her the truth, that he wished for nothing more than to love her as she should be loved and to receive her love in return. But with Flanna MacGowan the truth could be like a dagger at your side. It might defend you, but it might also be used against you.

Warily hiding the dagger, he sighed. "I but wish for a hot bath, lass, and me own bed in which to spend the night."

It almost seemed as if she tried to stop her words. Nevertheless, they came. "And who would be in that bed with you?" she asked stiffly. "Some mealy-mouthed lass who cannot say no?"

Roderic laughed aloud, so flattered was he by her anger. "It seems to me that even ye had a bit of trouble saying nay."

"I did not have—"

"Nay," he said. "Do not shatter me frail self-importance by destroying my illusions, lass."

"I'll wound more than—" she began, but his kiss stopped her words.

It seemed so natural, like breathing, like waking in the morning to find that a bright new day awaited him. Her lips were soft and warm against his. Her waist, where his arm cradled her, was as tight and small as a young beech tree. Between their bodies, his desire rose hard and fast. The kiss deepened and now it was she who made the rules, she who slanted her lips across his, who wound her arms about him and pulled him closer.