CHAPTER 27
Finn stomped into the stables intent on taking Ceò out for a hard gallop.
Margaret had slept on Una’s floor again last night and avoided him all day, not even showing her face at meals.
She had never shown such stubbornness before.
Apparently, she was not going to change her mind about marrying him.
“Finn!” he heard someone call to him from a dark corner of the stables.
He had his dirk ready in his hand but sheathed it when Una, of all people, emerged from the gloom.
“Your father needs to speak with ye today,” she said.
“Ach, ye came out here to tell me that?”
“Mind your tone with me,” she said as if he were still a bairn. Then she glanced behind them and said in a hushed voice, “I came to tell ye my grandson Lachlan has news from Dunrobin.”
Lachlan was wise to be discreet and send a message through his grandmother. Until they knew every single person who either played a part in the poisoning or sent word of it to George Sinclair, they had to assume there could still be a traitor inside Helmsdale.
“News about Alex?” Finn asked.
“Aye,” she whispered. “Lachlan is waiting for ye a half mile down the coastal trail.”
For an old woman, Una could move quickly when she wanted. Before he could ask any more questions, she was gone.
He found Lachlan pacing beside the trail. After looking up and down the path to be sure no one was coming, Lachlan signaled for Finn to follow him behind a clump of aspen where he had tied his horse.
From Lachlan’s grim expression, the news from Dunrobin was not good.
“What’s happened?” Finn asked. “Is Alex all right?”
“I’ve learned that the Sinclairs plan to murder him,” Lachlan said.
“Murder? Why would they do that?” Finn said. “They need Alex alive. ’Tis only through him that they have control of Sutherland.”
“They don’t need Alex if they have his heir.”
“Mìle marbhphàisg oirbh Sinclairs!” A thousand death shrouds on the Sinclairs! “Barbara is with child?”
“It’s her lover MacKay’s,” Lachlan said. “But the Sinclairs will claim it’s Alex’s and say the babe came early.”
“How did ye hear this?” Finn asked.
“One of the Sinclair men got drunk and told a maidservant he was trying to bed,” Lachlan said. “First chance she had to leave the castle, she came and told me.”
“We can’t wait any longer,” Finn said. “We must rescue Alex.”
“Aye,” Lachlan said. “Ye can count on me and my clansmen.”
“Good,” Finn said, gripping Lachlan’s shoulder.
Finn was glad he could rely on the Murrays, who were longstanding allies of the Gordons, bound by their mutual hatred of the Sinclairs.
It went without saying that they would have to rescue Alex without the help of any men who were at Helmsdale at the time of the poisoning, including the Gordon guards.
“If we could get word to Alex,” Finn said, “would he be able to meet us outside of the castle?”
“The Sinclairs never allow him to take a horse out,” Lachlan said. “But I’m told they let him walk along the shore in front of the castle.”
“Then we’ll ask him to meet us on the strand, down the shore from the castle,” Finn said. “We can have a boat waiting there and spirit him away.”
“The problem is getting the message to Alex,” Lachlan said. “We’re asking him to take a big risk running for it from the beach. I wouldn’t do it unless I got the message from someone I trusted.”
“Aye, you or I need to go into Dunrobin,” Finn said.
“Not you,” Lachlan said. “George Sinclair and his family know ye too well.”
“They’ll not recognize me dressed as a peddler,” Finn said, with a grin.
“’Tis too risky,” Lachlan said, shaking his head.
“Alex trusts me and will do as I tell him,” Finn said. “Besides that, I fostered with my uncle at Dunrobin and know the castle better than you.”
“I should do it. They don’t know my face like they know yours.”
“Nay, it has to be me,” Finn said. “I want to be the one to steal Alex out from under George’s nose. That will make the victory all the sweeter.”
After all the damn sitting and waiting, he could finally do something. He could save Alex. And he would.
###
Before leaving, Finn forced himself to climb the stairs to his father’s chamber, where he found Una sitting beside the bed.
He had to hide his shock when he saw his father.
Gilbert had aged twenty years in the week since Bearach’s death.
His ruddy complexion had changed to a chalky pallor.
Through years of heavy drinking, he’d retained a warrior’s muscular build.
But now, he looked hollowed out and caved in on himself as he lay on the bed.
“He wants to speak with ye alone,” Una said, and gestured for Finn to take her seat next to the bed.
Finn sank into it, dreading another awkward talk with his father. His father’s eyes flickered open when the door clicked shut behind Una.
“I’m here.” Finn took his father’s hand, something he could not remember doing even as a bairn.
“I must tell ye something before I die,” his father said. “And don’t tell me I’m not dying. I know I am.”
Finn did not want to hear his father confess his regret that he had not done more for him, had not protected him from his mother’s bile or done any of the other things a father should. None of it mattered now, but if it would ease his father’s passing, Finn could not deny him.
“I’m listening,” Finn said. “What is it ye wish to say to me?”
“The truth!” The force with which Finn’s father expelled the word caused a coughing spell that racked his body.
Finn retrieved the cup Una had left on the small table and lifted his father up to help him drink.
“Make it whisky next time,” his father said as he collapsed back on the pillows.
He lay still with his eyes closed for so long that Finn thought he had gone to sleep and Finn could leave. But then he opened his eyes again and said the last thing Finn expected.
“I’m not your father.”
Finn wondered if in his weakened state his father did not recognize him.
“When I brought ye home as a wee newborn babe, I told Isabel ye were my bastard,” his father said. “To save her pride, she agreed to pretend ye were hers, but she never forgave me.”
Well, that explained a lot. Finn supposed that deep down he always suspected he was the bastard of one of the many women his father had on the side. He thought of how Margaret showered love on a child not her own, but Isabel was not capable of that.
“I know Isabel mistreated ye because of it,” his father said. “But she would have killed ye in your cradle if she knew the truth.”
“What truth?” Finn asked.
“The truth that your mother made me swear an oath on her deathbed to keep secret,” he said. “Isabel was not the only one who would have wanted ye murdered if they knew.”
Finn felt as if he were standing in the shallows, fighting to keep on his feet as wave after wave crashed into him. The mother whose angry resentment had shaped his life was not truly his mother. And the woman who gave birth to him was long since dead. He would never have a chance to know her.
“Who was she, this woman ye say was my mother?” Finn asked. Knowing his father, she was probably a poor tavern wench he barely knew.
“Isabel’s sister.”
“Her sister?” Finn was lucky he was already sitting down. “I didn’t know she had a sister.”
“Her name was Deirdre,” his father said. “Our fathers were keen on making an alliance and arranged a marriage between us. She was the sister I was supposed to marry.”
God’s bones. Finn could hardly take it in.
“Deirdre was the most beautiful lass I’d ever seen,” his father said with a wistfulness Finn had never heard in his voice before. “She was full of laughter. That lass had a sparkle in her eye that made ye believe your life would be golden if only ye could have her at your side.”
“Ye loved her?” Finn asked.
“Aye, but Deirdre told me she wouldn’t have me because she loved someone else,” he said. “But as I said, it was all arranged.”
Finn braced his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair. What next?
“When Deirdre ran off with her lover, our fathers salvaged their alliance by making Isabel take her place as my bride.”
Finn got up and started pacing the room. No wonder his father and mother were never happy. He was in love with her sister, and she knew it.
“So who did this Deirdre”—Finn could not yet call her his mother—“run off with?”
“Ye must remember hearing tales about your grandmother Sutherland’s half-brother Robin, who was twenty years younger than she?”
“Aye. He claimed to be the rightful heir to Sutherland and took Dunrobin Castle twice.” Finn had heard the tales all his life. The Sutherlands considered Robin a hero, while the Gordons labeled him a rebel.
“He was wild and fearless and darkly handsome.” His father paused to cough and gasp for air. “What man could compete with that?”
“Are ye saying that’s who she ran off with?” Finn asked. “But that would mean…”
“Aye. Robin Sutherland was your father.”
“But how…” Finn had a hundred questions but could not seem to find the words. His head was spinning. His mother was not his mother. His father was not his father.
“Not long after Robin was finally captured and killed, I received an urgent message from Deirdre asking me to meet her at Duffus Castle in secret,” his father said. “In truth, I got my hopes up she’d have me now that Robin was dead. When it came to Deirdre, I had no pride.”
“Why Duffus Castle?”
“The Sutherlands, being Robin’s clan, were protecting her,” his father said. “Duffus himself was away, but his sister Mary, the one who was married to the Sinclair chieftain, was there. Mary warned me Deirdre was dying before she took me to see her.”
Tears ran down his creased face, but his father—nay, Gilbert—either did not notice them or was past caring.