Silver Flame

Chapter 5

“S ine.”

Sine Catriona froze, her hands clenching tightly on the linen cloth she had been using to do a trick for the children. She did not really need to see the look upon Farthing’s or the twins’ faces. She knew exactly who stood only feet away. The voice was hoarse and soft, but it was one she would never forget. Slowly, she turned to see the very last person she had expected to meet striding purposefully toward her.

“Gamel,” she whispered as he halted before her.

She did not move as he reached for her. With visibly unsteady hands he tore her headdress from her head. The faint look of lingering disbelief upon his face vanished as her hair cascaded free of its bonds. She gave a soft cry of surprise when he grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. If the look upon his face was any indication, the man was suffering a tumult of emotions.

“This time, Sine Catriona, ye willnae slip away at dawn.”

Before she could respond, Gamel was abruptly torn from her. Farthing stood between them. Her shock was quickly pushed aside by fear. The anger that had seized Farthing back at the inn had returned in full. With the threat that had tied his hands before now gone, she doubted even consideration for her feelings would deter him. Farthing had suffered a deep injury that had cut at his pride and manhood. He clearly felt a strong need to avenge that wound.

When Farthing drew his sword on Gamel, Lord Magnusson cried, “Nay! We are guests, Farthing. Ye cannae draw a sword upon the mon’s son beneath his verra own roof.”

“Then we shall draw swords outside,” hissed Gamel as he resheathed his own sword, which he had drawn the moment Farthing had come between him and Sine.

Racing to her stunned husband’s side, Edina urged, “Do something, William.”

“I am not sure there is verra much I can do, sweeting.”

“Methinks the lass is about to try,” murmured Lord Magnusson.

William nodded. “If anyone can stop this, Thomas, ’tis her.”

Sine heard their soft words and prayed they were right as she hastily plotted her next move. After signaling to her brothers, who nodded in understanding, she put herself between Gamel and Farthing. They reminded her very strongly of bristling dogs. It was difficult not to think of herself as some bone—or worse, some bitch in heat—that they were snarling over.

“Move aside, Sine Catriona,” commanded Farthing. “Ye willnae stop this.”

“What is done is done,” she said in a vain attempt to soothe him. “There is naught which can be gained by a battle now.”

“There is much to gain. He stole from both of us.”

Gamel met and held Farthing’s glare. “And I feel the need to be rid of his constant interference.”

Inwardly, Sine cursed their intransigence. “I demand that ye cease this fighting at once.”

“Ye have no say in this,” snapped Farthing.

At the same time, Gamel growled, “This isnae your battle, Sine.”

They both pushed her out of their way. Sine quickly glanced at her brothers, who nodded, relieved that they had accomplished their task as she had accomplished her own. She made no further attempt to stop the men. She watched calmly as they strode out of the great hall. Unlike the rest of the people who raced after the quarreling pair, she followed at a slightly more leisurely pace, her young brothers flanking her. She briefly paused behind the worried parents of Gamel and Farthing.

“William.” Edina clutched her husband’s arm. “She didnae stop them so now ye must do so.”

“Dearling, as I said, there is little that can be done. Ye dinnae ken the full tale.”

“Are ye saying that there is a good reason for them to want to cut away at each other?”

“A verra good reason. Gamel served Farthing a deep shame and Gamel is jealous.”

Sine Catriona was not sure that latter conclusion was right, but she said nothing as she slipped around the group just in time to see Gamel and Farthing again reach for their swords. She could not help but smile as they clutched then gaped at their empty scabbards. Then their expressions slowly changed. She was not surprised when they looked her way, bringing everyone else’s confused gazes to her as well.

“Looking for these?” she queried with false innocence as the twins held up the swords they had stolen when the men were still squabbling back inside the great hall. A ripple of surprise and amusement went through the crowd gathering in the bailey.

“Ye took my sword,” Gamel mumbled in utter disbelief.

“So sharp of wit,” she mocked.

Gamel glared at those onlookers who could not fully restrain a laugh, then fixed his fury upon Sine. “Hand it back to me, woman.”

Being called “woman” in that particular tone of voice did little to soothe Sine’s rising temper. “Nay, this ‘woman’ will not. Nor will this ‘woman’ return these.” She held up the daggers she had neatly stolen from them while caught between them in the great hall.

“God’s beard.” William choked out the words as he struggled not to laugh. “The lass has disarmed them.”

“Aye, she has, husband,” murmured Edina. “Howbeit, they now look ready to fight with her.”

That was an observation Sine heartily agreed with. It was an effort for her not to retreat from the glares Farthing and Gamel were directing her way. She found little comfort in the knowledge that, for the moment, the adversaries were united. Telling herself not to be such a coward, she straightened her shoulders and glared right back at them.

“Now ye cannae fight each other.” She could see that few people really believed that.

“Can we not?” Farthing delivered a sound punch to Gamel’s jaw.

Grimacing with distaste, Sine watched Gamel quickly retaliate with a strong blow to Farthing’s stomach, and the fight began in earnest. Farthing doubled up, but even as he gasped for breath, he lunged at Gamel’s legs. In an instant both men lay sprawled in the dirt. Gamel managed to extricate himself from beneath Farthing, but by the time he got to his feet, Farthing was also up and swinging at him. The bailey echoed with the sounds of fists striking flesh, and the grunts of the men pummeling each other. It was not long before Gamel and Farthing were smeared with blood and dust. Sine shook her head over the foolishness of men.

Her disgust deepened when she saw how the majority of the spectators who had gathered in the bailey were thoroughly enjoying the fight. Even Lord Magnusson and Lord Logan loudly joined in the riotous calls of encouragement. She looked around, but she could find only one observer who appeared to share her disgust. Sine quickly moved to Lady Logan’s side. She touched the woman’s sleeve and prayed that she would find a sympathetic and helpful ally.

“Ye are Lady Logan?” she asked.

Edina tore her gaze from the fight to look closely at the girl who had stirred such a fever in Gamel. She could not decide which was more startling—the girl’s silver-white hair or her huge violet eyes. Inwardly, Edina suddenly grinned as she thought a little whimsically that Gamel and Sine would make a very colorful couple.

It took a moment, but Edina forced herself to be serious again, to try to look beyond the girl’s beauty. None of her inner senses, which had proven correct so often in the past, raised a warning. Edina could find nothing about Sine to trouble her. The girl met her intent gaze without wavering, those violet eyes clear and honest.

“Aye, I am Lady Logan.”

“I humbly beg your pardon for all of this trouble, m’lady.”

“Bah, ’tisnae your doing, child. ’Tis but the foolishness of men. Howbeit, I do heartily thank ye for disarming the young hotheads.”

“It was naught, m’lady. In truth, I could wish that I hadnae been so clever.” She frowned at the men wrestling in the dirt. “A quick thrust with a sword would be far cleaner than this.”

Edina laughed softly and nodded. “There will be many bruises and much moaning.” She shook her head as she watched Farthing and Gamel. “This willnae cease until they are both senseless.”

“Oh, weel, I had thought about how to stop it before that happens.”

“I would like to do that too, but I cannae see how it can be done.”

“I think it can be, m’lady. ’Tis a trick my father used to part dogs. It can work as weel with men, I think.”

“Then let us try it. What do we need?”

“Two buckets of water. Cold water if possible. The colder the better.”

Giggling faintly as she realized what was to be done, Edina took Sine by the arm and they hurried to find what they would need. In a few moments, full buckets in hand, they took up positions on either side of Farthing and Gamel. Edina grimaced as she saw how Farthing tried to pin Gamel to the ground.

“Cease this fighting at once,” she ordered.

After a moment, Sine shook her head. “They willnae listen to us, m’lady. Best be careful of your skirts.”

Sine and Lady Edina took great care not to soak each other. They held their buckets out as far as they could and arched their bodies away. Sine decided that they probably looked somewhat comical themselves as they emptied the buckets of icy water over the wrestling men. Sine took a hasty step back when Farthing and Gamel cursed viciously and abruptly parted. She noticed that Lady Edina had done the same. It was hard not to step back even farther when, still sputtering and dashing water from their faces, both men glared at her and Lady Edina. Some of the people who had been watching the fight grumbled a complaint, but one glance from Lord William silenced them all.

“Why have ye put an end to this fight?” demanded Gamel.

“Aye,” snapped Farthing. “Why? I was winning.”

“Winning?” Gamel yelled as he staggered to his feet, slipping a little on the now muddy ground.

Farthing stood up as well, meeting and matching Gamel’s furious stare. “Aye—winning.”

Edina swung her bucket toward both young men, lightly winging each. “Hush. Enough of this squabbling. ’Tis over. I declare ye both winners.”

“There cannae he two winners,” grumbled Gamel, rubbing his ribs as he became more aware of his many aches and pains.

Wiping a hand over his bleeding split lip, Farthing narrowly eyed Gamel. “As a guest here, I suppose ’twould be best to agree to that and thus placate my host’s stung vanity.”

“Stung vanity, is it?” Gamel hissed.

“I said—enough of this.” Edina gave each of them a cross look. “If being declared both winners doesnae suit ye, then I shall declare ye both losers. There is no need to beat each other senseless to prove it.”

“They are weel matched,” murmured William as he reached his wife’s side.

“Aye, lads,” added Lord Magnusson, joining them. “’Twas a good fight.”

“Lads?” Farthing twitched his bruised lips in a half smile. “I am seven and twenty, Father.”

“No need to tell me that. I ken your age as weel as I ken my own. For each year ye gain, so gain I. I am thinking, howbeit, that ye will be a lad to me e’en after ye give me grandchildren.”

“Aye,” agreed William, laughing softly. “And long after that.”

Gamel frowned, wondering why Lord Magnusson spoke of grandchildren. He then decided that the man had not yet been informed of Farthing’s injury. It was understandable that Farthing would hesitate to tell his father that he was no longer virile. He quickly turned his full attention to Sine. Grabbing her by the arm, he tugged her to his side, ignoring her scowl.

“Speaking on the begetting of grandchildren,” he said, “ye must find me a priest, Father.”

“A priest?” squeaked Sine, gaping at him.

“Aye—a priest.”

Farthing grabbed her by her other arm and yanked her to his side before she could respond. “Yet again ye try to lay claim to what isnae yours.”

“She isnae yours and never has been.” Gamel yanked her back toward him. “That was proven.”

Sine yanked free with a sharp cry of annoyance and swung her heavy bucket at both men, her anger increasing when they ducked and completely avoided it. She knew it was dangerous to swing such a weighty thing at the men, but she had a strong urge to injure them, if only in some small, insignificant, but highly uncomfortable way. “Cease all of this pulling at me. Ye will split me asunder and then there truly will be need of a priest.”

“There is need of one now,” bellowed Gamel as he neatly wrenched her bucket from her grasp, tossed it away, then tugged her back to his side.

When Farthing reached for her again, she pulled out the daggers she had stolen from them. “I said to cease or I shall bury your own steel in your flesh. What need do ye have for a priest?” she demanded of Gamel.

“To wed us.”

Even though she had half suspected that would be his answer, Sine was still shocked. A large part of her thrilled to the idea of being married to Gamel. It eased all of her fears that he saw his feeling for her as no more than a passing lust, fed and forgotten. Nevertheless, she had to fight that weakness, and the urge to cry out an immediate aye. Her deep-seated need to fulfill her old vow had to come first. She needed to be free to seek retribution and revenge, to vanquish the fear she had carried for so many years.

“I am not free to wed.” She discovered that it hurt to say those words and she struggled against the inclination to take them right back.

“Nay? Ye arenae wed to this rogue.” Gamel spared a brief glare toward Farthing before scowling at Sine. “That was a lie. Janet told Ligulf all about it.”

“She is still mine,” Farthing yelled.

“She was never yours nor any mon’s.” Gamel indicated Ligulf, Blane, and Lesley with a curt wave of his hand. “There stand three men to vouchsafe my claim that no mon had kenned Sine before me.”

A bright blush flooded Sine’s cheeks at this deeply personal revelation, which caused her to be the center of a great deal of interest. She hissed, “Three is quite enough. Ye need not make it hundreds by telling all who are gathered here. And it matters not. I am still not free to wed.”

“And why not? Ye are not his wife, his lover, or his kin. Unless ye are his serf, ye are free. And I will call ye a liar if ye try to tell me he holds ye as chattel. Ye are free and we shall be married.”

Infuriated by his arrogance, she snapped, “Ye ken nothing, absolutely nothing, about me.”

“I care nothing about the past or even your bloodline.”

He sounded so sincere that she was taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered. “Nay? Heed this—my mother is a whore, a base intriguer and a murderess.”

“Then we are weel matched, for so was mine.”

Although shocked, she was also curious, but she knew that now was not the time to satisfy that curiosity. “I am a thief.”

“Do a penance then. Once ye are my wife ye will have no need to provide for yourself in such a manner.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “And I willnae hear ye speak of that again,” he ordered.

His intransigence as well as his commanding air angered her. “I begin to think that your head is made of hollowed wood, for my words enter in one ear and flee straight out of the other,” she snapped. “Would ye force me to wed ye?”

“Aye, if need be.”

“Weel, there is a strange wooing.”

“Ye give a mon no time for courtship.”

Before she could continue the argument, a soldier hurried up to Lord Logan, briefly drawing everyone’s attention. “My laird, a page stands at our gates,” he announced. “He comes to request a night’s shelter for his master’s party.”

“And who is his master?” Lord William asked.

“Sir Malise Brodie, baron of Dorchabeinn. The party is but an hour’s journey away, mayhaps less.”

Beneath his hands, which still rested lightly upon Sine’s shoulders, Gamel felt her shudder. “What is wrong?”

Farthing moved to grasp the soldier by the arm and demanded in a hoarse voice, “Who did ye say approaches?”

“Sir Malise Brodie, baron of Dorchabeinn,” the man replied while warily eyeing Farthing.

Without another word, Farthing snatched his sword from Barre. Gamel was forced to release his hold upon Sine when Dane thrust his sword toward him. He could almost smell the tension and fear that had seized the group, though he could not fathom the cause.

“Get to the cart,” Farthing ordered the twins even as he reached for Sine.

Gamel quickly tugged Sine to his side and demanded, “Where do ye hie to now?”

Lord Magnusson spoke up quickly. “Son, the cart cannae be readied so swiftly. They are too close already.”

“Then they must hide inside of it until it can be readied. Let her go,” Farthing commanded Gamel.

“Nay, she stays here.”

The very thought of facing her enemies when she was so unprepared freed Sine from the shock that had held her silent and motionless. “Nay,” she cried as she yanked free of Gamel’s hold. “Not now.”

Edina placed her hand upon Gamel’s arm when he moved toward Sine again. “’Tis clear that ye have no wish to meet with these people. Ye shall risk doing just that if ye try to flee now, even as they enter. They draw nigh as we speak. Why are ye so reluctant to face the Brodies?”

“’Tis true—we cannae meet them, but there is no time for me to explain it all now,” Sine answered. “I swear to ye on my father’s grave, ’tis no mere matter of dislike. ’Tis life and death, m’lady. Can they be refused entry?”

“Not without good reason, and as ye say, there is no time left for ye to give me one. Ligulf, take the lass and her brothers to my chambers. They will be verra safe there,” Edina assured a frowning Farthing. “’Tis the one room no guest would dare to enter unless asked to do so.”

“I will have the reason for this,” Lord Logan finally said.

“Aye, m’lord,” Sine agreed as she moved to follow Ligulf and her brothers. “I will tell ye all ye might wish to ken about it as soon as the Brodies have left.”

William ordered that no one in the household speak of the presence of Sine and her brothers. Farthing was not sure he shared the big man’s confidence that his command would be obeyed or that it would be relayed to all within Duncoille before the Brodies arrived. However, he knew he had little choice in the matter. As soon as William ordered his man to tell the waiting page that his master was welcome, he turned his attention to Farthing. Farthing tensed, not sure of what might happen next.

“Ye cannae say anything about this now?” demanded William.

“Nay—truly. ’Twould take more time than we have,” replied Farthing. “Neither do I dare to speak upon it when the Brodies lurk within these walls. Sine didnae lie when she claimed that it was a matter of life and death, m’lord. I swear to ye, she has committed no crime against these people. Ye arenae sheltering her from their justice. That is all I dare say right now.”

“’Twill suffice. I have met this baron but once. ’Twas enough. It troubles me not at all to hide someone from him. He willnae discover your friends.”

“Thank ye, m’lord.” Farthing suddenly caught sight of the medallion Gamel wore. “Hide that or all shall be lost,” he ordered in a hoarse voice.

“Do ye think me incapable of protecting my own?” Gamel muttered even as he quickly tucked it beneath the neck of his jupon. “Is this why ye demand that we hide everything and everyone?”

“When all is revealed, ye will understand why hiding is the only way to act at this time.” Farthing suddenly smiled faintly. “Once her fear has eased, ’twill sorely trouble wee Sine Catriona to be hiding away.”

Immediately upon entering the large, well-appointed chambers of Lord and Lady Logan, Sine rushed to see if she could observe the arrival of the Brodies. Though disappointed that she could not see into the front bailey, she told herself it was for the best. If she was peering out of some window, there was always the chance that the Brodies could catch sight of her.

“What do ye search for?” asked Ligulf, who followed her as she went from window to window in the chambers. “None can gain entry to these rooms through the windows. Ye must ken that.”

She smiled at the youth. “Aye, I ken it. ’Tis not possible attack points for which I search, but some place from which to view the Brodies as they arrive. And to do so safely.”

“Come.” Ligulf gently took her by the arm. “The nursery lies behind these doors. From that room ye will be able to view most all that occurs in the bailey.” He grabbed a cloth from a table as he passed it and handed it to her. “If ye cover your hair ye will appear naught but a curious maid if any chance to look up.”

“Ah, good. I was worried about being seen.”

“That hair cannae be too common.”

“Nay, ’tis not. I myself ken of but one other who has hair like this,” she murmured as she finished wrapping the cloth about her head and edged up to the window, the twins close behind her.

Her heart began to beat at a furious pace. However, she was not sure of the emotion which prompted the response. Fear lurked within her, but so did myriad other emotions. It had been six long years since she had set eyes upon the ones she sought vengeance against. While the fear that had driven her to flee her home was forever with her, she now found that she resented the need to hide. She wanted to face her foes, to accuse them, to make them suffer for their many crimes. It was a desire she fought to subdue, for she knew the time was not yet right.

“Why do ye refuse to wed Gamel?” Ligulf asked as he stood beside her.

Not shifting her gaze from the gates of Duncoille, she answered Ligulf’s soft inquiry. “If I wed him then I am bound to him. For now I must be free of all bonds.”

“But there would also be strength in such a union. That is needed in any battle.”

“One swordsmon, no matter how strong and skilled, isnae enough.”

Before Ligulf was able to correct her erroneous impression by telling her that if Gamel joined her fight he would not do so alone, the Brodies entered Duncoille. He frowned when she grew alarmingly pale. Her eyes grew bright with an emotion he could not read clearly. A hundred questions crowded his mind, but he struggled for patience. He would wait to hear the tale just as the others had to do.

Edina was hurrying to clean Gamel’s cuts before the Brodies arrived. “I wish courtesy didnae demand that we welcome these people,” Edina mumbled as she smoothed a dampened cloth over his brow.

“Ye dinnae like them, m’lady?” Farthing asked, quickly wiping the dirt from his own face.

She gave him a faint smile. “I have ‘feelings’ about people. Some folk may decry them as naught but foolishness, yet they havenae failed me yet. Not once.”

“Or failed us,” added Gamel.

“And ye have feelings about the Brodies?” Farthing pressed.

“Aye. The baron caused my blood to chill. A darkness rests within that mon. I could read it in his eyes. His smooth words, pretty manners, and fine clothes couldnae hide it from me. I am not one who is easily deceived by such things. I met him just once. I am little pleased to have to meet him again.”

Farthing nodded. “Have ye met his wife as weel then?”

“Nay. We met the mon whilst we were at court. She did attend with him, but we never had the chance to see her. William and I were leaving just as they arrived. She was resting, I suppose. Still, I couldnae help but pity the woman who is bound to such a mon.”

“Dinnae,” Farthing said in a cold, flat voice. “Those two are weel matched.”

“Ye ken who they are?” Gamel demanded.

“Aye, Sir Gamel, though I have never met them. Beware of them even though they are guests for but one night. Honor is nothing to them. They deal in treachery and death. Even as they smile and feast at your table, they will slip a dagger between your ribs without hesitation if they think they can gain from the act. Each one of their party, mon or woman, should be seen as a spy.”

“’Tis clear that a nest of vipers is about to slither into my home,” Edina drawled.

“Aye, that says it aright, m’lady.”

“Dinnae frown so, Master Magnusson,” Lady Logan replied. “I dinnae scorn your words. In truth, they but confirm what I feel. Howbeit, there is no turning them away at this time. We can only watch them closely and be wary.”

Edina sent him a reassuring smile. “Your friends will be secure where they are. When the time comes to seek our beds, they will be moved through a little kenned passage into a pair of secret rooms. I would place them there right now but the rooms are dark and verra small, more like prison cells. They were made for hiding, not for comfort. Gamel can slip away later and move the lass and her brothers.” She ignored Farthing’s dark scowl, an expression repeated by Gamel when she added, “Ye will share Gamel’s chambers during the night.”

Gamel glanced at her. “Dinnae ye fear that we might kill each other before the morning dawns?”

“Nay, my son. I believe that your sense of hospitality will prevail over your petty quarrel.”

“Petty quarrel?” he snapped. “’Tis no petty quarrel. He means to hold from me that which is mine.”

“Catriona isnae yours,” insisted Farthing.

“Cease, will ye?” Edina ordered in exasperation. “Our guests are entering now through the gates. If ye werenae so occupied with glowering at each other, ye would see that. Your actions could easily draw their curiosity. That would be verra unwise.”

After one last fulminating glare at Farthing, Gamel gritted his teeth against any further argument. He was not sure what lay behind Sine’s fear of the Brodies, but her fear was enough to win his caution. She felt that the Brodies were a threat to her. For now, he would accept that as fact and offer what protection he could.

He knew his impatience would be the hardest feeling to quell, harder than curiosity or his urge to argue with Farthing. Sine was within reach, but he was forced to wait at a distance. He could not fully dispel the fear that Sine would somehow manage to slip away from him again. It was going to require a real effort not to stand guard over her constantly to insure that she would still be within his reach after the Brodies left.

Even so, as he stood watching the unwelcome guests arrive, he had to fight the urge to join Sine in his stepmother’s chambers. His body ached with need for Sine. He had never experienced such a fever for a woman. Although he had been seeking just that for a long time, he was not sure he liked it. He could not help but wonder if the benefits could ever outweigh the travails of such a condition. Shaking away those thoughts, he forced his attention to the Brodies.

“They adorn themselves as if they are royalty,” muttered Farthing.

Gamel nodded, grimacing with distaste and seeing that expression briefly reflected in Edina’s face. “They are weighted down with jewels and fine silks whilst their vassals shiver in rags.”

“Aye. The vassals have the pinched, hungry look of the abused. ’Tis the men-at-arms who worry me,” Farthing said.

“Mercenaries. The worst of their breed. Not the sort my father was in his youth.”

“Nay, these men hold allegiance only to coin. They are loyal only as long as they are paid or no better offer comes along.”

“And while they maintain that tenuous loyalty, there is no act too dishonorable for them to perform. There could be trouble in the soldiers’ quarters tonight, mayhaps even a death or two.”

“Ye cannae house them apart from your own men?”

“Nay,” Gamel replied. “I wish we could. There isnae the room, and such an act of inhospitality could raise questions we dinnae want to answer just yet. That the baron hires such men tells me a lot about him.”

“And all of it bad,” murmured Farthing. “These men were hired for reasons other than to fill the ranks of an army. Trust me in this—the baron is as low in character as his hirelings.”

Frowning, Gamel closely studied the man who was now approaching his father. Lord Malise Brodie was lean and not ill-favored. The richness of his attire and the profusion of jewels upon his person were nearly blinding. However, they failed to fully hide the sly look in the man’s eyes.

Accustomed over the years to Edina’s feelings about people, Gamel had begun the careful study of people’s faces and mannerisms. Although some called it fancy, he had soon discerned certain features and actions which could tell him nearly as much about the person’s character as Edina’s feelings told her. His method so often brought results close to hers that he could not totally discard it.

Lord Brodie was a handsome man and his smile was courteous, yet Gamel distrusted it. It had the air of a well-practiced gesture. The man’s eyes were heavy-lidded, his gaze shielded from view. Gamel was certain that, beneath those lowered eyelids, Lord Brodie was surveying Duncoille and its people, their strengths and especially their weaknesses. The way the man moved, his every gesture and smile, also told Gamel that here was a man to watch and watch very closely. Sine Catriona’s deep fear had alerted him to the dangers, but as he continued to study Lord Brodie, he admitted to himself that he might initially have been fooled by the man otherwise.

“I thank ye for your kindness, Sir William.” Sir Malise’s voice was smooth, almost like a purr. “Ye as weel, dear Lady Edina. Bandits abound in the area these days. I feared for my dear wife’s safety if we tried to continue on towards Stirling with the night drawing near.”

“Aye,” murmured William. “Travel grows more treacherous every day.”

“True, and the road to Stirling is weel watched by thieves, for they ken that those of better birth and circumstance must travel it to attend the king’s court at Stirling Castle. I have often cursed the lack of some other route from our keep to the king. Howbeit, in a fine, sturdy keep such as this one we shall feel most secure.”

“I hope so, Sir Malise—ye and your lady wife.”

“Have ye met my lady wife?”

“Nay,” Edina replied. “The opportunity has ever passed us by.”

“Ah, then allow me to introduce her.” He took the hand of the woman who moved to stand next to him. “My wife—Lady Arabel Brodie.”

When Gamel finally turned his full attention to the baron’s wife, he grew deaf to the introductions and murmured courtesies. He responded out of habit, not thought. He struggled to dispel the image before him. Nothing altered what he saw.

He saw huge violet eyes that were achingly familiar to him. From beneath an ornate, rich headdress a few strands of silver-white hair showed themselves. There was a distressing familiarity to the deep husky tones of Lady Brodie’s voice even though her words were tainted with a cool insincerity as she expressed delight in meeting them.

There were some subtle differences. Gamel struggled to fix upon those in the hope of shaking away the conclusion that was taking shape in his mind. Her nose was sharper than Sine’s. There was a hardness in the lovely eyes and that full mouth despite the brief come-hither look she cast his way, a look which told him that she held a hunger which, if satisfied, might give those eyes a passing softness. The subtle differences between Sine Catriona and Arabel grew a little clearer the longer he stared, but he could not dispel his conclusion.

A quick glance toward his parents and friends told him that he was not alone in his shock. They hid it well enough, but one as knowledgeable of them as he was could still read it in their faces and movements. Lord Magnusson studied the tips of his boots, a clear ploy to hide his expression until he could control it.

It was in Farthing’s black eyes that Gamel found his final confirmation. When he briefly met the man’s gaze, he saw no sign of shock, no surprise, no confusion. There was, however, a flash of warning—a warning to be silent. Farthing wanted him to give no sign of the fact that he found himself face-to-face with a woman whose looks nearly matched Sine’s. Gamel could no longer argue away his own conclusion—Lady Arabel Brodie was Sine’s mother.