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“Finn Crawford,” he replied, blinking back tears.
“Well, young Finn,” the man said, holding out his hand, “I am Andrew Baldwin, but ye can call me Andy.” He pointed to the three big, threatening men standing behind him. “This is Dougie, Malky, an’ Ross. Dae ye have a father?”
Finn stiffened. He had no idea where his father was, so he said, “I used tae have one, but he went away. I was glad because I didnae like him.” Then he thought,Why did I say that?But as he looked into Andy’s dark eyes, he was suddenly not afraid anymore. That day he lost a mother but gained a father of sorts.
* * *
And so it was that Finn grew up among the bandits, although he learned his swordsmanship by entering the army for a short while and doing battle against the English. He was forced to retire from that life because of a wound in his shoulder, however, but Andy gave him a warm welcome back.
He never stopped looking for his mother, however, and the woman who had given up everything for him was never far from his thoughts. He had asked Andy many times, but he either could not or would not tell him where she was or if she was alive or dead.
Strangely enough, Finn did not hate Andy, even though he was the one who had separated him from his beloved mother. Many village boys were taken that day, so he was not entirely alone, for which he was extremely thankful, and after a while, they all became like a family, and Finn could not imagine any other life.
1
Finn sighed as he looked at Liam, who was scrambling into his clothes and growling in frustration as he almost tore his tunic because he was pulling it over his head in such haste.
“Hurry, Liam,” he said tersely. “Laird Donaldson will no’ thank us for keepin’ him waiting. Ye know how impatient he is, an’ if we don't keep on his good side, ye know what will happen!”
“Aye,” Liam agreed, grinning, “but he will no’ thank me for turnin’ up half-naked either, Finn, my lad. Likely he will just shout an’ scream a bit then talk to us after.”
“Aye, well, ye should no’ be lyin’ wi’ farm lassies a’ night,” Finn grumbled. “Fiona McGregor will wear ye out. They say she eats men like us for breakfast!”
Liam laughed. “Then I am very happy tae be her first meal o’ the day! She is a lovely lass wi’ a healthy appetite if ye know what I mean!” He winked, then he pulled on his heavy woolen cloak. “Ready!” he announced. “But I am no’ lookin’ forward to this!” He frowned deeply, shaking his head.
Liam frowned at him but was silent. He wanted nothing more than to emerge from the next hour or so alive. Laird Donaldson was a good friend but a fearsome enemy, and Finn had found that it was always best to stay on his better side, particularly if he wanted to stay in the land of the living, which he very definitely did. He still had so much that he wanted to do with his life.
They left the little tumbledown cottage where they were currently staying and made their way out of the forest, keeping out of sight as much as they could. Both of them were too distinctive, being very tall in a land of short people, and they attracted attention wherever they went.
They mounted up and rode to Haldstane, the nearest village, which was overshadowed by the castle of the same name. It was lorded over by the fearsome Laird Rory Donaldson, a man who was ruthless to everyone except those who lived on his estate and his village. Strangely enough, he was fiercely protective of them, probably because he thought of the villagers as he thought of his livestock: his property.
Fortunately, the two Crawford brothers were favorites of his. The two men did not look very much alive in appearance, but they were both ferocious. However, the only benefit they enjoyed was that he treated them a little less roughly than he treated everyone else. When a man was out of favor with the laird, he could make his life a living hell. They knew this from past experience, having felt his wrath more than once.
“I have a bad feelin’ about this,” Liam said tensely. “If he has been at the whisky—” He broke off and shook his head. “God help us.”
“We brought back a tidy haul from that merchant’s house last time,” Finn reminded him. “Maybe he will no’ be too hard on us.”
“That’s no’ my worry,” Liam remarked, sighing. “But ye an’ I know that he is always at the drink, Finn, an’ it starts tae talk for him. He cannae do without it.” His face was bleak.
“Aye, that is so,” Finn agreed grimly. “Usquabae does make him mad, but I think he lives for it. He cannae stop himself from drinkin’.”
The two brothers rode on until they reached Haldstane Castle at noon. The guards greeted them and waved them on since they were familiar figures who they knew presented no threat. The brothers went straight to the laird’s study, pausing outside the door to square their shoulders and take a deep breath.
“Ready?” Finn asked.
“Aye, ready,” Liam answered grimly. “Let us get it over wi’.”
Finn opened the door, and they found Laird Donaldson standing looking out of the window, a glass half-full of amber liquid in his hand. Most men did not begin to drink until the afternoon, but Laird Rory Donaldson had his first glass of whisky before he broke his fast every morning.
Laird Donaldson was a short man with a substantial paunch who had once had dark brown hair but was now almost bald. His eyes were a deep, dark gray, and he had the bulbous blue nose of the habitual drinker. He turned and smiled at them, his usual grim, forbidding smile that did not so much welcome as terrify. Fortunately, Finn and Liam both were accustomed to it, and it had no effect on them whatsoever. They both smiled slightly and bowed.
“At long last!” he greeted them, his brow dark with disapproval. “Better late than never, I suppose.”
“My horse cast a shoe,” Finn told him quickly. “We had tae fix it before we came tae see ye. I am sorry, M’Laird. It will no’ happen again.”
This was a complete lie, but Finn was an accomplished liar who was an expert at thinking on his feet. As well as that, he was a born storyteller who could keep an audience enthralled for hours. Both qualities were assets when dealing with someone as temperamental and irascible as Laird Donaldson, as well as talking himself out of tricky situations and charming ladies. Finn was especially good at the latter.
The laird narrowed his eyes as he met Finn’s, but the younger man stared back at him guilelessly, and the laird turned away from him to face the window again. There was a deep silence in the room, but again, they were used to such treatment. At first, they had found it unnerving, but they soon realized that it was the laird’s way of gaining an advantage, and he was renowned for it, so they had learned to play him at his own game and wait him out. It was the only way to deal with him.
