Page 51 of Taming the Highland Misfits
Isla saw the wisdom in this, and closed her eyes. She was beyond exhausted but was so uncomfortable she knew that sleep would never come. She was shivering with cold, her wrists were aching, and her backside had begun to go numb from sitting in one place for so long.
Finley was not feeling any better, but he resisted the impulse to try to escape, knowing that it would only be a fruitless waste of energy. He broke into a folk song that they both knew, his deep voice echoing off the stone walls of the room where they were being held. After a moment, Isla joined in, and they passed the time as agreeably as they could under the circumstances.
After what seemed like days, the door creaked open and the guard called Sandy came in. Again, he avoided Isla’s eyes as he bent down to untie them. “Your father says ye can wash an’ use the privy then eat somethin’,” he informed Isla. “But if ye make any trouble he will tie ye up an’ put ye back in the dark again. Understand?”
“Yes, Sandy,” Isla replied frostily. “I am not a simpleton.”
Sandy flicked a glance at her, and his face reddened. He resumed untying Isla’s hands, then went on to Finley’s. Finley could see that it would be very easy to overpower him, but there were other guards outside, and he still had to think of Isla’s welfare.
There was a small privy and washroom outside the kitchen, and Isla gratefully sluiced clean water over every part of herself that she could reach before bending down to carefully unpick the hem of her dress. She pulled out the knife, which she slipped up the long sleeve of her shirt. It was encased in a small leather cover so that its sharp edge posed no danger to her skin, and she felt infinitely more secure now that it was within reach.
They were escorted back to the room they had been kept in before and two plates of porridge were placed before them as well as a cup each of cold milk. Neither of them cared that the porridge was thick and lumpy; they were both so hungry that they gobbled it up with relish. Given half a chance, both of them would have asked for more, but they knew their request would only be denied.
Halfway through the meal, Finley felt Isla’s foot kicking against the toe of his boot, and he looked up. She looked downward and gave a nod towards the table, and for a moment he was flummoxed before realisation dawned. She was not signalling towards the table, but underneath it. He put his hand down, felt Isla slipping something small and leathery into his hand, and it took him only a moment to realise what it was. Of course! The knife.
Isla twitched him a smile as he took it from her, then resumed her meal. Now she felt safe; Finley had a weapon, albeit a small one, but with that and his strength he was lethal. As well as that, he could now cut their bonds as soon as he got the chance.
After breakfast they were again bound to the table legs, but as soon as the door had closed behind the guard Finley grinned at Isla. The room was not dark any more, since one of the shutters from the highest of the windows had been opened; evidently, Robert Thomson had decided not to torture his daughter any more.
“Ready tae break free?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Of course. As soon as you open the door you know that you will have to contend with two guards, though,” she warned him.
“I know,” he replied grimly, but there was something in his voice that suggested he was looking forward to the task.
“I think you’re enjoying this.” Isla looked at him with a half-smiling, half-frowning expression. She watched him as he somehow managed to manoeuvre the knife into a position where he could begin to saw it. However, he had only been working on his task for a few moments when the door opened and Robert Thomson walked in.
“How are you?” he boomed, smiling from ear to ear. Evidently, the sight of his daughter sitting tied up on the floor delighted him. “Did you sleep well? Enjoy your breakfast?”
Isla smiled at him brightly. “Yes, Father,” she replied. “It was delicious.”
Immediately, Robert Thomson’s brow darkened. “You are becoming far too insolent for your own good, daughter,” he growled. “When you are married to Iain Crawford you must learn to obey him, as a good wife should.”
“That will never happen, Father,” Isla said defiantly. “I will never marry him. You described him as a ‘lump of lard.’ do you not then despise him as much as I do?”
“It does not matter whether I despise him or not, or whether you do.” He bent down so close to her that their noses were almost touching. “You will marry him, Isla. You see, you have no choice. I made the choice for you, and youwillwed Crawford whether you like it or not.”
Isla saw red. She wriggled and strained against the ropes binding her wrists, but to no avail. The eyes that looked at him were full of hate as her father squatted down in front of her. “I will not!”she hissed.
Robert sighed and shook his head. “You are just like your mother,” he said, pretending to be sorry. “You think you have a choice in this matter? Isla, my darling, you have never had a choice and it was a mistake on your part to think that you did.”
“I do have a choice!” Isla spat. “All my life I have been doing as I was told by you! Well, not any more, father. Finley and I know now what you did to his mother. You are a murderer—you enjoy seeing other people in pain, and that is why you like to make women submit to you. Not just to satisfy your lust—but because you like to see people helpless and at your mercy! Agnes McGill was never going to submit to you at any price—so you murdered her!”
“Ah! Now we get to the heart of the matter!” Robert smiled, but it was an evil, self-satisfied smile. “I did not murder her. It was an accident. I would never have intentionally hurt her.”
“You tried to rape her,” Finley growled.
Robert whipped around to look at him. “Speak when you are spoken to!” he said viciously.
Finley was just about to retort when he caught sight of Isla’s face and thought better of it. With great effort, he forced himself to be quiet and listened to the conversation, even while he seethed inside.
“Why did my mother ever marry a monster like you?” Isla asked, shaking her head. “She was not a fool, yet she ended up with you.”
Robert threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “You are just like her,” he replied. “Well, your mother was chosen for me by your grandfather, and she had no say in the matter. That is the trouble with women; not only do you think you can choose your husbands, but you think you have a say in any part of your life. Really, you would all like to be the same as men—have the same authority and power, but that will never happen. Never, do you hear?
After your mother died, I tried to find a nice, placid, biddable wife, but wherever I looked, it was always the same. All the women I met were not willing to accept my authority over them.”
“I would rather die than bend to your will!” Isla spat. “You think you can control me? Then you will have to kill me or imprison me, Father, because I willneverobey you. My mother protected me until she died, and she gave me all her wisdom and taught me how to live with love and generosity.” She paused and scrutinised his face. “By the way, Father, how did mother die? At your hand?”
