“That won’t be necessary,” Finn said.
“Why not?” Moray asked.
“After Barbara miscarried MacKay’s child, she rode into Sutherland to join the Sinclair warriors in the fight for Dunrobin,” Finn said. “A pack of wild dogs attacked her in the wood. Apparently, her horse threw her, for we found the horse unharmed.”
“And Barbara?” Moray asked.
“She and dogs never did get along,” Finn said. “I’m told there wasn’t much left of her to bury.”
Moray shuddered and took a gulp of his whisky. “What of the Sinclair chieftain and the rest of his family? I hear his sons are almost as dangerous as he is.”
“The Sinclairs will always be a danger that must be controlled,” Finn said, “but there was so much evil in that family that they turned on themselves.”
“To what result?” Moray asked.
“Two of George’s three sons are dead,” Finn said.
After months in his father’s dungeon, John persuaded two of the guards to enter a plot to free him. Before they could execute their plan, his brother William, George’s favorite, discovered the scheme. Foiling the plot was not enough for William—he had to go to the dungeon to taunt John. When he stepped too close, believing John was too weak to be dangerous, John got hold of him and strangled him with his chains.
After John killed George’s favorite son, George grew impatient for John’s death and had him fed only salted meat and nothing to drink. John first went mad from thirst and then died.
“That still leaves George Sinclair, himself,” Moray said.
“George was stabbed in the back and thrown over the wall into the sea. At least, that’s what his men surmised when his body came in with the tide,” Finn said. “Since George never saw anyone outside of his family without his guards at hand, the murderer was most likely his third son, who is chieftain now.”
George misunderstood the old witch’s foretelling, just as his father had when he killed that innocent shepherd boy on Orkney. George feared his eldest son would plot to take his place, but in the end, it was his youngest.
“That is good news, but as you say, the Sinclairs will always need to be contained—and there will be other threats.” Moray paused and cleared his throat. “I want you to remain at Dunrobin. The people here need to see their young laird now and again, but I’ll keep Alex at Huntly and out of your way.”
“Out of my way?” Finn rapped his fist on the table. “Alex needs to be here. He can’t learn to rule Sutherland from Huntly.”
“You’re the man the warriors here in Sutherland are willing to follow into battle,” Moray said. “Once Alex is of age, he’ll rule in name, of course, but I want you to remain here and in control.”
“You’re underestimating Alex,” Finn said. “He has it in him to be the leader he needs to be.”
While Finn was speaking, Janet entered the solar without knocking and took a seat.
“You’ve earned this by forcing the Sinclairs out of Sutherland,” Moray said. “I want you to take it.”
“I don’t want it,” Finn said between clenched teeth. “And I won’t take it.”
“Don’t play coy,” Moray said. “Is it gold you want to sweeten the pot or something else?”
“My son doesn’t understand a man who lacks his kind of ambition,” Janet interrupted. “As we don’t have a good deal of time, let me suggest a resolution.”
Before long, Finn had agreed to remain at Dunrobin to guide Alex until he came of age. Finn knew Margaret was anxious to make their own home, but she would understand that any other man Moray would choose would attempt to usurp Alex’s role permanently. For his part, Moray seemed satisfied with the assurance that Sutherland would be secure for the next two years.
“Now,” Janet said, turning to her son, “about that property ye have on the north coast that ye never visit.”
Finn had taken a sip of his whisky and nearly choked on it. How did Janet know about the property Moray had promised him in exchange for kidnapping Margaret?
“Though Garty is worth more, I’d wager that Finn would be willing to exchange it for that property,” Janet said. “’Tis your gain that Finn would prefer not to live in a place that would be a constant reminder of his murderous mother and the rest of his unpleasant and, thankfully, deceased family.”
“Garty is mine now,” Finn said, keeping his face expressionless.
Gilbert never recovered from the shock of Bearach’s murder and died a few weeks later. Isabel was gone as well. After her conviction, she killed herself in her cell in Edinburgh the night before she was to be executed. With no proof beyond her word, however, George Sinclair was not called to justice—at least, not by the Crown.
“What do ye say to this exchange?” Moray asked him. “You could keep the peace in the north of Sutherland and be able to assist Alex here when needed.”