28 DO WHAT YE MUST

brAN'S LIPS PARTED, a gasp wheezing from him. He staggered slightly then but managed to keep his feet. Next to him, one of his men rasped a prayer. "Do what ye must, Maclean," Bran finally replied roughly, even as the blood drained from his face. "My father would have shown ye no mercy … so I expect none in return."

"No, please!" Tara wrenched herself away from Jack and rushed forward. And then, to everyone's surprise and shock, she dropped to her knees before Loch, craning her neck to stare up at him.

Tears streamed down her face, and despite that, like everyone else, outrage still beat in Finn's chest, the sight of Tara's desperation wrenched at him. "Spare their lives … I beg ye!"

"Tara." Jack moved close then, reaching for her. "Come, love. Ye mustn't—"

However, she batted his hand away and grasped at Loch's legs instead. "The might of the Mackinnons of Dùn Ara is no more," she said, her voice shaking. "Aye, my father gathered an army and tried to crush ye … but yer allies rallied, and yer victory is a great one. Ye have shown all of those who dwell upon the Western Isles the power and influence that the Macleans wield. After this, no one will dare oppose ye."

Finn's skin prickled at these words. But Tara hadn't yet finished.

"Aye, ye could take Dùn Ara for yer own … could banish my clan from this isle, yet I beg ye to show us some mercy. Make my brother swear fealty to ye, and then send him home. Surely, the greatest punishment of all is for the Mackinnons of Dùn Ara to bend the knee to the Macleans of Duart?"

Loch raised an eyebrow as he looked down at Tara's bereft face. Nonetheless, he didn't step back from her, or reach down and remove her grasping hands from his legs. "Ye think my clansmen would prefer that to taking this whelp's life?"

"Aye." Tara's throat worked as she struggled to keep going. "The knowledge that yer clan is now the dominant one upon this isle, and that the Mackinnon clan-chief now answers to ye , would please them."

A snort followed these words. Logan Black had pulled a face, folding his powerful arms across his chest. He, for one, didn't look impressed by such a solution.

Meanwhile, Loch's brow furrowed. "There are some things only blood can mend, Tara," he replied.

"Aye, this is the way in the Highlands," Malcolm Macleod spoke up then. He'd watched the unfolding scene with interest, although he now wore a surprisingly sympathetic look as he viewed Tara. "We deal with our enemies harshly. How would Loch know yer brother would keep his word anyway?"

Malcolm's words caused a murmur of agreement to ripple through the crowd.

Swallowing, Tara kept her attention upon Loch. "Please," she whispered.

Finn could see she had nothing else to say, and it pained him to see a proud woman beaten. She'd done her best, yet she had no other argument to put forward. Her shoulders began to shake as she tried to keep her grief leashed.

"Loch," Jack said quietly. "I know it would break with the way of things … but would ye grant Tara this? For her … for me ?"

Loch's gaze sharpened as it speared his cousin. "So, ye seek to manipulate me, do ye?" His mouth pursed. "Time was, ye'd be baying like a hound on the scent for me to sentence this lot to death." He jerked a thumb at where Bran and his men stood, silent and pale. "But yer choice of woman has skewed yer thinking."

"Aye, it has," Jack replied without hesitation, his attention never wavering. "Love has a way of blurring boundaries, as ye well know, cousin. Bran Mackinnon followed his father, aye, but should he be punished so severely for his loyalty? Do ye need to crush them to gain justice?"

Loch's frown slid into a scowl .

"Jack and Tara both have a point." To his surprise, Finn found himself speaking up then. "There are other ways to get even."

Loch's peat-brown eyes widened, while around them, a few of the men muttered under their breaths. Finn ignored them. He'd never been afraid to speak his mind or to risk unpopularity, although he couldn't understand why he felt the need to put his neck on the line now.

"Face it, Loch … ye have never coveted Dùn Ara. Better to have the Mackinnon clan-chief kneel to ye." He jerked his head toward where Bran Mackinnon looked on, his face drawn, his silver eyes blazing. "Why don't ye get him to do it now?"

A bloody dusk settled over Dounarwyse, a crimson blaze that arched over the sky—a reminder of the violence that had unfolded here over the past days.

Finn watched it from the ramparts. After the meeting with the Mackinnon prisoners concluded, he'd retreated up here, leaving the others to retire indoors. Supper had come and gone, yet Finn hadn't gone in search of food or drink.

He had no appetite this evening. He only wished for solitude.

He couldn't stop thinking about Astrid, lying insensible in that sick room. She was under Donn's care, yet he wished there was something he could do to help her. Watching the sun slide behind the sharp edge of Dùn da Ghaoithe to the west, the largest mountain on this side of the isle, calmed his fears a little.

He was still watching the heavens when the scrape of a boot against stone roused him. Lowering his gaze and turning, Finn's attention settled upon where Loch strode toward him along the wall.

Unlike Finn, who still wore his blood and salt-encrusted leathers, Loch had bathed and changed into clean clothing. In one hand, he carried a skin of drink. However, his expression was inscrutable .

Finn tensed as Loch approached. He still couldn't believe his friend had heeded him, Jack, and Tara in the end. Under the eyes of all, he'd turned to Bran Mackinnon and given him a choice. Kneel before him and swear fealty to the Macleans, or he and the other prisoners would face execution at dusk.

It hadn't been an easy decision for the lad. Bran's gaze had glittered, his lean frame trembling with outrage and fear. Aye, he was proud, but he wasn't a fool. And so, as everyone looked on, he'd eventually lowered himself before Loch and sworn an oath to him, pledging loyalty to the Macleans for the rest of his days.

The words had cost him, each one almost sticking in his throat. It was humiliating indeed, and even though the other captives had been relieved that their lives were spared, Finn hadn't missed the scorn in their eyes as they looked upon the young man who now led them.

Finn wondered if Loch was angry about his interference and had sought him out to remonstrate with him. He was too bone-weary to argue, yet he readied himself all the same.

"Thought I'd find ye up here," Loch greeted Finn before thrusting the skin at him. "Here … ye look like a man in need of some mead."

Finn gave a snort as he unstoppered the skin. He then raised it to his lips and took a deep draft. His throat was dry, and the sweet mead quenched his thirst. He then nodded his thanks.

"Bran Mackinnon will keep his word, ye think?" Loch asked, leaning against the wall and folding his arms across his chest.

"Aye," Finn replied. "Ye did right to let him and his men go."

Indeed, the new clan-chief of the Mackinnons and his warriors were currently traveling north, making for Tobermory on foot.

Loch raised a dark eyebrow. "Did I? Leod stormed off in a rage following my decision, and Logan Black looked as if he'd just swallowed a bag of nails."

"They'll recover."

Loch pulled a face. "I can't believe ye and Jack took Tara's side rather than mine."

There was a part of Finn that couldn't believe it either. However, the pain in the woman's voice, the grief in her silver eyes, had been unbearable to witness. "I suppose I'm getting soft-hearted in my old age."

Loch barked a laugh at this, the sound carrying down the wall and causing two warriors on the Watch to turn and look their way. Loch ignored them. Instead, his gaze settled upon Finn's face. "Soft-hearted … ye?"

Finn's mouth compressed. He wasn't in the mood to be teased.

Heedless of his irritation, Loch flashed him a rueful grin. "I do believe my sister has done something to ye."

Hot and then cold washed over Finn, and he cut his gaze away, to stare at the fading sunset once more. "I don't know what ye mean," he replied, his tone cooling.

Loch snorted. "Let's not play games."

Finn's skin prickled, and still, he avoided his friend's eye. Tensing, he then braced himself to be heckled, mocked—but no such words were forthcoming. And when he glanced Loch's way once more, he found him viewing him thoughtfully.

"What?" Finn growled.

"There is definitely a change in ye."

"Ye are imagining things."

"I don't think so."

Clenching his jaw, Finn cut Loch a warning look. "Careful."

The clan-chief's dark eyes glinted. "I'm sure Astrid is behind it."

Finn sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment, he considered lying, but there was something in his friend's gaze that stopped him. It was a look that demanded honestly.

"It was that shipwreck," he eventually admitted. "When we were stranded together, we finally spoke of the past … of Maggie's death. And I told her what I said to yer Da, about what really happened."

A beat of silence followed before Loch asked, "And what did happen? Ye never spoke of what passed between the two of ye in his solar."

Finn swallowed. He didn't want to admit such personal things to Loch. However, he could tell he wasn't going to let this be. And so, steeling himself, he replied. "Ye'll find this unbelievable … but it was Astrid I wanted back then, not her friend. However, Maggie was sweet on me, and in the beginning, I encouraged her, thinking it might make Astrid jealous. "

His mouth twisted as the memories flooded back once more. "It didn't … and Maggie grew more insistent. She was a fragile lass with an unhappy life at home, and she fixed her will upon me, determined that I should wed her. I will spare ye the details, but that day on the water, things turned ill between us when I refused to play her game, and she flew into a rage. She swam out to sea, and I followed her … but a rogue current pulled her under, and although I searched for her, she was lost."

Silence followed Finn's words, and the old guilt about Maggie tugged at him once more.

Loch's eyes shadowed at this news, and he gave a slow nod. "I imagined something of the kind had happened … although I had no idea ye pined for my sister."

Finn stepped back from the wall and raked a hand through his hair. "Aye, well, that's all done with now. She set the locals on me, remember?"

Loch grimaced. "Aye."

Silence fell between the two friends, and Finn heartily wished Loch would change the subject. Talking about Astrid made him feel light-headed and all twisted up inside. He took another deep draft of mead then, draining the skin. Stoppering it, he handed it back to Loch.

The bastard was still giving him one of his penetrating looks. "But is it done with?" he finally asked.

Finn frowned. "Aye."

Loch's mouth quirked. "Well then, ye won't be interested to hear that my sister is awake … and asking for ye."