Page 38 of Kidnapped by a Rogue
“Huntly?” she asked. “The Gordons are behind this kidnapping scheme?”
“Aye. Your brother took over the guardianship of the young Earl of Huntly from the queen,” he said. “The Gordons want their chieftain back.”
“I saw young Huntly often at Holyrood,” she said. “He seemed happy to be there.”
“There are some who mistrust your brother’s intentions,” he said. “They fear he’ll misuse his position—and Gordon lands.”
“No doubt he will,” she said.
Finn laughed. “I didn’t expect such an honest assessment of your own brother.”
“I understand why the Gordons want a hostage to trade for Huntly,” she said. “But why were you chosen to undertake the task?”
“As I told ye before,” Finn said. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Men always have choices,” Margaret said as she stared off at the horizon, “though they may pretend they don’t.”
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The easy camaraderie they had enjoyed earlier vanished, and Margaret turned away from him.
“Since you’re doing this for the Gordons, I assume you’re one of them,” she said, still not looking at him. “Ye needn’t worry I’ll tell my brother who ye are so he can track ye down. I never will.”
It would be utterly foolish to trust her assurance that she would not tell her brother, even if she meant it at this moment. But her sudden coolness toward him bothered him, like a burr poking through his sock.
“My full name is Finlay Sinclair Gordon,” he told her. “My mother is a Sinclair and my father a Gordon, two clans that gravely mistrust each other—and that’s on a good day.”
“If ye were caught taking me, ye might well be put to death. How did they persuade ye to do it?”she asked, turning back to face him. “Was it the reward of lands alone? Or was it escape from punishment for some wrong ye committed?”
“’Twas both,” he said.
“Ye told me there was a long tale behind your reason for kidnapping me,” she said. “We have two days on this boat, and I’d like to hear it.”
She listened attentively as he told his sorry tale of how he came to be here, starting with his decision to join the Sinclair chieftain’s fight to regain Orkney and ending with the Earl of Moray promising Finn both lands and redemption with his Gordon clan.
“So where are these lands you’ve been promised in exchange for delivering me to Moray and the Gordons?” she asked.
“On the north coast of Sutherland,” he said. “’Tis beautiful, wild country up there.”
“I can understand your wanting a home so much,” she said in a wistful voice, “that you’d take a great risk to have it.”
“What I want is the freedom that comes with owning lands.” He was not sure why her saying he wanted a home got his back up, but it did. “I’ll owe my allegiance to my chieftain, and gladly fight for him when called. But with lands of my own, I’ll not be dependent on another man for a bed to sleep in, a roof over my head, and food on my table.”
He would have a place that was his. A place he belonged.
He’d only wanted to make her at ease with him again and maybe make her laugh, not spill his guts about why he wanted lands so much. When the captain ordered the food brought out for the midday meal, Finn was relieved to have an excuse to leave her to collect their share of the bread, dried meat, cheese, and ale.
The sparse meal was a far cry fromthe endless courses of fancy dishes and fine wine Margaret was accustomed to at Holyrood Palace, but it was all he had to give her. She ate delicately, holding the food with the tips of her fingers as if she was at court instead of among rough sailors. Ella, on the other hand, shoveled it in her mouth with both hands as if she feared it would be taken away.
No sooner had they finished than a storm came out of nowhere and swallowed the boat in a swirl of wind and waves that set it bouncing like a cork. The men dropped the sail and took the oars. Finn was going to join them, but Margaret was shaking from the cold despite the blanket he draped around her and Ella.
“Here, let me warm ye up.” Though he knew full well this would ruin his peace of mind, he joined them under the blanket and wrapped his arms around them.
Margaret stiffened and started to pull away until the next wave crashed over the side, hitting them with an icy spray. Margaret held wee Ella on her lap and neither complained, but they had to be miserable.
“How are ye holding up?” he asked, and steeled himself for the criticism he deserved for endangering her life and Ella’s by choosing this sea journey.
“At least the sailors are too preoccupied with the storm to stare at me,” she said.
