Page 31 of Taming the Highland Misfits

Finley looked up at her. “I am, Isla. I am a very bad man, an’ I will have tae live wi’ that for the rest o’ my life.” He looked at the floor, his handsome face utterly miserable.

“But Finley, you told me you would renounce that life,” Isla reminded him. “I believe you can, and I believe there are other ways you can earn a living. You are an excellent blacksmith, so why do you not pursue that trade again? It is a skill that will always be needed.”

“People are goin’ tae ask me where I have been for the last few years,” he replied.

“I am sure that between two reasonably intelligent people like you and me,” Isla said, “we can work out a story to tell them.”

Finley smiled at her. “I cannae remember what I did before ye came, Isla.” His deep voice said her name almost reverently. “I didnae realise how lonely I was. Since ye have been here, it has been a pleasure tae come home.”

“And it is a pleasure to be here,” she replied, smiling. “I have learned so much from you, Finley. You have opened my eyes to so many things, and I consider myself very fortunate to be here with you.”

Finley smiled gently. “I am the lucky one, Isla,” he told her. “Tae have a clever an’ beautiful woman under my roof. Dae ye remember when ye were a wee lass that I promised tae make ye a bracelet?”

“I do,” Isla replied. “But I thought you had forgotten.”

Finley stood up and went to his satchel which was hanging on the back of the bedroom door, and withdrew a small, cloth-wrapped bundle from it. He gave it to her, and Isla opened the linen cloth to reveal an intricately-made iron bracelet. She gasped at the artistry in the design, then looked up at Finley in wonder. “Did you make this?” she asked, her tone almost reverent.

He nodded, smiling as he watched her reaction. “Dae ye like it?” he asked.

“I certainly do!” she replied enthusiastically. She stared in awe at the bracelet, then up at him again, shaking her head in wonder. “How do you do this? Your skill with wood and metal is remarkable! You are an artist, Finley!”

“I wouldnae say that,” he remarked modestly, then, while Isla was still staring at her new jewellery, he said: “I-I have somethin’ else tae tell ye, Isla.” He paused, then went on in a rush: “I lied tae ye about woundin’ one o’ my gang the night. They ambushed me, an’ while I was fightin’ them off, I killed two o’ them. I didnae mean tae, but it was them or me, ye see.” He looked down at his soiled clothes. “I am a beast, Isla,”

Isla knelt down in front of him and took his hands. “Stop saying that!” she ordered him angrily. “You were fighting for your life, Finley. You did what you had to do to stay alive.”

“There was so much blood.” He winced. “But they were two o’ the wickedest men I ever knew, Isla. I cannae say I am sad they’re dead, but I wish I hadnae been the one tae kill them.”

Isla looked at his tortured face and her heart ached for him. “If you had not, they would have killed many more people,” she pointed out. “You have done the world a favour, Finley.”

He nodded slowly. “I hadnae thought o’ things that way, Isla,” he acknowledged. “I just dinnae like tae remember it. They were alive, an’ now they are dead because o’ me.”

“Then don’t think of it,” Isla told him simply. “There are far more pleasant things to think about.”

He reached out and took her hand then slipped the bracelet on to her wrist. “I wish it was gold or silver,” he said sadly. “I wanted tae give ye somethin’ precious.”

“It is precious,” Isla replied honestly as she looked down at the lovingly crafted piece of jewellery. She smiled warmly at him. “It will always be the most precious thing I ever own, because it was made especially for me, and more importantly, it was made by you, and I love it just the way it is. It is perfect, Finley. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He lifted her hands and kissed her knuckles, then raised his gaze to hers and was mesmerised at once by the nut-brown depths of her eyes. For a moment, he could not look away, then he reached out and cupped the back of Isla’s head to pull her towards him, and their lips met in a sweet, melting kiss. When he pried her lips open and slipped his tongue into her mouth, she imitated him, and heard him giving a soft moan in response.

Isla no longer felt shy, and her tingling, pulsing body was telling her exactly what it wanted; it wanted Finley. When they drew apart, she looked into his sky-blue eyes and tried to bring herself back to earth; for a moment she had not been able to think clearly.

“Where will you go now, Finley?” she asked gently, sweeping a lock of his hair away from his forehead. “What will you do?”

A look of determination settled on his face. “I have nae idea,” he replied, “but

I will no’ be a bandit any more. It is only by the luck o’ the devil that I was never caught. No, Isla, I am leavin’ the life o’ an outlaw behind, an’ I will never look back.” Then he took her hands in his and kissed them once more. “But whatever happens tae me, an’ wherever I go, I want tae be wi’ you.”

Isla stared at him, her heart pounding with happiness. Was this a declaration of love? She may not have quite understood the meaning of what he had said, but she knew how to respond. “I want to be with you too,” she told him, with a great, beaming smile.

Finley could hardly believe it. He wanted to drag Isla into his arms again, but he decided to take things slowly, though it was against his every instinct. A lot of water had passed under the bridge since he had seen Isla last, and he still had much to tell her.

14

Next day, Isla spent a long time staring at the intricate workmanship of the bracelet in fascination. Just like the wooden carvings, it was another little work of art. Finley had told her that he had not had time to work on it as carefully as he would have liked, but Isla told him to be quiet.

“For the last time, Finley, it is perfect, and I love it.” Her tone was firm. “Are you perhaps fishing for compliments?”

Finley grinned at her. “No, Isla,” he answered. “I just cannae believe ye like it sae much.”