Silver Flame

Chapter 13

“I dinnae see why we must linger here,” muttered Gamel, frowning at Farthing, who was crouched down and staring intently at the ground.

Gamel glanced up at the sky, which was already clouding over with the deep gray of night. His sense of urgency made him irritable. Once outside Duncoille, the searchers had spread out in all directions. But now the men had gathered a short distance inside the wood to the south of Duncoille to decide where to search next. Suddenly, Farthing dismounted and, leading his horse, walked a few yards away. The rest of them also dismounted and stood like silent fools, watching Farthing’s strange actions.

“The boys were taken from here,” Farthing abruptly announced, standing up and scowling down at the ground.

“Are ye sure?” asked Lord Thomas.

“Aye, Father. They were seized by three men.” Farthing carefully took a few steps, his gaze still fixed upon the ground.

After moving to the spot where Farthing had crouched for so long, Gamel asked, “How can ye be certain of that?”

Farthing pointed at the ground by Gamel’s feet. “The signs are all there. The three men carried the lads off in this direction. Farther along I am sure we will find the signs of their mounts.”

“And ye can read all that from this patch of disturbed ground?”

“Aye. The three men charged the lads from the south, east, and west. There was a brief struggle and then, carrying the boys, the men strode deeper into the wood.”

“Ye have honed your skills at reading such signs, Farthing,” Lord Thomas said quietly. “Ye have had a chance to do some hunting, have ye?”

“Ye need not be so careful in your choice of words, Father.” Farthing grinned. “We both ken that ’twas poaching I was indulging in. My other skills werenae always adequate to feed all of us.” He grew serious again. “I now wish I had taught the lads a wee bit more about protecting themselves.”

Lord William patted Farthing on the back. “Accept my word on this, son. Ye couldnae have taught them enough to have avoided this. I fear that children can often be their own worst enemies. My brood has taught me the truth of that often enough.”

Farthing nodded in silent, heartfelt agreement, and looked toward the south. “Shall we follow the trail a ways to be certain that it was truly the Brodies’ curs who stole the lads?”

Everyone murmured agreement, and as they fell into step behind Farthing, Lord Thomas said, “Ye should have come to me for help, son. It wasnae right that ye should have been forced to break the law.”

“If I had found myself in real difficulty, ye would have heard from me, Father. We were gifted with a great deal of luck—until a certain keen-eyed rogue caught up with us,” he said with a pointed look at Gamel. Then he shook his head and looked down at the ground. A moment later, he continued, “Here is where they left their horses. They mounted and rode off to the south. There is no doubt that some Brodie swine grabbed Dane and Ree. The poor lads stumbled right into the hands of their enemies.”

“Should we follow them?” asked Gamel.

“God’s tears, but I ache to do so. Howbeit, they have several hours’ lead on us. Dark will soon hinder us as weel. We would find the gates of Dorchabeinn secured against us and the lads inside, even if we managed to reach the castle without mishap. If we accomplished anything, ’twould probably be to put the lads in even more danger than they are now. Nay, I think we must return to Duncoille and wait for Arabel and Malise to tell us what demands they wish to make.”

“Ye ken verra weel what their demands shall be—they will ask for Sine.”

“We all ken that,” said Lord William. “Sadly, we also ken that we can do nothing now. Farthing is right. The Brodie men are three hours or more away. We could ne’er catch them even if we had the light to do so, which we willnae in but a few moments. We must return to Duncoille.”

Gamel found it painful to do so, but he nodded in agreement. As they all mounted, Blane blew three blasts of the hunting horn to call the rest of the men still searching for the twins back to Duncoille. Gamel fought his fear for the boys, who were now in the hands of their enemies, but, more than that, he tried to conquer his dread of telling Sine the news. She would be terrified for her brothers and he knew he would face a lengthy battle to convince her not to immediately sacrifice herself in an exchange. It would be what the Brodies would demand, but it would not save the boys. Gamel prayed that he could make Sine understand that.

“Do ye want to tell Sine or shall I?” asked Farthing as he rode beside Gamel.

“I dinnae think either of us will have to tell her anything.”

Farthing cursed and nodded. “Aye, she will ken it the moment we return without Dane and Ree. She will read it in our faces. The lass has an annoying skill in that regard.”

“I dinnae dread that as much as I do telling her that she willnae be able to save those boys by sacrificing herself. She has the wit to ken the truth of that, but I dinnae believe her wits will be what commands her this time.” Gamel sighed with a mixture of resignation and disappointment when Farthing’s only response was a look of sympathy.

Sine grew so tense with apprehension when she heard the men return that she feared she could shatter. Gamel and Farthing were the first to enter the great hall, which was now empty except for Margot, Lady Edina, and herself. She took one look at their solemn, wary expressions and knew the worst.

“Arabel has them,” she whispered, and fought the urge to succumb to weeping, something she knew would be a waste of precious time.

“Aye. The boys must have stumbled upon some of the Brodie men, who quickly snatched them,” replied Gamel even as he crouched before her and took her hands in his. “For reasons only the lads themselves can explain, they had wandered out into the wood. I suspect Arabel’s hirelings were stunned by their good fortune.”

“Ye are certain of this?” she asked, although she knew it was a foolish question because the men would have made sure of it before telling her such horrifying news.

“Verra sure, dearling,” Farthing murmured as he stood beside her and lightly clasped her shoulder. “There was no denying the signs. We didnae immediately set out after them for they left hours ago and the night was but moments away. I am sorry for that, lass.”

“Nay.” She reached up to pat his hand where it rested on her shoulder before allowing Gamel to renew his gentle hold upon both of her hands. “Ye have naught to apologize for. The fault is all mine. My thirst for vengeance has brought them to this fate. I should have kept them hidden, not stepped forth to challenge Malise and Arabel. Dane and Ree were safe and I put them in danger.”

“Dinnae talk like a fool,” snapped Gamel, abruptly standing up to frown down at her. “Ye carry no guilt for this trouble. That rests fully at the feet of the Brodies.”

“The Brodies didnae e’en ken that we were still alive until I dragged us all out of hiding. Dane and Ree were content. ’Twas I who felt the pinch of being denied all that our father had left to us.”

“It wouldnae have been much longer before the lads felt that same pinch. As they grew to manhood they would have become more and more determined to wrest back from the Brodies all that is rightfully theirs.”

“Aye,” agreed Lord William, moving to stand beside his son. “I suspect they have felt it from time to time but simply didnae trouble ye with it. And, lass, hiding away doesnae necessarily mean that ye are safe.”

“But we were safe.” Sine knotted her fingers together in her lap.

“Nay.” Farthing bent and kissed her cheek. “We were but undiscovered yet. We were ne’er completely safe, and if ye werenae so determined to flay yourself with a guilt ye dinnae deserve, ye would agree.”

“The twins werenae prepared to fight and I dragged them into this battle. Weel, I must correct my own error.”

“Oh, aye?” Gamel shook his head. “Do ye truly think that ye can mend matters by dying? Ye ken as weel as I do that Arabel will demand that ye return to Dorchabeinn and that only death awaits ye there. And, if ye would pause in your wallow in guilt, ye would also ken that the laddies will die right at your side.”

Sine was stung by Gamel’s and Farthing’s criticism, but she did not want to hear the things they were saying. She did not want to hear that she could not save her young brothers by handing herself over to Arabel and Malise. The very last thing she wanted was to turn her back on even the slimmest of chances to save her brothers, but she knew that was exactly what she was being forced to do.

“They will ask that ye trade your life for your brothers’,” Gamel continued. “Ye ken what deceivers the Brodies are and ye ken that they cannae allow any of ye to live if they are to survive. There can be no bargaining with them. Dinnae fool yourself into thinking otherwise.”

“Do ye have some other idea? Some other plan? I should dearly like to hear that there is some choice.”

“We need time to form a plan,” Gamel replied, inwardly cursing the inadequacy of his answer.

“Mayhaps, there are no plans one can make in such a situation.”

“We simply havenae been able to consider the problem,” said Lord Thomas. “Keep in mind that none of us will gain if ye do as the Brodies will ask, child. The laddies will lose, ye will lose, and all those who have allied themselves with us will lose as weel.”

“I ken it.” She wrapped her arms about her waist, but it did little to ease the painful churning of her stomach. “Do ye think that my brothers will be kept alive at all?” She felt Farthing’s grip on her shoulder tighten and remembered that she was not the only one who was suffering.

Lord Thomas shrugged but hastily said, “There is no means of kenning what the Brodies will do. Howbeit, if they kill the boys, they will have no lure to draw ye into their trap. Nay, I think the boys will be safe enough for now. In truth, I think ye can do more to keep them alive by not surrendering.”

Gamel placed his hand on her arm. “Come, dearling, have something to eat and—”

“I couldnae swallow a bite.”

“Then let me take ye to our chamber so that ye can rest.”

“Rest? Do ye think I should just go to bed and close my eyes until Arabel arrives to gloat?”

“Nay, but naught can be solved now. We must talk o’er all we can and cannae do. Ye are too upset to endure that. Ye need to try and calm yourself. Ye need to be ready, strong, and rested for whatever we must face next.”

Sine knew that Gamel was right. She was far too afraid for Dane and Ree to be of any help to anyone, even herself. No one had said so, but she knew she was already causing some difficulty. They were all huddled around her, trying to soothe her, instead of planning what might be done to help her brothers. She hated the weakness she was showing. Sine glanced up at Farthing and could see by his pale, drawn features that he was suffering as much as she was, yet he had himself under control and could still think clearly.

“I shall go and rest then,” she said, smiling her thanks to Lady Edina when the woman helped her to her feet. “I dinnae think I shall sleep though.”

Gamel watched his mother and Margot lead Sine away. His mother briefly glanced his way and winked. He knew Sine would be given some potion to help her go to sleep and he was glad of it. As he, his family, Blane, Sir Lesley, and the Magnussons moved to sit at a table and try to salvage a meal from what the others had left behind, Gamel heartily wished that he could do more to ease Sine’s pain.

“She will recover her strength,” Farthing said as he helped himself to some bread and thick honey. He faintly smiled at Gamel from across the table. “She hates this weakness and will fight it. ’Tis just that she loves the twins as if they were her own children.”

“As ye do,” murmured Gamel, watching Farthing closely as a page filled their tankards with wine, and feeling that he was nearing a new understanding of the man.

“Aye, as I do. Howbeit, Sine needs time alone to subdue the urge, mayhaps the need, to succumb to tears whilst I but fight the aching need to ride like the furies for Dorchabeinn, screaming for Arabel’s blood. Fortunately, I retain the wit to ken the futility of that. ’Twould get the twins killed and myself as weel.”

“And anyone fool enough to ride with ye,” Gamel agreed.

“Do ye think we have lost this battle already?” asked Ligulf from his seat on Farthing’s right.

“The chances of winning a full, satisfying victory have certainly been diminished,” replied Farthing. “Howbeit, I am not ready to set the laurel wreath upon Arabel’s head just yet.”

“Nay, nor am I,” said Lord William, and a murmured ripple of agreement went through the others. “We must try to anticipate the Brodies’ next move. Then, when they finally come, we will be able to act immediately.”

Although Gamel participated in the planning and in the discussion of what they might face in the morning, his thoughts were fixed upon Sine. She was so afraid for her brothers, so quick to blame herself for their fate. He ached to banish both of those emotions from her heart and mind, but he was not sure he had the skill or the time. If his mother gave Sine a potion, it could mean that Sine would sleep deeply until the morning. Gamel was certain that the Brodies would be at their gates soon after sunrise. Arabel and Malise would be confident of victory and try to grasp it as quickly as possible.

It was late before Gamel was able to seek out his bed. When he first entered the bedchamber he shared with Sine, he felt the sting of panic. She was nowhere to be seen. Then he noticed the door of the large clothespress was open. He sighed with relief. Sine had used one of the many hidden passages in Duncoille to slip away unseen. Gamel got a lantern and set out after her.

He was not surprised when he found her on the southern wall, staring out over the parapets toward Dorchabeinn. As he walked over to her, he mused that she looked very lovely with her dark cape draped haphazardly over her white linen nightdress and her pale hair loose, the night air gently ruffling its thick waves. She also looked tiny, lost, and forlorn.

“Ye will catch a chill,” he murmured as he reached her side and leaned against the damp stone wall.

“Nay, ’tis pleasing. The bite of the coming fall isnae in the air quite yet.” She sighed and shook her head. “They will be so afraid, Gamel.”

“Fear is a curable thing, dearling.” He reached out to toy with a thick lock of her hair. “Ye must cease to torment yourself. Ye can do naught about this, not yet.”

“But that is what is such a torture. Cannae ye see that? I am sure my brothers are afraid yet I must stand here, unable to soothe them or offer them hope. ’Tis much akin to a mother hearing her bairn cry from hunger yet having no milk or bread to give the poor child.”

He put his arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer to his side. “Arabel willnae kill them, not as long as she thinks they can be used against ye.”

“The twins were so young the last time they were at Dorchabeinn, too young to recall Arabel’s cruelties. Aye, and I sheltered them from her as much as I was able. Since the day I took them away from there, they havenae really tasted the meanness she can so skillfully mete out. They willnae understand how to protect themselves from the sting of her cruelty.”

“I havenae known the lads for verra long, but they may be a great deal stronger than ye think, lass.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “And, dinnae forget, they have each other. Try not to think so much on what they might be enduring, but on how we shall free them.”

Sine slipped her arms about his trim waist and looked up at him. He brought her such comfort and helped her to regain her strength when it wavered. She feared she was growing too accustomed to it, yet knew she would not turn from it either. Before her stretched empty year after empty year of facing every trial alone. She would be a fool to turn aside his support while she was still able to have it.

“Do ye really believe we can free Dane and Ree?” she asked him.

“Weel, I willnae promise ye that we can, but it isnae impossible. If we can use our wits and are graced with a wee bit of luck—aye—there is a chance we can save them from that shewolf.”

“Thank ye, Gamel. I cannae say I fully believe your hopeful words, but they are a comfort to me.”

“Ah, so ye have found some use for a husband eh?” He inwardly cursed, certain that it was a poor time to talk about their marriage.

Her cheek resting against his chest, Sine grimaced and pretended that she had not heard his remark. Little by little, he had begun to make such comments. She knew he was trying to get her to say something—anything—about how she felt about their marriage. It seemed cruel to leave him plagued with uncertainty, to never tell him anything about how she felt, yet she was sure that such cruelty would become a kindness when she was to end their marriage. There would be no soft words for him to remember.

There were times when she wanted to open her heart to him so badly that she ached. The most difficult moments were just after they had made love or, as now, when he held her close and offered comfort and hope. It was yet another thing she could curse her mother for. She knew she would spend the rest of her life regretting all the words left unsaid.

“Have ye gone to sleep, loving?” Gamel asked, his voice soft and teasing.

She shook her head and held him a little tighter. “Nay, I was but trying to pull some of your strength into me. I am verra sorry for my weakness earlier. ’Twas no help to ye or my brothers. Wits were needed, not weeping.”

“Ye werenae weeping. Dinnae think so poorly of yourself.”

“And why shouldnae I think poorly of myself? I needed to be sent to my chambers and given a potion to calm me like some swooning maiden. It shames me to recall it.”

“Ye are too hard upon yourself. ’Twould have been strange if ye had not been upset. Ye recovered quickly and now ye can do what must be done. That is the truer test of your strength.”

“I hope ye are right. I shall need a great deal of strength. Ye spoke of my doing what must be done. Do ye ken what that will be?”

He combed his fingers through her hair. “The Brodies will demand that ye come to them in trade for the twins.”

“Aye, I feel certain they will ask for that too. I seek the strength to face that defeat and the courage to put myself into the hands of my foes.”

“That is exactly what ye must not do. I had thought we had made that clear.” He quickly covered her mouth with his hand when she started to protest. “If ye do exactly as they ask then we will all lose. ’Twill not save the twins. When they ask for a trade, ye will deny them.”

“I cannae,” she whispered when he removed his hand.

“Ye can and ye will. My father will instruct ye in what to say when the time comes. ’Twill most likely be in the morning. Ye have the wit, Sine, to see that we must play a delaying game.” He sighed with relief when, after a brief hesitation, she nodded.

“Waiting can be such torture.”

“Aye, it can,” he whispered, thinking of his interminable wait for some sign or word of caring from her.

Sine bit her lip to stop from blurting out words of devotion and some wild vow to stay with him forever. She grew more certain every day that he would return those feelings, that he was only waiting for some hint of love from her. At times she selfishly considered nudging him into confessing what was in his heart so that, after she had to leave him, she would have his words of love to cherish. Then she would see the cruelty of that and be appalled. She would not steal his pride. Sine prayed that acting so considerately would someday help to ease any bitterness he might feel. The knowledge that he could easily end up hating her made her shiver.

“Here, ye grow chilled.” He stepped back, tugged her cape around her more securely, and took her hand in his. “We had best go back inside. The morrow isnae so verra far away now and ye should be weel rested, strong, and healthy.”

“Ye think that Arabel will try and strike her bargain as early as tomorrow?” she asked as they walked back toward the keep.

“Aye. She willnae wait to act.”

A child cried out and Martin was abruptly torn from his concentration upon the accounting ledgers. He frowned, wondering why he should imagine such a sound. There were never any children within the keep. Although there were a number of children in the area around Dorchabeinn, they were rarely seen and never within the walls of the castle itself. Arabel’s hatred of children was well known. Malise’s appalling carnal taste for very young girls and boys was also strongly suspected. Anyone under the rule of the Brodies who had a child did his best to keep the innocent out of sight.

Just as Martin had convinced himself that he had been mistaken about the noise, he heard it again. It was unquestionably the pained cry of a child echoing through the shadowy halls of Dorchabeinn. He got up from his stool and briefly paused to stretch out the aches and cramps caused by bending over the ledgers for hours, then left his tiny steward’s chamber. Once outside of the room, he listened carefully for a moment before heading toward the studded doors of the great hall. As quietly as he could, he slipped inside, and nearly cried out in surprise.

Malise, grinning widely, poured wine into an ornate silver goblet held by an equally cheerful Arabel. They laughed, touched their goblets together, and drank. To the right of the table was the reason for their high spirits. One slender boy was helping another to stand up. That second child wavered unsteadily for a moment as he wiped the blood from his mouth. Martin was certain they were the late Lord Brodie’s sons. His conviction was affirmed when the boys briefly glanced his way. It had been six years, but he had never forgotten those wide, rich blue eyes. Nay, he thought, I cannae close my eyes to this.

“Ah, Cousin Martin,” called Malise. “Come here and have a drink to celebrate our triumph.”

Martin fought to hide his dismay as he walked over to their table and accepted a tankard of wine. As he drank, he covertly studied the boys. They were bruised and battered but struggled to stand tall and uncowed. Their efforts cut Martin to his soul. He cursed the fates which had seen fit to put the twins into the cruel hands of the Brodies, then cursed his own fate.

His moment of decision was being thrust upon him. He had kept silent when the children had fled six years ago, but this time he would have to do a great deal more if he did not want their blood on his hands. The two small boys had more strength than he did, he thought with a pang of self-disgust. Even now he wavered, but no more, he swore to himself. This time he would use his gifts of stealth and guile to save lives. This time he would choose the more dangerous path and do what was right.

“Ye dinnae seem verra pleased, Martin,” said Arabel, her eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

“I was only wondering if we celebrate a wee bit too early. Ye dinnae have the lass yet.”

“We have her brothers.” Arabel grabbed one of the twins by his thick fair hair, shook him, and then flung him aside.

“Aye, so half the battle has now been won.” Martin wondered what madness had seized him, for he was very nearly baiting Arabel and that was a highly dangerous game to play. “The less important half.”

Arabel slammed her goblet down onto the tapestry-draped oak table. “Aye, ’tis only half, but ’tisnae un important. These bastards will bring Sine Catriona into our grasp. She will walk into our hands like the lamb goes to slaughter.”

“A verra apt comparison, my sweet,” murmured Malise.

After giving her husband an irritated glance, Arabel turned her tight-lipped glare back on Martin. “These little fools wandered beyond the protection of Duncoille and our men stumbled on them. By now my daughter will realize that the bastards are missing and she is sure to ken who has them. The moment I tell her that the price for their miserable lives is her own she will come.”

“And then ye mean to let the lads go free?” Martin sincerely doubted that and was not surprised when Arabel laughed. He felt badly for the lads, who were forced to listen to her gloat.

“Of course I willnae set them free. Ye cannae be so great a fool, Martin. The bastards will die just as their sister will. In truth, I believe I shall allow wee Sine to watch them die. ’Twould add to her bitterness to hear that not only had she given up her life for naught, but she must also see her beloved brothers bleed.”

“She willnae be duped by ye,” snapped one of the boys. “She will spit in your eye.”

“Which one are ye?” Arabel asked, staring at the child with cold distaste.

“Beldane.” He softly grunted when she slapped him, causing him to stagger a little.

Martin was mildly surprised by his sudden urge to reach out to the boy. He hastily subdued it. The admiration he felt for the boy was a little harder to conceal as Beldane quickly steadied himself and glared at Arabel. If Arabel lusted after the sight of the boys’ fear and the loss of all their hope, she would be left hungry.

“The lass might not take your bait,” Martin said.

“Why would ye think that?” asked Malise as he sprawled in his heavy oaken chair.

“I suspect that she is aware that your promises are often broken. She and the Logans have spent these last three weeks talking to your reluctant allies and those ye have betrayed. Lady Logan—”

“Dinnae call her that,” yelled Arabel. “She is Sine Catriona Brodie. That marriage is no more than a ploy to hinder my rightful claim to the little slut. If I wished to take the time, I could have that marriage ended like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“Mayhaps ye should end it before ye kill the lass.”

“Before or after—what does it matter?”

“A husband not only has the right to hold his bride at his side, he also has a right to all that belongs to her. Ye wish Sine Catriona dead so that ye can gain her lands and fortune, but as long as Sir Gamel Logan claims her as his wife, he will gain all of that.”

“He willnae, will he? Not whilst we are still alive. And ’twasnae an approved marriage,” muttered Malise.

“She is the heir, fool,” snapped Arabel. “None of those things really matter. He would own all that is hers. We would have to fight it in the courts and I wouldnae wager much on our winning against the Logans.”

He frowned at Arabel. “Then, mayhaps, we should be careful not to act too hastily.”

“Nay. That bastard son of the Red Logan willnae savor his wealth for verra long. I ne’er meant for him to survive his whore by many days. This but gives me one more reason to wish him dead. He will be the price the Logans pay for setting themselves against me. Ye two,” she called to the pair of burly guards who stood a few feet behind the boys. “Take these whelps to the dungeons. And ye need not be gentle,” she added when the guards started to pull the boys toward the doors.

As the doors shut behind the twins, Martin heard the sound of a fist striking flesh and inwardly winced. He forced his complete attention on Arabel and Malise. Arabel was furious over Beldane’s defiance, but her expression also held a hint of gloating. Martin was a little dismayed that his reminder about Gamel Logan claiming Sine’s fortune had not caused Arabel any qualms. He did not give up all hope, however. Malise had hesitated and the man still held some small power over his wife. As he finished his wine, Martin again vowed that he would not be a part of any more killings.

“They carry the stink of their father.” Arabel took a deep drink of wine. “We shall send a messenger at first light. I am quite sure Sine will demand some proof that we hold the bastards.” Arabel tossed a small silver medallion onto the table. “The messenger can give her this.”

Martin reached for the medallion, which consisted of the Brodie crest and the name Beldane. He was startled when Arabel slapped her hand down on it, halting him from grasping it. It took some effort to hide his nervous alarm as he met her cold gaze.

“Not ye, Martin,” she said. “I dinnae believe ye are suitable for this particular errand.”

“I may be a poor soldier, but I can find Duncoille and deliver your demands,” he murmured, silently cursing the loss of a chance to speak to the Logans.

“I am sure ye can find Duncoille. After all, ye have a lover there, dinnae ye—although I dinnae ken how e’en that plain, pale lass can find ye of any interest. Howbeit, ’tis enough to make ye the wrong mon for this chore. We cannae afford to have ye dawdle.”

“As ye wish, m’lady. I have never been fond of rising early anyway.”

He bowed and took his leave, his heart beating frantically as he strode out of the great hall and hurried to his tiny bedchamber. Once there, he poured himself a large tankard of the strong wine he hoarded for himself. Martin sat on his rope-slung cot and gulped down the heady brew, but it did not completely banish his fears.

For the very first time Arabel had openly displayed mistrust of him. As he had watched the twins and listened to Arabel’s brutal plans for them and their sister, he had finally decided to betray her and Malise, to try to save Sine and her brothers’ lives. Now he had to worry about his own. Now he could well be useless to the Logans and their allies.

Suddenly he sat up straighter. All was not lost. He might still be able to help. Since Arabel had made it clear that she already had some very strong doubts about his loyalty, he did not need to fear arousing her suspicions any longer. He was already as good as dead. With what time he might have left, he could still try to do some good. Martin was sure that the Logans would not allow Sine to just ride to her death, that they would at least try to outwit Arabel. He might be able to assist them in that effort.

“Aye,” he muttered, and slowly smiled. “And, if ’tis my fate to die in this battle, at least I shall have the sweet pleasure of destroying all of Arabel’s schemes ere I face my maker.”