Page 34 of His Wicked Highland Ways

Finnan struggled desperately to clear the buzzing from his head and gather his senses. Just below him lay Jeannie’s cottage, quiet in the drowsy heat of afternoon. He narrowed his eyes and searched for signs of movement but saw none. Had Deirdre already arrived?

His heart clenched at the prospect of seeing her again. He pictured her still as the young girl he had left behind that night so long ago: slim, long-legged, and full of mischief. Ten years and much hard living separated that lass and the woman he now went to meet.

He remembered again that night his father died, his ma waking him to the dim radiance of a taper, tears streaming down her face and terror in her eyes. “You must take your sister and go.” But they had been unable to find Deirdre, and in a panic his mother bade him leave without her.

Finnan had hoped for a time that Deirdre must have fled to the hills, had perhaps seen what befell their father and flown. A wild thing back then, she had spent as much time off and away as he. In his heart he had feared her captured, or dead. Now he knew the truth.

But none of that truly mattered now. His ma and da were long gone, just like the girl his sister had been. The woman he went to meet must be a virtual stranger.

Upon that thought he saw Danny slip from the cottage and sweep the surrounding area with a searching gaze. He came up the slope toward Finnan at a half jog. Finnan, ever cautious, remained under cover until Danny reached him, perspiring and breathless.

“Well?” Finnan asked, barely able to contain himself. He could hardly believe Jeannie had arranged this meeting on his behalf, given what he had done to her. Would he see her also, in his sister’s company? And why had she endangered herself this way to assist him? Was it possible some of the kindness he had seen in those blue eyes had been genuine?

“There is a place just south of here your sister used to call ‘the castle.’ Aggie says your sister awaits you there now.”

The castle. In truth, it was no more than a ruined dwelling of tumbled ancient stones. “She used to play there, did Deirdre.” His heart rose for the first time in days.

“She bids you go alone. But, Master Finnan, I will follow along on the heights and keep watch.”

“Good lad.” Finnan clasped Danny’s shoulder. “And Mistress MacWherter?” The words slipped out before he could halt them. “How does she fare?”

Danny hesitated and then said, “Glad, I think, that she could help to arrange this. Best go, Master Finnan. And have a care.”

****

Finnan felt stronger as he slipped down the shoulder of the glen. Here, beyond the ford, the burn widened to a loch that met the sea, and there stood the heap of stones, some still piled atop one another but leaning perilously. The scene looked impossibly peaceful; bees hummed in the gorse, and only the bracken moved, tossed by a gentle breeze. His glen seemed very bonny and devoid of danger.

Then he saw her. She stepped out from beneath the stone arch into the sunlight, which caught her hair in a blaze of red and, just like that, he knew her. His heart clenched again in his chest, and the intervening years seemed to melt away. He remembered…

The two of them barely a year apart in age, sharing laughter and silliness, climbing trees and teasing one another, planning mad midnight escapades and adventures, back when life had been good, when he had felt safe.

Now he only felt safe with a sword in his hand.

Or in Jeannie MacWherter’s arms.

He beat that thought back hastily and started down the slope, nearly all his exhaustion chased by a wave of gladness. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and his step felt light.

He had not gone far when Deirdre turned and saw him. Her head came up like that of a pony scenting home, and he hurried faster. He could not yet read the expression on her face, but when he drew near enough she called softly, “Finnan!”

“Deirdre.” By all the gods! His throat tightened, and sudden tears blurred his vision. He flew down the last stretch of the slope, already reaching for her hands.

Before he grasped them he could see the changes, and that she little resembled that wild girl after all. For she now bore the years and composure of a woman. Nearly as tall as he, she stood slim and steady, with a warlike light in those eyes so much like his own.

But her hands reached for his eagerly, seized and clasped them hard. And her lips, blood red in her pale face, twisted into a smile before she said, “Brother! I scarcely dared hope you would come.”

“It grieves me that you would doubt me, Sister. Are you safe and well?”

“I am.” The light in her eyes flared brighter. “You are not.”

At those words, men poured from the stone archway of the ruined building, out of the inner darkness. For one bare instant Finnan did not comprehend it. In that moment his sister’s hands tightened on his cruelly, preventing him from stepping back and drawing his sword. As swiftly as that he lost his chance: men surrounded him, all with their weapons at the ready.

And, his fair hair gleaming like a cap of gold, Stuart Avrie stalked to his wife’s side. He pointed his blade at Finnan’s throat. “Go on, MacAllister, put up a fight. I would love an excuse to spit you where you stand.”

Finnan barely heeded the words; he stared still at his sister, trying to accept the truth. She had trapped him, betrayed him. And the look he saw now in her eyes proved it all: bright anger, victorious gladness.

And hate.

****

“Mistress, mistress! Master Finnan has been taken. He is in the Avries’ hands.”

Danny stopped, stared into Jeannie’s face, and fought for breath before he concluded, “’Twas all a trap. His sister has betrayed him.”

The blood drained from Jeannie’s face, and she swayed where she stood. “No,” she whispered.

Danny nodded frantically. “He is captured and hauled away by Stuart Avrie and his men. North they went, in the direction of Avrie House. I did not know what to do. I fear I should have done something.”

Aggie hurried forward and seized the agitated lad’s arm. “How many men were there?”

“I did not count. Five, six—”

“So many? Then what could you have done?”

“She betrayed him?” Jeannie’s heart beat hard and sickening in her breast. “How could she?”

“I do no’ ken,” Danny fairly wept. “But I was watching all the while from cover. I saw her walk out from the pile o’ stones to meet him. All appeared quiet. He went to her, and they clasped hands. Then Avrie’s men just came pouring out.” Danny gulped, and his eyes reached for Jeannie’s. “They will kill him, mistress. Then ownership of all these lands will pass to his sister. They must kill him.”

Danny was right. Deirdre’s heart—traitorous heart—must have turned. Or perhaps she was so afraid of her husband, so securely under his thumb, she would do whatever he ordered. She had not appeared to be a woman whose spirit was broken, but she had lived a long time under the Avries’ sway.

“And I led him to it,” she said bitterly. “I arranged the meeting.” Her knees almost failed her, and she swayed perilously.

If he lived, he would never forgive her.

Fool, she chastised herself. He would not forgive her in any case. He hated her for Geordie’s sake, and he had chosen hate over any softer feeling. Now he would have another reason, one of his own. Had she truly hoped that by reuniting him with his sister she might go some distance toward making him see her differently? Perhaps that had been in the back of her mind. Which made her a piteous creature, still seeking the regard of a man who had hurt her so. But, God knew, she could not help herself.

No matter now—for all hope was gone.

No, not all hope. Finnan MacAllister still lived. And if his sister acted under duress, Jeannie might yet persuade her to haul up her courage and act according to her loyalty and the dictates of her heart.

****

“Ah well, Brother, is this not a fond reunion? And but ten short years too late.”

With difficulty, Finnan raised his head from the place where he lay and looked at the woman who had walked into the room. His sister Deirdre she must be, aye, but she bore only physical resemblance to the lass he had known. A sharp, cruel smile curved her lips, and her steps rang on the flagged floor of the room that had once been their father’s library. Confidence enfolded her like a cloak.

He knew then this was no cowed maid. She must be full partners with her husband in this evil endeavor.

He closed his eyes on a rush of pain far fiercer than that which pulled at his shoulder. Pegged out and secured hand and foot to iron shackles driven between the stones of the floor, he believed he would die here in the place his father had loved, now gutted by fire and partly open to the sky. For Avrie and his men had dragged him not back to Avrie House, but to Dun Mhor.

Open sky soared above him, the sunlight in his eyes shifting to the west. He supposed it fitting that he should end up here, where his father had received his death wound, his blood flowing onto these same stones.

“Deirdre,” he said, only that, for his sorrow half choked him.

“Aye, Brother dearie?” She paced with deliberate steps beside his head and gazed down at him. Such hate flared in her eyes that for an instant he thought she meant to kick him, and he braced himself for the pain.

“Do you know me, Finnan? I confess I would not have recognized you. All those nasty scars and pictures on your skin. Whatever would Ma say? What would she think of her bonny boy now?”

“Or her daughter,” he grated.

“Ah, but in the end she cared far less for me than for you. She proved that, did she not, the night Da died? When she thought she could save but one of us, she ran to you.”

Again Finnan craned his neck, trying to see her face where she stood above him, a dark silhouette against the dying sun.

“She only came to me because she believed our enemies would slaughter me in order to gain control of the glen. ’Twas no preference.”

“But”—Deirdre’s voice, clear and strident, overrode his words—“they did not hurry to slaughter you, did they? Instead they came to my chamber, a troop of men, terrifying in the dark, and dragged me from my bed and away.”

Finnan narrowed his eyes against the glare and wondered what he heard in her voice besides anger. Hard to tell, with that brittle cruelty overlying all.

“We tried to find you as soon as Ma roused me, Deirdre. We both did.”

“I believe you, darling brother—truly I do. ’Tis what happened after that sticks in my craw. For what did you do when you failed to find me?” She bent toward him, leaned down, and her face swam into view. “You saved yourself. You buggered off away out of the glen and left me in their hands.” He saw it then, the bright desire for vengeance in her eyes. “’Tis for that, my dearest brother, you will now pay.”