Page 56 of Taming the Highland Misfits
“M’Laird, I have somethin’ tae tell ye,” he began. He paused for a moment, then drew in a deep breath, looked the other man straight in the eye and said: “I am a criminal too, an’ I deserve tae be punished.”
Isla had known this moment was coming, but now that it had arrived, she was assailed by a crushing sadness, and it was all she could do to keep her tears at bay as she listened to Finley speaking.
The Laird sipped his wine then leaned forward, his face very close to Finley’s as he looked at him closely. Finley did not flinch as he stared back, and finally Alasdair Mullen nodded. “Please tell me what you have done,” he said firmly. “I am listening to you now in my capacity as a magistrate, so you must tell me the truth or you will be breaking the law.”
Finley nodded and watched as the Laird took a bible out of his drawer and asked him to swear on it, then he sat back and listened. Finley told his story from the time his mother died up until the present day, and Laird Mullen listened carefully, taking notes from time to time.
When he had finished, Finley swallowed the last of his wine and waited for the other man to speak.
Alasdair Mullen looked at Finley with narrowed eyes, wondering if he was really sincere. He had absolutely no evidence to prove that this man was a criminal, although no doubt he could get what he needed from Iain Crawford and Robert Thomson. Yet what good was the word of other lawbreakers? Finley McGill had had absolutely no need to confess, so why had he done it? The love between him and Isla Thomson was clear to see, so by handing himself over to the mercy of a magistrate he was potentially throwing away any possibility of a future with her.
The answer had to be that Finley McGill had a conscience. The guilt of stealing from others and taking lives had become too much for him to bear; inside he was a good man, and was prepared to pay a penance for the wrong he had done.
“Finley McGill,” he said at last, “I can see that you were driven by desperation to commit these crimes, but I don’t think you will ever repeat them. You have made a full and honest confession, and you have done it freely, therefore, I will not sentence you to jail.
What I do expect from you is to give what you can to those in need, and by that I mean your time, your labour, and whatever you can give in terms of material help. In other words, you will lead a life of service. Mind, if I hear that you have gone back to your old ways, there will be dire consequences.”
Finley stared at him, open-mouthed. He had expected to be sent to prison for life, even hanged, but he had never expected to be treated with such generosity. “M’Laird, I dinnae know what tae say,” he said in disbelief, shaking his head. “Thank ye from the bottom of my heart. Ye can be assured that I will never walk on the wrong side o’ the law again. A life o’ service, ye say? I will begin by offerin’ my service tae you. Is there anythin’ at a’ I can dae for ye?”
Laird Mullen shook his head, smiling. “Not at the moment, Finley, but you can rest assured that if I need you I will send for you at once.”
Isla was dumbfounded for a moment, but she soon recovered. “M’Laird—thank you!” she burst out, feeling as though she wanted to throw herself on him and kiss him. Her heart was bursting with joy, and she wanted to go out and shout it to the heavens. Her hand found Finley’s under the desk and squeezed it, then she felt Finley’s turn around to clasp hers tightly.
They spent a few more moments with the Laird, discussing what would happen to the two taverns that the Crawfords owned. Nothing had yet been settled; it was too soon, but Laird Mullen looked grimly determined that big changes were afoot.
“I should never have let the village get into such a state.” His voice was angry. He stood up and looked at Finley, then held out his hand. “Finley, good luck. Remember, I will be watching you.”
Finley smiled, wishing he had been working for this man instead of moving down the crooked path he had chosen. “I willnae disappoint ye, M’Laird,” he assured him.
They left the study, but they had not gone more than a few yards before Finley pulled Isla into his arms and hugged her tightly, then kissed the top of her hair and gave a great sigh of contentment. “Thank you, Isla,” he whispered, burying his face in her hair and inhaling its sweet scent. She was so pliable, so womanly; every bit of her was his opposite, and he knew that she, and only she, would make him complete.
“For what?” Isla asked, surprised. She tried to look up at him, but he pressed her head against his shoulder so that her cheek was resting against him. She smiled and closed her eyes, thinking that she could quite happily have stood this way all day.
“For believin’ in me,” he replied. “For standin’ by me.” He tightened his grip around her and closed his eyes. This would likely be the last time he would hold Isla in his arms, and his body was responding to her in the most primitive way possible. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, wishing he could let his hands stray further to more forbidden, intimate parts of her. However, it was becoming unbearable to be so close to her and be unable to do so; he gently pushed her away.
“There is no need to thank me.” Her voice was gentle. “Is that not what any friend would do for another?”
Isla felt bereft. Like Finley, she had felt her own arousal building, her body readying itself for the inevitable outcome of their closeness. She had become warm and wet, and a sweet pulse throbbed in her secret place. Although she had not much idea of what happened when a man and woman came together, she knew that this feeling only happened when she was near Finley.
She could not look at him; her cheeks were flaming with embarrassment, and she was sure that he had noticed, so she turned away and stared out over the walls of the castle to the valley in which Inverleith stood.
Finley turned away towards the stables. He felt like saying:‘is that all I am tae you? A friend?’but of course, he said nothing of the sort; it would be pointless. “I will take ye home,” he told her.
* * *
They rode in silence. The weather had become warm, and the sky was bright and hazy—an unusual day in Scotland. As they came close to Isla’s house, they saw a party of half-a-dozen of the Laird’s guards riding past them, no doubt to arrest Iain and Alec Crawford. They grinned at each other; the day had started badly, but it had ended well. The Crawfords would soon be in custody with Robert Thomson, and none of the female staff at the Black Hog, the Lonely Shepherd or Lochview House would ever have to worry about their safety again.
When they arrived at Lochview House, Isla dismounted from Raffy and looked up at Finley. “Come in and have something to eat with me,” she asked him. “You must be hungry after the day we have had.”
He shook his head and gave her a sad smile. “I will see tae myself, Isla, thank ye.”
“But where will you go?” Isla asked desperately. “Back to the cottage?”
“Aye,” he answered. “I must see tae the animals. They will need feedin’.”
“And after that?” Her voice was anxious, and she had unconsciously taken hold of Duff’s reins in an attempt to stop Finley from leaving.
“I will see if Angus needs me for anythin’.” He shrugged. “If no’, then I will stay at the cottage, plant more vegetables, an’ find myself some odd jobs around the town. I will be fine, Isla. There is nae need tae worry about me.”
