Page 50 of Taming the Highland Misfits

Finley was angry, but worse, he was embarrassed. If these guards had tried to talk down to him in front of his male friends, he would have shut them up with a withering blast of sarcasm. However, now he was vulnerable. He had Isla by his side and he wanted no harm to come to the woman he now knew he loved with all his heart. He would do anything to protect her, even sacrifice his life.

None of the guards came to search Isla, however, and Finley was astonished. Even though she was a woman, the guards should still have searched her instead of taking it for granted that she was unarmed. In fact, she had a small, sharp knife sewn into the hem of her dress which she could reach if she had to. Clearly, although these men had told their employer they had once been soldiers, they had not been well trained, and Finley took that as a good sign. He doubted they had ever been military men at all.

Isla knew all the men who surrounded her. She also knew their families, and as they moved around her, none of them would look her in the eye; they were too ashamed.

“How is your wife, Sandy?” she asked the man who was helping her mount Raffy again.

“Fine, Mistress.” He answered her question in a mumble, looking at her feet with great concentration before hurrying away to mount his own horse.

“Jimmy!” She called one of the other men, smiling at him. “Has your wife had the baby yet?”

Again, the man would not meet her gaze, but he gave a half-hearted smile in her direction. “No, Mistress,” he replied. “Only a few more weeks, mind. Thank ye for askin’.”

Finley was lost in admiration for Isla as she went around the rest of the guards, enquiring after their families and paying them compliments, making them squirm uncomfortably. She slid a sideways, mischievous glance at him before they rode away.

‘How did they know where we were?’Isla thought, mystified. She was furious, of course, but also frustrated. If she could find a gap in the ring of horses surrounding them, she and Raffy could make a run for it, since no one could catch the little mare once she got into her stride. However, even if she could manage to do that, it would leave Finley at the receiving end of her father’s tender mercies, and God alone knew what he would do to him.

While all this was going through Isla’s mind, Finley was contemplating his own position. He knew none of Thomson’s men, but perhaps Isla’s acquaintance with them could be put to good use. Could any of Thomson’s men turn on him, Finley wondered?

He surreptitiously surveyed all the men around him, but they could not be seen well in the moonlight. He thought that they were all reasonably sturdy men, although with all modesty he knew that there was no one for miles around who was quite as well built as he was.

Yet he was outnumbered, and with the best will in the world, even though Isla had the fighting spirit of a hardened warrior, she did not have the physical strength to fight off any of these men, even with her little knife.

No, he thought, he would simply have to go along with Thomson for the moment and see if an opportunity to escape presented itself. It was extremely frustrating, but for the moment, what else could he do?

He glanced across at Isla, who had been forced to ride a good three yards apart from him.

As if she had felt his eyes on her, she gave him a smile, and Finley was surprised to see that it was a confident one. She was going back to the house she had lived in for years, of course; there were secrets there that she knew about and could use to help them. Perhaps she could even get one or two of the staff on her side—she was so clever!

He smiled back, and felt immensely reassured.

* * *

Fortunately, Robert Thomson did not imprison them in the cellar, but in a dusty store room, which, by the smell of it, had once been used for storing dried and salted fish. He had his men tie each of them to a leg at each end of a long table so that they could not touch each other.

“I am going to sleep now,” he announced smugly. “I suggest you do the same.”

When he left, he closed and locked the door behind him, leaving them in complete darkness.

Isla began to weep softly. She had always been frightened of the dark, but she had never had to endure total blackness before. This was like a solid thing, a wall around her that she could not penetrate. She was utterly terrified.

“Isla—Isla, what is wrong?” Finley asked anxiously. “Talk tae me.”

Isla was reassured by the sound of his voice, and tried to compose herself. “I am very scared of the dark,” she answered. “My father knows it—that is why he put us here.” Her voice was trembling.

Finley began to boil with anger, and said some words that he should not have uttered in front of a lady, then he calmed down and took a deep breath. “I am sorry for my language, Isla,” he murmured. “But you are wi’ me, an’ we are strong together. The darkness is just a weapon he uses against ye, but dinnae let it beat ye down. Ye don’t have tae face this alone. I am here, an’ as long as ye hear my voice ye will be strong, will ye not?”

Isla nodded, then remembered that she could not be seen. “I will try. Thank you, Finley,” she said gratefully.

“I might not be able tae talk all the time,” he told her, then, with a hint of amusement he said: “but ye should be able tae hear me breathin’.”

“I hope so.” Isla began to rub the rope tying her wrists together up and down the square edge of the table leg to try to wear it away so that she could break it.

Hearing the noise, Finley urged her to stop. “Isla, if ye carry on daein’ that ye will make your wrists bleed, an’ this cord is too thick tae break anyway,” he said. “Save your strength for later. Ye might need it then.”

“I want to get to my knife,” Isla growled.

“Ye willnae dae it that way.” His voice was calm. “Rest a bit if ye can, Isla, then when we can see a bit better we can try tae get that knife.”