Chapter Twenty-Nine

Finnan MacAllister edged out from under cover of the sentinel pine on the slope above Rowan Cottage and narrowed his eyes to peer through the gloaming. A perfect day it had been in Glen Rowan, warm and with fair winds chasing white clouds like sheep across a field of blue. Now the light lingered late in the west like a benediction, but he knew all too well it held no blessing for him.

Two men in Avrie colors stood guard on the trail at the rise that led to Jeannie’s gate. He cursed softly as he watched them settle in for the night and felt Danny move up to his side.

“What is it, Master Finnan?”

Finnan did not answer at once. Anger, dismay, and, were he honest, alarm pounded up through him. Why would the Avries feel it necessary to post watchers there? Had he been seen going or coming? Had he placed Jeannie in danger?

And how was he to reach her now? He choked back his desperation and, without looking at Danny, said, “Trouble for those two lasses below, if not us. Careful,” he warned as Danny took an incautious step forward. “Do not let yourself be seen.”

Now it was Danny’s turn to whisper a curse. “I never should have gone there, sick with fever or not. Now Aggie is in danger.”

Finnan slanted a cool look at his companion. “Aggie, is it?”

Danny’s expression turned grim. “She is a sweet lass with a kind heart. I would not like aught to happen to her, especially because of me.”

“The two of you grew friendly, did you, whilst you lay ill?”

“More than that. She is the sort of woman a man could get used to staying with for good.”

“Oh, aye?” Surprise made Finnan withdraw all his attention from the scene below and bestow it on Danny instead.

“Does not seem to mind the places I ha’ been or the things I have done—nor the loss of the arm. Never thought I would find anyone like that.” Danny sucked in a breath. “But I am in no position to do aught about it, am I?”

“And that is my fault, lad. I have brought you to all this.” And her. Only look at the danger in which he had placed Jeannie. Finnan caught himself up harshly. What matter—he wanted only to destroy her, did he not?

Nay, that was not all he wanted. He ached to taste her lips again, plunge himself into her heat, or even just gaze into her eyes.

“I do not mean that, Master Finnan,” Danny avowed. “You know all my loyalty is yours, no question.”

“I do know that, lad, and I am grateful.”

“Only, what are we to do? Chased we have been over the rocks of this glen for days, and with your arm refusing to heal… Your gey big house stands guarded, and the cottage below. How are we to defeat them all?”

Finnan MacAllister gritted his teeth. “’Tis time we fought back, Danny my lad.”

“But how?”

“By turning into shadows—spirits, if we must. By enlisting the help of the glen itself.”

Danny shivered. “You ken fine I do no’ like it when you begin talking of magic.”

“’Tis the only thing that will save us now.” Finnan gazed seriously into his friend’s eyes. “You do not have to stay, you ken. No dent in your loyalty if you go. ’Tis my fight, this.”

“And since when has one of us had a fight without the others?” For a moment, Danny’s open face clouded. “I am that convinced we—the three of us—should never have parted ways in the first place, nor let Master Geordie go off by himself.”

Finnan shrugged uncomfortably. “He’d had his fill of killing, could stomach no more. Should I have dragged him into this slaughter?”

“I do no’ ken. But I am sure had we stayed together he would still be alive now. You always looked after us, Master Finnan, always.”

Finnan heard Jeannie say again, “Where were you when Geordie needed you in Dumfries?” He had been turning himself into a hare here. One more thing for which he could feel guilt.

He became distracted from his thoughts when the cottage door opened and Jeannie emerged, barely visible in the dim light. She carried a white cloth in her hands and did not so much as glance at the guards along the way before she walked round the side of the cottage. There she paused and flapped the cloth the way a woman might shake away crumbs from a table covering after a meal.

Finnan’s eyes narrowed. A signal? He watched as she marched deliberately to the rear of the tiny building and spread the cloth over the prickle bushes. Then she went inside and shut the door firmly.

The dark was now almost complete. Even in the west the light sank into a mere haze that reflected off the burn. Had he not seen them, he would not know the guards were there on the rise.

Nor would they be able to see him very easily.

“Jeannie needs to speak with me,” he told Danny softly. And he to her.

“But ’tis too dangerous, surely.”

Finnan drew himself up. “The Avries have overstepped themselves this time. Let them deal with the spirit of vengeance.”

****

Finnan held himself still as the trees beneath which he had paused, the dirk clutched between his teeth. He thought about the night, listened for the way the breeze bent the gorse and rough grass. He imagined himself invisible, even his breath suspended.

He heard the two guards speaking to one another in low voices, never suspecting they were overheard.

“Damned fine-looking woman,” one of them murmured with a lecherous undertone. “And we are not getting paid enough to stand out here all night when there are warm women inside.”

His only reply came as a grunt from the second man.

“’Tis my opinion this fellow they are chasing will never be caught, by any road. He is a phantom. How long have we been after him now?”

Finnan bared his teeth around the blade in a grim smile.

“No phantom, he,” the second man said, “but a turncoat. Took pay to kill his own kind at Culloden.”

The first man ignored that opinion. “You keep watch here; I am going to see if I can get inside yon cottage.”

“To what purpose? Those are respectable women.”

“And maybe lonely. I have a flask here. Do you really want to spend all the night out on this trail?”

The second man never answered. Finnan had moved, silent as the shadow he imagined, and muffled the fellow from behind with an arm about his throat. The dirk swung up in a short vicious movement, and Finnan lowered his victim softly to the ground.

One taken care of, but he had to silence the second man also. He saw the fellow swing round with the gleam of wide eyes alerted by instinct.

“Donald?”

Finnan leaped for him out of the deeper darkness and bore him over backward before he could draw his sword. The dirk, already well-wetted, did its work again, and Finnan breathed a fierce prayer of gratitude before dragging both men off the trail into the gorse.

His arm, stiff and enflamed, screamed at him as he wiped his dirk on the grass and returned it to his boot.

The cottage door opened and light spilled out. He saw Jeannie’s golden head, and his heart leaped disconcertingly. By all that was holy, he had missed her. And not just her kisses.

Still silent, he started up the trail to her gate. He felt it the instant she caught sight of and recognized him. She hurtled through her doorway, leaving the brightness behind.

They met at the gate, and she threw herself into his arms. Her hands caught at him and his, equally eager, caressed her hips even as he drew her nearer.

She did not speak, not in words. Instead she reached for him with her lips, bestowed small, desperate kisses on his mouth, his cheek, his chin. He felt her tremble.

“There now, lass,” he murmured, trying to tell himself he remained unaffected by the greeting even as his heart pounded and he went lightheaded.

“I was so afraid for you,” she told him between the kisses. “Are you all right? Are you whole?”

Finnan’s heart thudded perilously. This, he reminded himself, was the woman he lived to punish. He could not let himself care for her; he would not.

“You signaled me?” he asked.

“Come inside out of the light.” In defiance of her own words, she held him there and kissed him, keeping him in the radiance that spilled from the cottage. Her mouth, hot and hungry, pulled at him, very nearly irresistible.

If he died now, he thought as his tongue swept the inside of her mouth, if a troop of the Avries’ men should come up behind and strike him dead, it might very well be worth it.

She broke the kiss and tugged at his hand. “Come.”

As soon as she had him inside, she shut the door and turned to her maid, who stared. “Cover the windows, Aggie—quick.”

Aggie did not move. “What has become of those men out there?” Her gaze dropped to Finnan’s hands. “That is blood!”

“They ha’ been removed,” Finnan said baldly, and the lass’s eyes widened with alarm.

“Where is Danny? Is he all right?”

“Up on the hillside.”

Jeannie had hurried to cover the windows when Aggie did not comply. She turned back, and Finnan felt her gaze all over him, full of distress.

“Your arm—”

“Sore, that is all. I am fine.” Better now—well enough, certainly, to ravish her on the spot, if only her maid were out of the way.

“Did you signal for me?” he asked again.

She nodded, a grave expression filling her eyes. “I needed to tell you: your sister is here in the glen—at Avrie House.”