Silver Flame

Chapter 17

F arthing smiled at everyone as he entered the great keep of Duncoille. It pleased him when they all returned the greeting, filling him with a sense of welcome. After a fortnight of aiding Sine Catriona in establishing herself and the twins at Dorchabeinn, he had spent a full six weeks with his father studying how to manage the lands he would one day inherit. Then he had ridden here for a brief visit with old friends before winter came. But now he could see that he had serious work to do.

“Weel met, cousin Margot,” Farthing called as he strode into the great hall, idly noting that life at Dorchabeinn clearly suited her. He walked to the head table, bowed to Lord William and kissed Lady Edina’s hand before sitting down next to his little cousin and her new husband, Martin Robertson. “My father sends his good wishes,” he said as he accepted a large tankard of wine from a fair-haired page and took a deep, slow drink. He smiled amiably at his four companions. “That embues a body with a welcome warmth. If today is any proof, the winter could be a long and cold one.”

“Do ye plan to visit us for verra long?” asked Lord William. “Ye are, of course, weelcome.”

“Thank ye, m’lord. Nay, I dinnae intend to stay for long. I have come to talk to that fool son of yours. If he isnae here, then I will talk to ye and pray that ye can beat some sense into the empty-headed gosling.”

“I believe your pretty cousin has come here direct from Dorchabeinn upon a similar errand.”

Farthing smiled at the blushing Margot. “I had wondered about it from the moment Sine told me that ye and Martin had traveled to Duncoille. I was at Dorchabeinn but yesterday.”

“Ye didnae make a verra long stay with Sine,” murmured Lady Edina. “She may feel hurt by that.”

“She willnae e’en notice that I have left. I have ne’er seen a more mournful lass. I had expected to find her and Gamel together and fondly planned to torment them for a fortnight or so.” He winked when Lady Edina laughed. “I couldnae understand why Gamel wasnae there.”

“To be fair, cousin, she sent him away after her mother was killed,” said Margot.

“Aye, but after she had time to think, she should have called him back. That was two long months ago, yet she languishes alone at Dorchabeinn. And, considering how fiercely Gamel pursued her in the beginning, I am mightily surprised that he would wait for a summons from her. So since Sine did little more than sigh and mope, I told the twins to be patient, that I would come here and try and find some answers.”

“I have but one,” said Lord William. “Gamel feels that Sine blames him for her mother’s death.”

“Blames him for lancing that boil?” Farthing shook his head. “He cannae be that addle-witted.”

“Mayhaps blame isnae the right word. No matter how Sine felt about her mother, Gamel believes that she cannae see him without also seeing Arabel’s blood upon his hands. He claims that he glimpsed horror in her eyes that day and willnae chance seeing it again.”

“Idiots.” Farthing groaned and shook his head. “My life is cursed with idiots. Weel, if that is all it is, it can be easily mended. I dinnae ken what Gamel thinks he saw, but Sine doesnae see Arabel’s blood upon his hands. She has buried Arabel and put all of that trouble behind her. ’Tis past time that Gamel did the same.”

“I fear there is more to it than that,” Margot said softly. “Martin and I arrived here late yesterday, too late to speak to Gamel. We had hoped to see him today, but havenae caught sight of him. Since we cannae stay here for long, as I am only supposed to have come to collect a few belongings I left behind, we decided to speak to Lord and Lady Logan instead. ’Tisnae just Gamel who keeps them apart. Sine ne’er meant to send for him.”

“She wants the fool. She always has.”

Margot nodded. “She feels she has no right to claim him. The night before ye all rode to Dorchabeinn to save the twins, she spoke to me in confidence.” She grimaced. “And I promised never to speak of what she said.”

Martin took her hand in his. “Ye must. To hold to your promise now is to leave two people in misery.”

“Aye,” Farthing agreed. “I willnae trouble ye with a multitude of examples, but there truly are times when ye can harm a person more by keeping their confidence than by revealing it. ’Tisnae as if ye mean to ride about telling all and sundry either.”

“Aye, I ken it.” After taking a deep breath to restore her courage, Margot told them about Sine’s fears of becoming like her mother. She began to frown when everyone stared at her without speaking for several moments. “Oh, sweet Mary, do ye think it might be true?”

“True?” Farthing bellowed. “’Tis the greatest pile of nonsense I have heard in my entire life!”

“Be fair,” Margot said. “There are many who believe in the idea of bad seeds.”

“Aye, there are many complete fools in the world too. God’s tears, Gamel thinks himself cursed because he saved Sine’s life and Sine believes she will wake up some morning wanting to bed her entire household guard and then go and poison a few people.” He grinned when Martin laughed, only to be frowned into silence by his wife.

“Ye shouldnae jest about it, cousin,” Margot scolded. “They truly believe these things and it hurts them.”

“Then we had best get them to un believe these things.”

“Ye make it sound so simple.”

“’Tisnae so verra difficult. We simply have to lock the fools up together for a while. Eventually they will begin to talk to each other. Gamel will certainly demand a reason for why Sine pushed him aside, and when the lass explains he will soon show her how foolish that belief is. Then she will question why he so blithely accepted her refusal to see him, something he ne’er did before.”

“And Sine will gladly dissuade him of his belief,” Margot concluded, and started to smile.

“It could work,” Lady Edina agreed. “I have believed from the verra beginning that they belong together.”

“Aye.” Farthing nodded. “They are certainly well matched in their idiocy.”

“Shall we just drag them down to the dungeon and toss them in?” Lord William asked with a grin as he rubbed his hands together. “After enduring Gamel’s surliness for two months, the thought appeals to me.”

Farthing laughed and nodded. “They have earned a few days in chains for this stupidity. Howbeit, they will undoubtedly protest it at first and I dinnae care to hear it. They need a place where they can be safe yet secluded and I believe I ken just the place. There is a wee peel tower on a small stream about half the distance twixt here and Dorchabeinn.”

Lord William nodded. “Aye, I ken the place weel. Greyburn, I believe ’tis called. It has been empty for several years.”

“But ’twill hold them comfortably for a few days. I stopped there to rest my mount and my backside on my way here. With a few supplies and the means to bar the door from the outside, all will be weel.”

“There is the problem of how to get them to the place. We could just abduct them and toss them in, but ’twould sour their mood more than might be wise. There must be a gentler way.”

“I may have an idea or two about that as weel, m’lord,” Farthing said, and slowly grinned.

Sine inwardly grimaced when Martin strode into the solar at Dorchabeinn. She had retired to the small sun-heated room with its large windows to be alone. In a small way she resented the intrusion. It was exhausting to constantly try to act as if she was happy—and she knew she did a poor job of it. Every now and then she had to go off alone to try to subdue her misery. Martin looked agitated, as if something was wrong, and Sine wearily prepared to sort out his problem. She sat up straighter on the cushioned window bench she had been resting on.

“Is something wrong?”

“M’lady.” He gave her a brief bow. “’Tis my wife.”

“Margot?” Sine suddenly realized that he was alone, which was unusual, for he and Margot had been nearly inseparable since their marriage a month ago. “Where is she?”

“Several hours’ ride north of here.”

“What?” Sine stood up and grasped him by the arm. “Why didnae she return with ye?”

“There was a small mishap. She fainted and slid from her mount. Fortunately, she didnae injure herself in the fall, but she remained somewhat lightheaded e’en after she woke from her faint. There was a small peel tower near at hand so I made her comfortable and left two men to guard her. Then I rode back here. If naught else, I shall need a cart so that I can bring her home.”

“Of course. I will come with ye. We shall need a few supplies as ’twill be nearly sunset ere we get there and we shall have to spend the night there. Ye go and ready the cart while I gather whatever else we may need. Dinnae worry, Martin. I am sure she is fine.”

As Martin hurried off to the stables, Sine rushed to gather up some food, medicines, and clothing. A half hour later she was sitting in the back of a small cart leaving Dorchabeinn for the first time since Arabel’s death. She and Martin drove onto the Stirling road and headed north. Sine found herself thinking of how she could follow this road to Duncoille and cursed. Somehow she had to free her heart and mind of Gamel Logan. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but the misery which had engulfed her from the moment Gamel had ridden out of the gates of Dorchabeinn persisted. If she did not cast it off soon, she feared that she would drown in it, or at the very least, make everyone heartily sick of her.

Gamel muttered a curse as the deer loped away and his arrow buried itself uselessly in the ground. “I hope ye didnae have a taste for venison tonight,” he grumbled to Farthing as he spurred his horse forward to go and collect his arrow.

Farthing nudged his mount to keep abreast of Gamel. “Nay. I had but thought that an afternoon of hunting would offer your family a respite from your sullen company.”

“I am not sullen company,” Gamel snapped.

“Oh, aye, ye are. Ye are worse than any old lecher with the gout. But dinnae worry. Look there,” he said as they reined in and Gamel bent to yank his arrow from the dirt. “Is that not your brother Ligulf’s page?”

Once righted in the saddle, Gamel watched the boy galloping up to them and scowled. “Aye, ’tis wee Robbie.” He steadied his mount when the boy abruptly reined in before them. “Careful, lad.”

“I am verra sorry, sir, but I have important news. ’Tis my master, Ligulf. He is hurt.”

“Hurt? How? Where?” Gamel demanded.

“He was tossed from his horse a few hours’ ride from here near Greyburn, a small peel tower by a stream. We were escorting the Robertsons back to Dorchabeinn.”

A sharp pain struck Gamel upon hearing that name, but he forced himself to concentrate upon the trouble Ligulf had gotten himself into. “Was Ligulf badly hurt?”

“He wasnae sure, but his leg is verra painful. He dares not risk riding again until he can be sure that he hasnae broken it. The Robertsons left a few of their men behind to guard him and continued on. I rode back here to get help.”

Gamel nodded. “Fine work, laddie. Farthing and I will go there now. I ken the place ye speak of. Ye ride on to Duncoille and tell my parents. They will send out a cart. Ask for a few supplies as weel. ’Twill be nearly nightfall ere we get there and we shall have to camp.”

The youth rode off and Gamel turned to Farthing. “I included ye without asking if ye cared to join me.”

“Oh, aye, I will come along. I have naught else to do.”

Farthing spurred his mount into a gallop and Gamel quickly followed. As they headed south, Gamel could not stop himself from recalling the last time he had ridden this road and with that memory came a renewal of his pain. He cursed himself, cursed fate, and cursed Sine. When his dagger had buried itself in Arabel Brodie, it had severed any chance he had had of staying with Sine, of being happy. Gamel knew he had to accept that. He had to conquer his pain or it would corrupt him. In fact, he decided, it was past time to get an annulment. He vowed that, as soon as Ligulf’s trouble was corrected, he would go on to Dorchabeinn and confront Sine.

It was evening by the time Gamel and Farthing reached Greyburn. Gamel frowned as he dismounted. He was not sure what he had expected to find, but, as two men ambled over to take his and Farthing’s horses, Gamel could not feel completely at ease.

“Where is Ligulf’s mount?” Gamel asked the taller of the men-at-arms.

“In a field near the stream. The lad is inside the tower.”

Gamel shook his head and strode into the peel tower. Just beyond the heavy iron-banded door, he stopped and looked around. For a place that had been empty for years, it looked very clean and well supplied. He took another step inside and stared up at the partial second floor. There was a large bed up there. There was also no Ligulf.

With a curse, Gamel turned back to Farthing, who stood in the doorway. “I think someone is playing a game with us.”

“Do ye?”

“Aye.” Gamel took a step toward Farthing, then gaped. It was all he had time to do before the fist he saw coming toward him struck his jaw and sent him plummeting into unconsciousness.

“I think ye enjoyed that.”

Farthing grinned at Ligulf, who had stepped up beside him. “Aye, I did. Help me get the fool up on the bed. The mon sent to watch the road just signaled that Martin is in sight. We had better not be here when Sine arrives.”

“We are here, Lady Sine,” said Martin.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, a little surprised that she had slept. She grabbed the basket of supplies and, with Martin’s help, jumped down from the cart. A sense that something was not quite right washed over her, but she shook it aside, for she could see no reason to be suspicious.

“Margot is inside?” she asked, pointing to the peel tower.

“Aye. Go right in. I had best see to these horses.”

She walked toward the tower nodding a greeting to the two guards who passed her on their way to help Martin. When she stepped inside the two-story edifice, she frowned. It looked as if someone was living there. She saw no sign of Margot either, and turned to step back outside and speak to Martin. Sine gaped when she came face-to-face with Farthing. He grinned, winked, and slammed the door shut. It was not until she heard the sound of the door being bolted from the outside that she shook free of the grip of surprise.

“Farthing!” She set her basket down, ran to the door, and pounded on it with her fists. “Farthing! Open this cursed door and let me out of here. What game are ye playing at?”

There was no answer, just a ripple of soft laughter. She cursed and looked up, espying a narrow arrow slit on the upper floor. Determined to get Farthing to speak to her, she scrambled up the ladder and rushed over to the opening. She gaped at what she saw below her. Farthing, Martin, Ligulf, and a very healthy Margot stood together talking and laughing.

“Farthing, ye arrogant, lecherous swine, let me out of here!”

When Farthing and the others just smiled and waved at her before walking away, she cursed some more. She was about to hurl a few very colorful epithets their way when she heard a groan from behind her. She told herself firmly that her friends would never knowingly place her in danger, but she still felt a touch of fear as she slowly turned around. It took her a moment to accept that she was looking at Gamel, a bare-chested Gamel, who was slowly sitting up in a large, simple bed. Then she noticed that he was gently touching his jaw, which was bruised. A thin streak of blood ran down his chin from his lip.

“The bastard hit me,” Gamel muttered.

Her heart pounding in alarm, Sine hurried over to the bed. The fact that he had not yet commented on her presence confirmed her growing suspicion that he was hurt. A bowl of clean water and a rag were on the table next to the bed. Sine dampened the rag, nudged Gamel’s hand out of the way, and gently bathed his lip and jaw.

She tried to keep her thoughts on the fact that he had been injured, but it was difficult. It had been so long since she had seen or touched him. It hurt to be near him now.

Sine realized that she had lingered too long over the chore of tidying his little cut, but when she tried to snatch her hand back, he grabbed her wrist. Her eyes wide and her stomach knotted with conflicting emotions, she warily met Gamel’s gaze. It was evident from the look darkening his green eyes that the fact that they had been deceived by their friends and locked together in a peel tower was not what was foremost in his mind. He was remembering the same things she was—the heated kisses they had shared, the sweet touch of flesh upon flesh. When he began to draw her closer to him, she did not have the strength to resist.

“Nay,” she whispered, yet did not stop him when he slipped his arm about her waist and urged her down onto the bed. “We cannae do this.”

“We are wed.” Gamel placed soft kisses over her throat as he began to unlace her gown with unsteady hands. “The Church sanctions it.”

Sine had some doubts that the Church would sanction everything she was feeling or thinking of doing to Gamel. She was trying to form the words to remind Gamel of all the trouble and unanswered questions that still separated them when he kissed her. With each stroke of his tongue within her mouth he stole another thought from her mind. By the time the kiss ended she was wearing only her shift and could no longer remember why she should vigorously protest his lovemaking.

“I should say nay,” she muttered, and rubbed her hands over his strong back, delighting in the feel of his smooth, warm skin beneath her fingers.

“Ye should say, Oh, Gamel.” He tugged off her shift, tossed it aside, and pulled her beneath the linen sheet which covered him.

“Oh, Gamel,” she whispered when he pressed her body against his and their flesh touched for the first time in two long months. “Oh, Gamel,” she repeated, threading her fingers in his thick hair and hungrily kissing him.

A carnal wildness seered through Sine Catriona. A desperate hunger drove her. She tried to touch Gamel everywhere at the same time. She touched her lips and tongue to his skin at every chance she got, starved for the taste of him. At times she clung to him so tightly that he grunted in protest, but she only eased her grip a little. She could not hold him close enough and, for a moment, savored the mad thought of pulling him inside of her so that nothing and no one could ever part them again.

Gamel clearly shared her frantic need, and that knowledge fed hers, increasing it. She fought with him over which of them would lead their passionate dance, yet was equally as pleased when he won the silent struggle as when she did. Even after they were one, the struggle continued. They rolled from one side of the bed to the other, first with him on top and then her. Release came fast and fierce, and their cries blended as they shuddered from the strength of it.

But even as Gamel sank down into her arms, Sine began to think again. His breathing was as ragged as her own, the heavy, swift gasps heating the side of her neck. She could feel his heartbeat and it echoed the rapid pace of her own. They were united in so many ways—in body, need, even the rhythm of their breathing—yet her first clear thought was that the lovemaking had been a grave error.

Nothing had changed. She was still Arabel Brodie’s daughter. She still had to remain alone. This time with Gamel had been no more than a brief respite from her loneliness and pain and she should have resisted the temptation. All her memories would now be honed to a more painful sharpness. When she felt him stir in her arms she tensed, dreading the moment when she would have to meet his gaze and tell him that they could never do this again.

Regret pinching at his heart, Gamel eased the intimacy of their embrace. When Sine tried to slip away, he held her in place gently but firmly. When she finally looked at him, he tensed, then felt the touch of confusion. Her expression held sadness, regret, and some wariness—but no horror, no loathing or accusation, none of the chilling emotions that had sent him fleeing Dorchabeinn after Arabel Brodie had died. He felt the first flicker of hope in two long months.

“Have ye forgiven me for the spilling of your mother’s blood?”

Sine frowned at him, wondering why he should ask such a strange, foolish question. “What was there to forgive? We all kenned that it had to end with her death.”

“Aye, but I killed her. ’Twas my dagger that pierced her heart.” He sat up, though he still straddled her.

“Better that than her dagger resting in my heart, which was what she was trying to accomplish. Ye saved my life.”

He moved off her to sit at her side and then ran his hand through his already badly tousled hair. “I dinnae understand.”

“If ye find yourself confusing, then I dinnae feel so bad about finding ye so as weel.” She sat up, tugged the linen sheet around her body and wondered where he had thrown her clothes. “I cannae think why ye should want forgiveness for anything ye did that night. Ye simply did what ye must. What wrong can ye see in that? I certainly see none.”

“Nay? I saw the look upon your face. I saw the horror in your eyes.”

“Did ye think that was for ye? For what ye had done?” she asked in soft surprise, an emotion which increased when he nodded. “Gamel, I had just spent what felt like hours struggling to survive, to endure her evil words and deeds. My brothers were bruised and bleeding. My own mother spat naught but hate and fury at me, then tried to kill me with her own hands. Of course I would have a look of horror on my face after enduring all of that. It took days for that horror to begin to leave me.”

Gamel did not want to believe that he had erred, had left her when there had been no need. “Ye were weeping.”

“Of course I was weeping,” she replied, a hint of exasperation in her tone, then she sighed. “It wasnae for Arabel, not completely. ’Twas an odd grief. She was never a mother to me, and mayhaps I wept because her death meant that would ne’er change. She died speaking of her hate for me so now that hate is eternal.

“And weeping can be purging for a woman, Gamel. I had spent those two days while she held the twins torn by emotion and fear.” She shrugged. “’Twas over, so I cried. None of it was aimed at ye or the fact that ’twas your dagger that killed her. I swear it. Ye did what ye had to do. ’Tis all. Now, I must get dressed and try to get that rogue Farthing to let me out of here.” She gave a soft cry of surprise when Gamel suddenly pinned her back down on the bed. “Gamel, I must return to Dorchabeinn.”

“I didnae hear ye ask me to journey there with ye.”

She suddenly realized that relieving him of his guilt might have been the kind thing to do, but not the wisest. Now he wanted some answers as to why they remained apart. “Nay, I didnae ask ye to and I willnae.”

That hurt, but Gamel fought his first reaction to it. Her words were cruel, but her eyes, her whole expression, held only regret and sadness. Nor did a woman make love to a man as she had just done if she did not want him.

“Why? If ye dinnae blame me for Arabel’s death, then why do ye keep us apart?”

“Ye said I could end this marriage when my trouble was over.”

“I ne’er said I wouldnae demand a reason. Ye are lying here naked, still prettily flushed from our lovemaking, yet ye speak of annulment and separation. I want to ken the reason.”

“And ye willnae release me until I tell ye—aye?”

“Aye. I believe our friends willnae release either of us until this all makes sense.”

Sine softly cursed, then sighed with resignation. He had a right to know her reasons for pushing him away. He had risked his life to help fight her enemies. He had been a friend, a protector, a lover. She prayed that he would not torment her with any long arguments, but would simply accept their fate.

“I am Arabel Brodie’s daughter—her flesh and blood.”

“I had noticed that.” He eased his hold on her a little and frowned. “The woman is dead. She cannae hurt us.”

“Nay? Her blood flows in my veins.”

“Aye? Do ye fear I might hold that against ye?”

“Nay, but ’twould be wiser if ye did.”

“What do ye mean?”

“The apple doesnae fall far from the tree.”

“Oh, that is verra clarifying.”

“I am Arabel’s daughter. God’s blood, I am her verra image.”

“And I have told ye that it doesnae matter.”

Sine took several breaths to calm herself. “Have ye ne’er heard of tainted blood?”

“Aye.”

There was a tone to his voice and a look in his eye as he said that one word that made Sine wary, but she pressed on. “Weel, with a mother such as Arabel, I am certainly one who should deeply concern herself with such matters. I must surely carry a bad seed. Mayhaps it will ne’er blossom, but what if it does? I could become Arabel in spirit as weel as in appearance. I could turn on the ones I care about, even hurt them, as Arabel did. And, God help us, I could pass this curse on to any children I might bear.”

Gamel had listened to her explanation with growing incredulity. He could not believe that she would throw away all they could share for the sake of a superstition. Despite recognizing her deep and sincere concern, her very real fears, he grew more and more annoyed. He knew he should speak calmly and should sympathize yet make her see reason but he ached to give her a shaking that would loosen her teeth.

“So, ye can see now that the only thing to do is for me to remain alone,” Sine concluded, and eyed Gamel a little warily, for he looked inclined to throttle her. That was a reaction she had not anticipated.

“Were ye born this stupid or have years of listening to Farthing’s prattle dulled your wits?” he finally demanded.

“I beg your pardon?” She had never expected such a reaction and was a little hurt by the hint of contempt in his voice.

Gamel hopped off the bed and began to pace the floor, pausing only to grab his braies up from the floor and put them on. “One of the things I appreciated about ye was that ye had some wit, that ye werenae some sheltered empty-headed lass who could talk about little more than tapestries and impudent handmaidens. Howbeit, now ye make me seriously doubt that there is anything behind those huge violet eyes.”

“There is no need to insult me.” She began to get angry, a feeling bred from his scorn over something that had tormented her for months. “We deal with madness here. ’Tis something to be concerned about. I carry Arabel’s tainted blood.”

He stood at the edge of the bed, his hands on his hips. “Let us summon the surgeon then and he can drain it out with his leeches. I now understand what our friends were about. They somehow learned of this nonsense ye have taken into your head and decided that we needed to be shut up together so that I could try and beat some sense into ye.”

“Ye would ne’er beat me.” She began to feel confused. His certainty that she was spouting nonsense began to make her doubt her own belief.

“’Tis sorely tempting. Sine, tainted blood is naught but superstition.” He grasped her by the shoulders. “Aye, some verra important people believe it, but ’tis still nonsense. Ye can find as many people who prove bad seeds are not passed from parent to child as ye can ones who prove it. More of the former, I think. What tainted Arabel cannae be passed on to a child. Why do ye find that so hard to believe?”

“I want to believe it,” she whispered. “That alone makes me hesitant to do so. Since I want to believe ye so badly, it could cloud my reason.”

“Your reasoning cannae be any more clouded than it is.” He sat down on the bed beside her. “I will concede that, at times, there does seem to be a madness passed from parent to child. ’Tis rare, but does happen. Howbeit, ye can see it in the child. The madness doesnae lay hidden for years, then suddenly leap out. What ailed your mother was not so much a madness as a lack of heart, of soul. What emotions she had were all the bad ones. Sine, how old was your mother when she bore ye?”

“Seventeen.”

“And the evil was already there, already at work.”

“Aye, it was. I ken it from all I was told, from what she herself spat at me.” Sine began to feel the first glimmer of hope.

“Yet ye are a year or more older than that and there hasnae been a hint that ye are like her in any way except for how ye look. Arabel hated children, yet ye were willing to die for your brothers. Arabel hungered for any mon she saw, yet ye were with Farthing for six long years and ne’er slept with him. Arabel thought nothing of killing people for the pettiest of reasons. Ye are no murderer, lass. She was cruel and vain and ye are neither. There is none of that woman’s blackness inside of ye.

“Ye need more proof? Why did ye turn away from me, plan to live your life alone, e’en though ye want me? Aye, the way we greeted each other today proves that ye want me as fiercely as I want ye. Yet ye were prepared to throw that all away. Why?”

“I couldnae stay with ye when I thought of what I could become,” she answered in a slightly meek tone, color flooding into her cheeks as she began to understand how foolish she had been. “I feared that, if I became like my mother, it would hurt ye. I would have hurt ye. Aye, and mayhaps all the ones ye care about. I kenned that the kindest thing to do would be to leave ye.”

“Ah, self-sacrifice. Arabel wasnae exactly brimming over with that characteristic either.”

“Oh, Gamel,” she murmured, running a hand through her hair and fleetingly wondering when he had taken it down. “I think I have made a verra great fool of myself.”

He took her into his arms and held her close. “But for such noble reasons. I believe I can forgive ye.”

“How kind.” She laughed and realized it was the first time she had done so since leaving him. “What do we do now?”

“Live at Dorchabeinn. Or Duncoille, if ye would rather.”

“Ye wish us to remain mon and wife?”

“Now, here I am thinking that your wits have returned and ye shatter my illusions with that stupid question. I have ye now, lass, and ye willnae slip away again. Ye put me through two long months of hell, loving. I cannae face that again,” he whispered as he gently tumbled her down onto the bed, sprawled on top of her, and kissed her. “God’s tears, how I have missed ye, woman.” He nuzzled her neck. “If I had known how painful love can be, I would ne’er have let ye drag me into it.”

Sine held him tightly, his words causing such a wealth of emotion to swell up within her that she was speechless for a moment. “Ye love me?”

Gamel lifted his head to look at her and cupped her face in his hands. “There ye go—being an idiot again. How could ye not ken it, lass? Ye are the other half of me, all that makes me complete. Without ye I am naught but an empty husk of a mon. Aye, and a surly one, according to Farthing.”

Afraid that the tears stinging her eyes would be visible to him, she tugged him closer and pressed her face against his shoulder. “I love ye too, Gamel Logan.” She laughed shakily when he hugged her tightly. “’Tis true that I was slow to guess at my own feelings, but the moment I found myself alone at Dorchabeinn I had no more doubts. I always felt that ye were pressing me so hard, I ne’er had time to ken my own mind. I had thought spending some time without ye would help to clear my thinking. Weel, five minutes, mayhaps less, was enough time alone.”

“I apologize for pressing ye so, dearling. I was desperate to hold on to ye and each day that passed without some word of love from ye only made me more desperate.” He lifted his head and brushed a kiss over her mouth as he tugged away the linen sheet between them. “I was so certain that ye were the mate I had searched for that I wanted ye to feel it too—immediately.”

“I did, Gamel.” She slid her foot up and down his leg. “I may not have recognized it immediately, but ’twas there in such strength it sometimes frightened me.” She eased her hands down his sides until she grasped his hips and pressed his groin snugly against hers. “Weel, now that we have settled each other’s fears and doubts, what can we do?” She laughed softly when he grinned with sweet lechery.

“I suspect our friends will think that it will take us a few days to untangle our troubles, not a mere hour. So, I think we shall be left alone for a while. I intend to love ye until ye havenae got a doubt left—not about yourself or me.”

Sine opened her mouth to assure him that she had no doubts left already, then slowly smiled. “’Tis a fine plan. Ye ne’er can tell when a wee doubt might slip into a lass’s mind.”

Gamel laughed. “Do ye feel the nip of one now?”

“There is the wee shadow of one, I think.”

“Then I shall smother it with loving.” He grew serious as he traced the shape of her mouth with his finger. “Ah, lass, I do love ye.”

“And I love ye, Gamel.”

“Forever.”

“Aye—e’en longer, if God allows.” She grinned and winked at him. “And e’en when ye are a surly husk of a mon with the gout and not a strand of your bright hair left on your head.” She laughed when he scowled, even though his fine eyes sparkled with humor.

“This is a most serious and tender moment, yet ye make jests,” he said.

“’Tis because I am so verra happy. Ye love me and I can speak of my love for ye without fear now.”

“And? I hear an ‘and’ in your tone.”

“And I have finally won, truly won. I have finally beaten Arabel.” She met his understanding smile with one of her own.

“We are both victorious, lass, and there has ne’er been a more glorious prize for winning,” he said, and kissed her.