Page 35 of Taming the Highland Misfits
There was also a butcher’s stall in the market, and one that sold vegetables and fruit, some that Isla had never seen before. This puzzled her, since most people had their own little vegetable gardens, and berries and nuts could be found freely in the forest; it was obvious that wealthier people were moving into Inverleith.
However, when they rode past the Black Hog, they could immediately see a sign hanging above the entrance proclaiming that it was owned by the Crawfords. There were some unsavoury looking characters hanging about, and some gaudily dressed women who flaunted themselves to gain their attention. Most of the men ignored them, except those who were too drunk to resist their advances.
Finley drew a lot of female attention as he rode past, and one of the women even approached him offering her services. A venomous glance from Isla, as well as a threatening wave of her riding crop drove her away, however.
Isla was shocked. She had never before seen a blatant display of vice such as the one she had just witnessed. Granted, it may have gone on quietly for years, and probably had done, but only out of sight; it was clear that things were changing in Inverleith, and not for the better.
They rode on into the part of town with which Isla was familiar, and once more changes were apparent everywhere. Finley’s lips thinned as he looked at what had once been a row of small houses, but which had been converted to a place where travellers could stay for a night or two. However, they could tell by the men and women loitering around the entrance that it was a brothel. The sign above the door also bore the name of Alec Crawford.
Finley did not like these changes one bit. Alec Crawford was turning Inverleith into his own personal fiefdom, and this made him more determined than ever to have his revenge on the evil creature who seemed to be eating the town alive. He shook the thought out of his head and looked around him, but everything else seemed to be as he had left it.
However, a few yards further on, he stopped and looked at a small shabby house that Isla recognised as the one that he and his family had once lived in. Presently, a little boy of around five years old came running out of the front door, chased by a slightly older girl, both of them screaming with laughter.
“My home,” Finley said sadly. “I have so many good memories o’ it.”
“But you have moved on,” Isla said gently, “and now another family is making good memories there. Look how happy the children are.” She saw the glitter of tears in his eyes before he dashed them away impatiently and moved on.
“Aye,” he said determinedly, “you are right, Isla. Things cannae stay the same forever.”
They rode on, then he saw something that made him smile, and he quickly dismounted from his horse. He reached up to help Isla, but she batted his hand away. “I can get down by myself, you know,” she told him, somewhat indignantly.
However, Finley was not to be dissuaded. He clasped her around her waist and swung her out of the saddle, and Isla felt a frisson of awareness as her body slid down the front of his.
Finley had been similarly affected, and he stood holding her for a few seconds after her feet touched the ground, looking into the golden-brown eyes that he loved. His body thrummed with awareness of her scent, the softness of her skin, and her sheer femininity. He desperately wanted to kiss her and admit how he felt, even though he still felt that he was not worthy of her, but he realised that he would have to tell her sometime. However, now was neither the time nor the place, so he put her away a little and stepped back, just as a voice called his name.
“Finley! Finley McGill! Is that you?”
Finley turned and smiled warmly at the familiar voice, and an old man, whom Isla judged to be in his seventies, approached Finley and pulled him into a tight hug.
“Angus!” he cried joyously. “I cannae believe it is you!” He gave the old man a playful punch on the shoulder and grinned as the years fell away and a fountain of joy sprang up inside him.
Angus looked a little older than the last time Finley had seen him, with a few more wrinkles around his dark grey eyes, but his shock of pure white hair and thick white beard were just the same. For such an elderly man, he was still as muscular and fit as someone half his age, and he had always credited this to his profession as a blacksmith.
“Never better, Angus,” Finley replied happily. He had always had a high regard for Angus McDade, who was one of the kindest people he knew.
“Isla,” Finley said as he turned and extended his arm to her. “Come an’ meet Angus McDade. He was my teacher an’ my employer while I was an apprentice. I always thought o’ him as my Da too, since my own wasnae a very good one. Angus, this is -”
“Isla Thomson,” Angus finished for him. He took her outstretched hand and shook it, but he did not smile. “I know your father, hen.”
Isla was just about to speak up for herself when Finley interrupted. His voice was low, but had a deep undertone of anger as he said: “dinnae judge Isla by her Da, Angus. She is nothin’ like him.”
“I can see that,” Angus said gently. “I am sorry, lass, but your father has a very bad name around here.”
Isla nodded. “I know, Mr McDade,” she said sadly. “But I can do nothing about that. All I can tell you is that I despise him as much as you do.”
The old man smiled kindly at her. “Any friend o’ Finley’s is a friend o’ mine, lass,” he told her, then he said to Finley: “come in for a cup o’ ale an’ tell me a’ your news.”
Finley nodded, then ushered Isla inside. The heat, smoke and noise assaulted her senses all at once, and for a moment she felt like turning and running out, but his hand on the small of her back steadied her.
“The sound o’ mallets hittin’ metal is music tae my ears,” Finley said, grinning. He sniffed the air appreciatively and closed his eyes as if he was savouring the smell of some delicious item of food. “This takes me back tae the days when Mammy was alive. Life was good then.” For a moment, he looked downhearted, then he glanced at Isla, and suddenly he knew that life would be even better if she was by his side.
He took Isla’s hand and led her inside, where a young man with dark hair and a soot-covered face was bending a length of metal on the anvil. “Your latest apprentice?” Isla asked.
“Aye,” Angus answered, “although I miss my Finley.” He patted Finley on the shoulder. “Ye were the hardest worker I ever had, son, an’ I always wish I could have paid ye more.”
Finley hugged Angus’s shoulders. “I was grateful for everything, Angus, dinnae worry.”
They moved further inside to Angus’s house at the back of the forge. The first room they came into was the kitchen, where there was a large pine table surrounded by six chairs. A dresser with assorted plates, cups and bowls stood against one wall, with rows of shelves full of foodstuffs and utensils lining the others. Bunches of dried herbs hung over the window, their fresh woody fragrance helping to dispel the smell of smoke which permeated the air.
