To Dream of a Highlander(23)

This brought out a relieved smile from Katelyn. “I thank ye, my lady.”

“Pray call me Lorna. We shall speak more on these sorry events later. First ye must bathe and rest.”

Something akin to apprehension flickered across Katelyn’s face but it faded quickly and she dipped her head briefly. “Thank ye, Lorna,” she said softly.

They watched her follow the maidservant up the wooden stairs to the balcony. Finn forced his gaze away from the gently swaying curves under her gown. Ach, even in filthy torn garments she tempted him. Dragging his head around, he focused on his sister. “All is well then?”

“Aye, as ye can see, Finn.” Lorna motioned around.

He scanned the Great Hall, noting she was right. He’d only briefly stopped by on the way to Bute but on his previous visits, the red tapestry—a depiction of a great battle—had been threadbare and dusty, the chandeliers looked in need of a clean and the rushes on the floor had likely not been replaced for many summers. Now it looked as though his sister had commissioned a new trestle table for the rear of the hall and the wooden railing surrounding the gallery that spanned the entire length of the hall looked to be new too.

“All looks well indeed. Though Logan didnae look so happy.”

“Ach, the man simply cannae handle a lass telling him what to do.”

He fixed Lorna with a stare and she shifted. She kept something from him. “That doesnae sound like Logan. He normally bows to yer every will,” he observed.

“Well not this day, he does not.” Tugging her skirt, she glanced down before meeting his gaze once more. “What are yer plans then, Finn? Shall ye return to Glencolum?”

“Ye have tired of me already, sister?”

She shook her head and grinned. “Tell me, did all go well?”

Finn sighed, retreated to the table at the rear of the hall and poured himself an ale. Draining it in one long drink, he placed the goblet down and swiped the back of a hand across his mouth. He fixed Lorna with a stare. “We arrived as the Norse were breaking through the walls.”

A hand went to Lorna’s mouth. “Sweet Lord, I didnae expect ye to have to go in amidst the battle.”

“Aye, ‘twas fierce at that. But,” he grinned at the memory, “yer brother wouldnae fail ye so I killed the nearest Viking and disguised myself. Aside from a small scuffle, it worked.”

Lorna let slip a smile. “A fine idea, brother. Ye’d make a good Norseman by my reckoning.”

“Well ye didnae get all the wit in the family, Lorna.”

“So ye rescued Katelyn without incident?”

Terrified green eyes and a trembling body played in his mind. “Almost. Lady Katelyn was set upon before I could get to her.”

“Poor lass…” she breathed.

Finn strolled around the trestle table and drew out one of the large chairs behind it, the one that used to seat Lorna’s husband. He trailed his fingers across the wood carvings before sitting. Weariness suddenly ate into his limbs. “But still, she has ye now.”

“For now. Laird Gillean will be here soon and will wed her here so that she may travel to his home as his wife and without a chaperone.”

“Aye,” he replied quietly.

“Ye know Gillean has threatened war upon Katelyn’s clan. This marriage was to be a peace treaty.”

“In truth?” He snorted. “He is too late though. War is upon Bute already.”

“It matters little to Gillean. The isle will be back in Katelyn’s father’s hands before long and Gillean is land hungry. He knows Bute is weak and ‘twill be even more so once the Norse are driven from it.” She swiped a hand across the table. “And then no doubt, he will turn his attention to my lack of a husband.” She laughed but Finn did not miss the tension in it.

“He shall find ye a good man, surely? He would not want his castle in the hands of a fool.”

“Gillean’s notion of a good man and my own differ greatly I fear, but alas, if I want to keep my home, I shall have to bow to the will of my overlord.” Lorna sighed. “Such is the lot of a woman,” she added drolly.

“Ye know ye always have a place at Glencolum should ye need it. Morgann and I will protect ye from aught should ye need us.”

A soft smile slipped across her face and she patted his hand. “I thank ye, Finn. Ye are a noble man. But I have survived worse and I shall survive again.”

Finn forced down the knot in his throat. He knew little of Lorna’s marriage. She had been sold into it at six and ten before their father died. Her husband was an old man but a good warrior. Likely there was no love between them, but how many marriages were made of love in times of war and politics? Still the churning of his stomach told him there was more to Lorna’s marriage than she let slip. And that gnawing sensation also said he’d failed her by not being a better brother to her during it. If only the cursed fighting at Glencolum had not taken such a toll.