“After spending time with your respectable parents in London, I thought I would give you another opportunity to prove that you could act like a suitable lady. But if you again insist on American crudeness, then do not complain if I show mine.” Mar reached out to grab Rose’s arm, but Sinclair easily intercepted. To any observer, it looked as if he were merely shaking the earl’s hand again. He wasn’t. He twisted it nearly to the breaking point.
“Release me at once!” Mar hissed under his breath. “You might be as good a whore as your mother, but this Yankee trollop will kick you from her silken sheets if you start a scandal. You’re a nobody, Sin, my lad. Never forget that.”
A nobody.For years, Sinclair had believed that. Now, standing here, with Rose beside him, defending him,believingin him, Sinclair finallysaw Mar’s words for the absurdity that they were. They didn’t make Sinclair flinch—not once. He felt only a rush of fierce, protective anger for the woman the earl disparaged, the woman Sinclair loved.
Increasing the pressure of his grip, Sinclair forced the earl to step closer to him. He bent close and whispered in his ear, “You forget, Mar, that you’re on Hamarray. Scandals don’t leave these shores. I’m the estate manager now, and it’s my duty to protect the people. If you harm or even harass any man, woman, or child, I won’t hesitate to hunt you down. Do not forget how easy it is to quarry game on this isle or keep dark secrets hidden.”
“You’re breaking my wrist, Sinclair,” the earl gasped out.
“I’m aware, and it’s Thorfinn.”
“Thorfinn.” Mar gulped.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes. Yes. I understand.”
Thorfinn released the man and gave him a casual smile. “It has been a pleasure getting reacquainted, Mar.”
The former laird stepped back as he adjusted the sleeve of his jacket with an indignant snap. “It seems that perhaps Hamarray no longer agrees with me. Please give my regrets to your parents, Miss Van Etten, but you are a—”
Thorfinn stalked toward the man just as the bully used to corner him. Mar immediately aborted his insult. The coward might have enjoyed inflicting pain, but it was clear he had no tolerance for it himself.
“You were saying?” Rose asked archly.
“Goodbye, Miss Van Etten.” Mar bowed stiffly and then strode through the crowd.
“What a truly odious man,” Miss Morningstar said as she turned with an intentional shudder and gave up all pretense of being absorbed by Lord Newsberry learning the local dances. “But the two of you handled Mar brilliantly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is, well, the person who we suspect he might be.”
“If you’ll keep Miss Van Etten company, I’ll follow him,” Thorfinn said quickly to Miss Morningstar in response to her veiled reference to the spy ring. “I’ll make sure he does no harm and that he actually does leave with no clandestine meetings or furtive backtracking.” Although Mar had clearly returned in an attempt to win Rose’s fortune a second time, he could have also come to reengage in espionage.
“I’d say to stay safe, but I think you’ve made it truly clear who’s the one in peril now on this isle.” Rose gave him a gentle smile, and he realized then that she knew that he had finally stopped allowing the earl to haunt him.
“Aye.” Thorfinn nodded as a sense of calm washed over him. He moved through the crowd and headed toward Muckle Skaill. Although it was getting late in the evening, a warm glow that the islanders called the simmer dim still lit the sky. The summer solstice was only a few days away, and there was barely any darkness this time of year.
Within a few minutes, Mar appeared with his valet carrying his valise. The man must have realized that Rose would never lend him the use of a driver. It wasn’t hard to track the two. They went directly down the path and boarded the duke’s yacht. In no time, the sleek vessel sailed away in the direction of Scrabster.
Thorfinn turned and headed back up the hill, a lightness inside him that he’d never felt before. The old memories would always be there. The pain of what his mother had endured would never be forgotten. And Mar, especially if he was a spy, could always try to return. But the man’s power was gone forever. He held no sway on these isles gilded by the simmer dim. And he held no dominion over Thorfinn’s soul.
As Thorfinn approached the ceilidh, his stepda’s voice rang out as he wove one of his yarns. It was an old one passed down by Sigurd’s da and his da before him and probably his da before that. Since the ancient hero shared a name with Sigurd, it was no wonder the epic was one of the older man’s favorites.
In the tale, the famous warrior chief Sigurd helps the people of Frest defend against a group of vicious invaders who have forged an unholy pact with the finmen. When a giant emerges from the sea to assist the enemy, the islanders almost give up hope, but the mighty Sigurd charges the creature. He gives up his life to defeat the monster, but his sacrifice causes his people to rise up and fight off the attackers.
In a sweeping gesture, Thorfinn’s stepda was raising both his hands as he reached the epic’s conclusion:
“And even as the great Sigurd drew his last breath, he inspired his people.
“‘For all time, I shall stand at the head of Hamarray, victor over this giant—a reminder to our people of our strength. When Hamarray and Frest shall need me to defend them again, I shall rise from my rocky tomb.’
“At the end of great Sigurd’s final promise to his people, he and the giant turned to stone. And there they remain today—the sea stack forever guarding our home.”
A faint smile touched Thorfinn’s lips. Before, he’d always felt uncomfortable during the retelling of Sigurd’s Rock. After all, he was the offspring of the usurper who’d ruled from Muckle Skaill. Even his mother’s surname was of Scottish lineage, not of the older stock.
But Thorfinn belonged to Frest, to these people. He had chased off the cruel invader. Although the real-life Sigurd would never see him as a true son of Frest, Thorfinn rather thought the mythical hero would clap him on the back and offer him mead or whatever spirits they’d brewed back then.
Reggie would tell him it was about damn time. His half brother had always loved the old tale and its bravado. He’d never understood why Thorfinn hadn’t. Shite, once Reggie had even convinced Thorfinn to crawl onto the stack using a rope so that they could “absorb the courage of the ancient hero.” It had been a harrowing adventure, one that Thorfinn had refused to repeat despite Reggie’s urging. His brother had always sworn he’d convince Thorfinn to return to the rock formation someday.
A shiver sliced through Thorfinn, and he thought back to his brother’s list of riddles.
