Page 25 of Taming the Highland Misfits
Finley knew that this would not be the last he heard of this matter, though. Crawford was a vicious and mean-spirited character, and it was dangerous to cross him. He decided to accept Crawford’s offer there and then because he could barely survive on what he made at the blacksmith’s shop. His aunt had died, as had his mother and father, and he had no other family. What else could he do?
“I have changed my mind,” he said abruptly. “I will join ye.”
Iain patted him on the back and gave him one of his leering grins. “I knew ye would see sense,” he said smugly.
Finley thought of all the ways he could kill Iain and Alec Crawford: he could set the Lonely Shepherd on fire, ride over Iain with his horse because he was too fat to get out of the way. He could poison them both with hemlock, mandrake, or any of the deadly mushrooms he could pick in the forest. He could easily drown Alec in a vat of his own beer or shut both of them in the cellar to die of starvation. There were hundreds of ways to end their miserable lives, he thought.
Many long months had passed since then; months in which his hatred had only grown stronger. At that moment Finley was so furious that he felt he might ride back to Inverleith, batter down the door, and attack both of them with a sword, a dagger, a club, or whatever else he could lay his hands on. He felt hugely vengeful, full of black, bitter loathing for two of the most evil people he had ever known.
In the midst of his thoughts about taking revenge on the Crawfords he had almost forgotten about Isla, who would no doubt be sitting waiting for him. He had promised to bring food back with him, but he groaned as he thought of doing it. That errand would mean riding into Inverleith, and that was far too close to his enemies, but it had to be done.
* * *
Isla was beginning to be worried. A light, misty rain had been falling all day, but now it was beginning to come down in earnest in fat drops that had quickly turned into muddy puddles. She lit the fire, then tried to eat some of the food that Finley had left her. She had occupied some more of her time by cleaning and tidying the house, then she began to work on the carving of the mushroom until it was finished to her satisfaction.
By now, it was early evening, and the rain was coming down faster than ever, making her visualise slippery puddles where a horse could slip and tip his rider off, the same thing that had happened to her.
She opened one of the window shutters slightly and looked out of the window, then, to her immense relief, saw Finley riding into the barn. A few moments later, having fed and rubbed down his horse, he came inside, dripping rainwater everywhere. He took off his cloak, hung it on the back of the door, and shook the rain from his hair like a wet dog before looking at her.
“I am sorry I took sae long,” he apologised. “The rain—” he shrugged.
“I am relieved you arrived safely,” she breathed. “Having fallen off my own horse I realise how painful it is.”
“I am fine,” he assured her, then he fetched a towel and some dry clothes and went into the bedroom to change.
When he emerged, he was clean and dry, and Isla found it hard to take her eyes off him. She had never seen such a beautiful man in her life, and although she did not know it, her body, tingling and damp in places she had never thought about before, was responding to him in exactly the way nature had intended. She felt an enormous sadness settle on her; this was going to be even harder than she expected.
He had brought in a leg of lamb with some root vegetables, as well as a Dundee cake, rich and flavourful with spices and fruits. They cooked the food together, but Isla was subdued, and when they sat down to eat, he saw that she was downcast and she was hardly touching her food, merely pushing it around her plate.
“Isla,” he said softly, placing his hand gently over hers, “ye seem upset. Is there anythin’ I can dae?”
Isla looked up into his bright blue eyes and sighed deeply, shaking her head. “That is the problem, Finley,” she replied. “You have done so much already. You looked after me when I was sick, you had to clean up after me, I am eating half your food, and I am keeping you from your work. I am nothing but a burden to you, but I think I am well enough to leave now.”
Finley looked into Isla’s eyes in disbelief. She was serious, he realised. She was going to set out to go—where? She had nothing, nowhere to go and no one to go to. It was madness. “Isla, you are not going anywhere.” His voice was firm, and his eyes were shadowed by a deep frown. “You think you are a burden? Isla, you are the best thing that has happened tae me in ages. I might seem like a big tough fellow, but I am really no’ that kind o’ man at a’.”
He turned his hands around so that he was clasping hers, and once more Isla was astounded at how big they were compared to her own. The skin on his palms was rough, but his touch was infinitely gentle, and as he began to rub his thumbs over the back of her hands, she felt safe. It was a strange way to feel, she knew, but it was as though the joining of their hands bonded them, and as long as they were together he would protect her.
“When I saw ye there on the ground wi’ those two eejits standin’ over ye,” he growled, “I thought it was too late, I thought ye were deid. I must tell ye, Isla, it nearly broke my heart tae see ye a’ crumpled up on the ground like that. I think I went a wee bit mad for a minute, but at least I managed tae get ye away.”
“And for that, I will be forever thankful,” she replied, smiling into his eyes. Her own were filled with grateful tears, but Finley leaned forward and wiped them away.
“Dinnae cry,” he murmured. “I know sometimes ye just cannae help it, but I hate tae see ladies wi’ tears on their lovely faces.”
Isla gave a half-laugh. “We are not all lovely.”
“Ladies are a’ lovely unless they are evil,” he said firmly. “It is said that women are weaker than men, but that is only in body, Isla. You are a’ stronger in spirit than we are. I saw that wi’ my mother. She had tae put up wi’ my father an’ his drinkin’, then wi’ Alec an’ Crawford who treated her like dirt. I could never have done that, but she was strong, my Ma, the strongest woman I ever met.” Now it was his turn to have tears in his eyes, but he laughed as he dashed them away. “Look at us. Pair o’ babbies.”
For a moment, Isla looked down at their joined hands, before speaking again.
“What would you have been doing if I had not been here?”
Finley’s heart skipped a beat before he answered since the question had caught him unprepared. “Workin’,” he replied.
“Exactly my point.” Isla’s voice was firm as she frowned at him. “I am keeping you from doing what you have to do to stay alive. I really should go, Finley.”
In response, Finley gripped her hands even harder. “You said ye were a burden, did ye no’, Isla?” he asked.
Isla nodded sadly. “I am.”
