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They stayed at their little camp until the next morning when Finn ordered Greta to go down to the castle for her own safety.
“No!” she cried mutinously. “I am comin’ with ye!”
“To do what?” Finn demanded. “Ye will only get in the way, an’ ye could be taken prisoner an’ used as a hostage tae bargain with, Greta. If ye do nae obey me, I can tie ye up.” He stood in front of her, feet planted wide apart, arms akimbo.
“Ye would no’ dare!” she countered.
“Try me,” he countered, and took a step toward her. He purposely made himself look as large as he could, and if Greta had not known him as well as she did, she would have found him terrifying, for he was truly the biggest man she had ever seen.
She sighed in exasperation. “All right,” she conceded grumpily.
He smiled triumphantly, then moved forward to pull her into his arms and kiss her hungrily. If this was their last kiss ever, he was going to make it the best.
When he let Greta go, they were both breathless. “I love ye, my Greta,” he whispered, gazing down into her amber-brown eyes in adoration.
“I love ye too,” she replied, her eyes shining with tears. Then she picked up her satchel and ran downhill to the castle, leaving Finn to watch her and wonder if it would be the last time he ever saw her.
* * *
“Do ye have any idea where his camp might be?” Gregor Mackay asked Finn as they left the castle with fifty men, all armed to the teeth, behind them.
“I know the places they usually camp,” Finn frowned. “But I don’t know if they will use them again. Liam is no’ stupid. In fact, he is a sharp wee so-an’-so. He knows I might be dead, but he cannae be sure, so he will no’ be takin’ any chances.” His voice was grim.
“Ye know him well,” the laird observed, looking at Finn with narrowed eyes.
“I used tae think so, but now I am no’ so sure.” Finn was angry. “He has become a different person lately.”
The laird was thoughtful as he listened to the other man. “And you?” he asked. “Have you become a different person too?"
Finn frowned angrily. “I hope so, M’Laird,” he answered angrily. “I hope I have become a better man.”
They rode on in silence. The laird had sent out foot soldiers to comb the area where Finn had told them the camp might be. After a short while, one of the guards came running out from between the trees, breathless with exertion.
“We have found them, M’Laird,” he told him. “There are twenty-two o’ them, an’ it looks as though about half o’ them are blind drunk.”
“Excellent! That will make our task much easier.” The laird grinned, then looked at Finn and raised his eyebrows. “Is the camp where you thought it would be?”
Finn nodded. “Aye, M’Laird. An’ tae be truthful, I thought Liam would have had a bit more sense. He knows this place well—we all do—an’ it would have been easier for him tae make camp in a place I don’t know well. He has either given me up for dead or set a trap.”
“I think we should assume that he has set a trap,” Laird Mackay said thoughtfully. “He seems to be a wily man, and he takes no chances.”
“Aye, an’ that is what makes him dangerous.” Finn was furious. “That, an’ the fact that he has no conscience. He cares only for himself.”
Laird Mackay said nothing, and they urged their mounts forward very slowly and picked their way through the trees until they smelled smoke and heard voices. Presently, they came to a clearing with a campfire in the middle of it. Many men were sitting or sprawling around it.
They stopped to assess the situation, and it became apparent that quite a few of the bandits were drunk, some of them even passed out on the ground. However, there were low-hanging tree branches that would impede the horses’ progress, so the laird decided to go in on foot since it did not seem as though the enemy would put up much resistance. As well as that, they had the element of surprise on their side, and this was a massive advantage.
There was a ring of fifty men standing ready a few yards away from the fire in the thick of the trees, and at the laird’s signal, each one of them shouted at the top of his voice and rushed forward.
To say that the bandits were taken by surprise would have been a huge understatement. Very little fighting took place since the drunkards could barely stand, and many of the remaining outlaws were only armed with daggers, having left their swords wrapped inside their bedding. In all, only twelve of the outlaws were left to battle with the laird’s men, and they were overcome with little trouble.
However, one man would not stand down—Liam.
“Give up, Liam!” Finn ordered. “Ye are outnumbered, an’ if ye run away, ye will be cut down in less than a minute. Give up!”
Liam’s face was a mask of hatred as he stared at Finn, and when he spoke, his voice, though quiet, throbbed with rage. “Ye are a traitor. Ye betrayed us because of some bit o’ skirt ye took a fancy tae, an’ now look at ye! Has he”—he pointed at the laird—“promised ye anythin’? Yer freedom, maybe? Because I doubt he will keep his word. He is just as bad as the rest o’ the toffs.” His tone was scathing.
“The laird has made no such promise,” Finn answered. “He is a man o’ honor, unlike ye an’ me.” Finn was shaking with rage, but he managed to keep control of himself. “Since the day we met, I have been savin’ yer skin. I saved ye from a few half-grown bullies, an’ I have been savin’ ye from every situation ye get in. I gave ye my surname an’ called ye my brother for yer protection.”
