Page 23 of Taming the Highland Misfits
Eventually, she plucked up the courage to speak. “What are we doing today? Will you help me to finish the carving?”
He shook his head, looking even more grim than he had before. “I have things tae do today,” he replied. He said no more until he had scooped the last of the porridge from the bowl and eaten it. “I have tae go for a ride tae see somebody, then I have tae go intae Inverleith.”
“Do you need to go into your blacksmith’s shop?” she asked.
“Aye,” he answered. “I have an apprentice an’ I cannae leave him alone for too long. I have tarried here for too long as it is.”
‘Because of me,’she thought, immediately feeling a wave of guilt. Aloud, she asked: “when will you be back? Would you like me to try to cook something for you?” Then she looked down at the remains of her porridge, knowing what the answer would be.
“No, thank ye, Isla,” he replied. “I will eat somethin’ in town, an’ there is bread, cheese an’ apples in the cupboard, as well as some cooked sausage. Will that be enough for ye?”
She nodded, her face sad. “I was hoping we could carry on with your reading lessons today.”
If anything, his face became even more grim. “No’ today, Isla,” he told her. “As well as seein’ tae the forge, I have tae get more food for us.”
“Of course,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes, “because I am eating half of it.”
“I only buy a few things,” he assured her. “I can get nearly everythin’ we need off the land. Dinnae worry yourself about that.”
Isla nodded sadly. He was consoling her because he was a kind and generous man, but every day she stayed with him was costing him more and more. She felt ashamed of herself, so she turned away and went back into the bedroom, where she laid out her two remaining new dresses on the bed and looked at them.
The sound of the door closing, and the noise of horse’s hooves a moment later, told her that Finley had gone without saying goodbye.
Isla felt wretched. She had allowed Finley to rescue her, nurse her back to health, feed her, clothe her, teach her a new skill, and what had she done for him in return? She had taught him the letters of the alphabet and how to write his name. She was disgusted with herself.
Then something else occurred to her. Her betrothal. Was Finley upset about that? But why would he be? It was not as though he entertained any hopes of marrying her himself—or did he? Was there something he was not telling her?
Then she put the thought firmly from her mind. He was a blacksmith and she was a wealthy merchant’s daughter; the difference in their social position was too great for them to overcome. Yet now she was nothing but a poor runaway who had nothing, not even a home to go to. In material terms, the tables had turned, and he was much better off than she was.
But why had he not told her he was going to the forge instead of letting her guess? He had never before mentioned that he had an apprentice; why was that? He had said that he worked for himself, but he was rather young to have taken on an apprentice, and it was simply not practical for him to ride three miles into Inverleith every day to go to work. The more she thought about it, the more Isla realised that something did not quite add up, and Finley had still never told her when he would be back.
Restlessly, Isla moved over to the window, parted the shutters a little more, and looked out. She had not moved from inside the cottage in all the time she had been there for fear of being accosted by bandits again, but now for the first time, she was becoming restless.
‘Surely I can stay safe if I am careful?’she thought.‘I can go as far as the burn—that should not be too risky.’
She stood, dithering for a moment and trying to make up her mind what to do. The burn was only a hundred yards away, and she was wearing a green dress, which she thought would blend in well enough with the colour of the grass and hide her from anyone who was not standing close by. It was dreadful, Isla thought, that she had been reduced to this—worrying about everything she wore and every move she made.
She looked up to the sky. As if in tune with her thoughts, the fine white haze of morning cloud was giving way to a thicker, darker one. Isla measured the distance between herself and the stream and made up her mind; she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and took one step forward. She hesitated, then took another one, carefully looking around herself as she went.
Her heart was beating like a drum, and she was alert for any movement around her. The hundred-yard journey seemed like miles, but she reached the burn eventually. She turned around in a circle a few times to make sure that no one was around her, then sank down on her haunches on the soft grass.
Isla let out a long breath and then gazed around her. The brown, peat-coloured waters of the burn below her were chuckling merrily as they ran over pebbles that they had polished into smoothness over hundreds of millennia. Occasionally, a flash of silver would indicate the passage of a small fish of some kind, but it was gone before she could pinpoint it.
On the opposite bank of the burn, the land began to gradually rise upwards into rolling hills and fields that were striped with drystone walls. Their slopes were covered with thick expanses of pink and purple heather and lemon-yellow gorse, giving the landscape a colourful, festive air. Beyond that, she noticed the occasional farm cottage and hundreds upon hundreds of black-faced sheep, which were far more numerous than people in this area. There were no fields of crops; the soil was too poor.
Isla sat for a long time in the peaceful surroundings of the burn, hoping that the quiet around her would help to soothe her troubled thoughts, but it was no good; her mind was too confused and unsettled.
Eventually, she stood up, and after a careful look around her, she ventured a short way along the bank. The clouds were becoming thicker and darker, and she knew that if she stayed where she was for a moment longer she would be soaked to the skin.
Accordingly, she turned back and strode up the hill towards the cottage again, feeling frustrated that the fresh air had done nothing to calm her.
Isla looked at the food Finley had left for her, but she had no appetite. Every mouthful would make her feel more and more guilty that she was depriving him of something.
She had to stop being a burden to Finley.‘He has likely gone out to get away from me for a while,’she thought gloomily. She sat on the bed beside her dresses and considered her options for the hundredth time.
She could not stay with Finley indefinitely, that much was obvious, but when Isla thought about leaving, the only place she could go was Inverleith. It was the only town within walking distance, but even then it would take her most of a day to get there. Then, of course, she would be hungry, but she would have no food and no means to buy any.
There was also the question of where to sleep; even if she managed to steal some food, she would have nowhere to lay her head unless it was in a stable or a barn. And the next day the whole sorry process would repeat itself.
