Free Highland Flame (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman Page A

cool air finally convinced him to get moving. He glanced at his legs. They were mostly bare, only partly hidden by the length of his freshly laundered shirt. 'Twas a shameful way for a Forbes to return to his homeland. Roderic had half a mind to march into Flanna MacGowan's bedchamber and demand the use of a tartan to cover his nakedness. Or perhaps he should simply leave her something to remember him by, to prove he could not only escape but could breach her very chambers and watch her as she slept.
    The night was very quiet. From somewhere far away, an owl called. Roderic smiled. Damned if he wasn't tempted to see her just once more. Not because he was attracted to her, but merely to gloat. Easing his back away from the wall, he glanced about. Where would she sleep?
    Dun Ard was not nearly so large or so well fortified as Glen Creag. The tower and forward part of the wall were crafted from stone, but most of the remainder of the fortress was made from crude, native timbers, the far side being perched on the edge of an almost unscalable precipice. He had noticed that the kitchen was set on the far side of the bailey and was also made of timber, a fact which spoke of Dun Ard's lack of stone or manpower or both. The broad sweeps of a windmill were not far away. The stable stood opposite where he now rested, which left the keep, the heart of the castle, as the only place where the MacGowans' Lady Flame would sleep.
    Roderic rapped his index finger silently against the stone, thinking. 'Twas tempting indeed to wish her farewell, though Leith would have his hide if he knew the unnecessary risks he took. Still, Roderic reasoned, rising to a crouched position, 'twas his hide and none other's. Excitement pumped through his veins. Darkness was an old companion, one he loved for its mystery and challenge.
    Less than twenty feet from where he had landed, stairs began. Roderic descended them carefully, hugging the wall in the darkness. There seemed to be no upper floor entrance to the keep from the tower, which meant he would have to cross the hall in search of Flanna's chambers.
    At the bottom of the stairs, Roderic halted. Through the arched, stone doorway, he could see the interior of the hall. The last efforts of a fire still burned in the great hearth to his right. Gathered about the dying embers was a plethora of scrambled bodies. Someone shifted, muttering in his sleep. Roderic eased back against the wall, debating. Everyone seemed to be unconscious and therefore would cause no problems. But it would take only a single waking man to make trouble.
    Roderic shifted to the opposite wall, studying the scene before him again. Not far from where he hid, two men lay side by side. A squashed, deep green bonnet had fallen from one balding fellow's head. A crumpled blanket covered his knees and his partner's torso. An empty tankard rested on its side between them. So these two had shared a draft of spirits and slept soundly because of it, Roderic reasoned, leaning back again. From the wall near the large, front door, a hound rose and growled softly, watching him, her tawny ears pricked forward. A man stirred, mumbled an oath to quiet the dog, and lay silent again.
    Taking a deep breath, Roderic considered the dangers. First, he would concern himself with the men then with the dogs. What if a MacGowan should awaken while Roderic was padding across the floor toward the stairway? Would he immediately be recognized as an outsider, he wondered, glancing down at his scanty attire. Many men went barefooted, and during the night just as many loosened their plaids to use them as blankets. Still, he was taller than most, and the entire tribe was bound to be edgy after abducting a Forbes. Roderic glanced about to be certain all was still quiet and stepped into the hall. Squatting by the pair of men closest to him, he lifted the green bonnet from the floor and set it upon his own head.
    The nearest man snorted and turned, abandoning his shared blanket