Page 18 of Taming the Highland Misfits

Finley frowned. “Will ye tell me who it is?” he asked, alarmed at the look on her face. Somehow he did not like what he thought he was going to hear, but she shook her head.

“I would rather not tell you yet, Finley,” she said softly. “I don’t want to bring trouble down on your head.”

Finley stared at Isla, watching the sadness that appeared on her face and feeling infinitely sorry for her.

“Was there naethin’ else ye could dae?” he asked.

“If I could have found any other way out of this without running away I would have taken it,” she replied, looking at the floor as she shook her head slowly and covered her eyes with her hand. “I have to get away, Finley. I cannot bear the thought of being in the same room as the man I am engaged to, let alone sharing a bed with him.”

“I dinnae blame ye, Isla.” Finley’s voice was filled with rage. It angered him that a lovely, intelligent woman like Isla should waste her youth and her life with a man she hated. “I would hate tae be put in that position myself, an’ I cannae begin tae imagine what ye are goin’ through, but be assured that I will always stand up for ye if ye need me tae. An’ as I told ye, ye can stay as long as ye need tae,” he said firmly. “An’ I will let no harm come tae ye as long as I am here tae stop it. Do ye believe me?”

Isla looked into Finley’s clear blue eyes and saw the certainty in them. “Yes I do,” she replied. “Thank you, Finley. You have put my mind at rest.”

“Lock the doors an’ shut the windows till I am back,” Finley told her, pausing for a moment before he spoke again. “Dae ye trust me tae bring back the right clothes? I am only a man, after all. I dinnae wear dresses.”

Isla smiled as she looked at the fine figure of a man standing before her. Anyone less suited to a dress would be hard to imagine!

“I trust you, Finley,” she replied. “Whatever you bring back will be better than what I am wearing now.”

* * *

In the end, Finley did very well. He brought back three dresses and a nightgown, not of the quality which she was used to, but serviceable and hardwearing, and Isla was as delighted with them as she would have been had he brought her back a new ball gown.

“I asked the lady at the market stall about underthings an’ she sold me these.” He looked uncomfortable as he held out a bulky linen bag full of clothing. “I hope they are a’ right. I dinnae know a lot about women’s undergarments.”

“I am sure they are fine,” Isla said gratefully. “Thank you, Finley. You have done so much for me. I wish I could repay you in some way.”

“Nae need.” His voice was firm. “It’s a wee bit lonely here sometimes, an’ the company o’ a lovely lady like yourself is payment enough.”

Isla blushed. “Thank you again,” she said softly. “You are very sweet.”

“That is the first time I have ever been accused o’ that!” He looked surprised, and Isla laughed. He truly had no idea of his own attractiveness.

When they sat down to eat, Isla got another surprise. She had thought that country folk mostly ate whatever was plain and cheap, but Finley had brought back a piece of venison that looked big enough for two or three days and was surprised when he took the whole piece and placed it on a spit over the fire. When it was cooked, he sliced some of it up and put it on a plate with bread, cheese and assorted vegetables, and Isla’s mouth watered.

“Did you kill this deer yourself?” she asked in amazement. She bit into the meat and found it juicy and flavoursome, redolent with the sharp taste of wild garlic, which she had seen growing along the banks of many of the burns. The vegetables, which Finley had picked out of his own kitchen garden, had been rubbed with a little melted butter and were succulent and delicious.

“No,” Finley shook his head. “The only animals I hunt are rabbits an’ the fish in the burns an’ the loch. I bought this one.”

“It is wonderful,” Isla breathed, closing her eyes to savour the taste. When she opened them again it was to stare into Finley’s, and for a few seconds, neither could look away.

Abruptly, Finley stood up and opened a cupboard on the wall across the room from them, then took out a bottle of dark red wine and a pair of clay cups.

“I bought this for my auntie,” he said sadly. “But she said we would drink it on her birthday, an’ she died before that.” This was a lie, since he had stolen it from one of the travellers he had robbed, but it had been sitting in his house for months. He had not wanted to open it and drink alone, but having a beautiful woman with whom to enjoy it would make the experience much more pleasant.

“We will drink to her,” Isla suggested, smiling as she accepted the cup from him.

“I am sorry I have nae crystal glasses,” Finley said, looking ashamed. “I expect that is what ye are used tae.”

Isla rushed to reassure him. “Finley, as long as the drinking vessel is clean, I really do not care if it is crystal, clay, or anything else.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. He uncorked the wine with a primitive opener he had made out of an old spoon, then poured some out for her and held up his cup. “To Ma an’ Auntie Bettie.” His voice sounded a little choked, and Isla finished for him.

“The best two ladies in the word,” she said warmly. “Sláinte Mhath.”

“Sláinte Mhath,” he replied, and they both drank deeply.

“Mmm—this is good.” Isla pointed to the label on the bottle. “Is it French?”