CHAPTER 25
Finn awoke to someone knocking on their chamber door and squinted at the window. It was barely dawn, and all he wanted to do was stay in this warm bed with Margaret. He buried his face in her hair and cupped her breast, unwilling to face the troubles of the day quite yet.
“It could be about your brother,” Margaret said sleepily.
He dragged himself out of bed, tossed his shirt over his head, and opened the door a crack. An anxious maid waited there twisting her hands in the skirt of her gown.
“Lachlan just rode in from Dunrobin,” she said. “Says ’tis urgent he speak with ye.”
Finn’s blood turned cold. Alex was in danger.
Margaret pulled on her robe while he finished dressing, and they hurried down to the hall together.
The household was unsettled after the dramatic events of the last several days.
Despite the early hour, the warriors and servants who slept in the hall were stirring as word spread that a messenger had arrived.
The news had even reached Finn’s mother and father, who came down the stairs behind them.
Lachlan stood in front of the great hearth, steam rising from his rain-soaked cloak.
“What’s happened?” Finn asked him.
“George Sinclair, the Earl of Caithness, arrived at Dunrobin with a fleet of ships full of warriors,” Lachlan said. “Ach, there must have been fifty boats!”
O shluagh. George could not have chosen a more opportune time to attack, with Alex’s father not even in his grave and Alex too young and inexperienced to lead. Finn never should have left Alex’s side.
Alex’s parents had died only three days ago. How did the Sinclair chieftain learn of the earl’s death and take advantage of it so quickly? George was prepared to act as soon as he heard the news, which meant the bastard must have had a hand in their murder.
“The Sinclair chieftain demanded entry as Alex’s guardian,” Lachlan said.
“As his what?” Finn demanded.
“He claims guardianship over Alex now that his parents are dead,” Lachlan said.
“That’s an outrage!” Finn slammed his fist against the mantel. “I know for certain Alex’s father named his sister’s husband, the Earl of Athol, in his will to be Alex’s guardian should one ever be needed.”
“Apparently, Athol sold him the wardship.”
“Sold it? That bastard!” Finn could not believe his ears. “Alex’s father should never have trusted someone not of his blood.”
“The Sinclair chieftain said if we refused to hand over his ward, it would be treason.”
“When ye refused, the Sinclairs laid siege to the castle?” When Lachlan did not answer right away, a cold rage filled Finn’s belly. “Don’t tell me the men complied.”
“The Sinclair chieftain threatened to burn down Dunrobin with all of us in it if we did not open the gates,” Lachlan said, fidgeting under Finn’s glare. “That’s when Alex ordered us to let them in.”
“A' phlàigh oirbh Sinclairs!” A plague on the Sinclairs! Finn wanted to have George Sinclair’s thick neck between his hands and squeeze the life out of him. “This cannot stand. I’ll not allow Alex to remain in the clutches of that foul man.”
“If Athol sold it, the King’s Council is bound to approve it, you’ll see,” his mother said, nodding. “My Sinclair cousin is a wise choice for Alex’s guardian.”
“A wise choice?” Finn felt as if his head would explode. “I’d wager my last farthing that George had a hand in the murder of Alex’s parents. And now he has the bollocks to claim to be his guardian?”
He was vaguely aware that Margaret was tugging at his arm, but he could not be diverted with all this anger pulsing through his body.
“There’s more, I’m afraid,” Lachlan said.
Whatever it was, it could not be worse news than this.
“The Sinclair chieftain has forced Alex”—Lachlan paused to clear his throat—“to wed his daughter Barbara.”
Finn staggered on his feet. Nay, it could not be. Not to Barbara. She’d destroy his na?ve, sweet-natured cousin.
“’Tis a fine match,” his mother said, folding her arms. “After all, Barbara is an earl’s daughter and a Sinclair.”
“Alex is fifteen!” Finn said. “Barbara is more than twice his age—and a vicious snake.”
His blood froze in his veins as he imagined Barbara’s cold gray eyes taunting him while she strangled his cousin, just as she had killed his dog so many years ago.
###
Margaret found Finn throwing dirks at a wooden stake in the field where the men practiced behind the castle.
“I’ll get Alex back,” Finn said. “I have to.”
“Now that Athol has sold the wardship and George Sinclair has Alex in his custody,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “that will be difficult.”
“I don’t care how difficult it is,” Finn snapped, and threw another dirk, hitting the stake squarely with a thunk.
“Come inside where we can talk,” she said, taking his arm.
“I should be Alex’s guardian before that damned George,” he said, stabbing his thumb against his chest. “I’m a closer blood relation.”
“I’m afraid that will not carry enough weight with the King’s Council.” She paused, knowing he would not like what she had to tell him. “That is not how these matters are decided.”
“What could be more important than blood?” he demanded, his eyes like blue fire.
“Alex is an earl,” she said. “The council will not grant his wardship to someone without rank.”
“Then my father can be the guardian in name,” Finn said. “He has a rank and title.”
“What I should have said”—she paused to lick her lips—“is that the council will not grant the wardship of an earl to someone of lesser rank. Alex and his properties can only be placed in royal guardianship or with another earl.”
“You’re saying even your brother would be chosen over me,” Finn said, turning to glare at her, “though he does not even know Alex and would not have Alex’s interests at heart?”
“For certain,” she said.
“Then the council can go to hell,” Finn said, and started to march off.
“This won’t last forever,” she said, struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Alex will come of age in less than three years.”
When he swung around to face her, his eyes held such fury that she had to fight the urge to step back.
“Ye don’t understand,” he said between clenched teeth. “Alex is not safe with the Sinclairs.”
Then he stormed off into the woods, leaving her standing alone in the muddy field.
She stared after him, wishing there was something she could say or do to ease his fear for Alex.
She was worried about Alex too, but wardships could be bought and sold, and the council would view an earl with adjacent lands as an appropriate guardian.
Even if they did not, they were too absorbed in their own power struggles to take on a fight in the distant far north with the powerful Earl of Caithness.
With a sigh, she turned around and headed back inside. After passing through the gate, she saw Isabel ahead of her climbing the steps into the keep like a scurrying rat.
###
“I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you,” Finn said when he returned hours later. “’Tis not your fault if the King’s Council will allow such a travesty to stand.”
“And ’tis not your fault the Sinclairs have Alex,” she said.
“It is,” he said. “I made a deathbed promise to my uncle and aunt that I would take care of Alex.”
“Ye saved his life by taking him to Dunrobin after the poisonings,” she said. “Ye did all ye could.”
“I left him,” he said. “He needed me, and I left him.”
Things remained strained between her and Finn as the days passed and bad news continued to arrive.
George Sinclair wasted no time before he began using his position as guardian of Alex’s estates to pillage Sutherland.
As always, those who suffered most were the common folk.
With each new tale that reached them, Finn’s spirits sank lower, and Margaret felt more helpless.
It broke her heart to see him like this. No matter how she tried to tell him that none of it was his fault, he blamed himself for the danger he believed Alex was in. He erected a wall between them and would not let her past it.
At times when they made love she felt as if that wall was so thin she could almost break through. But Finn retreated like an injured bear, hiding the gaping wound in his underbelly.
And now, Bearach’s health was failing. Eight long days after he drank the poison, Isabel’s vinegary tincture did not seem to be working anymore.
Needing to escape the castle for a while, Margaret took Ella on a walk along the river. Their progress was slow, as Ella stopped every few feet to watch a bird or pick a flower.
“Don’t eat them,” Margaret told Ella when she caught her tasting a bluebell.
Margaret’s thoughts returned again to Finn as they walked.
She had put off leaving for too long. The longer she stayed, the greater the chance she would become pregnant.
She could not ask him to take her while his family was in upheaval.
Besides, making the long journey together would be too painful.
If she could get a message to Sybil, her sister would send someone for her.
“Pretty!” Ella said.
Margaret turned to see her daughter pulling with both hands on a stalk with yellow, bell-shaped flowers and green leaves with points. Henbane. Margaret’s heart went to her throat.
“Ye mustn’t touch that one!” Margaret lifted Ella off her feet and rushed her down the slope to the edge of the river, where she vigorously washed Ella’s hands and face. “’Tis a very, very bad plant!”
Ella’s bottom lip trembled as she looked up at Margaret with tears in her big blue eyes.
“’Tis all right, sweetling,” Margaret said, trying her best to keep the panic from her voice. “But ye must tell me if ye tasted that plant with the yellow flowers—or if ye even touched it to your mouth.”
“Nay! Too stinky!” Ella made a face and extended her arms to show how she’d held it.
Praise God! Margaret sank to the ground and pulled Ella onto her lap.
Ella put her small hands on either side of Margaret’s face and peered at her with frightened eyes. “Don’t go away.”
“I won’t,” Margaret said. “What makes ye think I would?”
“Mam was scared, and she went away.”
The poor child must think her mother left her. How could she explain to Ella that her mother didn’t abandon her, but was dead?
“I was only frightened because that flower could make ye ill,” Margaret said. “I will never leave you. Never.”
Ella was quiet for a time as she appeared to take this in, then she looked up at Margaret with her wide blue eyes, and asked, “Will Finn leave us?”
Margaret drew in a shaky breath. In making her plans to leave, she had failed to fully consider how attached Ella was to Finn. And he to her. But the longer they stayed, the harder it would be on all of them when the inevitable parting came.
“Finn is verra fond of you,” Margaret said, because she could not bring herself to tell Ella yet that they would be the ones leaving.
With her thoughts on Ella and Finn, it was not until they were nearly back to the castle that it occurred to her they may have discovered the poison the murderer used.
Anyone at Helmsdale could have collected the henbane from along the path.
Because the plant was commonly used—carefully and in small doses—to relieve pain, particularly toothache, someone gathering it would raise no suspicion.
She debated whether to trouble Finn with what she discovered, as there was little chance it would help reveal who the poisoner was. Everyone at Helmsdale had walked that path at one time or another. She herself had done so many times before today.
When she and Ella entered the hall, she saw Finn sitting alone with his father, which was unusual. Her skin prickled, and she feared more bad news had come to Helmsdale. Worry creased Finn’s handsome face as he got up and started toward her and Ella.
Before he reached them, wailing coming from upstairs stopped him in his tracks. A moment later, Curstag came flying down the stairs and threw herself into Finn’s arms, weeping loudly.
“He’s dead!” Curstag cried. “Bearach is dead!”
Margaret watched in horror as Finn’s father clutched his chest and fell to the floor.