Page 13 of Taming the Highland Misfits
“My aunt was a herbalist an’ she taught me a lot about this kind o’ things,” he replied. “I will never be as good as she was, but I can dae simple things like this.”
“Do you help the local people?” she asked.
He shook his head. “None o’ them knows I’m here,” he replied. “An’ as I said, I havenae enough knowledge tae mix a’ the potions an’ powders an’ salves that she did. Since she died naebody comes here any more.”
“You do not look too sad about it,” Isla remarked.
“I like my own company,” he said. He grinned ruefully. “I have everythin’ I need an’ naebody tae bother me.”
Isla said nothing, merely finished off her tea and smiled at him.
“Are you hungry?” he asked at last, “I have made some soup, since I didnae think you would be able tae manage anythin’ heavy.”
“Not really hungry, but I suppose I need to keep my strength up,” she replied, sighing.
“I think ye had better lie down for a while,” Finley observed, “so I will bring your food in here.”
Isla nodded and watched him as he left. He walked with big, swinging steps and his straight back and broad shoulders spoke of his physical strength, and that made her feel safe. She felt herself relax, the last of the tension in her body ebbing away. The fire in the grate was giving off a cheerful warmth, the blankets on the bed were soft and cosy, and she was thoroughly comfortable. It was verging on wonderful. The handsome stranger definitely knew how to take care of an invalid.
Isla thought it would be pleasant to be married to a kind, considerate man like this. He need not even be good to look at, although that would be a bonus, as long as he treated her well and she could respect him. There had always been one thing that worried her, however. No one had ever taught her about what went on between a man and a woman when they lay together, and it was one of the many areas of her education that had been omitted by her father.
She had never had any close friends that she could ask, and the series of maids she had employed over the years were, for one reason or another, not the kind of person she wanted to confide in.
‘So here I am,’she thought,‘at the ripe old age of nineteen, knowing absolutely nothing about what goes on in the marriage bed, yet my father wants me to marry.’
She looked up and saw that the man had come back into the room carrying a tray with two steaming bowls of soup and a couple of bannocks on it. He put it down on the table then took his own food away and set the tray on her lap.
“Thank you,” Isla murmured, looking into his bright blue eyes. “You are very kind.”
“I would help anyone in bad shape,” he replied. “I hope they would dae it for me as well.”
Isla went to work on her food. The soup was thick, hearty, and absolutely delicious. She had not thought she could eat anything, but she scraped her bowl clean with no effort at all, and when it was empty, she gladly accepted another. She watched as the stranger ate his own food, finishing the bread as he ate his third plate.
Finley caught her looking at him and grinned, knowing what he was thinking. “There is a lot of me to fill,” he assured her, then took her plate and walked back to the kitchen again.
When he came back in he was carrying two cups of warm mulled ale and gave one to her, then sat down and began to sip his drink quietly.
“Do we know each other?” Isla asked suddenly. “I have the distinct feeling that I have seen you before somewhere.”
“I don’t think so,” he replied. He did not want to tell her he had been thinking the same thing, wanting to keep as much of himself as he could secret for the moment until he could work out exactly what to say to her.
“What is your name?” she asked.
For a moment, a troubled look came over his face, before he asked, “Would you like anything else tae eat?”
It was obviously a diversion and not a very subtle one. Isla decided not to press the issue, though. She wondered why he was not going to share his name with her, or at least tell her a little bit more about himself. Surely a man like him must have a wife, a family, or even a few friends? She could not believe that he lived like a hermit in this tiny cottage, with no one knowing who or where he was. Surely he had someone who loved him?
However, he seemed reluctant to tell her more, so Isla decided to respect his privacy while keeping her own. In a spirit of sheer perversity, she decided not to tell him any more about herself either.
“Ye must rest now,” he told her. “Your body has had a terrible shock an’ ye need tae build up your strength again. Sleep as long as ye need tae.” He turned to leave, but she stopped him.
“But—is this not your bed?” Isla asked. “I can sleep on the floor if you need it.”
“No, that is no’ goin’ tae happen,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “You are my guest, an’ guests dinnae sleep on the floor. I have a spare pallet an’ blankets. I will use them. Goodnight, an’ sleep well.”
“You too,” Isla answered faintly. Suddenly, she was absolutely exhausted, and when she turned on her side and pulled the blankets up to her chin, sleep claimed her immediately. She knew nothing else till morning, even forgetting to dream.
6
