He had a point. With a sigh, she gathered her skirt and reached for the leather strap that held the dagger in place on her thigh. Tugging on the string, it fell into her hand, and she handed it over. “I only have one.”
He took it, and the other warrior unlocked the door, pushing it open. “Dinnae be long, Finley.”
She swept inside and shut the door behind her, finding Erik standing before the fire, his back to the door. She could see the tension in his shoulders, feel it in the room itself. How was she going to start any sort of conversation with him?
“Why are ye here, lass?”
She drew in a breath. “How did ye know it was me?”
“Lass, I always know when ’tis ye.”
Her heart melted in her chest at his soft words, but she also kept up her fragile wall around her heart, not wanting to give in so quickly. “I am here tae help, Erik.”
He snorted, though he didn’t turn in her direction. “Help? Lass, I dinnae think there is anything ye can help with on mah account.”
Finley pushed away from the door, gripping the chair at the small table instead. The rough wood ate into her hands, but she welcomed the small jolt of pain. It was a way to know that this wasn’t all a dream, and she was here, with Erik, under the worst of circumstances.
“There has tae be.”
He finally turned toward her then, and Finley could see the strain on his face. He did not look like the warrior she had encountered that first day or any day since. This man was haunted by something that he was unwilling to share with her. “They are saying I murdered a man, a warrior, in cold blood, Finley. ’Tis far different than stealing a sheep or not paying for mah ale at the tavern. Everyone knows that is mah sword.” He looked down at his still bloodied tunic. “And I have his blood on mah clothing. ’Tis enough.”
“I dinnae believe that,” she bit out. “I dinnae believe that anyone save the McIves believe ye killed that Scot, Erik. They know ye. They know wot ye are capable of, and murder is not one of them.”
“So how do ye propose we get me out of this then?” he asked harshly, causing Finley to fight a flinch at the tone. “Are ye going tae tell yer clan, yer aunt, that ye were with me? Because that’s the only option I see at the moment, and I wilnae let ye stand up and lie aboot yer whereabouts.”
It wouldn’t work anyway. Leeth had seen her right before the murder had been found. He would know that she hadn’t been with Erik.
“We have tae get them tae confess.”
Erik arched a brow. “Who?”
This was going to be a difficult conversation. “Isabel and Robert.”
Erik opened his mouth then promptly shut it. “Ye think that Isabel had something to do with this?”
“Aye, I do,” she answered, twisting her hands together. “Think aboot it. What if he knows yer past with his wife? Or the fact that ye are here and can pull the alliance at any moment?” She had given a few thoughts to their interference, none of them good. “Or wot if they thought they could manipulate mah aunt into turning against the McGregor clan?”
Erik snorted. “That would be a mistake.”
“Aye, but not farfetched,” Finley added. Now that she had said it aloud, it did make some sense. An alliance with the McGregors had put their clan amongst some of the strongest in all of Scotland. With the McIves being so close, all the McGregor laird would have to do would be to call upon her aunt, their clan, to join in a battle.
While she didn’t think that he would unless provoked, it would put the McIves in a rather difficult position to defend both clans.
Or it could be complete and utter jealousy on McIves’s behalf regarding his wife’s former lover. That was certainly not off the table.
Erik stroked his chin with his fingers. “Then the only way I could be freed from this is to get one of them to confess that they planned this for me to take the downfall.”
“Aye,” Finley said. That was the crux of the issue. The plan would have to be nearly perfect to get a confession out of Isabel or her husband. “I can only think of one way for ye tae do so.”
He arched a brow. “Wot would that be, lass?”
She wet her lips. “Ye have tae seduce Isabel.”
“Seduce her?” he chuckled, groaning a moment later. “Lass, I dinnae have any magical powers over her. She’s not going tae just fall in mah arms and start tae confess her sins.”
The thoughts were coming to Finley faster than she could tell him. “But she might if she is convinced ye are plotting against the McPherson clan,” she said excitedly. It was perfect. If Erik could show Isabel that he was here on a mission to infiltrate and win over the laird that he would ultimately defeat, then perhaps she would be more inclined to sway in his favor to build that secret alliance instead.
“’Tis bloody brilliant if I can say so mahself.”
