The Highlander's Promise Page 17

  “Aye,” said another, and to Finley’s chagrin, she saw it was Eachann Todde. “I’d stay far from the water’s edge, were I you.”

  “Take a knife!”

  “Take a gun.”

  The winning young lad from the foot race stepped up between them, his cheeks telltale roses from the mead he’d gulped. He hitched up his breeches and puffed out his chest.

  “I’ll take her on, Blair,” he boasted, and the cat calls of the men only encouraged him, even if Lachlan rolled his eyes. “I like a feisty lass. Perhaps she’ll give me a wee kiss if I—”

  The lad was abruptly silenced as Lachlan placed his entire palm over the boy’s face and shoved him backward, where he fell on his arse in the sand amidst his own self-indulgent giggles.

  “All right,” Lachlan said with a smile. He reached for his belt and unbuckled it.

  Finley’s heart stuttered in her chest.

  “I accept your challenge, lass. And I’ll engage in yer contest—”he dropped the belt with his dagger and hatchet still attached onto the tabletop—“unarmed.”

  The men ooh’ed in a humorous combination of admiration and dismay.

  Finley slipped off her shoes, held them up dangling in her fingertips for a moment, and then dropped them atop Lachlan’s belt.

  “Goin’ off into the dark with ’er!”

  “Yer a dead man, Blair!”

  “Good i’ ’twas to know him!”

  “So good!”

  They collectively took up singing a mournful dirge to the tune supplied considerately by the pipe player.

  Eachann Todde rose from his seat with a groan and walked around before the pair of them, holding up his hands. “I’ll officiate such a serious contest, then.” He took out a kerchief from the folds of his shawl and held it up while Lachlan and Finley crouched down. And then Eachann looked over his shoulder, speaking to the eager onlookers. “And as such it’ll be me to be first to comfort the black widow after the Blair’s funeral. I’ll require a length of rope and a large sack.”

  Finley left her readied stance to place her hands on her hips and glare at Eachann Todde. “Are you—”

  “Go!” Eachann shouted, waving the kerchief, and Lachlan was off with a spray of sand.

  Finley shrieked her rage, but then dashed after him, leaving behind the howls of good-natured laughter. Even with having to hold up her skirts to her knees, Finley closed the gap between her and Lachlan in moments, and the sunset provided the perfect light to see the look of surprise on his face when he turned his head to find her gaining on him.

  “Going to let me win, too, Blair?” she taunted with easy breath.

  He pulled away from her, then, and at first Finley fought to keep pace with him, but his lead lengthened until he had disappeared into the gloom of the beach’s end, where the grassy dunes rolled over to meet the tide pools. She lost sight of him for a moment, but kept running. She knew he would be there, waiting for her.

  She saw him, then, standing facing her in the sand, and still she ran on. As she grew nearer, he held open his arms.

  Finley leaped into them, and their kiss was immediate. Lachlan sank to the sand, turning Finley in his arms until she lay on the beach half-beneath him. She cradled his head in her hands, surrendering to his mouth, his hands roving her body.

  “Finley,” he groaned against her lips. “You torture me.”

  “Nae torture,” she said, returning his kisses and drawing him closer with her leg. “Reward. You want me, Lachlan.”

  “I do,” he said, trailing his mouth down her neck. “So much.”

  “You’ve already said I was your friend,” she whispered. “Let us be married in truth.”

  He stilled against her. “Finley—”

  “You belong here now,” she said, and she ignored the icy tendrils of doubt that were creeping around her heart. “Carson Town will prosper again, and it is because of you. The people love you.”

  I love you, she wanted to say. But now the uncertainty was making her afraid. His silence was making her afraid.

  “You knew when I came here that it was always my plan to go back to Town Blair,” he said in a low voice. “Nothing has changed.”

  “They’ve not accepted you back,” she argued.

  “I don’t have proof yet.”

  “Even if you get that proof, they still might not take you.”

  “They’ll have no choice,” Lachlan insisted. “It is my place by rights. By clan law.”

  Finley pushed him away and sat up. Night had taken hold fully now, and the stars pricked the sky with twinkling mirth. As if they didn’t know how close Finley was to crying.

  “I doona understand why it’s more important to you to be the Blair than it is to be happy,” she said in a low voice. “You are happy here, Lachlan.”

  “I am happy here,” he admitted.

  “Mam and Da, people in this town have accepted you as one of their own. Do you have any idea the victory that is for you? Or is your head so stuffed with thoughts of greatness that it has no room to recognize the good around you?”

  “That’s not it,” Lachlan said, and there was a tinge of offense in his tone. “Do you have any idea what it will mean for the future peace of both our towns when I return to Town Blair as chief? I care for these people as my own as well, now. Never will there be another feud between the Carsons and Blairs.”

  “If you cared so much for the people here, you wouldn’t leave, and the devil take the Blairs. They discarded you.”

  If you cared that much, you wouldn’t leave me.

  She had found his sore spot, evidenced by the way his voice hardened. “Have I not given enough?” he demanded. “What else do you want from me? To ruin you for any future chance of marriage? Is that what you want, Finley? Because, make no mistake, when Town Blair calls me back, I will go.”

  Finley swallowed down the bitter disappointment lodged in her throat. She could think of nothing else to say to him. He had rejected her. Had rejected her town, just as his town had rejected him. And yet they both still yearned for the thing that had spurned them.

  “I do want you,” he said and suddenly seized her shoulders, pulling her face close to his in the darkness, but Finley kept her eyes cast to the bay. “I shouldn’t, and I never intended to want you, but I do. And it’s because I care for you that I wouldna be so selfish as to act on it. I am bound to lead my clan. To clear my name, and perhaps my father’s name. It is a responsibility I will not shirk. Even for you. My friend.”

  Finley shook him off and gained her feet, walking to the sand dune and starting up awkwardly through the deep, sandy hillock. His friend. Nothing more.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home,” she said, allowing the tears to find their freedom on her cheeks in the night air, now that she was walking away from him. “A place you will never know.”

  “Finley!” he called out.

  She broke into a run through the gravelly dune, the seagrass whispering against her skirts like mourners. He may as well already be gone, for in her heart, Lachlan had left her that night.

  She slowed to a walk as she came into the quiet alleys, the houses all empty and dark. The dirt beneath her bare feet was still warm, even as the cooling breeze brought out tall, prickly gooseflesh on her arms and legs, and she was glad to step through the door of her own home and close out the night.

  She lit the lamp and looked around the room, saw the familiar walls and furnishings, smelled the familiar smells. This house had been her home as long as she’d been alive. She’d slept in the bedchamber every night since she was born. And when her parents became tired of the festivities on the beach, they, too, would return to the house, and go to sleep in the same chamber. Just as it had always been. Just as it would always be, until the ends of their lives.

  And then Finley would be alon
e.

  That was the future she’d wanted, though, wasn’t it, before she’d married Lachlan Blair? This farm, all to herself, with no husband to tell her what to do. She suddenly looked down at her hands, saw how smooth and clean they were now that she wasn’t doing more than half the rough work. She glanced up and saw the small piece of embroidery around the hem of a little wool gown she’d left on the table. It wasn’t art to behold, but she was getting better. And, truth be told, she was growing to enjoy it. The gown would be a fitting gift for the next woman in town to have a bairn.

  Finley had briefly fancied she might be that woman.

  Instead, her husband intended to disavow her and return to the people who had thrust him from his home, stripped him of the only family he had ever known, and sent him away disgraced. She ripped off her flower crown and flung it across the room. What a fool he was, she thought bitterly. Even the woman he was to have married had betrayed him.

  The knock on the door startled Finley, and she spun around to stare at it, her heart pounding. Could it be Lachlan?

  The rap came again, quiet but insistent. “Finley?”

  She walked to the door and opened it. “Kirsten, what are you doing? Why aren’t you at the beach?”

  “Why aren’t you?” her friend returned, pushing past her into the house.

  Finley closed the door and turned to face the blonde. “I was tired.”

  Kirsten simply stared at her.

  “Och, I doona wish to talk about it, all right?” Finley said.

  “Sure. And nae talkin’ about it suits me fine,” Kirsten answered quickly. “Get your shoes, and hurry. Better fetch a cloak as well.”

  “Kirsten, I’m not going back to the beach tonight.”

  Finley’s friend held her gaze. “Neither am I.”

  Finley knew in a moment what she meant to do. She held up her hands, then turned back to the door and opened it. “Good night, Kirsten.”

  The little blonde marched toward the door and pulled it from Finley’s hand, closing it firmly. “You told me nae to go alone. I’m tired of having nae say in my own happiness, Fin. I’m tired of waiting and hoping for others to act.”

  Finley held her tongue. She’d had no say in marrying Lachlan Blair, and now she had no say in his leaving.

  Kirsten went on. “I want to ken once and for all if that ferret-faced bitch has her claws in Dand truly, or if it’s against his will. And I think there is plenty you’ve been askin’ yerself about Lachlan’s future between the towns,” she said.

  Just say nay, Finley told herself. But aloud, she said, “It’s pitch-dark in the wood, Kirsten.”

  “Better to nae be seen.”

  “We’ll get lost.”

  Kirsten gave an uncharacteristic snort. “You might get lost at night on yer own. But nae me. Nae now.”

  Finley thought in silence for a moment. “What happens when everyone returns to find us gone?”

  Kirsten shrugged. “I already told my folks I was sleeping at yours.”

  “Let me guess: you told mine I was sleeping at yours.”

  The very faintest grin quirked a corner of her mouth. Kirsten Carson was sly. And she was right. Maybe this was a way to get some of her questions answered, or at least gain some insight about Town Blair’s feelings toward Lachlan. Normally, sneaking through the woods to spy on the town wouldn’t have the potential to be so promising, but today was Lá Bealltainn—all but the very oldest and youngest in the clan would revel until nearly dawn.

  Finley sighed. “Fine. But if the Blairs catch us, we’re both drunk and lost our way hunting fairies in the wood.”

  “Sure, and what will they do even if they catch us? Kill us?” Kirsten clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Hurry now, before your folks return—oh, I could run all the way there!”

  Chapter 13

  Lachlan returned to the festivities on the beach, but the celebration had lost its happiness for him. He slowly eased away from the crowds to find a spot between a bonfire and the sea where he could be alone to think. He had hurt Finley, he knew that, but he didn’t understand how. They had both agreed from the beginning that he would return to Town Blair. That they had managed to become so close should have been an added boon. And yet it had caused her heartache because she had wanted him to stay.

  Finley wanted him to stay.

  Lachlan shook his head to clear it of the memories of holding her sweet-smelling body close on the night-soaked beach. Why had he not been content with having her not try to kill him? Why had he let himself sink into the easy friendship that had developed between them, and then developed into something more? Why had he been unable to keep her from haunting his thoughts since that evening so long ago, when he’d watched her dump Eachann Todde into the river? In truth, he could hardly imagine his future without her now, a future without the old house looming behind him as he went about his days, or the sun sinking into the blazing waters of the bay. Of early mornings in the barn with Rory Carson or sweating afternoons pulling in miles of netting, writhing and sparkling with sea life.

  But he had an obligation to fulfill. He had been wronged. Robbed. Slandered. That must be remedied.

  His mind went still. Why hadn’t it occurred to him before? He didn’t have to leave Finley. She was his wife, and if she truly wanted to be with him, she would go with him when he returned to Town Blair. She would be the chief’s wife—and a more fitting station there could not be for her. She would bring the much-needed spark and brightness that Lachlan hadn’t even known he’d been craving all his life. It was so obvious, so simple: Finley would go to Town Blair with him. Of course she would.

  Murdoch Carson caught Lachlan’s eye, then, leisurely making his way up the beach. The chief stopped to chat with this person and that while the faint notes of the pipes still floated on the air; to ruffle the fire-gilded curls of a sleepy child snuggled into his mother’s arms; to share a swig of Irish with a group of men. Then he approached the leaned-together figures of Rory and Ina Carson and, after a moment, Ina bestowed a peck on Rory’s cheek and allowed Murdoch to help her to her feet. They carried on up the beach together, and Lachlan’s brows knit together in curiosity as they neared him.

  “Blair,” Murdoch said by way of greeting. “Didna expect to find you alone.”

  Lachlan was thinking of something to say when Ina saved him.

  “Doona be very aggrieved at Finley,” she said. “She’s never been one for womanly companionship, and I think it well that she has a friend in Kirsten, even if all that little one will do is moon over yer own brother. She’ll be home by breakfast.”

  Lachlan nodded, as if he knew Finley’s plans all along, but inside he was relieved that she was spending the remainder of the evening with Kirsten Carson. He would seek her out on the morrow and tell her of his new plan. “I’m not aggrieved at her at all. The contrary, in fact.”

  “Walk with us,” Ina said, and her smile was as gentle and genuine as ever, even if in the back of Lachlan’s mind, warnings were sounding. “I’ve something to show you, and likely some answers to your questions.”

  Lachlan rose from the sand and took up the place on the other side of Ina as the trio made their way from the beach, Murdoch pausing to rock a lit torch free from the sand. As they neared the path that led to the Carson farm, Murdoch stepped away to the door of a cottage whose roof Lachlan had helped replace. He opened it and held it aside while Ina and Lachlan passed through.

  There were coals glowing in the hearth, and a small table with two little stools. The cottage was comprised of a single room, with the bedstead snugged into one corner. The other end of the house was fitted with the partitions for the animals in winter, although now the gates were opened flat against the wall and the floor was swept clean and dry. The smell of fresh sod gave the air a heavy, wet feeling.

  Murdoch gestured to one of the stools as
he walked toward the hearth in the darkened room, his torch washing light across the walls. “Sit down.”

  Lachlan crossed his arms. “I’ll stand, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Och, naw, doona be that way,” Ina scoffed as she lowered herself onto a chair. “Sit with me, son. Let me talk to you without having to twist me old neck.”

  Mother Blair, Lachlan’s foster mother, had never referred to him as “son” in all his life. Not once. Lachlan reluctantly pulled out the other chair and sat.

  “You’ve been asking a lot of questions since you came to Carson Town,” Ina began, and while from anyone else the declaration may have come off as sinister or accusing, her words were accompanied by her same gentle smile. “Even of my Rory.”

  Murdoch had added fuel to the fire and then slipped his torch into a holder on the wall. Now he leaned a shoulder against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “I told him Rory wouldn’t have the answers he sought.”

  “Aye,” Lachlan acknowledged. “And you were right. Any who remembered the battle could only repeat what everyone else said. The attack from the sea. The fire. The Blair townsfolk who were in league with the enemy ships.”

  “And nae a one could tell you about Thomas Annesley, or how he was connected to the Carsons,” Ina said. “Because you never asked the one person who knew.”

  Lachlan felt his brows lift in surprise. “Mother Carson, I—” he began.

  “Did Fin tell ye about your brooch?” Ina interrupted him.

  Lachlan looked down reflexively, his right hand going to the round, silver filigree on his shawl. “Aye. She said it had been yours on your wedding day.”

  “And that it was,” Ina acknowledged. “But nae from my Rory. When his poor Mam called him back to Carson Town, he’d had yet to make a solid trade. He wasna the eldest son of his family, you see, but his brothers, his sisters, his da—all died in the fire. Their house was burned to the ground, and everything in it. All their animals, gone. The only thing he had in the world was his mother when he returned. But I…” Ina paused, and Lachlan could see that memories were clouding her aging eyes, causing them to mist over behind decades of painful loss.