Читать книгу Silver Flame - Hannah Howell - Страница 9

“Undress.”

Sine Catriona tried not to flinch at the raspy order. She slowly turned to look at Gamel. He was leaning against the thick wooden door he had just shut and barred. Even as she met his gaze he moved to sit on the bed and remove his well-fitted boots. Her hard-won calm and resignation were not holding up very well at all.

“Catriona,” he said, “I dare not do it myself, though I dearly want to. I fear I shall tear your garments.”

A tremor rippled through her at this further indication of his eagerness. Her hands were unsteady as she began to remove her cowl. With no brush at hand she had to use her fingers to comb out her hair. She tried not to look at how he watched her, nor consider how quickly he undressed.

Failing in her attempt to subdue her blushes, she took off her gown. Sitting on a stool, she removed her rough boots and worn hose. Standing up again, she reached beneath her chemise to tug off the braies Farthing had insisted she wear to further hinder any attacker. Just as she began to unlace her chemise, a naked Gamel moved to stand in front of her. She tried to look anywhere but at him as he pulled her into his arms.

He buried his hand in her hair, gently tugging her head back and turning her face up to his. There was a feverish quality to the short kisses he traced over her full mouth. Sine Catriona’s senses swam as she rested her hands upon his smooth chest. He robbed her of all ability to think, infected her with his intense passion.

“I tremble like some untried lad,” he said with a groan as he picked her up and tumbled her onto the bed.

She was torn between excitement and embarrassment when he hastily removed her chemise. The poor garment barely escaped being torn. A deep color flooded her face when he sat astride her to stare at her. When she tried to cover her nudity with her hands, he grasped her wrists and pinned them to the bed. Yet beneath her pained modesty, she felt a hot pride in the delight he so plainly found in her form.

Gamel’s gaze moved over her slowly. As he had thought, her skin was a pale golden hue all over. She was slender, delicately built, yet had all the curves and sweet tempting softness a man could want. Despite her lack of height, her legs were long as well as taut and shapely. Releasing her wrists, he slid his hands down her sides to test the smallness of her waist and the gentle swell of her hips. He trailed one hand over her leg before lying down in her arms.

Cupping her face in his hands, he brushed his mouth over hers, murmuring, “Ye are far more beautiful than I had envisioned.”

A moan escaped her from low in her throat as he hungrily possessed her mouth with his. That sound tore at his insides, feeding his already crippling desire for her. When he stroked the inside of her mouth with his tongue, savoring the sweetness there, she wrapped her arms around him. That sign that her desire could match his left him shaking inside.

“Aye, Catriona, aye,” he murmured as he cupped her breasts in his hands, edging his kisses toward that tempting fullness. “Touch me, even though it threatens to make me rush when I would go slow.”

He felt her hands clench upon his back as he flicked his tongue over her hardened nipples and heard her murmur, “I am Sine.”

“Sine?” Only briefly was he able to tear his gaze from how her lovely breasts swelled beneath his caresses.

“Sine Catriona. My full name is Sine Catriona. Ah, sweet heaven,” she cried as he closed his mouth over the tip of one breast to draw upon it slowly, delighting in the taste of her.

Lifting his head, Gamel stared at the dampened nipple, only to bend and take another draw upon it before turning his attention to the other. “Sine Catriona,” he murmured. “Farthing calls ye Catriona, so I will call ye Sine. God’s teeth, but it must be a sin for a woman to taste so sweet.”

Sine Catriona thought a little frantically that it must be a sin for anything to feel so good. She wondered if all trace of sanity had fled her. Instead of pushing him away or trying to talk him out of what he was doing, she held him close. She arched toward him as he continued to feast upon her breasts, stroking the rest of her body with his long, lightly callused hands. Even if she had wanted to, there was no way she could hide the intense pleasure he gave her.

The way he caressed her inner thighs seduced her into parting them for him. He trailed kisses toward her stomach as he slid his hand down to the silver curls at its base. A shudder went through her at his intimate touch. She held him more tightly when he groaned and pressed his face against her abdomen, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

“Pardee! Ah, Sine, ye are already hot with welcome. The mere feel of your warmth and I am near spent. I cannae wait any longer,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and unsteady as he made ready to possess her.

He covered her mouth with his even as he joined their bodies with one swift stroke. His kiss stifled her cry of pain as she felt him tear through her innocence. When he yanked his mouth from hers, his trembling body tense and still, she met his look of shocked disbelief.

“Ye were a virgin,” he whispered in a rough voice. “How can this be?”

What pain he had inflicted swiftly faded and she shifted her body in a silent plea for what his stillness denied her. She needed to say something, so she quickly lied, “Farthing suffered a grievous wound years ago.”

“So, he cannae and willnae ever taste what I have tonight.”

The deep satisfaction in his voice annoyed her. That irritation briefly flickered through the passion she was unable to control. He did not know she was lying. In a way he was savoring the mutilation another man had suffered.

“Nay, but that doesnae change the fact that I am his.”

“Mine, Sine Catriona,” he muttered as he began to move and all her senses delighted in it. “Mine.”

Passion chased all thought of argument from her mind. She clung to him, a soft cry escaping her as she wrapped her limbs around his lean, strong body. The fleeting thought that she was far too wantonly vocal in her pleasure did nothing to halt her cries. His name was often on her lips as his movements grew more frantic, the kisses he pressed to her throat and face more fevered.

He slid his arm beneath her hips, holding her close as his body bucked with release. Her name was an exultant cry upon his lips. At nearly the same moment she tumbled into desire’s final, blinding grip. She held him as tightly as she could as it took full hold of her. Long after he lay sprawled in her arms, she still squirmed with the pleasurable effects of it all.

They lay together, spent, for a long time. But gradually sanity returned to her, and with it came shame. She closed her eyes and averted her face when he cleansed them both of the remnants of her innocence. The loss of her purity did not trouble her as much as her enjoyment of that theft did. When Gamel returned to bed, she tried to avoid his touch, but he would not allow it. He tugged her into his arms with a gentle but inescapable firmness. She ruefully admitted to herself that she liked being there.

“Sine,” he whispered, “how was I to ken that ye were a virgin?”

She looked at him with faint curiosity. “And would ye have let me be if ye had kenned it?”

“Nay,” he answered with quiet honesty as he eased the covers down her body.

“Then what matter?” She inwardly cursed the heat which flickered to life within her as he lightly trailed his fingers over her breasts. “I am still in your bed through a bargain.”

“The bargain was necessary to remove ye from Farthing’s bed.”

“That makes it justifiable? But I am here. I abide with you this night.”

“Not just this night, Sine Catriona. Ye are mine.”

Something in his tone thrilled her, but she denied it. She did not even allow herself to think on whether she wanted to be his or not, or if he meant as leman or wife. None of that mattered, nor could it be allowed to matter. When she had fled from her father’s murderers, she had vowed revenge as well as retrieval of all that had been stolen from her and the twins. Nothing could interfere with that, not even a beautiful auburn-haired man who set her blood to boil with but a touch.

Gamel bent his head to softly kiss the erect tip of each breast. “Ye are mine, Sine Catriona. Say it. Admit it,” he ordered, framing her face with his hands.

She watched his head against her breasts, then met his jewel-bright gaze. Behind that commanding tone lurked a hint of desperation.

Though it puzzled her, she knew he was right. She was his. To admit that did not mean she vowed to stay with him. It simply acknowledged the bond that existed between them. She knew that bond would hold no matter who or what came into their lives.

“Aye,” she finally said. “Aye, I am yours.”

Beneath her hands she felt a fine tremor pass through his body as he kissed her. The matter of possession was clearly important to him. She wondered how much or how little emotion was behind that need. A man’s desire to possess could be such a shallow thing, no more than a point of pride. Sine wondered why the possibility that his was should make her so sad.

She also felt a bit guilty. He now believed she had promised to stay with him. It was going to be an agony to walk away from him when dawn lightened the sky, but she would walk away. All she could hope for was that he was either too proud or too busy to hunt her down.

He made love to her again. The fierce need still flared between them. Sine sensed that he maintained some control of his passion. She had none at all as she clung to him, singing out her pleasure.

“Why do ye stay with Farthing?” Gamel asked a while later. “He cannae be all a mon should be with ye.”

“Love isnae based upon what dangles between a mon’s legs.”

Gamel’s hand clenched on the tankard of wine he shared with her. “Ye dinnae love him.”

She moved slightly from where she sat curled up at his side. “Aye, I do.”

“Nay, ye cannae, not when ye say ye are mine. Not when ye feel as ye do.”

“How do ye ken what I feel or dinnae feel? I dinnae ken it myself. Ye have given me no chance to think.”

Encircling her neck with his arm, he gave her a deep, fierce kiss. “That. That is what ye feel for me.”

“Fire. Passion beyond reason. Fear.”

“Fear?” He jerked away from her. “Nay. Dinnae say ye fear me.”

“And why not? I was a virgin, untried in all the ways of loving. Suddenly there comes a mon who but looks at me and sets my innards afire, fills me with emotions I ken little of and understand less. Aye, I fear ye, as any maid would. Ye have thrust me into womanhood without wooing or preparation.”

“No matter how ye arrived within my bed, I would have been unable to grant ye either.” He took a deep drink of wine, set the tankard aside, then pulled her into his arms. “I have ne’er ached so badly, ne’er wanted so fiercely. Wooing was beyond me. I believe I barely avoided rape.”

“Now there is consolation.”

“Sine, this isnae something to fear. ’Tis something to revel in. I have kenned my share of women, mayhaps more than my share, but never have I tasted such as this.”

“The Land of Cockaigne.”

“What?”

“Farthing claims such as this is the Land of Cockaigne, paradise upon earth.” She could see that mention of Farthing did not please Gamel at all.

“How long have ye been with him?”

“Six years.”

“Ye were but a child when ye joined him. What? Ten, eleven?”

“Just twelve. A child who needed someone to care for her and her brothers.”

“And ye call it caring when he teaches ye to steal?”

“Aye—taught us to steal with skill. Theft and conjuring were his only skills and he shared them with us.”

“He has a fine talent with a sword.”

“Aye, so? He should sell that, should he? How would he keep us if he became some lordling’s hired sword? Such work is also hard, rewards not often forthcoming even when weel earned. The risks are verra high. He cares for me and the twins. He protects us. We had no one and he took us in. I willnae question his life, for he shared it with us willingly, kindly. I love that mon. Aye, ye may growl, glare, and curse all ye like if it makes ye feel better,” she added when he did just that. “Howbeit, none of that will change the fact.”

“Then love him, curse your beautiful eyes.” He pushed her onto her back. “Love him, but it will never change the fact that ye are mine. Mine, Sine.”

“Yours.”

She whispered the word as she stood by the bed a few hours later, watching him sleep. Each ache in her body brought forth a heated memory. It was hard to leave the shelter of his arms, harder still to dress in the faint light of a swiftly approaching dawn. She knew that, in his mind, her actions would put the lie to all she had said. That realization brought her close to weeping. It hurt to think that what memories he held of her would be tainted by her departure.

With skillful stealth she slipped out of the room. There was one thing she had to do before she left the inn. Cautiously, she made her way to Janet’s tiny alcove. It was easy enough to slip inside. She mused wryly that she could have slipped right into the bed Janet and Ligulf shared except that Ligulf was awake. By instinct, he grabbed for his sword, then gaped when he recognized her. She watched his surprise quickly alter to concern.

“Does something ail Gamel?”

“Nay.” She moved to the side of the bed, smiling faintly at Janet, who began to wake up. “He still sleeps.”

“Then why are ye here?”

“I hope to fend off his first unkind thoughts when he finds me gone. I wish to keep such bitter conclusions from settling in his mind, although in truth, he deserves little consideration from me.” She held out a medallion of finely wrought silver. “Will ye give this to him, please?”

“Where did ye get something like this?” he asked as he accepted it.

“’Tisnae stolen. ’Tis a trinket from my past. My past is what rules me now. I must find it and restore it.”

“I dinnae understand ye.”

“There are wrongs I must set right, grievous wrongs. Things stolen that I must regain, murders—aye, murders—I must and will avenge. My heritage has been stained with blood and treachery. I intend to wipe that stain away. I vowed to do all this for myself and for my half brothers six long years ago. For six years I have clung to my vow. I cannae, willnae, allow myself to be swayed from it. Not for your brother. Nay, not even for Farthing if he asked it of me.”

“Gamel asked ye to stay with him?”

The shock in the youth’s voice stung a little. “He expects it, but I just told ye why I cannae.”

“Why didnae ye just tell him yourself?”

Faint color seeped into her checks. “I would have had to wake him.”

Janet laughed softly. “And then there would have been no leaving.”

Sine grimaced. “Just so.”

Ligulf eyed Sine curiously. “Are ye certain Farthing still waits for ye? Mayhaps he left.”

“Nay, Master Ligulf, he would never leave me. Farthing spent the night beneath your brother’s window.” She managed to smile at his surprise. “I must go now or all my stealth will be for naught.”

“Wait but a moment. I am confused. Are ye saying ye would leave your husband for Gamel?”

“I would leave Farthing for him, but I wouldnae forsake my vow.”

“Nay, ye are wed. Gamel would never bring an adulteress into our home,” he muttered. “Ye must have misheard him.”

“He said, ‘Not just this night, Sine Catriona. Ye are mine,’ and he pressed me to admit it. Howbeit, he went no further than that. He offered me no honorable situation, no choice of becoming his wife or his leman. Nevertheless, ’tis certain he doesnae mean for me to leave.”

“Nay, ’tis certain.”

“Be sure to tell him all I have said as I have said it.”

“I will, but he will still ken that ye have climbed back into Farthing Magnus’s bed.”

Again she smiled, unable to hide her amusement. “Oh, nay, nay. He will never think that.” She grew serious again. “Tell him that when my vow is fulfilled I will return, although I dinnae expect him to wait for me. Not only am I unsure of what he meant by my being his, but my work could take months, years. It already has.

“Tell him he was right. It pleases me little to say so, to admit I am his. He has been extremely arrogant and most unkind to Farthing. Howbeit, I fear I am his. No matter what time or events transpire, no matter what people come between us. I feel not only ravished this dawn, but also branded and bonded.”

“Yet ye leave.”

“I told ye—I must. ’Tisnae easy. ’Twill be impossible if he wakes. So give him my medallion and tell him it is all I may leave behind.”

“Good luck, Catriona.”

“Thank ye, Janet.” She gave the confused Ligulf a parting smile and slipped out of the room.

Farthing left the shadows beneath Gamel’s window as soon as he saw Sine Catriona approach. Without a word he held out his arms, and pulled her close when she stepped into them. He could see that she was unharmed, but he knew she was now changed. He also sensed that she was deeply troubled. Guilt gnawed at him. He had brought her to this impasse but could now only stand by helpless and sympathetic.

“Do ye give up your quest now?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nay, I cannae. ’Tis not only for me, is it? ’Tis for the twins as weel. Aye, and ’tis to ease the souls of my murdered father and their murdered mother.”

“Then we best flee from here—now. The twins are already in the cart. ’Tis wise to be as far away as we can be ere that knight rouses,” he said as he released her and started toward their conveyance.

Hurrying along at his side, she asked, “Do ye think he will give chase?”

“Aye, if he has no commitment to draw him elsewhere for now.”

“We could never outrun him, Farthing.”

“Nay, but there are only four of them. They dinnae ken where we head. That leaves them with a dozen or more routes to choose from. That gives us an admirable advantage.”

It was not until she, Farthing, and the still-sleeping twins were all well on their way down an obscure, little traveled route that Farthing touched upon the matter of Gamel again. “Ye considered staying with him.”

“Aye.” She sighed. “He didnae make clear what he intended for me but, aye, I thought on it. ’Twas difficult beyond words to leave him this morning.”

“Ah, poor Catriona. To find the one who lights the flame, only to have to leave him behind?” He shook his head.

“Ye dinnae appear surprised. Ye could see how it would be?”

“Aye.”

“Then what was the cause of all your fury?”

“It had many causes. The mon gave ye no choice. We didnae, and still dinnae, ken who he is. He meant to dishonor ye. So too did I sense that ye would find yourself as torn as ye are now. I sorely wished to save ye from that. Then again, he is a bastard, said so himself. Ye are legitimate and highborn.”

“That matters little. ’Twas verra clear to see that he is learned, trained, and not poor.”

“Verra clear. Are ye sure he couldnae be the knight ye seek to aid ye?”

“Sadly, aye, verra sure. As he told us, he is a bastard. They dinnae command armies.”

“Rarely. They are mercenaries usually. They arenae liege lords who could demand service. A shame. He was an admirable swordsmon.” He eyed her closely. “Catriona?”

“Aye?”

“The Land of Cockaigne?”

She smiled, although it was an expression heavily weighted by sadness. “Oh, aye. Aye. Innocent though I was, with naught to compare it to, I think there can never be any to excel. At least I have tasted that.”

“Remember it, dearling. ’Twill ease the loss. Recall that ye have tasted what few of us have or ever shall have.”

“I think it will come to ye someday.”

“Mayhaps, but I think I will have to leave it behind as ye have. In truth, I have e’er been careful to guard my heart and not try to win some lass’s affections, for I possess nothing to give the giver.”

“Bah, ye have yourself, Farthing Magnus. ’Tis no small prize.” She glanced behind them. “Do ye think he follows?”

Farthing shrugged. “Whether he does now or later, we best hope we can evade him.”

As each hour passed and there was no sign of Gamel’s pursuit, Farthing could see Sine Catriona relaxing. But she looked sadly torn between relief and hurt. Farthing tried to get her to share his conviction that only a prior commitment or an inability to find their trail would keep Gamel away from her. The look in her eyes told him that he failed, that she began to fear that brief moment with Gamel had been no more than passion for him, no more than a brief flirtation.

They were nearly twenty miles away from Dunkennley, a long tedious day’s journey, when they began to search for a campsite. They met up with others who clearly had the same plan. Farthing scowled as they slowly approached the group of people just ahead of them. Few clearings existed along the somewhat obscure route he had chosen. The caravan they now neared had taken one of the best and driest. Suddenly, he recognized the people and slowed up instead of passing them by.

“Weel, may I be roasted in hell’s stinking fires.”

“No doubt ye will be,” drawled Sine Catriona. “Howbeit, why make mention of it now?”

The grin that curved Farthing’s mouth was one of both relief and amusement. Sine Catriona had been very quiet, withdrawn, and sad. Her tart remark was very like the ones she had tossed his way before Sir Gamel had intruded in their lives. He grew less concerned that she suffered beyond repair.

“I think, sweet shrew, I recognize the people resting so comfortably in the spot I chose for us.”

“Aye? What impudence to steal your chosen place,” she murmured. “Who are they then?”

Before Farthing could reply, a tall, slender man moved forward. Farthing could tell by the wide-eyed look on Sine Catriona’s face that her question had been answered. The man’s face was illuminated with happiness as he hurried over to them.

“Farthing, m’lad! ’Tis truly ye?”

“’Tis indeed me, Father.” Farthing leapt from the cart and was immediately clasped in Lord Magnusson’s arms.

Gripping Farthing by the shoulders, Lord Magnusson stepped back a pace to look him over. “I have been searching long and hard for ye, son. God’s beard, but ye are as elusive as a shadow.”

“Searching for me? Why? I keep ye weel informed as to how I fare.”

“Aye, ye do. What ye dinnae tell me is exactly where ye fare. I have a great need for ye now, a great need.”

“How so?”

“Ah, son, the plague settled over us a few years back. My wife and both my children were taken.” He nodded when Farthing clasped his shoulder in a silent gesture of sympathy. “Many another was lost as weel. Most of my other kin. Your cousin, wee Margot, who sleeps in the cart o’er there, is about all that is left. Ye are my heir now, Farthing.”

“Your heir? Nay, I am a bastard. Ye cannae make a bastard legal, can ye?”

“’Tisnae done too often, but ’tis done nonetheless. Ye have been named my heir these three years, and with the king’s approval. Ye will gain the barony, lands, and what meager fortune I may leave behind. There will be no quarrel o’er it even if there is anyone left with a remote claim. The king owed me. Aye, and ye. This is how he repays us both—by approving my choice. Dinnae fret. I have it all written out and afixed with the king’s seal.”

“This news will take time to swallow fully. Catriona, ye can set the wagon over there.”

“A fair maid,” murmured Lord Magnusson when she was out of hearing. “When did ye marry her?”

“We arenae wed,” Farthing replied somewhat absently.

Lord Magnusson was unable to hide his relief. Farthing puzzled over that. Sine Catriona was not a woman any man would think a poor choice for a bride.

“She is your leman then. I see.”

Farthing suddenly understood that his father thought Sine Catriona was some lowborn lass, and his smile was cynical as be said, “Nay, not my leman either. I begin to suspect my change in fortune brings curses along with blessings. Nay, Catriona isnae my lover at all. She is my friend, my assistant. I love her, but not as ye think. She has been with me for six years, she and her young twin brothers. The boys are sleeping soundly in the cart now.”

“For six years ye have ridden with such beauty at your side yet ne’er touched the lass?”

“I swear to God I never have, even though, as she so often tells me, I can be a lecherous dog.” He smiled briefly when his father laughed. “What feelings I have for her are as a brother for a sister. Even if that were not true, ye would have naught to fear. The lass is better born than I, and legitimate, though her birthright’s been stolen from her. Howbeit, I can only tell the tale if she gives me leave to do so. ’Tis hers to tell.”

Farthing and Lord Magnusson joined Sine Catriona by the fire and shared a meal. When they were through, the older man asked her to relate her life’s story. It was only natural that he should wonder about her. She felt no qualms about telling him everything. They all sat far away from Lord Magnusson’s men-at-arms and the cart where Margot and her maid slept so that none could overhear and she quickly gave Farthing permission to tell all.

As Farthing began to speak she studied Lord Magnusson. The likeness between father and son was truly startling. No one regarding the pair would question from whose loins Farthing had sprung. Seeing Lord Magnusson confirmed an opinion she had long held. Farthing’s looks would age well. Lord Magnusson still held all that was needed to catch a maid’s eye.

“They stepped out of the wood one night, six years ago,” Farthing said. “Hungry and dirty they were, seeking warmth and a bit of food. When I gave it to them she told me what had driven three such young children into the wood.”

“And he told me what a rogue he was,” Sine Catriona said.

After sending her a brief admonishing glance he continued. “She told me her father and the twins’ mother were dead. Ah, and her grandmother. All dead by the hand of her mother, Arabel Brodie, and the woman’s husband, Malise—a cousin who took everything her murdered father had left behind—land, title, money, and wife. This cursed pair sought to place Sine Catriona and her brothers in the cold clay as weel.”

“Her own mother would allow such a thing?”

Sine Catriona briefly took over the tale-telling to explain how she had slowly realized that her mother felt nothing but hate for her. Arabel Brodie resented her daughter’s youth and that resentment had grown with the passing years. Then Sine had discovered that Arabel planned to rid herself of Sine and the twins. She had taken the twins and fled into the woods.

“With our deaths, she and Malise truly would hold all.”

She carefully watched Lord Magnusson as she nibbled at the remains of her meal. Although she did not think the man would cry them liars or fools, she was relieved to see anger harden his features. It was an incredible tale. She would understand if the man had some doubts, but it was clear he did not.

“But would no one have questioned where ye went?”

“Malise told everyone that we had been ailing and died. He even held a burial. I pray that the three shrouded forms he entombed were sheep, but he and Arabel had already killed three innocent people so…” She shrugged.

“The murdering bastard,” Lord Magnusson hissed.

“Ah, so ye have met my stepfather,” Sine murmured.

Smiling with honest enjoyment, he drawled, “Such a tart tongue. Aye, I have met Malise Brodie. He is a beast who parades himself as a mon. I could see the rot beneath his smile and fine manners, although I fear others could not. And his wife…” He choked to a halt, eyeing Sine a little warily.

“Please, dinnae think that you must restrain your tongue for my sake. I have disowned my mother.”

“Have ye now? I thought it was the privilege of the parent to disown the child.”

“I have decided to do it the other way around. In truth, m’lord, I may have slid from her body, but she is no mother of mine and never has been. She doesnae possess any maternal feelings at all. Nay, not even the natural softening any woman holds toward a child, any child. She plotted my death and that of my half brothers. She murdered our father. I will make her pay for that. Nay, she isnae my mother, despite what the law might say. I am but my father’s child.”

“Such strong feelings.” Lord Magnusson shook his head. “I believe ye, yet ’tisnae easy. A mother wishing to murder her own child?”

“She hates me and has done so from the start. From the moment of my birth I was put completely into the care of my father and grandmother. They sheltered me from most of my mother’s venom while they were alive. Carrying me within her womb marked my mother. Not much, but she bears each tiny mark as if it was some battle wound. She believes that I steal her beauty, as if I am some sorceress who sucks it away. ’Tis hard to explain.”

“Aye, but I can see it clear enough. She ages and ye are young. There is no real sense to all she might blame ye for, but she believes each charge. So, do ye mean to regain what has been stolen from ye and your brothers?”

“I do. For now I search for a mon who holds the soldiers and arms to aid me in my fight.”

“Farthing now has both,” Lord Magnusson said in a soft voice, then grinned at her surprise—a reaction echoed by Farthing.

“By the saints, so I do,” Farthing muttered, looking completely stunned by the realization.

“And will ye help me?” she asked him, sure that he would, but needing to offer him the choice.

“Of course, if my father permits.” He looked at his father. “After all, I am but the heir, not the master. And, God willing, I shallnae be for many years yet.”

“Fight away,” Lord Magnusson commanded with a smile. “The cause is a good one. S’truth, there are many about who would like to see that devious pair sent straight to hell. I fear it must wait just a wee bit longer though. My journey isnae merely for pleasure.”

Sine Catriona shrugged. “I have waited six years already. Patience is something I have in abundance.”

“At times,” Farthing murmured. Ignoring her scowl, he turned to his father. “Where do ye travel to?”

“To Duncoille. ’Tis but a half day’s journey from here.”

“Oh? And what is the purpose of this trip, Father?”

“To try and get my niece, Margot Delacrosse, a husband. I doubt that ye would recall the child from when ye lived with me, but that doesnae matter for ye will meet the lass tomorrow. She sleeps now, exhausted by the travel.”

“No match was made for her?”

“Aye, there was one, son, but the plague took the mon. A pity, for they were in love. Her dowry is small, but the mon I hope to wed her to is a bastard son. He may not have much of a choice, despite his rumored wealth and fair face. His father has many another legitimate son.”

“The lass isnae fair?” Sine asked.

“I see naught wrong with the child, but what is thought to be beauty is ever changing, Catriona, my lass. There are more brides than suitable grooms, so a poor, modestly bonny lass could be left aside. I will travel the length and breadth of the country ere I will allow that. She is a good girl, but more than that, she is all that remains of my wife’s family. It was dying out even before the plague struck.”

“Who do ye hope to match her with?”

“The bastard son of the fierce Red Logan himself. Now there is a clan to be allied with. Aye, I will be weel pleased to wed Margot to a Logan.”