The gladness in her eyes dimmed. “Caught, him and Aggie both. We made a bid to rescue you with the Dowager Avrie as captive. We failed.”
“That blood all over you”—his gaze caressed her, as his hands could not—“it is not your own?”
“The Dowager’s. We meant to exchange her for your freedom, Finnan. But she sacrificed herself, threw herself against Danny’s blade.” Darkness flickered in Jeannie’s eyes. “How well do you know her, Finnan?”
“I knew her all my life.”
“And did you know that she and your grandfather were lovers? That Gregor Avrie was his son, rather than her husband’s?” Jeannie licked her lips fretfully. “I think she may have been behind much of this trouble, Finnan. She believed Gregor entitled to an inheritance; I suspect she drove the men of her family to chase it.”
Surprise curled through Finnan, battering his already strained emotions. “That means the night he came to Dun Mhor”—the night Finnan’s world had fallen apart—“he slew his own half-brother.” Finnan’s anger stirred again. “And then wed his son to his half-niece.” And he, Finnan, had killed his own half-uncle, upon his return to the glen. Ah, the sorrow that had come from all the twisted desire, greed, and hate!
And no way out of it, now. But he had to find a way out of it, for the sake of this woman at his side.
“Jeannie, see if you can free me. We have not much time.” Deirdre’s cruel version of mercy would not extend long.
“How?” Desperately, she eyed the manacles that bound him. “It needs a key, Finnan.”
“See can you loosen the pegs from between the stones.” He had worked at just that during the brief intervals he had been alone, between Deirdre’s terrible visits, without success. But now he had much more for which to live.
Willingly she slid over the cold stone to reach his wrists. He heard the jangle of the chain as she pulled at it. “The hasps are pounded in tight.”
Aye, and surely Stuart Avrie would never have left Jeannie here if she had a hope of freeing him. He had rarely felt so helpless or, were he honest, so frightened—for Jeannie, if not himself.
“I ken so, but try,” he urged.
She did. She grunted and pulled with all her might, using her slender body as leverage. Finnan helped as best he might by pulling at the shackle, and felt the skin at his wrist tear, but to no avail.
She sat back on her heels and shook her head. Tears choked her voice when she said, “It is tight.”
Finnan thought desperately. “Do you think you can scale a wall and get out?”
She tipped her head up and examined the place. The shelving that had once housed books had burned and fallen away from the stone wall; most of the ceiling gaped open.
“Leave you, you mean?” Her gaze returned to his and locked on. Blood oozed slowly from her scraped cheek, but courage fairly illuminated her. Never had she looked so beautiful. “I will not.”
“Please, Jeannie, lass. For she will use you to hurt me.” Of all things, he could not bear to witness that.
“These walls are too high. And they will have men keeping watch outside.”
Aye, Deirdre would be canny, for she played a game with him. She wanted to see what he would do, whether he would sacrifice himself for Jeannie. He would, in an instant. But if he could not trust Deirdre and her husband, what would that serve?
“Listen to me, Jeannie. This was my Da’s room, the very place where he received his mortal wound. He always kept weapons about him. There must be something we can use.” He sent his thoughts reaching back over the years. “Go to the fireplace,” he told her, his voice a rasp. “Quickly now, before they come. There is a stone on the right hand—six down from the coat of arms. See?”
She scrambled up onto her feet, swayed where she stood. She crossed to the far wall, and he lost sight of her. “Where?”
“There is a loose stone. Draw it out. My father kept a cache of weapons.”
“I do not see—ah.” He heard her fumble. “It is too hard to pull out, Finnan. I do not think I can.”
“You must.”
Did she have strength enough? Not the kind required to move the stone, nay, but to use what she might find within. When they came, would she fight to save herself? He could hope for no more.
But he understood now what had prompted his mother’s actions on the night his father died. She had sent Finnan off, leaving her beloved daughter behind, because she knew she could go on if at least one of her children remained living. Finnan felt that way for Jeannie, now. So long as she drew breath, saw the sky over her head, beheld beauty…
“It has come loose,” she said with a new note in her voice. “There are weapons within.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
