“I know ye love my son as much as I do.” His uncle gripped his shoulder and looked Finn in the eye as he spoke. “And you’re the best warrior I’ve got.”
Finn was surprised by the compliment. His relatives did not hand them out often, particularly to him.
“’Tis a damned shame my brother doesn’t see what a fine son he has in you.” His uncle shook his head. “That Sinclair mother of yours has poisoned his mind.”
It would take a stronger man than Finn’s father to withstand his mother. But no good would come of dwelling on that.
“As for that brother of yours,” his uncle said with a grimace, “he’s all Sinclair.”
That poisoned Sinclair blood ran through Finn’s veins too.
###
Margaret felt out of sorts all morning. After Finn left their bed during the night, she lay awake for hours imagining him withanother woman—as if she was not miserable enough after her disastrous attempt to pleasure him.
She had no claim on him and certainly no cause to blame him for seeking out a woman who would give him what she could not. It should not trouble her in the least that he did. In fact, she should be relieved.
And yet it did trouble her, and she was anything but relieved.
The woman Finn went to last night—and may still be with this morning—would be the sort he was accustomed to, the kind he liked, and nothing like Margaret. She would be a voluptuous and bold woman who reveled in her sensuality and knew just how to please him. Despite herself, Margaret imagined him kissing the other woman’s lips and throat the way he had kissed her, running his hands over the woman’s bare skin the way Margaret wished she could let him touch her.
She was not ready to face Finn and whomever he had been with first thing, so she asked Una to have one of the servants bring breakfast up and ate alone with Ella. She could not, however, hide upstairs any longer. Bracing herself to see Finn without showing the hurt she felt, she went down to the noon meal with Una and Ella.
Finn arrived late and sat with the guards rather than with the family at the high table. He looked disheveled and tired. Evidently, he had not slept much either, though for a different reason.
Margaret suddenly realized Helen had been speaking to her, perhaps for some time, and she had not heard a word. “I’m sorry, what did ye ask me?”
“Are ye packed and ready to go?” Helen said.
Margaret’s heart lurched in her chest. Was Finn sending her back? She struggled to calm herself. He had cause to be upset with her, but surely he would have told her himself. And Helen would not be asking if she was ready with a pleasant smile if they were kicking her out.
“Finn hasn’t told ye yet?” Helen asked, raising her eyebrows.
Margaret felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She could not very well say Finn had not spoken to her since he left their chamber in the middle of the night.
“I suppose he got distracted,” Helen said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Ach, newlyweds. I remember those days.”
Margaret managed a weak smile. “Where are we going?”
“To Helmsdale, our hunting lodge fifteen miles up the coast,” Helen said. “We leave in an hour and will reach Helmsdale before supper.”
A short time later, Margaret was in their chamber packing when Finn came in.
“Your Aunt Helen was kind to give me these so that I have something appropriate to wear,” she said to cover the awkwardness between them as she folded one of the gowns and put it in the satchel.
“Ye heard we’re going to Helmsdale?” he asked.
“Aye, for hunting,” she said.
Finn was standing too close. It was so distracting that she made a mess of folding the gown and had to start over.
“I don’t hunt,” she said. “Perhaps I could stay here.”
“And have everyone know I can’t keep a wife happy for even a fortnight?”
“They’ll know it’s me who can’t keep you happy since you’re already bedding other women.” She clamped her mouth shut, appalled at herself for saying that out loud.
“Bedding other women?” Finn spun her around to face him. “Did Curstag tell ye that?”
