Silver Flame. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ how she had slowly realized that her mother felt nothing but hate for her. Arabel Brodie resented her daughter’s youth and that resentment had grown with the passing years. Then Sine had discovered that Arabel planned to rid herself of Sine and the twins. She had taken the twins and fled into the woods.

      “With our deaths, she and Malise truly would hold all.”

      She carefully watched Lord Magnusson as she nibbled at the remains of her meal. Although she did not think the man would cry them liars or fools, she was relieved to see anger harden his features. It was an incredible tale. She would understand if the man had some doubts, but it was clear he did not.

      “But would no one have questioned where ye went?”

      “Malise told everyone that we had been ailing and died. He even held a burial. I pray that the three shrouded forms he entombed were sheep, but he and Arabel had already killed three innocent people so…” She shrugged.

      “The murdering bastard,” Lord Magnusson hissed.

      “Ah, so ye have met my stepfather,” Sine murmured.

      Smiling with honest enjoyment, he drawled, “Such a tart tongue. Aye, I have met Malise Brodie. He is a beast who parades himself as a mon. I could see the rot beneath his smile and fine manners, although I fear others could not. And his wife…” He choked to a halt, eyeing Sine a little warily.

      “Please, dinnae think that you must restrain your tongue for my sake. I have disowned my mother.”

      “Have ye now? I thought it was the privilege of the parent to disown the child.”

      “I have decided to do it the other way around. In truth, m’lord, I may have slid from her body, but she is no mother of mine and never has been. She doesnae possess any maternal feelings at all. Nay, not even the natural softening any woman holds toward a child, any child. She plotted my death and that of my half brothers. She murdered our father. I will make her pay for that. Nay, she isnae my mother, despite what the law might say. I am but my father’s child.”

      “Such strong feelings.” Lord Magnusson shook his head. “I believe ye, yet ’tisnae easy. A mother wishing to murder her own child?”

      “She hates me and has done so from the start. From the moment of my birth I was put completely into the care of my father and grandmother. They sheltered me from most of my mother’s venom while they were alive. Carrying me within her womb marked my mother. Not much, but she bears each tiny mark as if it was some battle wound. She believes that I steal her beauty, as if I am some sorceress who sucks it away. ’Tis hard to explain.”

      “Aye, but I can see it clear enough. She ages and ye are young. There is no real sense to all she might blame ye for, but she believes each charge. So, do ye mean to regain what has been stolen from ye and your brothers?”

      “I do. For now I search for a mon who holds the soldiers and arms to aid me in my fight.”

      “Farthing now has both,” Lord Magnusson said in a soft voice, then grinned at her surprise—a reaction echoed by Farthing.

      “By the saints, so I do,” Farthing muttered, looking completely stunned by the realization.

      “And will ye help me?” she asked him, sure that he would, but needing to offer him the choice.

      “Of course, if my father permits.” He looked at his father. “After all, I am but the heir, not the master. And, God willing, I shallnae be for many years yet.”

      “Fight away,” Lord Magnusson commanded with a smile. “The cause is a good one. S’truth, there are many about who would like to see that devious pair sent straight to hell. I fear it must wait just a wee bit longer though. My journey isnae merely for pleasure.”

      Sine Catriona shrugged. “I have waited six years already. Patience is something I have in abundance.”

      “At times,” Farthing murmured. Ignoring her scowl, he turned to his father. “Where do ye travel to?”

      “To Duncoille. ’Tis but a half day’s journey from here.”

      “Oh? And what is the purpose of this trip, Father?”

      “To try and get my niece, Margot Delacrosse, a husband. I doubt that ye would recall the child from when ye lived with me, but that doesnae matter for ye will meet the lass tomorrow. She sleeps now, exhausted by the travel.”

      “No match was made for her?”

      “Aye, there was one, son, but the plague took the mon. A pity, for they were in love. Her dowry is small, but the mon I hope to wed her to is a bastard son. He may not have much of a choice, despite his rumored wealth and fair face. His father has many another legitimate son.”

      “The lass isnae fair?” Sine asked.

      “I see naught wrong with the child, but what is thought to be beauty is ever changing, Catriona, my lass. There are more brides than suitable grooms, so a poor, modestly bonny lass could be left aside. I will travel the length and breadth of the country ere I will allow that. She is a good girl, but more than that, she is all that remains of my wife’s family. It was dying out even before the plague struck.”

      “Who do ye hope to match her with?”

      “The bastard son of the fierce Red Logan himself. Now there is a clan to be allied with. Aye, I will be weel pleased to wed Margot to a Logan.”

      Chapter 4

      “Something ails the lad, William.”

      William Logan smiled at his petite wife as she paced the solar. “A mon can have his moods.”

      “True, but this is no mere mood. It has lasted since his return from the fair. Cannae ye speak with him? Our visitors are due at any time.”

      Dropping a kiss upon her forehead, he started out of the room. “I will speak to Gamel, but I make no promises. He has never been reticent, yet has spoken naught of what troubles him now. He may not wish to share it.”

      He found his son in the great hall of Duncoille, sprawled on a seat beneath one of the large windows. In Gamel’s hand dangled some sort of medallion which held his full attention. William realized that his wife had been right to urge him to talk to Gamel. The young man was in too dark and somber a mood to welcome the Delacrosse lass as he should. In the temper Gamel was in the coming meeting with his prospective bride could not possibly go well.

      “Gamel?” William was struck by the desolation he saw in his son’s glance. “What besets ye?”

      Returning his gaze to the medallion, Gamel stared at all he had left of Sine Catriona. It was all he might ever have aside from memories. How could he answer his father? The pain he had felt three days ago when he had awakened to find her gone still knotted his insides. He struggled to understand her reasons, but her desertion was all he could think on.

      “What besets me?” he repeated in a soft, sad voice. “The loss of all I have searched for.”

      “Are ye certain ye truly held it?”

      “Aye, but I had no time, no time at all. Only one night. In the dawn she slipped СКАЧАТЬ