Silver Flame. Hannah Howell

truths should remain silent ones.”

      “What I feel must be spoken of.”

      “Ye must take your passions elsewhere. I am not free.”

      “One day ye shall be, or I will see that ye are, if but for one night only.”

      “If ye hurt Farthing, I will come to your bed only to cut your throat,” she snapped, retreating from his touch and standing up, straightening her chemise as she did so. “Aye, cut it from ear to ear, my flame-haired lecher.”

      “I willnae kill the mon to possess you. Then I would be as low as the dogs we have just routed. Nay, I willnae shame myself or my family by stooping so low. But I will have ye. Come the chance to hold ye, even for but an hour, and I will seize it,” he vowed as he stood up. “A fire such as this cannae be put out simply because another holds ye now. Ye ken what I speak of. The flame licks at your insides as weel.”

      “Nay,” she cried, her voice holding more desperation than conviction, and she fled to Farthing’s side.

      As Gamel rejoined his brother, Ligulf whispered, “She belongs to Farthing Magnus.”

      “I ken it,” muttered Gamel.

      “Then ye must put her from your mind. I like the mon.”

      “So do I. Yet so do I hate him for his rightful claim to her. ’Tis a madness that has seized me. But fear not, I shallnae kill the mon over her. Nay, I willnae go that far. I fear, though, that murder is all I will halt at, that there is nothing else, however low or dishonorable, I willnae do to have her.”

      Chapter 2

      “Farthing, ye rogue, it has been too long. I hoped this fair would draw ye back to Dunkennley.”

      “Business has been slow, has it?” Farthing laughed as he and the innkeeper, Ennis MacAdam, clapped each other on the back. “Do ye have rooms to spare for us?”

      “Only one room. ’Tis for the best. With a fair comes many a lairdling, eager as any buck in season. Ye had best keep a close eye upon this wee, sweet lassie.” MacAdam grinned at Sine Catriona. “The highborn think any lass who isnae chained down is theirs for the taking or buying.”

      “One room will be fine,” answered Farthing.

      “A fair such as this brings many a purse begging to be emptied,” MacAdam commented.

      “That is true enough,” Farthing said, and winked.

      Sine Catriona smiled, then shook her head as both men laughed heartily. MacAdam knew Farthing did not restrict himself to conjuring alone. He said nothing, however, for Farthing knew the way to avoid any outcry and left a share of the profits for the innkeeper. It was an amicable, often very profitable, arrangement.

      “Lad,” Ennis MacAdam called to the stable boy. “Come and see to this horse.” Putting an arm about Farthing’s shoulders and urging the group inside, MacAdam continued. “Tell me how ye have fared this past sixmonth.”

      Since it was already late and she knew the morrow would be busy, Sine Catriona joined her brothers, who quickly sought their beds. She stirred only once when, much later in the night, Farthing slipped into their room. Although the smell of drink was faintly perceptible, she knew he was not drunk. She turned in the bed to look at him when he settled down on his pallet.

      “He is here,” Farthing murmured.

      She knew immediately that he meant Sir Gamel. “Ye have seen him?”

      “Aye, but he didnae espy me.”

      “Are ye certain of that?”

      “Dearling, I can melt into the shadows, can I not? That is a skill of mine I thought ye had trust in.”

      “I do. Forgive me. Do he and his companions stay here at MacAdam’s inn?”

      “Aye, just down the hall. They hold the best rooms.”

      “Of course. Ah weel, there are wenches aplenty to catch his eye.” She discovered that she loathed the idea of Sir Gamel enjoying another woman. “Master MacAdam’s are said to be the best.”

      “’Tis true. Mayhaps he will take one on the morrow.”

      Both delighted and frightened by the news that Sir Gamel had bedded down alone, she nevertheless ventured, “A long ride can leave a mon verra weary, too weary for such idle pleasures.”

      “S’truth. It can. Go to sleep, loving. On the morrow ye must stay near my side.”

      “If ye believe it best.”

      “I do.”

      “All right. Good sleep, Farthing.”

      She turned away even as he mumbled a good-night.

      That morning they had fled the camp before dawn, silently and swiftly. Despite their precautions, she was not surprised to learn that Gamel was near. She had known in her heart that he would follow. So too, she little doubted that he would find her at the fair no matter how well she lost herself in the milling, boisterous crowd. Closing her eyes, she prayed that Fate would keep them apart. Now was not the time for love or passion. Sine Catriona had a more important goal in mind.

      The day was still new when Sine Catriona ventured into the already lively streets of town, her companions close at her side. Booths and carts pressed all around them. Jongleurs, jugglers, and acrobats wandered through the swiftly growing crowd. The air was filled with the cries of vendors selling their wares. She could hear the French and fine Scots tongue of the wellborn, the speech of the peasant, and even the tongue-knotting Gaelic of the Highlanders. The only part of the fair she avoided was where the bear-and badger-baiting was held. It was an entertainment that only made her ill. For a while she simply wandered with the others, surveying the wares offered for sale.

      There were rugs, pottery, gourds, spoons, jewelry, prayer beads, pamphlets, and cloth. The variety of cloth left her breathless. The stalls held everything from the finest silks to the coarsest linen, and in every possible color. She wished she had the coin to buy herself just enough for one new dress.

      The hawkers let no one pass unheralded. Everything from beautifully wrought bestiary books, with their real or fabled animals and moral allegories, to the simplest, roughest of blankets was called to the attention of all those who walked by. Knowing how hard the sellers’ lot was, she sorely regretted not having the funds to buy something from each, at least one tiny thing.

      “Catriona,” Farthing said, drawing her attention his way, “I wish to attend the bear-baiting.”

      “So hie to it, Farthing. Why ask me? I have never told ye nay before.”

      “Weel, ye have expressed a distaste for them.”

      “Aye, but I still dinnae stop ye from attending.”

      “I dinnae wish to leave ye alone,” he muttered.

      “Oh.” She glanced around but could see no sign of Sir Gamel or his companions. “I had forgotten about that problem. Weel, we have seen neither him nor his friends and I have the lads with me. If there is trouble, they can cause a row and run to fetch ye.”

      “That may be too late. One should watch to avoid trouble, not wait to call out when it has already arrived.”

      “The twins can run verra fast indeed. There is a large crowd here as weel. Just set us over there with a baked meat and some ale-bree,” she said with an impish smile. “That should keep us content enough to wait for your return.”

      “A bribe,” he grumbled even as he escorted them to a relatively clear area.

      “Nonsense. Bribery would be if we asked for a sugar candy as well.”

      He was still chuckling when he left them after buying them each a meat pie, some of the hot ale flavored with spices, sugar, and toast, and a sugar candy too. Near the bench she