Page 17 of Taming the Highland Misfits

She put the notion away at once; she would not be marrying Iain Crawford now, but that was no comfort at the moment since she would not be marrying Finley either and she still had nowhere to go. Once she left Finley’s cottage she would have absolutely nothing, not even a change of clothes. She had no money to buy more since the first thing the bandits had stolen from her was her pouch of silver. She was wearing an old rag of a nightdress that had belonged to Finley’s aunt, but there was absolutely nothing else left of the old lady’s wardrobe.

Finley wrapped a length of thick linen around her hair and dried it, squeezing the excess water out gently. When he had finished, he began to comb her hair, patiently teasing out every little knot and tangle until Isla’s hair was once more straight and smooth.

The tingling sensation when Finley drew the comb down through Isla’s locks was sublime, causing every nerve ending on her body to throb, and she told him so.

“ I used tae dae it for Ma when she was sick,” he admitted. “If I caught the comb on a knot, she screamed that loud it nearly deafened me, so I learned tae be very careful.”

Presently, he had finished.

“Do you have a mirror?” she asked.

Finley looked puzzled. “No. Why would I want one o’ those?” he asked.

“To see your face in it?” Isla said, raising her eyebrows enquiringly.

“Pfft!” He flapped his hand at her. “I have eyes, a nose an’ a mouth that a’ work fine. I dinnae need tae see them.”

Isla threw back her head and laughed heartily. He was actually serious! It was incredible that this tall, brawny, handsome man had absolutely no vanity.

“Why are ye laughin’?” He could not help but join in. “What is sae funny?”

“How do you comb your hair?” she asked.

“I just comb it,” he replied, shrugging. “I can dae that without seein’ it.”

“And how do you trim your beard?” she persisted. “You must need a mirror for that.”

“I look at my reflection in the water when I wash my face,” he answered. He honestly did not see what all the fuss was about.

Isla stared at him, shaking her head. “I wish I could live like you,” she said in amazement. “You make so much out of so little.”

He shrugged again. “My Ma taught me well,” he answered. “Now, what were ye sayin’ about leavin’ tomorrow?”

“I must go.” Isla dropped her gaze from his and began to twist her hands in her lap. Finley put one of his big hands over hers to still them.

“You can stay here as long as ye want, Isla,” he said gently. “Where are ye goin’ tae go anyway?”

“I don’t know. But even if I did stay here, I cannot pay you,” Isla told him. “The thieves stole all my money.”

“I didnae ask for payment,” he told her. “Anyway, your company cheers me up.”

“Thank you,” Isla answered, enchanted.

They smiled at each other, and there was an awkward moment when they might have hugged, but Finley turned away.

“Dae ye need more clothes?” he asked suddenly.

Isla had taken off the ancient nightgown that she had been wearing but had been obliged to replace it with something equally awful. She now wore the same grey dress she had put on before she left home, and as she looked down at herself she blushed, feeling ashamed. It was filthy, torn, and even without a mirror Isla knew she looked like a scarecrow.

“I think so,” she murmured.

“I am goin’ intae Inverleith for some food tomorrow,” he said, then he looked at her doubtfully. “I can get what ye need if ye trust me, or ye can come with me.”

Isla touched the wound on her forehead. She felt much better now, but she did not want to be seen by anyone who knew her. “I would rather not go there yet,” she answered. “I do not want to be seen by anyone who knows my father.”

Finley frowned. “What happened to you Isla?” he asked.

Isla hesitated for a moment before she decided to trust him with the truth, or at least a part of it. He had done so much for her that she reasoned that he deserved it. “My father has plans for me to marry,” she told him. “To a man I find loathsome and disgusting.”