To Dream of a Highlander(44)

“Forgive me, sister,” he murmured to Lorna. “I shall see ye at supper.”

Lorna gave a resigned sigh and patted his arm in understanding. “Aye, as ye will.”

Before he stormed out of the hall, he glanced at Katelyn. She sat rigid, only the ghost of a smile on her lips while Gillean offered her a fig. He fed it to her and Finn’s throat burned. He turned away and pushed through the oak doors. Had he seen what he thought he had in Katelyn’s eyes? He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. A plea for help had lingered in those green eyes and by God, he wanted to answer it.

***

Finn threw back his wine and got up to pour some more. He scowled as his chambers wobbled and he had to steady himself against the wall.

Snatching the pitcher from the bedside table, he poured himself a hearty drink and paused to gaze out of the window. The evening had grown dark and many would be abed. Clouds covered the stars this night. He snorted. Appropriate. The darkness mirrored his mood. He sucked in the fresh air but it did little to cool the bubbling anger inside.

All supper he’d suffered observing Gillean’s fawning and touching, watched his arrogance and listened to his boasts. While Lorna pandered to him, Katelyn remained reserved, smiling and commenting quietly at the right moments. Mayhap only he saw the fear in her eyes. And it seemed like more than that of a maiden set to marry a man of which she knew nothing. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.

The tension in the keep was unbearable. He understood Katelyn’s need to escape. How he longed to do so. Lorna had retreated to bed with dark shadows under her eyes and grim strain in the lines around her mouth. He had done her no favours leaving her to deal with Gillean all afternoon. He opened his eyes and thrust a hand into his hair. Ach, he’d failed her yet again. When would he cease letting down the women in his life? Put a sword in his hand and fear deserted him but it was the unseen dangers that terrified him. Illness, childbirth. Ach, women were such delicate creatures. How could a man invest his emotions in a lass when they were so easily taken away? Even his own sister.

He would change that though. Hadn’t he already sworn to be a better brother to her? He’d confront Gillean about his choice of husband for her and ensure she had a good match. She needed someone by her side. As bold as she was, the strain of running a castle alone was too much for a lass to cope with. He would at least have her looked after by a good man.

On the morrow he intended to make up for his behaviour. But for now, he would drink. He grinned. Aye, drink to forget. That always helped. Forget Lorna and Alice and the babe. Just for one night. Forget Katelyn….

Discarding the beaker on the window ledge, he reached for the jug of wine. He cursed as he stumbled and knocked the cup out the window. He peered over but darkness swallowed it. Damnation. He traipsed out of his room, pausing in his doorway as he heard voices.

Logan.

Finn couldn’t hear what was being said but he stood in the entrance to Lorna’s solar. Feminine whispers reached his ears and he clenched a fist. Why did Logan visit his sister’s chambers so late at night? He stared hard and saw the flash of a white chemise. The door slammed shut suddenly and Logan cursed aloud before turning away. Finn dropped into the shadows of his room as Logan stormed by, adjusting his plaid.

Shaking his head in disgust, Finn clenched his jaw tight and fisted a hand at his side. With bed-rumpled hair and garments in disarray, Finn had a fine idea of what Logan had been doing. The swine. The bastard. He’d trusted Logan to look after his sister, not bed her.

He stormed after him, barrelling down the stairs and out of the hall. He spilled out onto the rough ground and groaned. Pulling himself to standing, he took a moment to get his bearings and gave a mocking laugh. Logan was nowhere to be seen. A small mercy, given Finn’s drunken state.

He perched on the remains of the low stone wall that had been replaced by the larger one and chugged what wine hadn’t spilled from the jug. He peered around. Only a few men remained on the walls, their footsteps quiet. Finally he felt free of Katelyn. She was everywhere. Not that he had seen her since supper, but everywhere he went, her face teased his mind. If he looked at the stairs, he remembered her climbing them. When he set foot in his chambers, he imagined her on his bed. Even escaping to the kitchens didn’t help. All he could think of was throwing her up onto that large table in the middle, parting her thighs and losing himself.

With a laugh, he shook his head and drank the last remaining drops of wine. He’d spent all day avoiding her when all he longed to do was fold her into his embrace and protect her from everything. In his gut that familiar dread churned but he ignored it. Just because he cared for her welfare, did not mean he cared for her. It did not mean he had any attachment to her. Hadn’t he learned it was dangerous to care for a woman? Life was too risky, especially for the lasses. He would never go through that kind of grief again. His interest in Katelyn was as a friend and that of a brother to Lorna. Lorna needed his aid so he would give it.