Unwanted (13 page)

***

“What about Hamish?”
 
Rhona
suggested, settling deeper into Finn’s cloak.

She looked up in time to catch Finn’s grimace.
 
Lord, but he was so handsome.

“No.
 
I suppose he doesn’t really look like a Hamish.”
 
Chewing on her lip, she listened to the snow crunch beneath the weight of Finn’s boots.
 
Even though he carried her while she clutched the nameless child to her, his gait was sure and strong, as though she wasn’t a burden in the slightest.

He’d taken one look at the holes in her stockings and shoes that she’d donned to wear to the castle and had scooped her into his arms.

Again.
 

Rhona
had to admit she could get used to being carried around, especially since Finn seemed to rather enjoy doing so.
 

A sharp pain jabbed through her.
 

Then again, perhaps not.
 
She had to stop planning like he was going to be around long enough for her to get used to anything.
 
He could leave at any time.
 
And take the child with him.

In fact,
Rhona
had expected to Finn to abandon her after breakfast.
 
Luckily all six of her chickens had laid eggs that night, which she boiled over the coals and served with fresh goat’s milk.
 
He’d eaten slowly, as though savoring each bite, and watched her nurse.
 
His gaze slid to the door again and again.
 
And each minute, with a curious lump of dread in her throat,
Rhona
waited for him to stand and leave.

He never did.
 

“What do you think of something simple, like John?” she continued, desperately hoping to keep his attention with conversation.
 

He shook his head, glaring down a townsman who gawked at their passing.
 
“Nothing too… biblical.”
 

Rhona
nodded and looked around.
 
She knew they made an odd sight, a well-dressed foreign barbarian giant hauling a woman and child through the streets of town.
 
But, for some reason, she found it difficult to care.
 
She was no longer invisible.
 
The scant number of people milling about their business though the market street stared for as long as they dared.
 
Woman gaped with obvious envy.
 
Men eyed Finn with open distrust, careful to give them a wide berth.
 

This teased a smile from
Rhona
and she surveyed her surroundings with uncharacteristic good humor, pushing her worries for the future from her mind to enjoy the moment.
 

The only open vendors in the square were for food and other goods that would be needed for the Solstice night’s revelries.
 
The sun had broken through the last night’s storm and reflected brightly off of fresh, bright snow.
 
Crisp, clean air tangled with the scents of baking bread, roasting meats, and mulling wine.
 

‘Twas
the jolliest of times in the Highlands.
 
The
olde
commemoration of the Winter Solstice followed in a matter of days by the Christian Yuletide.
 
Their traditions and celebrations wound together in pure Highland fashion until one drunken, boisterous feast bled into the next.
 

As they passed the market street, Castle Lachlan loomed ahead like a golden and grey stone beacon.
 
Obviously one of the prosperous ornaments of the Highland moors and a forbidding fortress to anyone who would dare to attack.
 

Finn eyed it suspiciously, slowing his gait.
 

“Why don’t you accompany me inside?” she invited, suddenly apprehensive to let him out of her site.
 
If she did, he might just disappear into the winter’s snow like an elusive fantasy.
 
“Didn’t you say you had business with the
MacLauchlans
?”

Finn shook his head, testing the wind with his nose.
 
“Nay, I’ll wait for you outside the gate and carry you home.
 
I’ll return… later.”

Her shoulders fell, along with her mood.
 

“We’ll stop by the damn cobbler’s on the way back,” he insisted.
 
“I’m not leaving you to tromp about in the snow without boots.”

So he was leaving her, then.
 

Rhona
shook herself.
 
Of
course
he was.
 
She’d known that all along.
 
What was she to him but a nursemaid for the boy and a pleasant night’s dalliance?
 
One he probably felt like he paid too much for.
 
Within hours, he’d probably be out of her life for good.
 
Just because he’d swept in with his feral, golden good looks and changed her world in one night, didn’t mean she meant an equal amount to him.
 
 

What business did he have with the Laird and his brother?
 
Was it some kind of dangerous Berserker business?
 
Could the rumors be true?

Perhaps she’d been quite mistaken.
 
Maybe his purpose had nothing at all to do with them, but was instead regarding one of their women.
 
Rhona
thought back to his intense reaction to the news that the MacLauchlan men had recently taken wives.
 

Did he love one of them?
 
Did he mean to take her back?
 

A tight ball of jealousy and suspicion knotted low in her stomach.

Lord, but she was such a sentimental fool.

“You smell different,” he noted.
 
“Darker.
 
What’s wrong?”

Rhona
tried to paste on a sunny smile for him, but she knew it was weak.
 
“What about Iain?
 
Do you like that name?”

Distracted, Finn tested the name in his own tongue, which sounded beautiful.
 
“What does it mean?” he asked.
 

“A gift,” she glanced down at the dear child, who blew tiny bubbles in his sleep.
 
“A treasured gift or a beloved gift, if I remember correctly.”

“Iain is good.”
 
Finn sounded like he very much approved.
 
Which was to say his voice varied in tone and inflection for once.
 
 
 

“Well then.”
 
She forced some cheer into her words.
 
“I’m very fond of Iain.
 
He’s a good lad.”

Finn looked down at the baby.
 
“How can you tell?” he asked wryly.
 
“He’s never awake.”
 

“That’ll change soon enough,”
Rhona
assured him, still trying to force a false brilliance into her voice.
 
“Then you’ll get to know him better.”

Finn’s jaw muscles clenched and jumped and he looked away from her, glaring at the gate of the castle.
 

When they approached, an armor clad man-at-arms looked at them askance before demanding they state their business.
 
The only part of him not sheathed in silver armor was his eyes, so
Rhona
explained to the man’s helm that Lady Evelyn was expecting her.
 
The guard gestured to the gatehouse to lift the gate.
 

“And who’s this?” the burly Scot demanded, his winged brows drawing into a tight frown as he looked up into Finn’s cold, forbidding face.
 

“This is…”
Rhona
chewed her lip, unsure of how to present Finn.
 
“This is my escort.”

“He cannot enter.
 
Least of all with his weapons.
 
The Laird decreed that no man should be armed when the ladies are in residence.”

As the gate lifted, it revealed an inner courtyard that was small and empty for such a sizeable castle.
 
The entry doors stood open across the short, snowy span.
 
 

“May he conduct me to the eaves so my feet don’t freeze?”
 
She lifted the hem of her kirtle enough to show her unsuitable shoes.
 
 
 

The man laid a hand on his sword.
 

Finn seemed unconcerned, and
Rhona
could tell that his icy, implacable expression unsettled the armored Highlander.
 

“Make it quick,” he ordered.

Finn strode across the courtyard with his long, sure strides and set her in front of the entry.
 

Rhona
turned to face him, unsure of what to say.
 
Would he indeed be there when she returned?
 
He hadn’t paid her yet, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask for the money.
 
He could easily take this opportunity to leave her.
 
Should she hand Iain to him while she was inside?
 
But then she might lose them both.
 
In truth, he was the one who found the
bairn
, though she had no idea how he would keep him without a nurse.
 

Oh Gods, she wasn’t going to cry.
 
Not here.
 

“Finn, promise me you’ll—”

“Berserker.”
 
A dark brogue broke through the shadows of the entry a promise of wrath in its depths.
 
“Before I kill you, explain what you’re doing in my castle.
 

Rhona
jumped, her eyes widening as Finn drew his sword and axe.
 
A green fire glowed in his eyes.
 
Duty.
 
Fanaticism.
 
Perhaps a little bit of anticipation.
 

“Don’t come in,
Rhona
,” he ordered.
 
His gaze roaming her face like it would be the last time, like he committed her to memory.
 
“Not until it’s done.”

“Finn?”
 

He lunged through the doors, moving faster than she’d ever thought humanly possible.

Rhona
didn’t want to turn around.
 
Didn’t want to see what happened next, but couldn’t seem to stop
herself
.
 

She whirled in time to see Finn leap through the air an impossible distance, both sword and axe lifted over his head.
 
The speed at which he flew combined with his incomprehensible strength would surely decimate the dark-clad warrior who stood at the back of the dimly lit entry.

Rhona
recognized the long black hair only partially pulled back from the Highlander’s broad and brutal face.
 

Her lover was going to slaughter Roderick MacLauchlan.

With a speed to rival that of Finn’s, the Laird’s brother drew his great sword and side-stepped the axe, though he barely had time to parry the blade.
 
The sound of metal meeting with such force echoed through the stone entryway and reverberated through the keep.
 
Sparks from the blades showered the few tapestries and portraits decorating the hall.

Using Finn’s momentum, Roderick pivoted and pushed Finn from his sword, following through with a swift kick to the back that sent Finn staggering.

“No,”
Rhona
cried, clutching Iain to her chest.
 
“Don’t do this.”

Roderick turned his chilling notice on her for only the space of a breath.
 
Though
Rhona
couldn’t seem to find one.