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.
No matter now—for all hope was gone.
No, not all hope. Finnan MacAllister still lived. And if his sister acted under duress, Jeannie might yet persuade her to haul up her courage and act according to her loyalty and the dictates of her heart.
****
“Ah well, Brother, is this not a fond reunion? And but ten short years too late.”
With difficulty, Finnan raised his head from the place where he lay and looked at the woman who had walked into the room. His sister Deirdre she must be, aye, but she bore only physical resemblance to the lass he had known. A sharp, cruel smile curved her lips, and her steps rang on the flagged floor of the room that had once been their father’s library. Confidence enfolded her like a cloak.
