Chapter 5

5

A nne pulled herself away from Finlay, forcing herself to not look back at him, even though she could feel the warmth of his gaze staring at her. She needed him to want to chase her, to believe that she was elusive. She slipped between the crowd, eventually disappearing from his view, as she returned to Rory and then led him upstairs. Her quickened heart was still fluttering and the sizzling heat had yet to dissipate from her skin. The excitement she shared with Finlay was replayed again and again in her mind, and she had to fight every instinct in her body to not rush downstairs, throw caution to the wind, and spend the rest of the night with him.

"Things went well then?" Rory asked, throwing himself on the bed. The mattress creaked under his weight. He placed his hands on his chest and looked up at the ceiling.

"Indeed they did. I think I hae found my target, and I might even be able tae get more from him than mere coin," she positioned herself in front of a mirror and admired her beauty. The mirror was angled in such a direction that she could see Rory rolling his eyes. She ignored him.

"Just be careful. I dinnae want ye getting in trouble. And I dinnae want ye falling in love with him," Rory said.

Anne whirled around, narrowing her eyes at him. "Love? Ye know I would nae be sae foolish," the words seared the air, and it was clear she was acting a little too defensively. "He is the one who shall fall in love with me." She took a breath to calm herself down. "Now, did ye see any of his allies watching?"

"Nae. He seemed tae be alone."

"He said his father hae men, but if I can keep him away from them then I shall be able tae weave my spell before any of them hae a chance tae raise the alarm. Then, once he hae fallen in love with me, none of them shall be able to convince him that he is making a mistake. It's all falling intae place, Rory," she turned back to her reflection and smiled, thinking to herself that this was the woman she was always meant to be. The compliment Finlay paid her nestled in her mind and made her realize that she did indeed resemble her mother. She had found the manner of nobility easy to feign, although it was hard not to think about the fact that Finlay had fallen for a lie.

She slowly peeled away the dress, hanging it neatly in the closet. She unclasped the necklace and rested her hand against the part of her chest against which his fingers had brushed. A sensation of heat burned her once again. She also clutched her hand, caressing the smooth skin where his lips had blessed her with a kiss. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing that it all could have been genuine. There had been a time when she had dreamt of falling in love with all her heart, but now love was a thing of trickery and deceit. She pulled on her plain clothes and then stared at herself in the mirror, knowing that a man like Finlay would never fall for her if he knew what she was truly like. If he had caught her while she had been wearing this he would have smiled, yes, and perhaps patted her rump for good measure before sending her on her way. She was not meant to be the wife of a nobleman.

She was not meant to be anything.

Her heart burned with emotion and she had to steel herself against these feelings. This was all about getting a better life for herself and Rory so that he would not have to feel forced into going to battle. In a sense she felt like she was the one going into battle, putting herself at risk in order to earn money, knowing that one wrong move could be fatal. She had to be as nimble as a warrior, and resolute as well. It was all about survival, and she just wished that Rory could understand this.

She turned to speak to him, but he was already asleep. Soft snores emanated from his mouth and his head lolled against the pillow. She climbed into bed herself and then blew out the candle, plunging them into darkness. She had to pull the blanket right over her head, however, as the noise in the clan persisted long into the night. Downstairs the party continued, while outside people were still cavorting with each other, taking delight in this vast gathering. She couldn't stop thinking of Finlay, and she hoped that he was downstairs now, thinking of her whenever another woman caught his eye, knowing that they paled in comparison to the woman she presented herself as.

Finlay cast an admiring, and regretful, look towards the charming Miss McKenzie as she drifted away like an ethereal spirit, returning to some strange realm that was barred to mortals. The smile lingered on his lips and his eyes sparkled with affection… and opportunity. It had been a shame she would not spend more of the night with him but as she said; there was always tomorrow.

He looked around, thought he had done enough for the night, and then left the tavern. He pushed his way through the crowd and dipped his head, keeping to the shadows as he passed the guards. They were kept busy with all the guests. Finlay grit his teeth and glared at them all, thinking that this was the best thing to ever have been done. They were all fools, and he was the only one who knew it. On more than one occasion his swift pace was disrupted by crowds, and he kept having to feign politeness when what he really wanted was to curse them for being so doltish. None of them were supposed to be here. None of them truly understood what this clan was like, and he glared at them all with dark eyes.

His path took him away from the crowds. The cacophony receded into silence, and the bright lights of the taverns winked away as the cloak of the night sky enveloped him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he managed to get away from the other people. They all seemed so arrogant and smug, reveling in their gluttony and their greed, wearing their ambition nakedly. They were drenched in riches and flaunted it all. It was a gaudy display and it made Finlay's stomach turn. They had no shame, no modesty, and it made him wonder if there was any honor left in the world at all.

Of course, those people would be quick to talk about honor. They were always quick to cast aspersions upon people of whom they did not approve, banishing those they deemed villains. Well, they didn't know everything, and soon enough Finlay would prove them wrong. He considered himself a wolf prowling among a herd of witless sheep, all of them blind to his true nature. A wicked smile stretched across his face and he felt pride rise within him. It had taken a long time to get back here. The path had been grueling. It had taken a heavy toll on his heart, but he was not about to deny his fate. He was an older man than he had been when he left. The boy had been forced to shed his innocence, severing the naivety of youth, forging himself into a survivor.

And now the survivor had returned.

He made his way to a farmhouse at the edge of the village, far from the celebrations. Finlay skulked in the darkness, hiding behind the corner of the stable as the old farmer went about his business. The man walked with a stooped back, looking every one of his years. He worked the land, toiling day after day, his muscles knotted with tension, his bones grinding into dust because nobody could relieve him of his duties. Finlay grit his teeth, trying to quell the surge of guilt that rose up as bile in his throat.

What was he supposed to do, stride up to the door and fling it open, declaring that he had returned? Was he supposed to fling his arms around his father as though no time had passed at all? He couldn't be sure that his father wouldn't raise the alarm and bring the forces of the guards to the farmhouse. He was a good man, and would not want to harbor a criminal. No, it was probably better for Brandon that he never be reunited with his disappointment of a son. Finlay had brought him enough trouble already, he didn't need to interrupt this peaceful night and make it more complicated.

It was a shame though, because there was something sad about watching this lonely man in his empty house, shuffling around in cavernous rooms while everyone else cavorted together.

Behind him, Finlay heard the snuffling of a horse. She was an old nag, but was beautiful in her maturity, and devout in her hardiness. She came up to Finlay and sniffed him, nuzzling her nose against his back. He turned and couldn't help but smile.

"Greetings, old girl. Still watching over the old fool?" he whispered. Tulip whinnied, a little too loudly for Finlay's liking. He shushed the horse and raised a hand to her mane, stroking it gently, remembering years past when she had been a glorious mare striding through the fields. Never a more majestic horse had he seen, but time had taken its toll on her, just as it had on his father.

Just as it would on him, eventually.

"I know it's been a long time, lass, but I am nae staying. I just came tae leave something behind," he patted Tulip gently and moved away from the stable, fearing that if she made too much noise then his father might be alerted and would come to check on him. Finlay bent low and used the cover of night to move towards the house. The candlelight flickered. His father had always made a habit of staying up as late as possible and sleeping little. Brandon always used to say that life was for living, not sleeping and that he would sleep enough when he was dead. Many a time had Finlay found himself accosted for sleeping in late when there was work to be done. At the time it had been frustrating, but now Finlay found himself wishing for those days to return, for they were better than the ones that existed now.

He crept towards the door and left a small pouch behind, one that was filled to the seams with coin. If his father knew where he had gotten it he wouldn't have been pleased, but he didn't need to know. As soon as Finlay dropped it he rushed away, darting into the safety of the forest. He watched from an obscured vantage point as Brandon opened the door, peering out into the darkness. He bent down and picked up the purse, looking thoughtfully at it as he felt the weight of it in his hands. Then, he cast his gaze out into the night sky. Did he know that it was Finlay who left this money?

The door closed leaving Finlay in his lonely torment. Brandon slipped inside, and soon enough the house was deathly quiet, with all the candles snuffed out.

Finlay went deeper into the forest, finding the campsite he had claimed for himself. He huddled on the hard ground, ignoring the chill that crept underneath his thin blanket, trying to stop his teeth from chattering. He warmed himself by thinking about Anne. She was nothing but a spoiled, sheltered rich girl, and she was the perfect target for his plan. The jewel she wore around her neck was likely only one of many, and she was so willing to make a good impression on him that it would be easy to take advantage of her gratitude.