Silver Flame

Chapter 16

W ith a guard on either side of her, Sine marched into the great hall of Dorchabeinn. Her steps faltered a little when she got her first good look at the twins since they had been taken from Duncoille. Although she had guessed that they had been beaten, she had not been near enough to tell how badly. Now that she could, she was appalled. Her stomach knotted up with fury. Ignoring the hesitant attempts of her guards to stop her, she marched over to the twins and crouched down in front of them. The boys hugged her, but the embrace was stiff due to their injuries and she wanted to weep for the fear and the pain they had been forced to suffer.

“Dinnae fret o’er us,” whispered Barre.

“Aye,” agreed Beldane. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Ye are both verra brave. Ye are also verra foolish, for ye left the safety of Duncoille.”

“We ken it. ’Twas a doltish thing to do.” Beldane gave her a look of embarrassment. “We went to find some flowers for ye.”

“Flowers for me?”

“Aye. We decided ye must like them a lot, for Gamel is always giving ye some and that makes ye smile. Instead we get taken prisoner and ye get called here. Ye shouldnae have come, Sine.”

“Nay,” agreed Barre. “Ye shouldnae.”

“Come, dinnae worry o’er me.” She kissed each boy’s cheek. “All is not as it appears,” she whispered. “Take heart.”

“How touching,” Arabel drawled from her seat at Malise’s side. “I am quite moved to tears.”

Sine leapt to her feet and glared at Arabel. “Such brutality was unnecessary. Howbeit, now that ye have had your fun let the boys go. I am here, trading my life for theirs.”

“Are ye really so naive that ye thought I would keep that promise?”

“Nay. I but prayed that, for once, I could place some trust in the word of a whore.”

Arabel moved so fast that Sine had no time to elude the slap the woman swung at her face. The force of the blow caused Sine to stagger a little, but she quickly recovered. She stood straight and watched Arabel return to the table as if her outburst of rage had never happened.

“So, tell me how it is that ye have survived for all these years,” Arabel ordered.

“I was fortunate,” Sine answered with a calm she did not feel, wary of Arabel’s sudden curiosity about her past. “Soon after I fled from here I met up with a mon. I believe ye ken the fellow verra weel—Farthing Magnusson?” Sine found a small touch of satisfaction in the fury and surprise which contorted her mother’s face.

“That bastard!” hissed Arabel. “I cannae believe I allowed myself to be soiled by one of your discarded lovers.”

“’Tis my belief that Farthing was the one who was soiled.”

Malise grasped Arabel by the wrist to stop her from attacking Sine again. “Wait,” he ordered his wife. Then he looked at Sine. “Were you married to Gamel Logan by a priest?”

“Aye, sanctified by the Church and thoroughly consummated. Ye havenae won yet. Gamel will legally inherit all that is mine.”

“Mayhaps, my sweet, we should keep her alive a wee bit longer than planned,” Malise suggested to Arabel. “She could aid us in entrapping Sir Gamel.”

With a sharp, obscene exclamation, Arabel yanked free of his hold. “I have waited eighteen years to kill her. She was always watched over. Then she escaped me. Weel, that willnae happen again.”

“If we arenae careful, Arabel, we could find that, in death, she finally defeats us.”

“And why are ye so eager to keep her alive? Do ye lust after her?”

Although Sine knew that the man lied—for she had seen the lecherous way he had watched her—Malise vehemently denied his wife’s accusation. As the pair bickered, Sine looked around in the vain hope of seeing some means of escape. She felt her heart skip with hope when she realized that Martin was gone. He had been there when she had entered the great hall, but had somehow managed to sneak away. She prayed that it was to aid Gamel, that rescue was close at hand.

“Dinnae waste your strength and my time with your foolish denials. It isnae important anyway,” Arabel replied.

“Weel, ’tis certainly important that we play this game warily. We are close to winning. There is no need to be careless and hasty.”

“We have won. I have her and the bastards. And those fools out there cannae reach them. I see no need to concern ourselves with those impotent champions. Do ye grow lily-livered in your old age, my husband? Afraid of the Red Logan, are ye?”

“Do as ye will then,” bellowed Malise, throwing up his hands in a gesture of utter surrender and then helping himself to a large tankard of wine. “If this all sours and your impatience ruins everything we have achieved, I shallnae sink with ye.”

“I ne’er expected ye to do anything so noble and useless,” Arabel said, her tone a cool sneer. Then she looked at Sine. “Nay, Sine will survive the night, but I shall make it a night that will have her still screaming when she is deep in her tomb.”

Sine could not fully suppress a shudder and took a more protective stance in front of her brothers. She had no doubt that Arabel could do exactly as she promised. As she met her mother’s hate-filled look, Sine prayed that, if her rescue was not forthcoming, she would be able to endure with courage whatever Arabel dealt her. She did not want to give the woman the pleasure of scenting her fear or of hearing her beg.

“I dinnae suppose that ’twill do any good to remind ye that ye are my mother and that what ye plan to do is one of the darkest sins ye could commit.”

“Dinnae claim me as your mother.” Arabel slowly got to her feet as she spoke. “I loathed ye from the moment your father seeded ye in my belly. I hated the mon who made ye. I cursed what ye did to my body whilst I carried ye. I tried to rid myself of ye, but that fool wisewoman’s potions didnae work. She died for her failure, but not before I had gleaned from her the way to stir up a number of other useful potions.”

“Your poisons.”

“Aye, my poisons. Gentle ones and cruel ones. Howbeit, even the worst of poisons, the slowest and the most painful, is too good for ye. Do ye ken how many times I tried to kill ye? The first time was when ye were still slick from birth, but the cursed midwife protected ye.”

“I suppose she died for that moment of mercy.”

“Aye, as did anyone who helped ye or protected ye. Weel, except one—Martin.”

“Martin? Your faithful cur? Why, in God’s sweet name, would he help me?” As she listened to the hatred her mother spat out, Sine was torn between nausea and pain, sickened by the woman she feared she could one day become just like, and deeply hurt by the proof of how much her own mother loathed her. “Martin has e’er been loyal to ye at the cost of his own soul,” Sine said.

“Martin has e’er been loyal to but one person—himself. I cannae prove it, but I am now certain that he aided ye to escape from me, if only through his silence. He will pay for that, but first I mean to see to your death.”

Arabel gave a signal to the two guards standing behind the twins. Sine turned in time to see the thickset men pin the two thin boys in their arms. She lunged toward them, but her own guards quickly grabbed her, each man holding her painfully by an arm and standing too far away for her to give them a sharp kick. They yanked her back a little when Arabel stepped closer and studied the twins before looking at Sine.

“Ere ye die, I decided, ’twould suit me to make ye watch your brothers die first.”

“Their deaths will gain ye little. Let them go. Ye risk more by killing two bairns than ye e’er would by releasing them. As bastards, whatever claim they tried to make on my father’s land and fortunes would be easily cast aside.”

“I wonder—will ye plea so eloquently for your own life?” Arabel withdrew an ornate dagger from a hidden pocket in the seam of her skirt and laid it against Beldane’s throat.

Sine suspected that she did little to actually help the twins by pleading for their lives, but she could not keep silent when they were in such danger. “Leave them be, Arabel. Ye can gain no honor by killing wee boys.” Her stomach was knotted with fear for her brothers, but Sine struggled to hide it from Arabel, to deny her the pleasure of seeing it.

“True, but I can hurt ye badly by doing it, cannae I, Sine Catriona?”

“And what inspires your hate for them? That some other woman was able to give my father sons?”

It was hard not to cry out when Arabel suddenly slapped her, but Sine bit back the sound. Arabel’s eyes were ablaze with fury and Sine realized that she had briefly distracted the woman. Sine braced herself for another vicious verbal assault from Arabel. It was a small sacrifice if it bought some time for Gamel to rescue them.

Gamel cursed as he stumbled against Farthing and jabbed the man in the backside with his sheathed sword. He grimaced with a touch of embarrassment when Farthing also cursed. If the danger was not so great, the way they were forced to creep along would be laughable. It felt as if they had been entombed in the passageway for hours, somewhat clumsily groping their way along by the dim light of Blane’s torch.

“Why have ye stopped?” he asked Farthing.

“Not so that I can learn the joys of intimacy with your cursed sword.” Farthing rubbed his backside.

“My apologies.” Gamel scowled down the passageway. “God’s tears, I think we have come to the end at last.”

“Aye, but there does appear to be some difficulty in opening whatever door is down there.”

“He almost has it, sir,” whispered one of the men halfway along the tunnel. “’Tis just stuck, I think.”

“Where in God’s name is Martin?” Gamel muttered, and slumped against the wall.

Martin slipped into the steward’s alcove and tensed. One of Arabel’s large personal guards was in the room. The man had pushed aside the chest which hid the sunken entrance to the tunnel and was crouched in the small hole, his ear pressed against the door. Since Martin could hear the subtle scrape of armor, the soft rhythm of footsteps, and an occasional whisper from behind the walls, he was not sure why the man had not yet raised an alarm.

With a brief prayer of thanks for his good fortune, Martin eased the door shut behind him. He silently crept over to the table that held his ledgers and picked up one of the heavy candlesticks. Just as he got close enough to strike, the man looked his way. Martin cursed and swung. He shivered when he felt the candlestick hit flesh and heard the guard grunt.

It took Martin a moment before he understood precisely what he had done. He felt a little ill when he saw that he had caught the man squarely on the temple and crushed his skull. Although he was no stranger to death, Martin realized that he had never actually ended another man’s life with such violence. His job had always been to prepare the way for someone else to do the killing.

The sound of the small tunnel door being nudged open from the other side brought Martin out of his distraction. He grabbed the guard by the arm and tried to drag him out of the way of the door, but failed to move the man more than a few inches. As he cursed Arabel for insisting upon having such huge guards, Martin grasped the man under the arms and, with a great deal of effort, pulled the body out of the way of the door. He was on his knees, gasping for breath, when Blane cautiously opened the door and, bending over to clear the low opening, stepped into the room. Blane cursed, hopped up the two steps and crouched by the guard.

“Dead,” he announced, and sat down.

“He was blocking the door,” Martin explained as he watched man after well-armed man slip from the passageway to crowd into the small room.

“Did he have a chance to raise an alarm?” Blane asked.

“Nay.” Martin managed a tired smile for Farthing and Gamel as they stepped into the room.

Farthing looked down at the dead guard, then at the heavy candlestick Martin had dropped onto the floor. “Ye shall have to learn how to wield a sword as weel as ye do a quill. Although, a good cudgel often takes the mon down with less noise.”

“There was barely a grunt. And this has proven to me that I had best stay with my inkpots and ledgers. The only reason I was able to fell the mon was because I caught him completely by surprise.” Martin stood up and brushed himself off. “Lady Logan is already in the great hall.”

“Is she still unharmed?” demanded Gamel.

“Aye, although one cannae tell what injuries are inflicted by the type of poison Arabel is spitting at her.”

“And the lads?” asked Farthing.

“Still alive,” replied Martin.

“How many are there inside the great hall itself?” asked Gamel.

“Arabel, Malise, the twins, Lady Logan, and six guards.”

“Are they skilled fighters?”

“I fear I am not a good judge of such things, but they are hired swords and they didnae ask much coin for their work, if that helps ye at all.”

“Some. And how ready are they for an attack?”

“There is an odd thing. They act as if they have already won. ’Tis a chilling blind confidence that makes one wonder if they possess some knowledge I dinnae or have the gift of foresight and already ken that they will win. Howbeit, when I think straight, I realize that they have neither.”

Gamel nodded. “Their foolish arrogance can only help us.” He pointed to Blane and half of the men in the room. “Take these men and see if ye cannae get the outer gates open as we planned. The rest of our men are watching for just such a chance so they will be quick to respond. I will give ten counts of one hundred, then the rest of us shall go into the great hall.”

“I still think we can manage the gate,” said Martin as he went to peer out into the corridor. “A wee bit of guile is all that is needed and I have a proven skill in that. ’Tis still somewhat unknown that I am no longer trusted.” He glanced at the group of men standing with a scowling Blane. “If I give an order, will it be heeded?”

“Aye,” grumbled Blane. “I will obey it if I am sure it willnae get my throat cut.”

Martin slowly smiled. “Fair enough. Follow me then.”

“Count for me, Ligulf,” Gamel ordered the moment Martin led the other men away. “I would ne’er be able to keep the count straight.” He ran a hand through his hair as Ligulf began to count. “Even the time I have allowed Martin feels too long,” he muttered and moved to stand against the wall near the door.

“’Tis the wisest way to play this game,” said Farthing, his gaze fixed upon the door.

“Wisest mayhaps, but not easy. Sine is but a few yards away with a woman who aches to see her dead and I stand here listening to Ligulf counting.”

“’Twould be certain to get us all killed if we start a row in the great hall ere Martin gets the gates open—”

“I ken it—we will all be slaughtered or captured and our help still locked outside the walls. ’Tis just that my innards are knotted with the fear that I shall get in there to find that Sine is already dead.”

“These boys are proof that your father betrayed me,” Arabel yelled as she paced the floor in front of Sine.

“Betrayed ye ?” Although Arabel’s rage was an unsettling thing to see, Sine tried to keep it stirred up, for it was distracting the woman from her plans for the twins. “’Tis ye who first betrayed him, and he tolerated it for years ere he turned to another. Your portrayal of the wronged wife is truly laughable.”

“He betrayed me. No mon betrays me. No mon. Weel, he paid for it, he and his whore.”

“I should be careful whom I called a whore.”

Arabel whirled and struck out. Sine tried to duck the blow, but only partially succeeded. The way Arabel’s guards held her with her arms spread so tautly, she could not dodge very far and every movement was painful. Arabel’s closed fist scraped over her mouth and Sine tasted the salty warmth of her own blood.

“God’s teeth, the little bastards even look like your father,” Arabel muttered as she abruptly turned her attention back to the twins. “This one has the same prideful look in his cursed eyes.” She grabbed a handful of Beldane’s fair hair and tilted his head back a little, placing her dagger against his throat. “Weel, there is one sure way to dim that cursed defiance.”

“And now ye mean to murder them as ye did my father.” Despite how it hurt her to do so, Sine began to struggle in her captors’ hold, desperate to break free and get her brothers out of Arabel’s reach. Even though she knew she was doing exactly what Arabel wanted she could not stop herself.

“Your father’s death was far swifter and cleaner than the one I plan for his bastards.”

Sine nearly cried out when Arabel lightly drew her dagger over Beldane’s vulnerable throat. Blood slowly welled up from the shallow cut. Beldane’s eyes were wide and he grew pale, but he made no sound, simply stared at his persecutor. Sine was so proud, the emotion briefly pierced through her grief and terror.

“Ye will rot in hell for your crimes, Arabel,” Sine hissed.

“Do ye think to afright me with that poor threat? I have no fear of hell. I was destined for that ere ye were even conceived. I have grown quite accustomed to the thought of it.”

Arabel suddenly tensed and frowned. Sine felt her guards grow still. She forced herself to listen as they were doing and felt a surge of hope. Although the sounds were dulled by the thick walls of the keep, she was sure she heard the distinct clatter of swords. She looked at Malise, who ran to a small window, flung open the shutters, and looked out into the bailey.

“They have taken the bailey! Some traitor has opened the gates. The Logans and their men are inside the walls,” he cried, and drawing his sword, he started toward the doors of the great hall.

A scream of fury escaped Arabel. At the same moment Sine was so abruptly released that she lost her balance and ended up sprawled on the floor. The same thing happened to her brothers. Their guards were following Malise, and Sine wondered fleetingly if they planned to join the fight or run.

“Malise,” yelled Arabel. “Where do ye think ye are going? We arenae finished here.”

Malise halted a step or two from the door and looked back at his wife. “Oh, aye, I am finished here. I fear we may all be finished here. The Logans are already within the inner wall. Most of our men will surrender or flee. Weel, ye wanted this. ’Tis yours, all yours. Save yourself or die. I dinnae much care, wife. I have my own neck to protect now.”

Her dagger still clutched in her hand, Arabel looked at the twins, who were struggling to help each other sit up. Sine read the intent in Arabel’s tight features. The woman did not mean to die alone. Although her muscles were so strained that they ached with every movement, Sine leapt to her feet. Arabel raised her dagger and smiled coldly at Beldane, who was trying to shield Barre. With a cry of fury, Sine lunged for her mother and grabbed Arabel by the wrist of her upraised arm.

The force of Sine’s attack sent her and Arabel to the floor. She sought to disarm her mother, but she quickly understood that Arabel had other plans. Even now, with defeat staring Arabel in the face, the woman was determined to kill her. There was such hatred in the woman’s eyes that Sine knew Arabel simply did not care that she could be caught with the bloodied dagger in her hand, proof that would send Arabel straight to the gallows.

A crash intruded upon their silent deadly struggle, followed by the sounds of battle. Sine forced herself not to be distracted by the clang of swords or the grunts and curses of men fighting. She watched Arabel closely as they wrestled, Sine trying to yank the dagger from Arabel’s hand even as Arabel tried to bury it in her heart. A scream echoed in the hall and Sine saw her chance as Arabel, distracted, looked to see what had happened.

Sine pinned her mother more securely beneath her and slammed the hand clutching the dagger against the rush-covered stone floor again and again. Arabel finally screamed with a mixture of frustration and pain. The dagger slid from her limp and bloodied hand. Sine sat up a little and punched Arabel as hard as she could. She grimaced as her fist slammed into Arabel’s jaw, sickened by what she had done.

Arabel went limp beneath her. Sine straddled her mother’s unconscious body for a few moments as she fought to calm her breathing and regain her strength. She was still trembling faintly from weakness as she hobbled to her feet and stumbled over to the twins.

“Are ye all right?” she asked the boys, her voice hoarse and uneven. “Ye look terrible, but do ye think ye suffer from anything more than the bruises I can see?”

“Nay. We were beaten a wee bit, but naught is broken or e’en bleeding anymore,” Beldane answered. “How are ye? Ye were knocked about some as weel.”

“Not verra much. The weapon they used upon me was words. ’Twill be over soon,” she whispered, and turned to look at the men although there was little fighting left to be done.

Gamel faced a wounded Malise. Sine suspected it had been Malise’s scream which had briefly distracted Arabel. The man was bleeding profusely from a wound in his side, but he still stood firm before Gamel, clearly determined to fight to the death. Sine prayed that Malise would not prove strong or clever enough to defeat Gamel. She sat tensely watching the final confrontation.

“Give up, Malise,” ordered Gamel. “Ye cannae fight me now.”

“Nay?” Malise thrust his sword at Gamel, but Gamel blocked the lunge. “I willnae meekly succumb to the king’s justice. Far better a swift death now than a slow hanging later.”

Despite his wound, Malise attacked, furiously swinging his sword. Gamel was forced back a few steps as he skillfully deflected each blow. Malise quickly weakened, his attack growing awkward. Gamel found an opening a moment later and ended the uneven battle with one clean thrust, burying his blade in Malise’s heart. When he yanked his sword free of Malise’s flesh, the man fell to the ground, dying with barely a whisper. Gamel stood over Malise’s limp body, using the man’s jupon to clean off his sword. The last of the guards surrendered even as Sine watched. Gamel turned to look at her and she tried to smile.

“Where is Farthing?” asked Barre.

“He saw that he wasnae needed here,” replied Gamel, forcing his gaze away from Sine’s pale face. “He stepped out into the bailey to lend a hand there.”

“Is it safe now to go and see him?” Beldane asked even as he stood up.

“Aye, I believe so. Even though I caught only a brief glimpse of the bailey as he left, it looked as if most of the fighting was done. He will be quick to tell ye if it isnae. Go on if ye think ye are able.”

“We can walk across the hall if naught else,” Barre said as, holding Beldane’s hand, he led his brother toward the door of the great hall.

Sine sat where she was. She needed to regain her composure before she faced Gamel. The battle against Arabel and Malise had been settled in her favor. There was just one more terrible thing to face—the painful but necessary ending of her marriage. She knew he would be at her side in a moment or two and she struggled to make some plan on how to take that last step. Now did not seem a very good time to announce that she wanted the annulment, but to delay would allow Gamel to change her mind. She would make the cut swiftly.

A soft rustle briefly tugged her from her thoughts. Cautiously, she turned to look at Arabel. The woman was still, her eyes closed. Sine relaxed and realized that she had been nearly frozen with fear, her whole body stiff. She cursed that weakness, wondering if she would ever be truly free of Arabel. Then she saw Gamel starting toward her.

Sine did not look too badly bruised to him, but her paleness and obvious shakiness worried him. He took a few strides toward her and froze.

Arabel was slowly rising to her feet, her dagger in her hand. Sine, lost in her own thoughts, did not see the woman. He cursed the fates and Arabel as he drew his own dagger. He moved toward Sine with more caution, needing to get closer so that he could at least hurl his dagger with some accuracy, and he could not afford to startle or alert Arabel, as the woman was close enough to Sine to really hurt her before he could do anything to help. Even some attempt to warn Sine could cause Arabel to act before he was able to halt her.

He kept his gaze fixed upon Arabel as he edged nearer. The woman crept behind the unsuspecting Sine. Gamel shivered at the look on the woman’s face—a mixture of insane hatred and pure glee over the chance to kill her own child. When Arabel suddenly lunged for Sine, Gamel could not withhold a cry of warning, but it did little good. Arabel grabbed a hank of Sine’s hair, yanked her daughter’s head back, and placed her knife at Sine’s exposed throat.

A cry of pain and fear caught in Sine’s throat when the cold steel of Arabel’s dagger touched her neck. She instinctively reached up to pull Arabel’s hand aside, only to feel the sting of the blade scoring her skin. The way Arabel held her head pulled back made it impossible for Sine to see if anyone was ready to help her. All she was aware of was a sudden silence all around her.

“Ye thought ye had won, didnae ye?” Arabel’s voice was a soft sneer, heavy with a chilling bitterness.

“Dinnae do this, Arabel. Ye survived the battle. Ye will ne’er survive my murder.”

“Survived? Should I feel pleased that I have been spared the sword so that I can taste the rope about my neck? Nay, let them kill me here. But they will have a verra sour victory, for I will take your life ere I die.”

Sine tensed, bracing herself for the death stroke, but it did not come. Instead, she heard a soft thud and felt Arabel jerk. The dagger dropped from Arabel’s hand, but she did not release her grip on Sine’s hair. Sine cried out as she was first pulled backwards and then to the side. Her mother landed half on top of her after their clumsy fall and finally loosed her grip on her hair.

A dagger she recognized as Gamel’s protruded from Arabel’s back. Her whole body shaking, Sine carefully sat up and held her mother in her arms. She was swamped by a sudden sense of loss, but she knew it was not really for Arabel. It was for the mother she had never had. Even the lingering look of hatred in Arabel’s clouding eyes did not dim that grief.

“I always kenned that it would end this way,” Arabel whispered, her voice hoarse with pain. “I always kenned that ye would bleed me of my beauty and then of my life. I could see it in your wee face the day ye slid free of my body. I saw it in your wide eyes as I put my hands around your tiny throat.”

Arabel shuddered, then went limp in Sine’s hold, her sightless eyes fixed upon the ceiling and a malevolent look frozen upon her face. Sine hesitated to look at Gamel when he approached. She shivered as he eased the dagger from Arabel’s back. It horrified her to think that her mother had forced Gamel to kill a woman, something she knew he would find difficult to accept. He was a true knight and, as a knight, his duty was to protect women. When she finally turned to him he was pale and it appeared as if his feelings had been suddenly and deeply hurt, but she was too weary and distraught to wonder why.

“I am sorry ye had to kill her,” she forced herself to say, and wondered why that should make him look even worse.

“Dearling,” Farthing said as he reached her side. “Let her go and come with me.”

Sine dutifully relinquished her hold on Arabel and let Farthing help her to her feet. “Where are ye taking me?” she asked as he gently led her from the great hall.

“To someplace where ye can rest. The battle is over. Martin and Blane opened the gates of Dorchabeinn to Lord William and my father, who quickly led their men into the outer bailey. There wasnae much resistance.”

“She said such vile, wicked things, Farthing,” she murmured, leaning into his hold when he put his arm around her shoulders as they climbed the narrow steps to the upper floors.

“Forget them, lass. I ken it willnae be easy, but put them out of your mind. They were words with no purpose other than to hurt ye.”

He was right and Sine prayed that she would be able to do as he advised. She meekly allowed him to lead her into a small bedchamber, settle her on the bed and tug off her clothes. Once she was stripped to only her chemise, he tucked her beneath the lavender-scented sheets.

“I feel as if the life has been drained out of me, Farthing.”

“’Tis but a weariness of heart and body, and some grief, lass. Ye have been through a great deal this night. ’Twill pass.”

“I should be with the twins. They have endured a great deal since they were stolen from Duncoille.”

“I will care for the boys. Aye, they have been frightened and hurt, but it wasnae their mother doing it to them. It wasnae their own flesh and blood who struck them and threatened them. Ye may not have as many bruises as the boys do, sweet Sine, but the pain is greater, the hurt deeper.”

“Should I not speak to the people of Dorchabeinn? I should tell them that I will now be mistress of these lands.”

“Martin is doing that. Ye can address them yourself at another time.”

“Ye must tell Martin that he is still the steward if he wishes to be.”

“I believe he will eagerly and gratefully accept the post.” He bent and touched a kiss to her cheek. “Rest and regain your strength. Do ye wish me to send Gamel to ye?”

“Nay. I need to be alone for a while.”

When Farthing left she closed her eyes and was surprised when the urge to fall asleep quickly gripped her. Her emotions were in such turmoil, she had not expected sleep to come for hours. She regretted her refusal to see Gamel, but forced that regret aside. In her weak and distraught condition she would cling to him. It was the worst possible time to have him near. Not only could it weaken her resolve to do what was right to set him free, but it would be unkind to use him to give her comfort and then push him away. She reached instead for the oblivion of sleep and prayed that she would wake with the strength she needed to deal with Gamel.

“She needs time to think,” Farthing told Gamel, feeling some sympathy for the pale, stone-faced man.

Gamel felt such pain that he was unable to speak. He nodded. He could still see Sine’s face as she had looked at him over her mother’s body the night before. The look of horror in her beautiful eyes still haunted him. He had hoped that she would have recovered after a night’s rest, but when morning came she had refused to see him again. As he walked to his horse he knew that it was over, that he had won the battle, but at a cost far higher than he had been prepared to pay. He had agreed to allow her to set aside their marriage once her battle was won and now he must honor that promise.

Farthing stood at his father’s side and watched the Logans and their men ride away, back to Duncoille. Although he could understand Sine’s need to be alone, to think without Gamel dogging her every step, he did not like to see the man in such pain. Leaving his father to direct the Magnusson men-at-arms in repairing the damage caused by the brief battle, Farthing went to the bedchamber where Sine was hiding. She had come out only once to thank her allies, then disappeared again.

He frowned when he entered the room and found her at the window watching Gamel ride away. “Weel, I told him that ye needed some time alone. He didnae take it verra weel.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. He grew verra pale but only nodded and then he left. What could he say? He promised that ye could end the marriage when ye chose to and he is an honorable mon. Are ye sure about this, lass?” He moved to stand beside her and studied her wan, melancholy face. “Ye dinnae look like ye want him to leave.”

“Sometimes what we want isnae always what is best for us. I see that Martin is riding with them.”

“I gave him permission to go and visit Margot. He will bring her back here in a few days. And dinnae try and change the subject.”

“I dinnae feel like talking about my decision. Not yet. ’Tis too new. My thoughts arenae clear.”

“All right, but I shouldnae take too long in thinking.” He started back toward the door. “Dinnae make it all too complicated either. Do ye want him or dinnae ye want him is the only question that needs answering.”

When the door shut behind Farthing, Sine sighed and felt guilty over her evasive replies. She also felt guilty about not facing Gamel, about hiding away and letting him leave with no real decision made. It was the coward’s way out, but she needed to be a coward for a little while.

Do ye want him or dinnae ye? Farthing had said. She heartily wished that it was that simple. Aye, I want him, she thought as her tear-washed gaze remained fixed on Gamel’s straight, proud figure and she watched him ride away. That had never been in doubt. What she had to ask herself was—could she take what she wanted so desperately, knowing that she could easily destroy it? The only right answer to such a question was nay.