Page 12 of The Highlander’s Wild Flame (Brotherhood of Solway Moss #1)

“Against love’s fire fear`s frost hath dissolution.”

William Shakespeare

“My paints are under my bed,” Eleri said, excitement in her tone as if they were going to a festival rather than down in the great hall to paint. The poor girl must truly feel imprisoned up there.

Sara lifted the edge of the heavy quilt and pulled a wooden box out, opening it. Eleri gasped behind her. “Not that one.”

The open box held a folded swath of yellow silk. Holy Mother Mary! Sara knew immediately that it was the Fairy Flag. Did Rory know his clan’s biggest weapon was hidden under his adopted-sister’s bed?

Without a word, Sara closed the box and pushed it back under the girl’s bed, retrieving the other one. Sara lifted it, meeting Eleri’s wide eyes with a reassuring smile. “Let’s see if we can carry everything in one trip.”

After Eleri made certain her door was locked, they carried the girl’s painting supplies down to the great hall: a canvas, metal spatulas, a palette, and one of two wooden boxes out from under her bed, a treasure trove of paints. Sara placed one foot before the next while her mind whirled with worry and surprise. Neither of them broke the silence down all four levels of the castle. Reaching an empty great hall, Eleri laid her canvas and roll of spatulas on the cleared table before sitting. Sara set the box of paints down, along with rags. Gus pushed underneath to lie at their feet.

Sara felt Eleri’s cold hand cover hers. “You mustn’t tell anyone,” Eleri whispered, not looking at her. “About the flag.”

Sara took her hand in her warm ones, rubbing it. “I won’t, but Eleri…” She waited for the girl to look at her. “It should be locked away. ’Tis too dangerous for you to be the one guarding it.”

Eleri shook her head. “No one comes up to see me, and I keep my door locked. It makes me…useful.”

Sara’s heart clenched at the word, and she squeezed the girl’s hand. “You don’t have to be useful to be here, Eleri.”

“Jamie won’t be able to use me to form an alliance with my bent back.” She pulled her hand from Sara’s. “I feel better when I’m useful.”

Well, hell, Sara could understand that only too well. She’d agreed to wed a stranger to be useful.

Eleri pulled a few vials out of the paint box. “I use madder root for deep red browns. The blues could be better, but the Azur of Acre costs too much, more than gold leaf. I use azurite instead. ’Tis blue enough for my work.”

Sara would talk to Rory about moving the Fairy Flag and Eleri’s skewed view of her position at Dunvegan. Jamie had made his adopted sister feel like a burden. Anger tightened her forehead.

Eleri’s movements with the metal spatula were confident as she scraped the dabs of paint around. She seemed to have a natural talent, which had been honed with hours of practice.

“If I’m ever commissioned to paint something of import,” Eleri said, “I will request the brighter blue.” Using a dull blade with yellow and a bit of madder root pigment, Eleri sliced the paint across the canvas to create realistic petals on a bouquet of spring wildflowers.

Voices from the entry archway filtered into the great hall. “Well, she is called the Flame of Dunscaith,” came a man’s croaky voice.

Both Eleri and Sara looked up, Sara’s heart tapping faster. That bloody name would see her dead.

A snort was followed by, “Alasdair would have figured out that Macdonald bastard’s plan before Jamie said ‘I do pledge.’”

Around the corner came the two elderly men who were said to be Rory’s mother, Charlotte Sutherland’s, cousins, John Sutherland and Simon Sutherland. Decades ago, they’d come with Charlotte when she wed Alasdair MacLeod and remained on Skye. From what Margaret had told Sara, they’d counseled Alasdair and Charlotte on everything from relations with England to the types of puddings to be made for Christmastide. John had lost his forearm, and Simon had lost his eye, in battles against the Macdonalds.

The men paused when they saw her sitting with Eleri. Simon’s one good eye rounded. “What are ye doing out of yer tower room?”

Gus stirred and stretched out from under the table. His nails clicked as he trotted over to sniff the two men.

“Ye shouldn’t be down below,” John said, gesturing with his remaining hand toward the stairs.

“Lady Sara said I could come down,” Eleri said, starting to gather up her paints.

Sara rested a hand over hers, halting her. “They mean me, not you.” At least she hoped that was true.

“Oh.” Eleri stilled, but her eyes remained large and unsure.

Simon glanced around. “Where’s Rory?”

“Are there no guards here?” called John.

“Rory said I was allowed to come below,” Sara said. “I’m not a prisoner.”

After a pause, Simon said, “Since when?” They seemed to take turns talking, and it took them a moment to remember who spoke last.

Sara pulled the iron key to her room from her tied pocket. “Since Rory gave me this.”

John looked at the ceiling as if beseeching God for assistance. “Giving a Macdonald the run of Dunvegan?”

“She’ll set us aflame by nightfall,” Simon said.

“That name,” Sara said over their grumbling, “the Flame of Dunscaith…” She shook her head. “My father devised it outside the church. I’ve never been called it before.”

John’s unruly brows rose to his thin hairline. “Well, ye’re being called it now.”

“By every MacLeod and their allies.” Simon threw an arm out, waving it around as if pointing to people outside the layers of thick stone walls surrounding them. His sewn-shut eye stretched as if trying to match his wide other eye.

“I’m not a flame of anything,” she said, frowning. “Are you two fueling these lies? Jamie won’t like his…betrothed slandered with lies.” Did the two old men respect their new chief enough for her mild threat to make an impact?

“Jamie won’t mind what’s said about ye if he dies,” John said.

“And ye aren’t his bride or wife. The contract was burned in the fire,” Simon said with a deep nod. “Ye’ll be blamed along with yer evil father if”—his voice rose—“Jamie is struck dead.”

“Jamie is struck dead?” came a screech from the archway, and the blond woman that Reid had told Sara was Winnie Mar ran into the room, clutching her hands. “My Jamie died?”

Gus barked ferociously as if some sea creature had slithered up the steps from the loch and broken through the barred gate to enter Dunvegan, bent on ripping them all apart.

“Nay, lass,” John said, his voice booming in the sudden quiet as Gus took a breath before he continued barking.

“Only if he does die, she will be blamed.” Simon pointed at Sara.

“You traitorous bitch,” the woman screeched, and Sara saw Eleri flinch.

Sara stepped before Eleri and next to Gus, her hand resting on the dog’s head to calm him. It was a natural, practiced stance that she’d used at Dunscaith to protect Eliza from her father or Gilbert’s cruelty.

Winnie’s fingers bent as if they were claws ready to scratch Sara’s eyes out, and the mistress charged. Protecting Eleri and the old dog, Sara’s response was as involuntary as a cat protecting its kitten from a hawk swooping in with talons bared. Arm pulled back, Sara took a forceful step forward.

Crack . Sara’s fist, thumb outside her clenched hand, smashed into the woman’s nose. Pain erupted in Sara’s hand, but she followed through with a swipe of her leg. Even though the skirts hindered her, she’d learned to compensate with a swipe so hard it could trip Gilbert. It definitely knocked Winnie Mar off balance as she screamed, hands going to her nose. She fell with a deep thud on her arse, her yellow petticoats billowing out around her.

Sara leaped back from Winnie when the woman’s legs began to churn wildly in the bright layers of fabric. Eleri had both hands over her mouth, eyes round as full moons. John and Simon clung to each other in horror and then jumped apart as if realizing their cowardly embrace.

Margaret came running into the room. “What’s going on?” she yelled and stopped by Eleri, pulling her against her bosom as if to protect the girl.

“She attacked me!” Winnie called. “Grab…” Her order trailed off on a groan. “My nose!”

“Grab yer nose?” Simon asked.

“I’m not touching it,” John said, but everyone ignored the confused men.

“ You attacked her , Mistress Mar,” Eleri said from Margaret’s arms.

Sara’s heart thumped in a delayed response to the threat, and three guards ran in from two different archways. Winnie wailed, although it was slightly muted from her hands around her nose.

Margaret left Eleri and hurried to Winnie while one of the guards pulled the squawking woman up from the floor. Margaret handed her a rag from a pile Eleri had on the table. “Hamish is here. He can set it for ye.”

“Set it?” Winnie screeched. “’Tis broken?”

“Fetch Hamish from Jamie’s room,” Margaret said, and a guard jogged off.

“What are ye doing here, Mistress Mar?” Margaret asked.

“Being attacked!” A dot of red grew on the outside of the white rag as Winnie’s nose bled through it.

Margaret led her to a chair at the table. “Besides that?”

Eleri quickly grabbed up her half-finished flower portrait as if Winnie might destroy it. The girl looked at her paints but moved away, deciding to abandon them rather than getting within reach of the banshee.

“To see Jamie.” Winnie’s gaze sparked with venom as they settled on Sara. “And I saw this traitor roaming free in the castle.” She gestured toward John and Simon. “They saw. She’s vicious! Throw her in the dungeon pit.”

The dungeon was a pit? Good lord! She looked at Simon and John. “If you try to put me in a pit, you’ll get a bloody nose, too.”

John rubbed the back of his neck and looked quite uncomfortable. Perhaps Winnie didn’t have as many allies willing to lie for her as she thought. But before either one could add credence to her depiction or reveal her as a liar, rapid boots sounded on the steps leading up from the dock.

Rory tore into the room, his sword out. “What the bloody hell is going on?” His voice hit like shards of glass, but Eleri didn’t jump. Instead, the girl’s shoulders relaxed despite her brother’s scowl. His sweeping gaze settled on Sara but then turned to Winnie, who loudly expounded on Sara’s evil, unprovoked attack and subsequent need for flogging, imprisonment in the pit, and eventual death.

Sara leaned toward Eleri. “You can go upstairs if you want.”

The girl shook her head. “I’m a witness to what happened. I won’t leave you.”

Sara smiled in thanks. The girl, who reminded her so much of Eliza, made Sara’s heart swell. “You’re very brave.”

Rory held up a hand to stop Winnie’s tirade. “Margaret, if ye would, take Mistress Mar up to Jamie’s room where Hamish can stop her nose from bleeding.”

“Certainly,” Margaret said, taking Winnie’s arm to help her stand. “Jamie is still unconscious but holding his own.” She led Winnie toward the stairs, the banshee’s muffled complaints fading as she climbed.

“Where’d ye learn that?” John asked Sara, his eyes narrowed.

Simon then made a fist, punched the air, and swiped his leg as if tripping someone. “Do ye use it on that sire of yers?”

Sara looked at the men. “I…use it against Gilbert when he gets angry enough to strike.”

They both stared at her for a long moment, and then John’s wrinkled face relaxed into a half grin. “That big oaf would topple like a sack of grain off the back of a wagon hitting a rut in the road.”

Simon hit John’s good arm gently. “I can see that fool boy spread out on the floor with blood coming from his nose and his slight sister,” he indicated Sara, “standing over him, fists in the air.”

John and Simon looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for some word about her battle conquests. Sara crossed her arms. “I suppose that’s happened a time or two.”

John cackled. “I knew it.”

“Ye’ve got a fighting spirit, lass,” Simon said. His smile pinched into a half frown. “Must be from your father’s blood.”

“Nay,” John said, shaking his head. “Walter Macdonald is a coward bent on using trickery. Seraphina Macdonald punches straight forward.” He threw a punch at an invisible foe. Their kind words made her feel lighter.

Rory’s piercing gaze softened, and he looked down at Eleri. “I’m happy ye came down from yer tower.” He led her toward the steps while carrying her paint box under his other arm.

“Lady Sara asked me to, and we came down together.”

Rory glanced at Sara. Their gazes met, and he gave a small nod in thanks. “Come along, Lady Sara. I have news for both of ye.”

Sara followed him and Eleri into the alcove toward the stairs. “News? Have you heard from Kenan?” Sara asked.

“I saw him today,” Rory said without turning.

“What?” The word flew from her lips like a dagger, and she ran after them, carrying Eleri’s dirty spatulas and palette. “You met with my brother and didn’t take me?” She wanted to grab Rory and shake him, but her hands were full.

“I didn’t know if someone would follow him,” he said. “Gilbert or yer father.” Rory indicated for her to climb up the winding staircase behind Eleri. “I will tell ye above what I found out.”

Sara’s gaze was judging and hard. He met it like an unmoving boulder. Had she imagined the warmth in him the night before? “What am I here?” she said. A glance over Sara’s shoulder showed that the girl had already climbed ahead. “Am I a prisoner? Someone to be used against my father?” Sara asked. “Because he won’t care what happens to me.” She swallowed at the truth. Sweet Mary.

Why had she just given Rory that information? But he must have realized that when her father rode off without her. “Or…am I a weak woman you’ve taken pity on, letting me stay under your protection?”

Rory’s gaze never wavered, and, once again, his amber eyes almost mesmerized her. She blinked, waiting for his reply.

“There is nothing weak about ye, Sara.”

The compliment surged warmth through her like a sunburst.

He took the paint palette from her hand, setting it down, and gently opened her fingers one by one. Her stomach flipped as his thumb brushed against the center of her palm. He turned her hand over, inspecting the broken flesh on her knuckles from where she’d hit Winnie.

“I’ll have ice chipped from the block in the icehouse, and Margaret will bring it up with a poultice,” he said, bending his head to look closer at the wounds.

Sara couldn’t breathe as he held her hand, gently caressing the center of her palm underneath as the fingers on his other hand touched the unbroken skin around the cuts. Rory MacLeod was a hard warrior through and through, but as he stood there caressing her skin, his touch was gentle, almost reverent. “Thank you,” she whispered, raising her gaze from her hand to his face. It held a pained, searching look.

“I’m going to keep climbing,” Eleri called from above, and Rory drew back, leaving Sara’s hand to hover between them. She dropped it.

“We’re coming,” Rory said, picking up the palette. He nodded toward the steps for her to continue.

She adjusted the supplies she held with her other arm and turned. With each step she took, her hips moved naturally side to side under the two layers of petticoats. She could feel Rory’s gaze burning into her back.

There is nothing weak about you, Sara . The respect in the words, in his tone, made her pulse thrum faster, shooting the heat from his touch down into her abdomen. What would it feel like for his fingers to trail like that over other parts of her body?

Sara turned down the hallway that led to Eleri’s tower, and they proceeded in silence, but she felt Rory’s gaze on her the entire way. It wasn’t warm like a sunray but more like the sizzle of a lightning bolt touching down, leaving its little scorch marks across the landscape of her back. Everything about Rory MacLeod was intense, including his scrutiny.

Sara released a breath, the familiar concern about her ugliness washing cold through the heat. Ye’re ugly, girl. Her father’s words had been slurred with whisky. I can’t even use ye to form an alliance with an ally else they send ye back. His words had etched themselves inside her as if done with jagged glass. But he’d easily agreed to her wedding with an enemy.

At the top of the tower steps, Eleri produced a key, and Sara and Rory followed her inside. The room was cold because the fire had died, but Eleri tossed on a block of peat before going to her bed to perch. Both women looked at Rory, but Sara couldn’t help but think about the flag underneath the bed. It made her squirm.

She crossed her arms. “What news do you have? Did you ask Morag about Eleri and my sister, Eliza?”

He nodded. “Aye.” Rory’s gaze turned from Sara to settle on Eleri, and his face relaxed into something close to a smile. “Ye do have a twin sister.”

Eleri’s mouth opened with a little gasp. She blinked, her palm cupping the side of her face. “A real sister, by blood?”

“Aye.”

The girl bounced up off the bed with overwhelming energy. “I have a sister, a twin sister.”

Sara smiled at the joy that exploded out of her as if she had too much to contain in her slender body.

Sara looked back at Rory. “How did they come to be separated?”

“Morag said yer mother, mother to both of ye, Elspet Gunn Macdonald, knew that her husband would…not be accepting of a bairn with an issue with her spine. He’d already lamented that he wanted a third son and not another daughter. So Morag took ye, Eleri, away from Dunscaith. Yer twin sister, Eliza, remained.”

Eleri’s smile reached every part of her body as if passing right over the rejection. Sara certainly believed that she’d have suffered under her father. Sara suffered his taunts, and her infirmity was hidden under clothes.

“I’ve always felt like I was missing something or someone,” Eleri said. She turned to Sara, clasping both her hands. “I have a twin sister and you, another sister. Does she paint? Does she look like me? I wonder if she likes sweets as much as I do.”

Sara laughed lightly. “She draws, looks exactly like you, and, yes, she loves sweets.”

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

“There’s more,” Rory said, and they both turned to him, still clutching hands. Rory frowned, his arms crossed over his chest.

Sara tipped her head, her heart picking up pace at his stony face. “More?”

He looked at Eleri. “Yer mother is Elspet Macdonald and yer father…” Rory caught his chin in his hand and rubbed it thoughtfully. “Yer father was Alasdair MacLeod.” His gaze slid to Sara. “’Tis why Morag brought Eleri here to Dunscaith and why my father kept her.”

Sara’s jaw dropped open, and all breath halted inside her. She stared at Rory for a long while and swallowed, standing slowly. “So…my mother and your father…had an…assignation?”

Rory nodded. “And Eleri and Eliza came from it.”

Sweet Saint Mary! Her stomach twisted into knots. “Does my father know?”

“Kenan wasn’t sure.”

But when Sara thought about the neglect and almost cruelty her father exhibited toward Eliza, Sara grew certain. “He at least suspects. Ever since…” Sara pulled her hand from Eleri’s and held both cool palms to her cheeks. “A couple years before my mother died, he became more incensed, angrier for no apparent reason. I thought perhaps it was because she seemed so sad and started ailing.”

“Is he cruel to my sister?” Eleri asked, and Sara could see the moisture gathering in her eyes. Sara drew a clean handkerchief from the pocket tied under her outer petticoat and set it into Eleri’s hand.

“I was there to protect her,” Sara said and glanced at Rory. “Until I was taken here.”

“Kenan will bring her to Dunvegan,” Rory said.

“When did your mother die?” Sara blurted out. Her mother would never have tried to break up another marriage.

“Nearly fifteen years ago.”

“So before Eliza and Eleri were born?” she asked.

Eleri nodded solemnly. “I never met her.”

“She died a year before Eleri was born,” Rory said. “I did the calculation when Morag told us. My mother was dead, and Elspet Gunn must have met my father at the Beltane Festival both our families attended in 1531 on the mainland. ’Twas a surprise that both MacLeods and Macdonalds were present.”

“I remember it,” she said, thinking of the boys who’d competed, remembering the one with watchful, golden eyes. Rory had won most of the contests, and Kenan had considered him his greatest adversary in competition.

“Morag said she helped yer mother see my father because Elspet was in a loveless marriage,” Rory said.

Sara’s heart ached for her mother, remembering the tears that she tried to hide from her children. How she’d poured her love into them, even Gilbert when he tried to act exactly like the always-grumbling man she’d married.

“Somehow, Father found out,” Sara said, thinking of the yelling and occasional bruises her mother endured toward the end of her life. Sara felt the ache of unshed tears. Elspet Gunn Macdonald had been a light so bright in Sara’s life that when it went out, Sara had fallen into a chilled darkness and remained there for the last seven years.

“Did he beat her?” Eleri asked.

Sara exhaled, sitting beside the girl. “Not where I saw, but I think he did.”

“I will say a prayer for her soul,” Eleri said.

“I will, too.” Sara looked at Rory. “Will Kenan tell Eliza?”

“I believe so.”

She nodded and continued to stare outward. “As long as he doesn’t tell Father or Gilbert.”

“Rory?” Eleri asked, looking at him. “You are my half brother.” He nodded. She looked at Sara. “And you are my half sister.” She nodded.

Eleri pointed to the two of them. “Does that make you two brother and sister?”