Silver Flame

Chapter 9

“T hat mon has shadowed our steps for o’er a week,” snapped Arabel as she agitatedly paced the cramped, dark chambers she and Malise shared in Stirling Castle. “I dinnae trust him.”

Idly eating grapes, Malise watched her from where he lounged on their bed. “Ye dinnae trust anyone.”

“Which is why I am still alive.” She stopped by the edge of their plain, rope-strung bed, put her hands on her hips and frowned at her husband. “’Tis the wit to ken when to grow suspicious that has gained us all we now hold. Sir Lesley had no real reason to join us on this visit to Stirling, yet he did. Why is he here?”

“’Tis not to bed down with ye, my dear wife. I think that is what truly troubles ye about the mon. He chose to bed your handmaiden Margaret instead of you.”

“’Tis irritating that he would select plain, wee Margaret when he could have enjoyed my favors. The stupid wench will pay for that insult. Howbeit, that isnae why I suspect him. There doesnae appear to be any purpose for his presence here. He but lurks around the castle, around us. Why? Why should he be interested?”

“Mayhaps we have done some harm to one of his kinsmen.”

Arabel shook her head. “Nay. I thought on that and found out all I could about his family. None of the names were familiar to me. There must be some other reason.”

Malise turned on his side to watch her more closely. “What other reason could there be? Margaret?”

“I am certain that that pathetic coupling didnae begin until after we had left Duncoille.”

“Someone at Duncoille seeks to learn more about us then.”

“I considered that possibility as weel. There was nothing. We have had little to do with the Logans or the Magnussons.”

“Ah, aye, the Magnussons. Mayhaps Farthing Magnusson seeks to discover more than your bedding skills.”

“Nay. If he wished to ken more, he would have seen to the matter himself, not sent some fair young lad like Sir Lesley. There is something afoot, but it eludes me. I dinnae like that. And I dinnae like being spied on, and I am certain that is what young Lesley is about.”

“Then kill him.” Malise flopped onto his back again and returned to idly savoring the fruit in a basket at his side. “Have Martin see to the matter.”

“I am starting to have doubts about your cousin Martin. He begins to hesitate, to argue and question, although not too vehemently yet. His reluctance is still mostly silent, but ’tis there. In truth, I begin to think that it has always been there. I have often wondered if he could have done more to stop Sine Catriona and those little bastards from fleeing.”

“’Tis too late to ken the truth of that. If ye dinnae trust Martin to do as ye want, then how is it to be done?”

“I shall see to the matter myself. And, when her lover is gone, I will tend to that wench Margaret as weel. If she has told that young knight anything of importance, I will soon learn of it. And ye might do weel to consider what must be done about your cousin. Even if ye think he might still prove useful, it may weel be time to cease making him privy to all we say and do.”

Martin tensed when he saw Arabel. Although he was weary and eager to seek his bed, he stopped. He pressed himself deeper into the shadows of the hallway as he watched her slink along the badly lit corridor, then halt before one of the chamber doors. His eyes widened a little when he realized it was the door to Sir Lesley’s chambers. Arabel crept into the room and Martin felt a shiver of dread. Only ill could come of Arabel’s acting so clandestinely so late at night.

It was several minutes before Arabel came back out of the room. She looked around carefully before hurrying away. Martin cursed and silently debated the wisdom of spying on Arabel and her activities. It did not really surprise him that the woman was engaged in some plot he knew nothing about. He had sensed Arabel’s growing suspicions of him and that did worry him. When Arabel lost trust in someone, that person ended up dead. His place within the Brodie entourage was becoming an extremely precarious one and he knew it would only grow worse. It was increasingly difficult to hide his revulsion at the things Malise and Arabel did and his guilt over his part in it all.

Just as he decided he would go and have a look inside Sir Lesley’s chambers to see if he could discern what Arabel might have done, Martin heard someone else approaching. He cursed softly when Margaret came into view. The maid scratched at Sir Lesley’s door and, when there was no reply, she giggled softly and slipped inside the room anyway. Martin grimaced, for now he had two choices—take his chances and talk to Margaret, or continue to stand and watch.

Several moments later his decision was made for him when Sir Lesley appeared. Martin shrugged and, as soon as Sir Lesley entered his chamber, started to leave. A muffled bellow of shock and anger from the room brought Martin running back toward that door instead of strolling on to his own cramped alcove. He flung open the door and gaped for a moment before hastily controlling his expression.

Sir Lesley was crouching over Margaret’s sprawled form. The young woman lay on the floor near the bed. Her face was twisted into a grimace of pain. Martin saw the goblet on the floor by the girl’s side, a small puddle of wine now staining the floor. Sir Lesley ceased trying to revive Margaret and turned to glare at Martin, his hand moving to his sword. Martin took a hasty step backward in reaction to the fury in the man’s gray eyes.

“’Tis no surprise to see ye here,” snarled Sir Lesley as he rose to his feet. “Carrion e’er trails close to the wolf.”

“Ye cannae think I had aught to do with this. I but came in answer to your shouting.”

“And how is it that ye were near enough to hear me? Could it be that ye were fleeing from your dark crime, saw me, and now try to hide your guilt with this show of concern?”

“Nay, I have been your faithful shadow for days. Aye, I have been watching ye ere ye joined us outside Duncoille.” Martin felt as surprised at his own honesty as Sir Lesley looked upon hearing it, but he knew that it was the only tack to take, the only one he wanted to take. “Margaret is dead?” he asked, then briefly regretted the question, for Sir Lesley grew angry again.

“Aye. Ye and your soulless masters have taken her life.”

“I had naught to do with this.” Martin quickly shut the door and, ignoring the furious Sir Lesley, walked over to Margaret. He sighed and shook his head in a gesture of honest sorrow when he saw her wide and sightless eyes. “There was no need for this,” he muttered, and picked up the goblet at her side. “Poison.” He walked to the small table on the far side of the room where there was a black leather jug of wine and a second goblet. After sniffing the jug, dipping his finger into the wine, and very gingerly licking his finger, he cursed. “’Tis a strong dose and not one of the gentler poisons either.”

“But why kill poor Margaret?” Lesley asked, shaking his head. “She was a good lass. What wrong could she have possibly done?”

“It wouldnae have had to have been a verra big wrong. Howbeit, I still say that there was no need for this.” He looked at Sir Lesley. “Methinks this death-sweetened wine was meant for ye. ’Tis ye she wanted to kill.”

“She? Ye ken who did this?”

Martin gave the younger man a crooked smile. “I ken that ye would be wise to leave this place and hie back behind the thick walls of Duncoille. I will help ye with Margaret.”

“There is no need. I can tell the guards myself.”

“Nay. Ye will tell no one.”

“I have naught to hide.”

“True. I doubt anyone would think ye were guilty. Howbeit, she was murdered in your bedchamber. Ye will no doubt become tied here as they try to find the murderer. Ye cannae afford to linger here, Sir Lesley. ’Tis no longer safe, and the danger which is sniffing at your door isnae one ye can fend off with your sword or a gallant heart. We will put Margaret back in her own bed. Ye can help me get her back to her chamber door and I will place her in her cot.”

“The other maids will see you. They will ask questions.”

“They are wise enough to ken when to shut their mouths. Margaret will be found dead in her own bed and every maid in the room will swear it happened whilst they slept.”

“Ye act so sure of that, as if it has already been tested and proven true.”

“It has. Lady Arabel begins to find it difficult to get a maid.” Martin knelt next to Margaret’s body, smoothed her features as best he could, and hefted the maid onto his shoulders. “Ye can be my guard, Sir Lesley.” When Sir Lesley did not answer, simply looked at Margaret with an expression of sadness on his craggy face, Martin murmured, “’Twould be best if we werenae caught with the poor lass.”

Sir Lesley nodded, moved to open his door, and looked up and down the hallway. “’Tis clear.” As soon as Martin passed through the doorway, Sir Lesley shut the door after them and followed Martin through the dimly lit hall. “Why are ye doing this?”

“My hands arenae as bloodied as ye might think. I do what I must to survive, but I try verra hard not to extract too high a price for my own life. I dinnae ken why ye are spying upon the Brodies and I truly dinnae care. ’Tis certainly not something ye should die for and that is what ye will do if ye linger any longer at Stirling. Flee here tomorrow, Sir Lesley.”

“Why wait? Should I not leave now?”

“’Tis treacherous to ride at night and ye would raise too many questions with such a swift flight. Nay, leaving early on the morrow would be the wisest thing to do. Take your leave calmly and openly, but take it. Whate’er your game is, it has been discovered. Ye have lost the wager. Dinnae lose your life as weel.”

“And do ye think that ye shall be safe?”

Martin stopped before the door of the handmaidens’ cramped quarters and smiled faintly. “Safe? I have ne’er been safe, Sir Lesley. I but stay alive. Go and do the same. All I ask is that ye take a letter to the fair Margot for me. I will slip it to ye ere ye leave. God’s speed, Sir Lesley.”

“I owe ye my life.”

“Aye, ye do. I may yet have need of such a debt,” Martin whispered, and silently entered the maids’ quarters.

“Margaret is dead,” announced Arabel as she strode into her chamber and slammed the door behind her.

Malise abruptly sat up in bed, blinking sleepily. He shook his head slightly, then rudely kicked awake the woman sprawled at his side. “Get out of here, wench. My dear wife has returned.”

Arabel crossed her arms over her chest and lightly tapped her foot on the floor as she waited to speak to Malise. She coolly watched Malise’s bedmate stumble to her feet and haphazardly tug on her clothing. As soon as the woman was gone Arabel looked at her husband, who had plumped up the pillows behind his back and was sipping from a goblet of wine.

“She wasnae one of your better choices,” she drawled, nodding toward the departing maidservant as she walked over and sat at the foot of the bed.

“The rogue ye chose for your evening’s entertainment looked a wee bit long in the tooth.”

“’Tis the selection at Stirlirg. ’Tis verra thin.”

“Aye. Now, what is this about Margaret?”

“She is dead.”

“Ye questioned her with a wee bit too much vigor, did ye?”

“Nay. I ne’er got the chance to question the slattern. She was found dead this morning in her own dirty little cot. Sir Lesley left for Duncoille soon after sunrise. It appears that Margaret drank the wine I had so carefully prepared for her lover. She must have slipped into his chamber ere he returned to it.”

“If she drank the wine, then how did she get back to her own bed? Would she not have died exactly where she stood?”

“Aye, but she was found in her own bed. She must have been put there in the dead of night.”

“It seems a verra devious act for the noble Sir Lesley. Are ye certain he did it?”

“Nay. Those foolish sluts who shared Margaret’s chamber claim to have seen naught. They woke to discover her dead. I dare not question them too harshly. They arenae all my maids, and they are quick to seek the protection of their mistresses. To press the matter would gain me little or nothing, yet it could easily turn suspicion my way. Too many people would find my sudden concern o’er a mere handmaiden verra suspicious indeed. In truth, all that matters is that I didnae succeed in permanently ridding ourselves of the overly curious Sir Lesley. I sent some men after the fool, but I dinnae believe that will help.”

“But ye have rid yourself of Sir Lesley. He has left Stirling.”

“But not permanently . And why was he here at all? Why was he watching us? What information is he taking back to Duncoille and what do the Logans want with it? There are too many questions, Malise. Far, far too many.”

“’Tis time we did a wee bit of spying ourselves.”

Arabel nodded. “More than a wee bit. There is something else I have discovered. Lord Angus MacGregor, Sir Patrick Douglas, and Lord Robert Fergueson have all received messages from Lord William Logan. Lord Angus makes plans to go to Duncoille and the other two have answered the messages—extensively and without hesitation. I had no success in intercepting those messages either. They sent out their best and most loyal men whilst I am cursed with incompetent fools. Something troubles me about all this, for these arenae men the Logans have had aught to do with ’til now. Why the interest now? We need answers.”

“Should we send along a spy of our own? There may be a way to slip one of our own in amongst the Logans.”

“There may be, but I believe we shall do a bit ourselves first.”

“Ourselves?”

“Aye—ourselves. We shall leave here for Dorchabeinn in a few days and must pass by Duncoille. We will stop in one of the nearer villages for a few days and see if we can discover anything.”

Malise shrugged. “If ye believe ’tis worth the trouble. I am not so sure I do. I dinnae believe the Logans have aught to hide.”

“My dear husband, everyone has something to hide. I am certain that, if we are careful and look close enough, we shall discover that even the gallant Logans have their secrets.”

“I begin to feel like a prisoner,” Sine grumbled as she rested her arms on the top of the parapets and stared out over the fields surrounding Duncoille. “Our wedding was a fortnight ago and since then I havenae stepped beyond these walls once.”

Gamel smiled faintly as he leaned against the wall next to her and offered her a small bouquet of heather blossoms. “’Tis just that ye have spent so much of your life in that cart, roaming from place to place, sleeping beneath the stars. If ye hadnae been forced from your home, ye would have grown to womanhood behind walls much akin to these.”

“Aye, but I would have been able to step beyond them now and again.” Sine murmured her pleasure as she inhaled the sweet scent of the bouquet, touched by the courtly gesture even though she knew she ought to resist its allure.

“True, for it would have been safe.” He reached out and ran his hand over her thick braid. “’Tis not safe now. Not for ye. Not for the twins.” He slid his hand beneath her braid and moved his fingers up and down her slim back in a soothing caress.

“I ken it. It makes it no easier though. Howbeit, I try and comfort myself with the knowledge that we inch closer to victory each day.”

“I believe we move at a faster pace than that. Lord Angus MacGregor is most eager to come here and speak with my father. They fought many a battle together when they were younger. He has already sent us a great deal of information through his squire, a mon he trusts with his life. Also, a Sir Patrick Douglas and one Lord Robert Fergueson have responded to my father’s inquiries in some detail. And Farthing returned but a few hours ago from visiting a sheriff and a knight or two in Perth who proved most helpful. They told Farthing of how the Brodies worked their wiles in Perth until nearly every mon of consequence became an unwilling ally.”

“None of it is the clear indisputable proof of the Brodies’ crimes that we seek though.”

“Nay, but with my father promising aid and protection, the number of men—and women—willing to speak up against the Brodies grows day by day. They but fear that they might expose themselves to the censure of their peers or worse. Father has refused the aid of one or two, for they wouldnae say why they had helped the Brodies or why they turned on them now.”

“None of them are innocents.”

“Nay, but some of them have allowed the Brodies to make a small sin appear a bigger one, to use the guilt their victim suffers to wield power o’er them. What takes shape is a tangled mass of lies, fear, guilt, and blackmail. All were used by the Brodies to help hide their own crimes, of which there are many. We may not have real, hard proof but we begin to gain a veritable army of people ready to speak out against Arabel and Malise. The moment they are told that others have begun to speak out, the truth spills forth, as if each one welcomes the chance to confess.”

“And mayhaps free themselves from my mother and her husband.”

“Aye, there is that. Some grow weary of being beneath the thumbs of the Brodies. Some fear that they may yet be dragged into some verra dark crime and not just the petty sins and favors so far demanded of them.”

Sine turned sideways to face Gamel more directly. “Ye have been verra careful not to tell me what crimes Arabel and Malise are guilty of. Do ye think to spare me, to protect me from kenning the whole truth?”

Gamel winced. “Mayhaps. ’Tisnae pretty.”

“I ne’er thought that it would be pretty. Arabel is a woman who sought to kill her own child and did murder her husband. I dinnae think ye could tell me anything that could pain me more than that. And, considering how all of this must end, it may weel be kinder to let me ken just how sinful she is. If I am to be the one to cause her death, ’twould be best if I ken how richly she deserves it.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. “I dinnae intend to let ye stain your bonnie hands with your mother’s blood.”

“I have sought vengeance for six long years. I have begun this battle. I am already a partner in her death.” She knew she could not let herself forget the fact, for although ignoring it now could ease her mind, she would pay dearly for that peace later. “So, tell me, what have ye discovered?”

“A veritable knot of deceits, of grasping for power and riches. And murder. The Brodies put a swift end to anyone who gets in their way. ’Twould take the rest of the day to tell ye all we have learned thus far. But if all we have been told is true, then the ones who found an association with the Brodies to be fatal number about thirty.”

“Sweet Jesu,” Sine whispered, horror shuddering through her body. “So many.”

“Since people are quick to blame all wrong on ones they fear, there are undoubtedly some people included in that tally who shouldnae be there.”

“And ones who arenae but should be simply because their deaths were unmourned or cleverly contrived. And what have they gained from such bloodletting?”

“Riches and power. The king doesnae trust them yet must court them. They hold such strength and wealth that he cannae afford to ignore them. He could weel have need of the army they can raise, or the strength of their allies, or even some of the coin they could gather. Nay, nor does he dare anger them without sound justification. A Scottish king ne’er sits too securely on his throne. He must tread warily. Robert wouldnae wish to make the Brodies too angry, for they could weel prove to have the strength to turn on him and win.”

“And sound justification to resist them will be verra hard to obtain.”

“Aye, for the Brodies are sly. Their enemies die so conveniently yet the Brodies cloak themselves in innocence. All ken who did the murder yet none can prove it. ’Tis only seen that the Brodies benefit from the death.”

“How can people let it continue?”

“Well, let us consider poor Lord Angus MacGregor. He is a pious mon and deeply in love with his wife. The vows they spoke before a priest would have been enough for such a mon. Howbeit, in a gesture of gallantry he swore to his wife, on his honor and his sword, that he would be ever faithful.”

“And Arabel made him break that promise.”

“Oh, aye. He went to the king’s court and she was there. He spoke to us of being bewitched. He lingered at court to be near to her and followed her when she returned to Dorchabeinn. He lied to his wife again and again to explain away his long absences. Arabel drew him deeper and deeper into what he calls a well of depravity—he alludes to a taste for cruelty on Arabel’s part. His guilt is compounded in his mind because it was his wife who, all unknowingly, pulled him free of that mire. She sent a message to him. She had been taken to bed with the birthing of their third child, but it wasnae an easy birth and she wished him to be with her.”

“Was everything all right?”

“Aye.” Gamel kissed Sine’s forehead. “Angus claims ’twas as if he was slapped awake. He left the Brodies’ almost immediately and sped back to his wife’s side. He was greeted with a healthy son and a weary but healing wife. It wasnae long before he learned that his guilt and shame werenae the only penance he would have to pay. The Brodies kenned his weakness, that he didnae want his wife to learn of his sins. Angus hasnae been drawn into any true crime, but he was coerced into aiding them at court and keeping his mouth shut when he learned of any wrong done by them.”

“If he now aids us, then the past indiscretions he seeks to hide will become known.”

“Aye. He kens it. He plans to tell his wife ere he comes here. ’Tis why he sent his squire along first.”

“In truth, I dinnae think she will be verra surprised.”

“Do ye think she already kens?”

“She must have sensed some change in the mon. He speaks of guilt and shame. Such strong emotions cannae be hidden weel, especially not from a loved one. I but pray that she is the forgiving sort. ’Twould be verra sad if Arabel’s machinations destroy what seems to have begun as a great love.” She turned to look back out over the fields, then frowned. “A rider approaches, Gamel.”

Gamel also turned to look and, after watching the rider for a moment, said, “’Tis Lesley. He returns much sooner than I had expected him to.”

“At least he returns alive.” Sine was relieved to see Sir Lesley, for she had not liked the thought of Gamel’s dearest friend being in danger, especially when that danger came from her kinsmen.

“Aye.” He took her by the hand. “We had best go and hear what he has to say.”

Sine grew increasingly tense as she and Gamel made their way toward the great hall. Once there, they had to wait while Sir Lesley went to his chambers to tidy himself and the others gathered. Farthing, Margot, and Lord Magnusson were the first to hurry in, followed by Lord William, Ligulf, Nigel, Norman, and Lady Edina. They had all barely been seated at the lord’s table and served some mead when a refreshed Sir Lesley strode into the hall. Sine dreaded the man’s news and, as Sir Lesley joined them, she took several deep sips of her drink in a vain attempt to steady herself.

As Sir Lesley told his story, Sine discovered that her sense of dread had been warranted. She grieved for the young maid who had been murdered, yet was guiltily pleased that Sir Lesley had not sipped Arabel’s deadly wine. It also annoyed her that, yet again, even though Arabel’s guilt was obvious, only Martin had seen the woman enter Sir Lesley’s chambers. And Martin would never accuse either Brodie.

“Ye say that Martin aided ye?” she asked Sir Lesley.

“Aye. I was prepared to go to the king himself, or at least his guardsmen. Martin convinced me to act as if naught had happened and leave Stirling as soon as possible. As I rode here I feared I had been talked into acting cowardly.”

“Nay—wisely,” said Gamel. “Who kens what sort of tangle may have ensued? The Brodies are verra clever. They could even have turned suspicion your way. They would certainly have done their utmost to try again to murder you. Ye were alone in the midst of the enemy. ’Twas best to retreat.”

“So Martin Robertson said. I wasnae sure whether I should trust him.”

“In that circumstance ye could,” said Sine, then faintly grimaced. “Martin was able to do what was right, without putting himself in danger. I wouldnae trust him if there was any risk to him involved, however. Martin’s law is to protect his own back above all else. That was evident to me even as a child. Aye, and my father once said as much himself. I have mixed feelings about the mon. He isnae free of the sins and crimes of the Brodies. Nay, he has a great deal he must atone for. Mayhaps not so much that he needs to pay with his life though. I believe there is some good in the mon and I can even pity him his place in life. It cannae be easy for him. And he cannae be happy.”

Sir Lesley shook his head. “Nay, not easy at all. I asked him if he thought he would be safe and he said that he has ne’er been safe—he but stays alive. Aye, one can feel some pity for him. He did ask one favor of me—to give this missive to Mistress Margot.” He took a letter from a pocket in his jupon and handed it to Margot, who sat across the table from him. While she read the letter under the watchful eyes of her companions, Sir Lesley continued. “I fear I wasnae the best of spies. Martin kenned that I played some game and I feel certain that he began watching me from the moment I asked to journey to Stirling with them.”

“I am sure he did,” agreed Sine. “Watching is what Martin does best. The Brodies are suspicious of anyone they have no hold on. In truth, I doubt they trust even those they do rule. They would have had Martin begin to watch ye from the moment ye rode away from here.”

“So he probably told them whom I talked with. What we talked about, and even when we met.”

Sine shrugged. “Mayhaps. Mayhaps not. Martin ne’er warned them that I had learned of their plans for me and the twins. If he had, I ne’er would have gotten free. Ye just cannae be sure what Martin Robertson will do.”

“He may weel be looking to break free of the Brodies.” Sir Lesley glanced toward Margot before continuing. “I acknowledged that I now owed the mon my life. He said that he may yet have need of such a debt.”

Gamel frowned and slowly rubbed his chin. “’Twould be verra helpful to gain such an ally, but I dinnae think we should raise our hopes too high. Aye, and if he does come to our side, we should accept his aid verra cautiously.”

Lord Magnusson turned to Margot when she sighed and carefully refolded her letter. “Did he say aught that we should be told about?”

“Verra little,” Margot replied. “He is as careful with his words as ye warned me to be. ’Tis little more than sweet words and talk about his unworthiness. He does begin with a prayer that Sir Lesley arrived safely.”

“Did ye have any trouble on your journey here?” Lord William asked Sir Lesley.

“Nay, not truly,” he replied. “I am certain that I was pursued, but I was able to elude all trouble. I caught a glimpse or two of a small knot of men at my back, but I kept weel ahead of them. They soon turned away.”

“There is only one other thing that may be of interest,” Margot said. “Martin tells me that he may have a chance to call upon me in a week’s time. The Brodies must be planning to leave Stirling and return to Dorchabeinn soon.” She frowned. “He hopes to see me, yet in the verra next sentence says that it might be best if I returned to my own home ere he arrives. That could but mean that he believes I would err in accepting his courtesies.”

“Aye.” Lord Magnusson frowned. “It could also be a warning, as strong a one as he dares to give. The mon may sense trouble brewing and wishes ye to be weel away from it. He should have been a wee bit less subtle though.”

Gamel smiled faintly at Lord Magnusson’s cross words, then quickly grew serious again. “We shall take both meanings into account. The Brodies surely ken that Sir Lesley was spying upon them and they will want to ken the why of that. They could also intend to spy upon us now. We shall be prepared.”

Although Sine was not sure how one could prepare for such a thing, she said nothing. In a week the game of spying, of messengers sent and received, could come to an abrupt end. In a week Arabel could discover that she had not rid herself of the daughter she loathed. The thought of that terrified Sine. At that point there would truly be no turning back.

While Gamel washed up and prepared for bed he kept a close but covert watch upon Sine. Since they had met with Sir Lesley in the great hall she had been unusually quiet. Now she was sprawled on her back in their bed, staring up at the canopy. Gamel knew she was troubled, but he was not sure what he could do about it.

He silently cursed as he shed the last of his clothing and climbed into bed beside her. They had reached an unspoken truce since their wedding. He did not speak of the future and neither did she. Whether their marriage would last or end with the defeat of the Brodies they simply did not discuss. The only things they faced with any openness were their passion for each other and their united fight against the Brodies. Gamel did not think he had ever felt so frustrated or uncertain. Even now he was not sure if he should ask her what was troubling her or hold his tongue and hope that her mood would pass. As he tugged her into his arms, he decided that ignoring her silent, somber air was beyond him.

“Sine, I ken that ye are troubled,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over her forehead as he combed his fingers through her hair. “It sometimes helps to share your woes.”

“I ken it.” She idly smoothed her hand over his broad chest. “The game will soon grow more serious. Arabel will soon ken that the twins and I are still alive. The thought of that terrifies me.”

Gamel tightened his hold on her. “Ye willnae have to face her alone. Ye have many allies and we shall win this battle.”

“But at how high a cost?” she whispered.

“’Tis far past time that those two were made to pay for their crimes. Come, we arenae untried lads. We have fought a battle or two. Ye need not be so afraid.”

“The woman within me kens that and kens that too much fear can be dangerous at such a time. Howbeit, the wee lass who saw her father murdered still lingers within me too, the one who heard her own death planned and fled into the night. That wee lass is cowering with fear. I find that it isnae easy to cease running and hiding and suddenly stand to face my enemies.” She glanced up to catch him watching her with concern. “Dinnae worry o’er me. I will soon calm that wee lass. ’Twas but worrisome to discover that I am not as ready to fight as I had thought I was.” She grimaced. “Nor as brave.”

“’Twas certainly no coward who, at the meager age of twelve, took her wee brothers in hand and fled. Lady Arabel’s the one who should be all atremble.”

Sine laughed and slipped her arms about his neck. “Struck with terror o’er having to face such a fierce warrior?”

“Aye.” He brushed a kiss over her full, inviting mouth. “Although ’tisnae your fierceness as a warrior which holds my greatest interest at the moment.” He trailed slow, stroking kisses over her throat.

She smiled and rubbed her body against his, her smile widening when he groaned softly. “Ye prefer my ferocity to reveal itself somewhere other than on the battlefield?”

“Here would be pleasing.” He gently pushed her onto her back and eased his body on top of hers. “Dinnae give in to your fears, sweeting,” he whispered, his tone abruptly becoming soft and solemn. “Fight them with all the strength ye can. Aye, with all the strength I ken ye have within this slim, fine body. Those fears are a weakness Arabel Brodie would quickly scent and use against you. Fight them.”

“I will,” she vowed as she cupped his face in her hands and tugged his mouth down to hers.

She prayed that she would be able to keep that vow. Sine knew that her mother would indeed use those fears to weaken and defeat her. Even worse, Sine knew that Arabel would try to use those fears to hurt anyone she cared about.