Chapter 11

11

F inn noticed the tension between the sisters almost immediately, even before they all had gotten in the carriage. Their whispers, the nervous glances they exchanged, and the way they kept their distance from him all pointed to one thing: they didn’t like him, especially Diana.

But it wasn’t just dislike — it was fear. He’d seen it before in the eyes of men on the battlefield and in the faces of those who had stared at him after the scars had marred his face. But these were Thalia’s sisters, and their fear troubled him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

He kept his distance, allowing them to huddle together in the carriage while he rode alongside it, his senses attuned to their every movement. Every time he caught a glimpse of them through the window, their eyes would quickly avert, as if looking at him was too much to bear. It made his blood boil, but he kept his anger in check. He didn’t care if they liked him; they were heading to Scotland, and that was that. But the way they feared him, the way they wouldn’t even look him in the eye, gnawed at him.

The journey had been uneventful so far, with the only sound being the occasional murmur from inside the carriage or the rhythmic clop of the horses’ hooves. But Finn’s instincts told him that the silence wouldn’t last. He had lived too long in the Highlands, where the land itself could turn against you in a heartbeat, to trust peace on a journey like this.

He knocked on the forward carriage window, and Brian lifted the curtain.

“We’ll need ye out here for a moment, Brian— We’re on the high stretch, and the Viscount may have men ahead.”

“Aye, only me?”

“Preferably all of ye, just in case. Cillian and I havenae rested yet.”

Brian understood and prepared themselves to exit the carriage as soon as possible. It so happened to be when a village peddler cart approached, and it was too large for the carriages and the cart to share the road, so Finn and his men pulled off to let them pass.

All three burly men departed the carriage, and Finn saw the curtain of Thalia’s carriage rise to ascertain what was going on. Two pairs of blue eyes peeked out of the window at the scene. Apparently satisfied with what they saw, they disappeared, and the curtain fell again.

They were moving shortly after, the Buchanan’s mounted alongside the carriages so that it was indecipherable which had the women in it. The trees seemed to narrow around them as the branches connected overhead, a natural tunnel, and the sunlight faded.

On the horizon, a group of men came into view on the road ahead. Finn’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the colors they wore — Pemberton’s men. The group spread out as the horses neared. They blocked the path, their expressions a mixture of determination and unease. They were clearly under orders, but they were also somehow clearly aware of who they were dealing with.

“Stay in the carriage!” Finn barked, his voice harsh and commanding. The twins, who had been peering out of the window, shrank back instantly, their faces pale with fear. Thalia’s eyes widened at his tone, but she said nothing, her hand instinctively reaching for Diana, who looked like she was on the verge of bolting.

Finn led his horse forward; his movements deliberate and slow as he approached the men. He didn’t need to draw his blade or pistol yet; the sheer size and presence of him were enough to make them hesitate.

“This doesnae have to end in bloodshed,” Finn growled, his voice low and threatening. “Step aside, and ye’ll live to see another day.”

The leader of the group, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, sneered at Finn. “We have orders to bring the girls back. Ye are clearly outnumbered, Laird Crawford. Best stand down.”

These men were Scottish, paid by Pemberton to carry out his orders. They were led by James Bruce, a brutal soldier. He had fought against these men in the five year war, and they looked ready to retaliate against every offense he brought on them. James was the man who gave Finn the scar across his face, and Finn had returned the favor in kind.

“Doing an Englishman’s dirty work, now?” Finn teased, and James’ fist tightened around the hilt of his dagger.

“There is enough gold in this for our whole clan to survive off of.”

Finn smiled, knowing Pemberton couldn’t afford to back up his end of the bargain. These men were dead men. “Are ye sure of that? Did he at least give ye part of the sum?”

James shifted, and his men looked around uneasily. “Proof was nae needed. He’s a viscount.”

Finn’s smile only widened maniacally. “Well, if ye are sure then. Let me just put me steed away.”

“Ye are outnumbered, Morrison!” James called out. “Do ye nae just wish to give them up? Ye wouldnae have to die, nor would your men.”

Finn looked at Cillian and then the Buchanan’s before twisting around in his saddle to look at James. His smile never faltered — a challenge.

“Outnumbered or not, you’ll nae be taking them, Bruce,” Finn said, his voice cold as steel. He saw the men tense, their hands moving to their weapons, and he knew there would be no avoiding the fight.

As the first man lunged at him, Finn drew his blade in one fluid motion, blocking the attack with a strength that sent his opponent staggering backward. The fight erupted around him, chaos reigning as metal clashed and men shouted. Guns had not yet been fired, and for that, Finn breathed easier.

I must protect Thalia and her sisters, no matter the cost ? —

The crack of the first bullet fired was undeniable. Almost all of the men fighting paused to look around to ascertain the origin. One of James’ men let the pistol drop around his trigger finger, and each of the men checked themselves for gunshot wounds.

The hilarity of the situation was enough for each of them to break their composure. “Anyone dead?” James called out.

“Nay,” the men said. Finn looked around and knew that his men were fine.

“Nay guns, laddie—” James scowled, and the man holstered the weapon before the blades clashed once more.

Inside the carriage, Thalia was desperately trying to keep the twins calm. They were huddled together, their eyes wide with terror as the sounds of the battle outside reached them. Diana was eerily quiet. The exact moment that the twins settled down, and Thalia chose to ask her what the matter was, a pistol cracked, and Diana cracked along with it.

“This might be our only chance to get back home,” Diana hissed, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and frustration. She was looking around wildly. “We don’t belong here, Thalia. We need to go back!”

Thalia’s heart twisted at the desperation in her sister’s voice, but she shook her head. “Our home is in Scotland now,” she said firmly though her voice wavered slightly. “We have to trust Finn.”

Diana’s eyes flashed with anger. “Trust him? How can you say that? He’s a monster! We don’t even know him!”

Before Thalia could respond, Diana threw open the carriage door and scrambled out, her desperation driving her actions. Thalia, fearing for her sister’s safety, quickly followed her. The twins whimpered in fear, but Thalia turned to them with a fierce look in her eyes.

“Stay here!” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Do not move from this carriage.”

She barely waited for their nods before sprinting after Diana, who was running toward the edge of the fray. Finn, locked in battle, caught sight of her, and his heart lurched. “Thalia!” she heard him shout above the melee; his voice rough with panic. But she didn’t stop — she couldn’t stop. Diana was her priority now.

“Diana!” she screamed again, letting the branches rip at her skirts.

Just as Thalia reached her sister, she saw a man raising his sword, not realizing Diana was in his path. Without thinking, Thalia threw herself in front of Diana, bracing for the impact, but it never came. Finn was there, his sword clashing with the attacker’s in a display of power that made the man’s knees buckle. With a final, brutal strike, Finn ended the fight, and the man crumpled to the ground.

Finn turned, his chest heaving, his eyes wild as he looked at Thalia and Diana. The sheer force of his presence, combined with the blood that splattered his clothes, made him look every bit the beast people whispered about. Diana’s face was pale with shock, her eyes wide as she took in the sight before her. But Thalia could see something else in her sister’s expression — a deep, festering resentment.

Without a word, Finn grabbed Diana by the arm, his grip firm but not harsh, and steered her back toward the carriage. Thalia followed closely behind, her heart pounding in her chest as she processed what had just happened. The silence that hung over them was thick, suffocating, and she knew it wasn’t just the aftermath of the fight.

Once they were all at the carriage, Finn helped Diana inside, and Thalia lingered.

“Thank you,” she said, chancing a look up to meet his gaze, but his expression was unreadable.

Suddenly, he slammed the door shut, his silence like a physical weight pressing down on them. Thalia’s sisters huddled together behind the door, their faces ashen, their eyes wide with fear. Finn clenched his jaw tightly as his eyes followed Thalia’s hand. She had reached up to touch his face, but before she could feel the warmth of his skin, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the carriage behind him.

Where are we going?

The suddenness of his action took her by surprise, and she stumbled slightly as he led her further down the road, away from the carriage and her sisters. Finn’s grip on her wrist was firm, almost possessive, and Thalia’s heart raced as she tried to read his expression. His face was a mask of controlled anger, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The silence between them was heavy, the tension crackling like a storm about to break.

Swords clashed in the background as Finn tugged her off the path and out of sight of others. He swung her around to face him and guided her down onto a waiting stump.

“Sit.” His demand made her legs heavy and her core tightened as she sunk onto the stump as he stormed away, and waited silently for his return.