Bitterly, Finnan said, “They took her against her will, and Gregor Avrie wed her to his son in order to legitimize any claim they might have here. Once I am dead—”
He stopped speaking abruptly. Alarm flared in Jeannie’s heart. It made a valid reason, beyond highland spite, for the Avries to see him slaughtered.
“I must get word to her that I stand ready to help her,” he said. “Let her know rescue is at hand.”
“But, Finnan, how are you to rescue her, and you hunted like a hart these many days?” Jeannie knew this man by now, understood the depth of loyalty that possessed his heart—for this place, for Danny, for Geordie. How could she expect him to withhold it from his sister? Yet the prospect of him endangering himself terrified her.
She knew then that among all the things she had given Finnan MacAllister—her virtue, her concern, her peace of mind—foremost she had given him her heart. She loved this man desperately and completely, and the truth of that frightened her more than anything, for she had no evidence that he would ever love her in return.
“I ha’ just killed two men,” he told her harshly, “and I can slay as many more as need be. I will take them one by one in the dark, if I have to, and so free her.”
“A valiant enough plan,” Jeannie said ruefully, “but impractical, I fear. You are exhausted and badly injured.”
“And armed with my anger. I need only deal with them one at a time.”
“Well, it will not be tonight. Give it some time and catch your breath. Stay here the rest of the night.”
His gaze seared her face before he looked to the door. “Danny—”
“I suspect Aggie has gone to him. Do you truly wish to interrupt them? Let them have their time, Finnan, for it is precious for them as well as us.”
He continued to gaze at her as if trying to see inside her, and Jeannie hid nothing from him. If they were to have only this moment—only this night—she would give him all she had, including her honesty.
After a moment a new emotion flared in his eyes. What was it? Gladness? Relief? Passion? The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, and he raised a hand to cup her cheek.
“Jeannie,” he said—only that, but coupled with the brush of his fingers it set her heart into a new rhythm, double time.
“Finnan.” She turned her face into his touch and kissed his palm, still splashed with blood.
He sucked in a great breath. “’Tis madness for me to stay here tonight.”
“Surely not. The Avries have posted their guards. They will suspect nothing.”
“And should they come searching and discover the fate of those guards? Or if new men come to relieve them?”
Jeannie got to her feet. “Then I had best get that arm of yours tended quickly and see you rest as best you may.” Before he went from her again, as he must. Jeannie’s heart twisted in her breast. He might be the wrong man for her to love, yet she was his this night and for all time.
****
“Tell me of your sister,” Jeannie urged as she soothed Finnan’s arm with cloths soaked in witch hazel. “Tell me what happened that night you left the glen.”
Finnan sipped the willow tea she had brewed for him and looked again at the door. He did not want to speak of that; he barely wished to remember that night. Yet Deirdre was here in the glen. Duty beyond even what he owed Geordie called to him.
Best to finish with Jeannie MacWherter here tonight, and be done. He had seen what lay in her eyes, knew he held her in thrall. As with a defeated opponent in battle, he had only to lay the final stroke.
Yet he felt less than sure he wanted to do that, when it came to it. He no longer knew how he felt about this woman—warm, vital, and so bonny it hurt him to look at her. She possessed grit and courage as well as beauty. But he had made a vow, and the man he was would not let him shrink from it.
Anyway, he thought now, even had she been the bonny angel she appeared, there was no future in it. Aye, best to break it with her now, before she saw him lying in his own blood beneath an Avrie sword.
For he could not be certain he would survive this battle.
He said nothing at all, and she smoothed the ends of his bandage with those careful fingers and rose from the floor where she knelt.
“Come,” she urged. “Rest until Aggie returns.”
“I cannot rest. I must remain vigilant.”
She tugged at his hand and drew him into the bedroom where they had been before. Immediately a score of memories flooded his mind—the heat of her welcome, the scent of her, and the taste on his tongue. And aye, if he were to break her heart this night, should he not take her body first?
