Silver Flame. Hannah Howell

had searched the border region for years, hoping to come upon the right man for the task. He sighed.

      “I dinnae think your knight was at the keep we just fled,” he said at last.

      “Nay. How foolish I was all those years ago.”

      “Only six,” he whispered.

      She ignored the soft interruption. “I was foolish to think I but needed to find a strong knight, one who would help us simply because our cause is just. There appear to be few who have what I need.”

      “Mayhaps there are simply too many just causes and ye must wait your turn. Dinnae give up yet.”

      “Nay, I will continue to search. Howbeit, at times I begin to think I shall be old and bent ere I find him. Ah, but by then the twins will have become men and can fight to gain what is rightfully theirs.”

      “Aye, the three of us could easily carve up your enemy.”

      She laughed softly, then after a long silence asked, “Am I to drive all night with no one to talk to?”

      “Ye talk and I shall grunt at all the appropriate moments.”

      “’Tis plain ye spent all your charm upon that wench we just fled, Farthing Magnus.”

      “I still possess charm aplenty. I merely need to rest. My charm isnae at its most glorious when I am weary.”

      “Farthing?” She looked his way but saw little, her dark companion well bundled up in his equally dark clothes. “Is it fun?”

      “Is what fun?”

      “Swiving.”

      “And where did ye come by that word, my sweet Catriona?”

      “From you, my lusty conjurer.”

      “Ah, I must be more careful in my speech.”

      “Weel? Is it fun?”

      “Aye, ’tis fun or I wouldnae risk so much to indulge myself. I ken nothing of how it fares for women, but to a mon, even the most fleeting and the lightest can be fun. I speak now of only the idle tussle, not the mating of true lovers.”

      “Love makes it better, does it?”

      “Glorious, child. ’Tis love and passion beautifully entwined. ’Tis ferocity yet tenderness. ’Tis all emotion thrown together in the headiest of mixtures. ’Tisnae just what lurks between the legs that is involved, but the heart, the soul, and even the mind. There is naught to compare. ’Tis glory, ’tis paradise, ’tis the Land of Cockaigne, the sweet paradise upon earth.”

      “That is what I shall have,” she vowed as she stared down the night-shadowed road.

      “Aye,” he agreed in a soft voice, “I do believe ye will. One such as ye can have no less.”

      Gamel Logan sat eating in the great hall of Duncoille keep, trying to avoid his stepmother’s eyes. But she was too keen.

      “Where are ye hieing to?” she asked him.

      “A fair in Dunkennley but a day or so ride from here.” Gamel kissed her smooth cheek.

      “A fair? To wenching, ye mean,” Edina muttered, and began to break her fast. She was a tiny, voluptuous woman beloved by everyone in the Logan clan.

      Gamel just smiled. As he ate and conversed with his father and half brothers, he waited for his stepmother to say what was on her mind. Since his burly father was unusually quiet, he suspected that what troubled Edina had already been thoroughly discussed with her husband. When Gamel finished his meal, he sensed Edina was ready to speak. He wondered idly if she had thought to save his digestion.

      “Ye are eight and twenty now, Gamel.” Edina frowned, then nervously worried her full bottom lip with her teeth. “Ye are a belted knight kenned far and wide for possessing a handsome purse. Hasnae it come time for ye to seek a bride?”

      “I have been looking for years.”

      Before Edina could respond, the children’s nurse bustled into the great hall, explaining that the youngest Logan had taken a tumble and Edina’s presence was needed. Gamel grinned as Edina grumbled with exasperation and left. He looked to his father to finish what Edina had been struggling to tell him.

      “Have ye sought out another possible bride then, Father?” he asked.

      William Logan grimaced slightly. “Aye. No promises were made, just a meeting arranged. In a week’s time young Margot Delacrosse will arrive with her kin. They will stay a while.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “What will be, will be. Dinnae ye want a wife and children? But tell us so and we will leave ye be.”

      “I want a wife and a brood of children. I want what ye have, Father,” Gamel added in a quiet voice.

      “I have been most fortunate.”

      Gamel ran a hand through his auburn hair. “’Tis hard to put into words all that I seek in a woman. I want one who can both enflame and comfort, one I can speak with about anything—even of my fears. I can only keep saying that I seek what ye have found.”

      Gamel shook his head before continuing. “Therein lies my difficulty. I suspected that what ye and Edina share is rare, but I didnae ken just how rare. Search though I do, it continues to elude me.”

      “Mayhaps ye look too hard, son.”

      “Only God can say. Mayhaps I will settle for less one day.” He stood up and smiled at his father. “For now I shall content myself with the pleasures of the flesh. A fair promises many a bonny, willing lass.”

      “Aye, and ye were blessed with your mother’s fairness of face and her fine green eyes, so lasses will flock to ye. Go on, but be sure to return in time to meet the lass who journeys to visit with us.”

      “I will. No search is done until all stones are turned.” He winked at his father. “I but pray the lass ye invited doesnae look as if she crawled out from beneath one.”

      Shaking his head, William chuckled. “I think not. Who goes to the fair with ye?”

      “Sir Lesley.”

      “Ah, aye—your friend Lesley.”

      “Do ye tire of his company?”

      “Nay. I like the lad. ’Tis just that he has been here for months. Should he not spend some time at his own family’s keep?”

      “He will, but not for a wee while yet. Lesley and his father havenae healed the breach between them.”

      “It will ne’er be healed if Lesley continues to hide here.”

      “I ken it and so does Lesley. He but needs time to prepare himself.”

      “I can understand that. Who else travels with ye?”

      “My squire, Blane.”

      “No more?”

      “I go to a fair, not a battle.”

      “Be careful nonetheless.”

      “May I go too, Father?” asked Ligulf, William’s slim, fourteen-year-old son.

      Raising his gaze to the ceiling, William sighed. “Go, and quickly, ere your mother changes my mind.”

      Laughing, Ligulf hurried away with Gamel, who wasted no time in preparing to leave. He knew his father suspected Edina might complain, although she would never try to stop Ligulf. Even she admitted to showing a perilous leniency with her children. His haste was in vain, however, for she stepped out of the keep just as they were about to ride out of the bailey. Gamel hid his grin as she handed them a small pack of what she considered to be necessities for any journey.

      Edina looked at the slender Ligulf. “So, ye have decided to travel to the fair with Gamel.”

      “Aye, Mama. ’Twill be my first