He lay still with his eyes closed for so long that Finn thought he had gone to sleep and Finn could leave. But then he opened his eyes again and said the last thing Finn expected.
“I’m not your father.”
Finn wondered if in his weakened state his father did not recognize him.
“When I brought ye home as a wee newborn babe, I told Isabel ye were my bastard,” his father said. “To save her pride, she agreed to pretend ye were hers, but she never forgave me.”
Well, that explained a lot. Finn supposed that deep down he always suspected he was the bastard of one of the many women his father had on the side. He thought of how Margaret showered love on a child not her own, but Isabel was not capable of that.
“I know Isabel mistreated ye because of it,” his father said. “But she would have killed ye in your cradle if she knew the truth.”
“What truth?” Finn asked.
“The truth that your mother made me swear an oath on her deathbed to keep secret,” he said. “Isabel was not the only one who would have wanted ye murdered if they knew.”
Finn felt as if he were standing in the shallows, fighting to keep on his feet as wave after wave crashed into him. The mother whose angry resentment had shaped his life was not truly his mother. And the woman who gave birth to him was long since dead. He would never have a chance to know her.
“Who was she, this woman ye say was my mother?” Finn asked. Knowing his father, she was probably a poor tavern wench he barely knew.
“Isabel’s sister.”
“Her sister?” Finn was lucky he was already sitting down. “I didn’t know she had a sister.”
“Her name was Deirdre,” his father said. “Our fathers were keen on making an alliance and arranged a marriage between us. She was the sister I was supposed to marry.”
God’s bones. Finn could hardly take it in.
“Deirdre was the most beautiful lass I’d ever seen,” his father said with a wistfulness Finn had never heard in his voice before. “She was full of laughter. That lass had a sparkle in her eye that made ye believe your life would be golden if only ye could have her at your side.”
“Ye loved her?” Finn asked.
“Aye, but Deirdre told me she wouldn’t have me because she loved someone else,” he said. “But as I said, it was all arranged.”
Finn braced his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair. What next?
“When Deirdre ran off with her lover, our fathers salvaged their alliance by making Isabel take her place as my bride.”
Finn got up and started pacing the room. No wonder his father and mother were never happy. He was in love with her sister, and she knew it.
“So who did this Deirdre”—Finn could not yet call her his mother—“run off with?”
“Ye must remember hearing tales about your grandmother Sutherland’s half-brother Robin, who was twenty years younger than she?”
“Aye. He claimed to be the rightful heir to Sutherland and took Dunrobin Castle twice.” Finn had heard the tales all his life. The Sutherlands considered Robin a hero, while the Gordons labeled him a rebel.
“He was wild and fearless and darkly handsome.” His father paused to cough and gasp for air. “What man could compete with that?”
“Are ye saying that’s who she ran off with?” Finn asked. “But that would mean…”
“Aye. Robin Sutherland was your father.”
“But how…” Finn had a hundred questions but could not seem to find the words. His head was spinning. His mother was not his mother. His father was not his father.
“Not long after Robin was finally captured and killed, I received an urgent message from Deirdre asking me to meet her at Duffus Castle in secret,” his father said. “In truth, I got my hopes up she’d have me now that Robin was dead. When it came to Deirdre, I had no pride.”
“Why Duffus Castle?”
“The Sutherlands, being Robin’s clan, were protecting her,” his father said. “Duffus himself was away, but his sister Mary, the one who was married to the Sinclair chieftain, was there. Mary warned me Deirdre was dying before she took me to see her.”