Gently, Jeannie said, “I understand you were forced to wed Stuart Avrie.”
“Aye—forced to speak the words at knife point. I was but a lass of fifteen then. I learned much from my husband since—almost nothing of mercy.”
“I am sorry,” Jeannie told her. “But surely if you help Finnan defeat him, you will then be free.”
“And how might my brother defeat my husband? He is alone and at bay—injured, so they say. Dun Mhor lies half ruined. How can this end well?”
“I thought you might know of some weakness Finnan might exploit, that you might work from within on his behalf.”
“You think I would not, if I could? It has pained me, hearing how they pursue him and knowing there is little I can do.”
“How many men has your husband left in his service?”
She shook her head. “I cannot quite say. I know Stuart rues each my brother has slain—but ’twould not take much to overpower Finnan now. The only way I see out of it is for my vile husband to die and his brother with him.”
“And,” Jeannie asked, greatly daring, “would you help Finnan accomplish even that?”
“Of course,” Deirdre said without hesitation. “But just as I would love to see Finnan, ’tis impossible. I am naught but another weapon in my husband’s hands.”
“There must be a way. If I arrange a meeting—” But that would mean seeing Finnan MacAllister again, and Jeannie did not know if her heart—her soul—could withstand it.
Light flared in Deidre’s eyes. “I would be most grateful if you could arrange a meeting place—here perhaps, or somewhere else in the glen.”
“If I did, would you be able to slip away once more?”
Deirdre shook her head again. “I hope so, but I cannot promise. I am watched.” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “And I would not wish to bring more harm down upon him.”
“We will need to be very careful then.”
“Aye. When you ha’ arranged something, send word to Avrie House by your little maid. I will do my best to get away.”
Deirdre made to rise then, hesitated, and gave Jeannie another searching glance. “Do you love him, my brother?”
Not something Jeannie wanted to contemplate. She knew she still cared far too much, but surely her softer, more tender feelings had all been killed the moment he stalked from her bedroom. She examined the shreds of her heart and honesty caused her to say, “Yes.”
“You are a good woman.”
Your brother does not think so. Those words nearly crept from Jeannie also, but she held them back. Aggie was right about this woman—something in her repelled confidences: the iron she had developed, no doubt, in order to endure her life.
No matter. So long as she helped Finnan, all might still come right for him.
And, quite clearly, Jeannie was past saving.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Let us go back to Rowan Cottage, Master Finnan,” Danny begged. “These wounds of yours need tending, far more care than I can manage here.”
Desperate, sore, and near run to exhaustion, Finnan MacAllister shook his head. Not that, not Rowan Cottage—he could never return. There existed no refuge anywhere for him now.
For he had burnt that bridge, had he not? Sent it up in howling flames. He remembered again how still Jeannie had lain when he delivered his killing blow—indeed, like a woman slain—how her naked limbs, the sweet curves of the body he had just loved shone dim white in the quiet of her bedroom, unmoving.
She might at least have given him the satisfaction of some reaction—anger, grief. He—Geordie—deserved that. Instead he could not get over the notion that he had left her killed.
And he wanted to go back. Oh aye, he did—he told himself he wanted to see how she fared, savor the pain in her eyes, feel her hatred. For surely she hated him now as only a spurned woman could hate. Trouble was he did not quite believe that was all he wanted.
He had grown accustomed to Jeannie MacWherter during his campaign to destroy her, to the look in those wide blue eyes, the way intelligence or rueful laughter lit them. He had grown used to the warmth of her flesh and the taste of her lips. He told himself he ached for those, nothing more.
Yet ache he did.
Were he honest, he would admit nothing had gone right since he broke Jeannie’s heart. He’d had an unfortunate encounter with Trent Avrie’s men in which he took a deep wound to his shoulder that hampered him yet. He had barely escaped with his life and had not been able to stop and rest since. Harried continually, he and Danny had been all up and down the glen.
At least Danny seemed to have conquered his fever, Finnan reflected, and regained strength even as Finnan lost his. He had to admit it: he could not recall when he had been lower in body or spirit.
“Never mind. Just pack the wound with that yarrow,” he told Danny now, brusquely.
They had paused high on a slope at the north end of the glen. From here Finnan could watch for signs of pursuit. Yet he knew they could not remain up among the boulders long—it would be too easy to be spotted in turn.
Somehow he would have to find the strength to move on.
He grunted in pain as Danny began to pack his shoulder, the lad’s hand moving as gently as possible. He dragged his thoughts away from Rowan Cottage once again.
“We should move south, Master Finnan,” Danny said, precisely as if he had heard Finnan’s thoughts. “I am that sure Aggie and her mistress would not mind helping us again.”
“Too dangerous.”
“There is that hidey hole they ha’ not yet discovered, above the ford. You could rest there and get some sleep.”
Finnan had not been able to sleep, nor snatch even a moment’s peace.
Danny looked Finnan in the eye. “I ache to see her,” he confessed. “Aggie, I mean. That last time when I lay with her—”
Indeed, Danny and Aggie had still been together when Finnan stormed back up the hill, leaving Jeannie slain.
“’Tis risky, that,” he said, gritting his teeth around the pain as Danny pressed the bandage on. The cloth, dirty, would likely do him little good. Everything they owned was filthy.
He wondered how long he could go on like this. He had lost everything…except the glen; that remained his yet. He had always believed it enough to sustain him in the face of any hardship. What if he had believed wrong?
Ah, he had given Jeannie a damaging stroke from the blade of vengeance, aye, but it seemed to have cut both ways and injured him, as well.
“Worth taking the chance, I think,” Danny went on. “Mistress MacWherter will at least give us food, and perhaps shelter.”
“You are to ask nothing from her.”
“Eh?”
“Nothing, lad, do you understand?”
Their gazes met. Danny’s turned puzzled and then determined. “What happened that night when you came and collected me in such a hurry? Did you quarrel?”
“Nay.”
“Have you broken it off? I ken fine the two of you were…”
“Aye, broken it off. Drop it now.”
Danny whistled a breath between his teeth. “She will forgive you, no doubt, and help you yet, if she sees you in this state. She is a good woman.”
“You canna’ say that. You know naught about her.”
“Aggie says she is loyal, kind, and generous.”
“Aggie does not know her either, or else she lies.”
Danny stiffened. “Aggie would never lie to me.”
So the lad had given his heart as well as his seed—the fool. Memory caught Finnan unawares as he relived the glorious act of losing himself inside Jeannie’s heat, giving her all of himself. But nay, he must resolve to forget.
Savagely he said, “You do no’ ken what she did to our Geordie in Dumfries. Leave it, lad—I ha’ paid her in kind.”
Danny frowned. “I know more than you might think. Aggie likes to talk, and most of all when we were cozy after. She has said much about how hard life was for them in Dumfr
ies. ’Twas marriage to Geordie or the streets.”
“And did she need to toss his love back at him? Could she no’ have been more kind and generous?”
Danny looked shocked. “But we canna’ choose where we love, can we, Master Finnan?”
Finnan said nothing, struggling against the pain inside.
“Come, Master, up and lean on my good shoulder. Let us move before the hounds are at our heels again.”
****
“He is up on the hillside and will not come to your door.” Danny said the words apologetically and refused to meet Jeannie’s eyes. “I left him sleeping or senseless—I could not tell which. He took a terrible bad wound a day and a half ago. ’Tis dirty, and it hampers him much.”
Jeannie gazed away past the lad’s head and tried to ignore how his words made her feel. Perhaps her heart still functioned after all, for she felt it twist in her chest.
“In truth,” Danny went on, “I only came to beg some food and clean bandaging. We have naught.”
“I wish you could stay,” Aggie told him, heartfelt. She had kissed Danny soundly when he appeared, and her face shone with gladness. “Of course we shall give you whatever we have. Right, mistress?”
For an instant, Jeannie did not reply. She could easily turn Danny away; she owed Finnan MacAllister nothing. Or she could walk up that hillside as she wished and find him, lay eyes on him, even touch him again. For despite all her anger and pain, and the numbness when both burned away, she did want to see him, even just once. The truth of that upset her almost as much as what had come before, but the honesty in her heart would not let her deny it.
She fought a silent war within herself. She did not deserve what he had done to her. She had never intended to break Geordie’s heart, but she could never convince Finnan of that. He thought the worst of her. Best to leave all connections severed as they were, to let it be done.
“Give Danny whatever you like,” she told Aggie flatly and looked at the lad. “It is fortunate you have come. Will you give your master a message for me?”
Danny nodded cautiously. What did he know? Had Finnan gloated to him about her humiliation? No matter, she had little enough dignity left to lose.
“I have been in touch with his sister. She wishes to meet with him in the hope he may rescue her from her plight. Do you think he would be willing to take her and leave the glen?” Save himself, leave off the warring and the vengeance.
This time Danny shook his head. “Who knows? Anger burns hot in him. But he might leave for a time, if only to keep her safe.”
“Then you and I must decide on a meeting place.” She drew a breath and fought the nearly overwhelming desire to go up that hillside. “I will take word to her, and you take word to him.”
And then, it would be done.
Chapter Thirty-Four
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.
His Wicked Highland Ways Page 19