Siren of the Highlands: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Cherrythorn) Read online

“I’m sorry, lad,” Fin said. “I didnae mean for this tae happen.”

  “What did you think would happen?” he croaked, his voice hoarse.

  The old man arrived and handed Fin the bucket and cloth as he quickly opened the cell door. Fin waved him off, and the old soldier scampered back down the hall as he and Hollis stepped into the cell.

  “My God, they worked him over but good,” Hollis said.

  Fin nodded but remained silent, a sharp stab of fear lancing through him. He had not anticipated this happening, and the fact that the young man could have been beaten to death weighed heavily on him. He gestured to Hollis to help get Marcus into a sitting position. He groaned and whimpered as they sat him up, his body obviously a collection of wounds and pain.

  As Hollis braced him, Fin took the rag and dipped it into the water and, as gently as he could, began wiping the dried blood from Marcus’ face. He winced and moaned in pain as Fin cleaned him. And when he was through, Marcus was still terrible to look at, but at least he wasn’t covered in blood as well.

  Fin dropped the rag into the bucket of now red water and sighed. He exchanged a look with Hollis then turned back to Marcus. He looked at the boy as the guilt pressing down on his shoulders threatened to crush him beneath its weight. As guilty as he felt, though, he still had a job to do.

  “Marcus, I need tae ken who put ye up tae poisonin’ the Duke,” he said softly.

  He looked down at his hands and shifted his position, a low whimper of pain passing his lips as he did.

  “I do not know what you are talking about,” he said. “I did not poison the Duke.”

  “Kid, we ken ye have somethin’ tae dae with it,” Hollis urged. “Tell us now’n mebbe we can help ye.”

  “I didn’t--”

  “If ye daenae tell us, we cannae help ye, Marcus,” Fin said. “We daenae think ye did this on yer own. We think somebody put ye up tae it. Just tell us who it was. Let us help ye.”

  He let out a long breath, and when Marcus looked up at him again, Fin didn’t think he had ever seen such a stark fear on a man’s face before. Tears ran down Marcus’ cheeks and eyes, though swollen badly, still held absolute terror in them.

  “Tis okay lad,” Fin said. “We can help ye. Just tell us who put yet up tae this.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot. I will not.”

  Fin felt a sharp jolt inside of him that sent his heart and stomach spinning. It was the first acknowledgment that somebody had, in fact, put Marcus up to this. That he did slip the poison to the Duke. It was also an acknowledgment that he was coerced into doing so. Fin did not know how that would impact his eventual sentence or whether it would keep him from losing his head or not. He didn’t think so because at the end of the day, he had slipped the poison in the Duke’s wine - but it was at the orders of another. For whatever that was worth.

  “If ye daenae, you’re goin’ tae be charged with attemptin’ tae kill the Duke,” Hollis said. “Ye know that’s a guaranteed trip tae th’ headsman.”

  “So be it,” Marcus whispered. “At least I know my family will be safe.”

  “Is that what they’re holdin’ over ye?” Fin asked. “They threatened yer family?”

  His nod was barely perceptible, but Fin had seen it all the same. So, whoever wanted the Duke dead had threatened the lives of Marcus’ loved ones. He had to assume the same threat was made to somebody back in Westmarch. If nothing else, that piece of information would help narrow the list of suspects. But as long as they had Alastair keeping a close eye on Col and Gillian, Fin felt alright leaving it be until they returned.

  “We can protect ye,” Fin said. “If ye tell us who it was--”

  Marcus groaned miserably but shook his head anyway. “You cannot protect me and mine. I am not so foolish to think otherwise. Not from this man. He is ruthless in ways you cannot conceive of,” he said. “Now, please leave. I’m in terrible pain, and I just want to sleep.”

  “Marcus, ye’re goin’ tae hang for your part in this,” Fin said. “You put the poison in the Duke’s cup. But if ye tell us--”

  “I would rather die knowing my entire family is safe than live and have to worry about them being murdered because I spoke out,” he said softly.

  “It daenae have tae--”

  “I said go. Go now, please,” he replied, his voice quiet but firm. “Please leave me be and do not speak to me again.”

  Fin pursed his lips and exchanged a look as Marcus curled up in the straw on the dirty floor of his cell. He groaned as he moved, his every movement excruciating to watch. Fin sighed heavily. They could have ended it all right here if only Marcus had been willing to talk and tell them who had ordered him to poison the Duke.

  He got to his feet and looked down at Marcus once more, the guilt ravaging him as hard as the frustration. He would crack Marcus’ skull open and pull the answer out himself if he could. But he had seen the look in Marcus’ eye and knew he had meant what he said about dying for his family. And Fin knew that once a person got that dead-set determination and steely resolve baked firmly in their minds, there was no getting it out again.

  “We’ll have him moved tae the physician’s chamber,” he said quietly to Hollis as they climbed the stairs and left the dark cells. “Maybe with a little proper care he’ll be more willin’ tae talk.”

  “Good luck with that,” Hollis quipped. “The lad’s as stubborn as a Scotsman.”

  “Aye. I thought the same thing.”

  Chapter Nine

  Fin

  “He poisoned the Duke. I cannot have him here,” Walter huffed as Fin saw to getting Marcus settled into his medical theater.

  Fin pulled the physician aside, backing him into a corner. The older man looked back at Fin with defiance. The physician’s fiery demeanor and the fact that he could not be intimidated was one of the things Fin liked most about the man.

  “That lad may be the key tae findin’ who’s responsible for poisonin’ the Duke and Col,” Fin said, his voice low and urgent. “If I leave him in thae dark cells, he’s goin’ tae die.”

  “They’re going to kill him anyway for what he did,” Walter argued.

  “Aye. But I’d like tae see ‘bout gettin’ some information out of him first,” Fin said. “Dae ye understand what I’m sayin’.”

  “Yes, of course, I do. I am not an imbecile,” Walter shot back. “But if you could not get him to speak after a night in the dark cells, what makes you think he will speak now that he is being made comfortable?”

  Fin shrugged. “Hope,” he replied. “All I can dae is hope that when he’s better, he’ll tell me who put him up tae it.”

  Walter sighed and nodded his head. “I understand. That makes a certain amount of sense,” he replied. “Still, it seems unlikely that he’ll tell you now if he wouldn’t before. And making him better again just so he can then be killed by the Duke’s men almost seems cruel.”

  “That’s what I like ‘bout ye, Walter,” Fin grinned at him. “Ye’re always lookin’ at the bright side of life.”

  The man gave him a sour look and a shake of the head. He pushed his way past Fin and walked over to where Marcus had been laid out on a bed. Walter clucked as he examined the cupbearer, shaking his head in disgust at the savagery of the beating he took. That was something else about the irascible old physician that Fin admired. No matter who you were or what you did, once you ended up on his table, he would care for you to the best of his ability. Fin liked that.

  “You may as well go and stop hovering,” Walter called to Fin. “He needs his rest. Not some Scottish brute lingering in my medical theater watching him like a hawk eyes a plump field mouse.”

  Fin chuckled. “Aye. I’ll be on me way then.”

  “Good,” Walter said. “And close the door on your way out.”

  * * * * *

  Fin continued to turn everything over in his mind again and again as he strode through the halls of the keep. He was frustrated and was growing angrier with his inability to get t
he answers he needed from Marcus. This whole thing could be over if he could just get the kid to tell him who has him so terrified. Who could possibly be so ruthless and evil that Marcus would gladly march to the gallows rather than give Fin the man’s name?

  With a sigh, he rounded a corner and found himself in a courtyard garden. Fin stopped and looked around, bewildered for a moment as he found himself in a place within the keep that he’d never been in before. He looked around, trying to figure out how he’d gotten there. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he had not been paying attention to his route.

  Before him was a path laid with stone that led out into a wide, square space filled with tall trees and flowering bushes. The sun shone down, highlighting the riot of colors that filled the bushes. Butterflies drifted from bush to bush as birds flitted in the tree branches above them, filling the air with their song. It was like a small garden paradise set within the stone walls of the keep, and it made Fin smile.

  He followed the path deeper into the garden, admiring everything about it. He heard the soft burble of water, and when he came around a small bend, he stopped in his tracks. There was a small pond with a rock formation at one end and a narrow creek that led out of the courtyard at the other. Water poured out of the top of the rock formation, creating a small waterfall.

  But it was not the beauty of the small artificial pond that captured his attention. Sitting on a stone bench beside the pond was the Lady Welton. She sat upright primly, her head down as she read from a book, and Fin admired the way the sun made her skin glow warmly as it made her hair shine. As if sensing him standing there, she looked up, and when she saw Fin, she closed her book as a sour expression crossed her face. Her lips curled downward in a frown, but her cheeks quickly grew red.

  “Oh, it is you,” she said. “Do not worry, I was just leaving. The courtyard is yours.”

  She shot to her feet, and Fin knew she was about to storm off again. But the way his heart was spinning in his chest told him that he didn’t want her to go. Not just yet. Hollis’ words and the memory of how angry she’d been at him the previous day floated through his mind, and he frowned himself.

  He knew how difficult it was for a noble to admit wrongdoing or to apologize. And with a little time and thought, he could see Hollis’ point. He had thrown it back in her face. He had taken the opportunity to all but call her a monster. While he did not think he was wrong, nor did he agree with the way she treated her staff, Fin realized it was not his place to make those sorts of judgments, let alone use them as a cudgel to beat somebody.

  “Wait,” Fin said. “I need tae say something.”

  “Believe me when I tell you there is nothing you could say that I would remotely be interested in.”

  She moved to walk past him, but Fin moved along with her, putting himself in her path again. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him.

  “Get out of my way,” she snarled.

  “Nae until ye hear what I have tae say.”

  “How dare you. Do you know who I am?” she spat. “I could have your head off your shoulders in an instant if I so commanded.”

  Fin chuckled. “Now, we both ken that isnae true,” he said. “But I just want to apologize for me behavior yesterday.”

  While still far from looking friendly, at least some of the fire in her eyes dimmed. Ivy’s cheeks lost a bit of their color, and her body seemed to relax - a little bit. Her shoulders were still bunched, and her one hand was still balled into a fist at her side. She gripped her book so tightly with the other, Fin was half-afraid it would crumple like a piece of parchment.

  Eyeing him like she would a snake that was coiled and ready to strike, Ivy retreated to her bench and sat down again. A small smile touched Fin’s lips as he looked at her. She was so small and delicate, and yet, she was ferocious and had the heart of a lion. She was not intimidated by him, and he liked that about her. He liked the fire that burned within her. It was surprising to him simply because he found her so disagreeable at times, but Fin thought there was something genuinely compelling about her. He felt drawn to her in unexpected ways.

  As she looked at him, the weight of expectation hung heavy in the air between them. She lifted her chin and looked at him icily, doing her best to keep that imperious expression on her face.

  “Listen, ye tried tae apologize tae me yesterday, and I acted like a bleedin’ fool. I got ontae ye about things that arenae me business,” he said sincerely. “And for that, I’m sorry. It wasnae me place tae say anythin’ about how ye treat yer staff.”

  Ivy looked at him evenly for a moment, and he watched as her face and her posture both softened. The icy demeanor slipped away and was replaced by something warmer and, much to Fin’s surprise, a genuine smile. It was small and a little sad, but it was a smile, nonetheless.

  “I accept your apology. Thank you for that,” she said. “And truthfully, you gave me some things to think on.”

  “Oh, did I now?” Fin grinned, a bit of a swagger in his words.

  “Yes. After I got done being thoroughly enraged by you. But, I must be honest and admit that I never gave much thought to how I treat my staff. And there certainly was never anybody around to call me out on it,” she admitted, her voice soft. “So now that you have, I can see that it was wrong of me because you are right, they are people too. I have made a vow to myself to treat them better.”

  Fin chuckled softly. It was strange to him that somebody would have to try to treat people better or treat them like human beings. But he had to admit, growing up a noble, Ivy probably did not have the best examples. Her brother certainly did not seem the type who would associate or look kindly upon commoners. Ivy’s willingness to not only see his point but to promise to do better in her own life, raised the esteem Fin held her in. It showed that she was a good person.

  “But,” she said, raising a finger at him. “This does not give you free rein to insult or mock me as you did.”

  “Of course not,” he replied. “I will also do my best to treat you better, as well.”

  Her lips curled upward, and for the first time in their brief acquaintance, her smile actually reached her eyes. And to Fin, it made her face, or maybe even her entire being, glow brightly. He thought it made her even more beautiful than he already did.

  “That smile looks good on ye,” he said. “Ye should dae that more often.”

  “Well, my life is complicated, and I do not often have reasons to smile,” she replied. “But I will do my best.”

  “We’ve all got things tae work on in ourselves and our lives.”

  “Indeed, we do.”

  Fin stared down at her, looking deeply into her eyes for a long moment and felt a ball of warmth form inside of him. It quickly spread through his body as he held her gaze and sent tendrils of strange, tingling energy crawling across his skin. As he felt his stomach churning, he felt their gaze lingering a little too long, and he felt awkward. He looked away quickly and cleared his throat, gathering himself before he turned back to her.

  “So, can we call a truce between us then?” he asked.

  Her smile was warm and genuine. “Yes, I think we can do that.”

  Fin nodded. “Good. That’s very good.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ivy

  Ivy peered around the corner, her heart beating hard and her stomach churning wildly. She had seen Fin go into the physician’s office a little while ago and was waiting for him to come out again. Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she thought about how bold and cheeky she was being. Stalking a man was entirely out of character for her.

  And yet, there was something about the big Scotsman that intrigued her enough to act like a giggling, besotted girl. It was true that he was a big, strong, handsome man. But there was more to it than that. Ivy was not a woman who was given to fawning over a man because of the way he looked. She did not consider herself a vain or shallow woman. And although she certainly found Fin to be very physically attractive, there was something else about
him she found compelling.

  The man tried to downplay it, but he had a quick and nimble mind. He was far cleverer than he let on, seeming to prefer letting people believe he was dim. But Ivy saw through that. She had seen the keen intelligence in his eyes. He had a fast mind and a quick wit that appealed to Ivy in ways physical attractiveness could not.

  As a result of all that, Ivy found herself curious about the man. Intrigued by him. She had thought about him most of the night before, thinking him somewhat mysterious and compelling. And she wanted to know more about him.

  “What are you doing, Ivy?”

  Ivy stood up straight and whipped her head around quickly, eyes wide, her heart lurching inside of her. Castor strode down the hall toward her, a curious and somewhat cross expression on his face. She felt her face grow hot as her stomach roiled.

  “Who are you spying on?” he demanded as he peered around the corner.

  Ivy cleared her throat and tried to gather herself and reclaim some semblance of her dignity. She raised her chin and gave her brother a frosty-eyed stare.

  “I am not spying on anybody,” she said.

  “You look like you were spying on somebody,” he remarked. “I have spied on people before, and it looked remarkably like what you are doing.”

  “Well, you are wrong, Brother,” she said. “I am waiting for the Scotsman. I saw him go into the physician’s office a short time ago.”

  Castor’s eyes immediately narrowed as he looked at her, suspicion written upon his features.

  “Why are you waiting for him?”

  “I wanted to know of the Duke’s condition,” she replied. “I also wanted to ask after Gillian to see if he had received any news.”

  The lie came so easily to her lips that Ivy knew she should be ashamed. But instead, she felt a hint of pride that she had been so quick on her feet. She did not like lying and usually found it abhorrent. But in certain cases - such as when her brother was prying into her affairs - it could be useful.