Highland Flame (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman

clean-shaven, his eyes blue as the heavens and deep set. And ... Damn! She had lost the course of their conversation. He smiled again. The expression did nothing to clear her thoughts and seemed to speak of his own elevated opinion of himself.
    "Why do ye prefer ta be called Flame?" he repeated, as though he perfectly understood her inability to concentrate while in his presence.
    She lifted her chin. She was not some blushing lass who would swoon at the merest show of his dimple, and damn him for making her feel like one. " 'Tis the name me sire gave me."
    "Indeed?" He watched her closely. "And what of the name yer mother gave ye?"
    Flame remained absolutely still. It had been a long while since she had allowed herself to think of her mother. For such thoughts promoted a softness she could ill afford.
    "Flanna be a bonny name," Roderic said softly. "Seems a shame ta leave it behind."
    Flame sternly reminded herself to think clearly, to remember who he was, to realize his ploy. The brothers Forbes were not known for their foolishness, but for their savvy. And this one ... This one had hair as gold as sunlight, skin dark as a hawthorn's bark, and eyes so blue they could enchant an angel.
    But the Flame of the MacGowans had no illusions. She was not an angel.
    "Are ye trying ta distract me so that ye can escape?" she asked, keeping her tone light.
    "Nay. If I were trying ta distract ye, lass," he began, quickly setting his fingers to the brooch that held his plaid to his shoulder, "I would remove me shirt."
    It all happened very quickly. Suddenly his brooch was undone, and his chest was bare.
    She blinked. Behind her, Troy rumbled low in his chest.
    Roderic's gaze failed to leave hers. "Here, Wolfhound," he said, tossing the soiled shirt to the huge guard. "See that this gets cleaned. And, Nevin, bring me meal. 'Tis a bonny day. I wish ta eat outside."
    Troy strode forward and casually retrieved the garment, but Nevin remained as he was, his back straight.
    "I take me orders from me lady. Not from the man who killed me kinsmen. I would sooner die on me own sword than take your orders, Forbes."
    "Bring me food first," Roderic said.
    Troy looked down at their prisoner and shook his head. "Shall I drag him back ta the tower for ye, lass, or shall we let him crow out here for a wee bit longer?"
    Flame smiled up at her faithful old warrior, and for a moment Roderic could imagine her as a child. Even now, firelight wisps of hair curled down to caress her face. As a babe that hair would have been kitten soft and loose. Her eyes would have twinkled with merriment, and she would have giggled as her father tossed her in the air.
    Strange, he thought, that the sight of such a warrior woman made him think of children.
    "He has promised to be good," she said now, glancing quickly in his direction. "Can we take ye at your word, Forbes?"
    "Aye." Roderic nodded once, feeling unusually sober. "Me word is as good as me blood, lass. If I say I will stay, I will stay. If I say I will go, I will go. But this day I willna escape."
    Their gazes held for several seconds before she turned back to her guard. "Then let him stay, Troy," she ordered quietly.
    The Wolfhound drew nearer. The earth all but shook beneath his footfalls. Not far from Roderic's squatting form, Troy bent. "I have a wee bit of wisdom ta impart with ye, lad. 'Tis the toughest shell that yields the softest yoke. Hurt her, and I'll test me blade on yer bonny neck." Straightening, the huge warrior slapped Roderic's shoulder as if they were the best of friends. Then he turned his attention to Flame. “Young Mary has gathered early berries, and I've na seen Haydan for some days, lass. With yer permission, I shall bring him the fruit and news of the day."
    Roderic scowled. What kind of man would threaten him with decapitation, then blithely speak of berries and news? This Dun Ard was a strange place.
    "Go, and tell Haydan I will be there shortly."
    In a moment, Troy had turned away, and