Page 58 of Taming the Highland Misfits
“Come on, Duff,” he said to the big horse as he put the saddle on his back. “We need tae go an’ find some work. You can eat grass if you’re hungry, but it willnae dae for me.”
Duff whickered and nodded his head as if in agreement, and Finley kissed his neck. He had always thought of his horse as a friend because they looked after each other, and Duff had often been his only, most constant companion; that was how he felt now.
‘Dogs and horses never let you down,’ his mother had told him, and it was one of the wisest things she had ever said. How he missed her, even after all these years! The only woman who could come close to her was Isla—but no, he would not think of her now. It was simply too painful.
“Come on old boy,” he said to Duff. “Time tae earn a livin’.”
* * *
Isla was determined that she would not look back on and brood over the events of the last couple of days. After her father’s abrupt departure, she had a host of different things to do, to organise, and to find out. She was completely ignorant in all aspects of running a business; that knowledge had always been kept from her, since Robert Thomson did not think women capable of such things.
She sighed. There was so much to learn, and the only person she could think of asking for advice was Laird Mullen, who had already been so good to her. Accordingly, she wrote him a brief letter asking for an appointment to see him the next day and sent a manservant to deliver it, then she called a meeting of all the household staff to explain what had happened.
She was amazed to see that they all seemed extremely happy with the developments, and after the meeting, the housekeeper, a handsome middle-aged lady named Mrs Monteith, approached her.
“Mistress,” she said, smiling, “if there is any way I or any o’ the others can help ye, ye only have tae ask.”
“Thank you, Mrs Monteith.” Isla almost wept with relief. “I will hold you to that.”
* * *
When Finley approached the Lonely Shepherd tavern he could see no activity inside or around it. The doors were locked, the windows shuttered, and there appeared to be no guests staying there. He dismounted and walked around it, but he could see no sign of movement anywhere, and he felt a deep profound sadness. He and many other village children had spent many joyful hours playing outside the tavern; it was where his mother had worked, and he had many happy memories of it.
He turned his head sharply as he heard hoofbeats, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw Isla and Raffy trotting towards him. She looked gorgeous with her long dark hair flying behind her like a banner in the wind, and she was smiling at him. Even the drab brown dress she was wearing did nothing to take away from her beauty, and he grinned back at her, feeling a sudden wave of joy pass over him.
“I didnae expect tae see ye here,” he said as Isla climbed down from Raffy. He did not move to assist her, feeling rather awkward, and she turned to look at the tavern.
“I had to come and see what happened to the place,” she said sadly. “I didn’t expect this to occur quite so quickly.” She waved her arm to indicate the deserted state of the tavern. “It is so sad. I have very happy memories of this place.”
“Me as well.” Finley sighed and hugged himself. “An’ some sad ones too. Ma died here.”
“Of course.” Isla put her hand on his back and rubbed it in a gesture of comfort. “I wonder what will happen to it now? I rode past the Black Hog, and it is also closed down. The money has been taken out of its cellar and is being held by the Laird for safekeeping until it is decided what is to be done with it, but he is a fair and honest man, and I have no doubt he will use it well.”
They stared at the building for a while, then Isla said abruptly: “my father has money.”
Finley thought that this was a rather obvious statement to make. Isla’s father was a successful businessman, and he was not known to be free with his money, so he had likely saved quite a lot. As well as that, he had probably profited to some degree from Iain’s and Alec’s crimes.
“I have just realised that I know where he keeps it,” she went on excitedly, then she turned and looked at Finley. “I could buy this building—make it a pleasant place for everyone to come to again. I could change the name to ‘Agnes’s Place,’ and chase away the sad memories. I can see it now, Finley—I could build a little place for people to sit and play with their children, and—and—oh, I have so many ideas!”
Finley watched her, smiling.‘Trust you tae come up wi’ a name like that, hen,’he thought.‘It shows what a good heart ye have.’
Isla was clapping her hands, skipping from foot to foot, her whole body dancing with joy, and suddenly he could hold himself back no longer. He scooped her up into his arms and whirled her around, both of them laughing like happy children.
When he put her down a moment later, he held her tightly against him while they recovered their balance, since spinning around had made them both extremely dizzy.
“There is somethin’ I have tae tell ye, Isla,” he said gently.
Isla drew away from him a little so that she could look into his eyes properly, thinking for the hundredth time how bright they were. He was staring at her with an intensity she had never seen before, and a sudden feeling of anticipation welled up inside her. She was waiting for something momentous to happen.
“Isla,” he began awkwardly, “something has been on my mind for a long time now an’ I have tae get it off my chest. I dinnae care if ye laugh or shout at me, I have tae tell ye.”
“Tell me then, Finley.” Isla said gently.
He hesitated for one more moment. How could he put his feelings into words? They were so inadequate, especially when Isla’s dark eyes were gazing into his, almost hypnotising him. Eventually, he blurted out: “I love ye, Isla. I know you dinnae love me, an’ I am no’ worthy o’ ye, but I had tae say it.”
He walked away for a few steps so that he did not have to look at her, then continued to pour his heart out to her. “I am a poor man, because everythin’ I stole went tae make somebody else rich. I havenae even got a good suit o’ clothes! I am a killer. I might have been forgiven by the law, but that is what I am, an’ I will have tae live wi’ that for the rest o’ my life.”
Finley gave a half-laugh, an expression of self-contempt that Isla did not miss. “I have nothin’ tae give ye except my love, an’ this is the only time I will ever speak o’ it. I will never mention it again, my love, my sweetheart.” He said the last two endearments merely because he wanted to indulge in the pleasure of saying them to her, then he turned to mount his horse again. He could not bear to look at her any more; it was just too painful.
