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. “Youmight 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 Carsonwassly. 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 wasLá 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.
