Page 59 of Taming the Highland Misfits

Finley was resigned to his fate now; he would no doubt see Isla in the street from time to time, but it would probably be when she was walking alongside her husband, or in time, her children. She might acknowledge him with a polite nod or a wave, but she would never hug or kiss him or tell him she loved him. He would never make love to her, share a bed with her, and worst of all, she would never bear his children.

He raised his leg to put one foot in the stirrup, then felt Isla’s hand on his arm. He put his foot on the ground again and faced her.

“Where are you going, Finley?” Isla asked gently.

“I-I need tae buy some food,” he replied. “Then I will look for some work. I might help one o’ the farmers wi’ the ploughin’, or break stones for the builders, help wi’ the thatchin’—somethin’ like that. I might no’ be clever, but I am strong.”

“Who told you that you were not clever?” Isla asked.

“Naebody had tae tell me that, Isla.” His voice was irritable. “I knew that. I have always known that.” He tried to turn away, but again Isla stopped him.

“You are not stupid, Finley,” she said firmly. “In fact, you are one of the cleverest people I know. You know how to carve, you can make horseshoes and jewellery—heavens—you can even make cheese! You taught me so many things—including how to defend myself! Just because you can’t read—yet—does not mean you’re stupid. Never say that. Never, do you hear me? You are one of the cleverest people I know, and I love you.”

Finley’s bright blue eyes went wide with disbelief. “Say that again, Isla, please,” he begged, genuinely not sure he had heard her properly.

“I said I love you,” she repeated. She took a cautious step towards him as if he were a wild animal who was about to run away, but he did not move, either forward or back. “I have always loved you. You used to think I was a silly wee girl; I was only nine years old and I loved you even then. When you disappeared I thought you had left because I had done something to upset you, and it was only years later that it occurred to me that you had gone to seek your fortune.” She gazed at him and a wide smile spread slowly across her face. “So you see, Finley McGill, if you leave me I will have to hunt you down and bring you back, because I cannot live without you.”

Then she stepped towards him, wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest, breathing in the earthy aroma of his skin, a scent that was both comforting and sensual.

She felt the rumble of his voice against her ear as he asked: “Isla, are ye sure? You could dae much better than me. There are many young wealthy men o’ your own class out there.”

Isla looked up at him, seeing the doubt in his face. She brushed a strand of his thick brown hair away from his eyes and placed a tender kiss on his lips. “Finley, I don’t want anyone else,” she murmured. “You are the only man I want, or have ever wanted. You can do nothing about your past; it is gone, and cannot be changed, but you can go into the future determined not to make the same mistakes again. Do you think you are the only person who has ever done something they regret? We all have, but you can let yourself look forward and not back.”

Finley was incredulous. A few moments before, he had been full of despair, but now his future stretched out before him like a bright sunlit road. He pulled Isla tightly into his embrace and his lips swooped down on hers, then he gently prised her mouth open with his tongue and stroked hers gently, moaning softly at her eager response.

Isla had learned from their previous encounters just what to do to please him, and now she gave herself up to the pressure of his mouth, at the same time rubbing her hips against him, feeling a hard bulge touching her lower belly. Her own flesh was responding with its strange, sweet moistness and pleasant throbbing, but just as she had prepared to stand kissing Finley all day, he pulled away from her.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, disappointed.

He laughed. “Because we are standin’ in the middle o’ the street wi’ half the town watchin’ us!”

Isla looked around and met the curious glances and smiles of a dozen passers-by. “I am too happy to care,” she told him, before pulling his head down for another kiss.

Afterwards, Finley murmured wickedly: “ye have disgraced yourself, Mistress Thomson. Ye will have tae marry me now.”

Isla laughed. “Then I will, Finley, with the greatest of pleasures.”

EPILOGUE

When Finley and Isla met her father’s business colleagues, many of whom she did not know, they turned out to be the kind of people they were sure they could work with. Finley could count, but as yet his reading was rudimentary; however, he proved to be quick to learn, and it was not long before it emerged that he could bargain and negotiate with the best of them. Isla was not surprised. He seemed to be able to do anything he set his mind to.

As well as continuing the running of Robert Thomson’s business, Isla had had to learn how to manage the household. After a faltering start, she proved to be very adept at it, since the staff gave her all the help and encouragement they could. Laird Mullen had been very kind to both of them, and had given them whatever advice and help they needed.

Isla could have quite happily done without a maid, but when she thought of Maura she felt a warm glow of affection. The young woman was good at her job, and she had a wonderful sense of humour as well as being keenly intelligent. Isla made discreet enquiries around Inverleith and found that she was working as a chambermaid in the house of another merchant. The job of a chambermaid was far below a lady’s maid in the servants’ hierarchy.

When Isla offered her her old job back Maura was jubilant, and accepted at once, and when she found out that her mistress was going to be married she was overjoyed.

“Who is it, Mistress?” she asked, almost jumping up and down in her haste to find out the answer.

“Finley McGill,” Isla answered.

Maura squealed with excitement. “Oh, Mistress, ye are so lucky!” she breathed. “He is a lovely man—he would dae anythin’ for anybody—an’ well, pardon me for sayin’ so, but he is very nice tae look at.”

“I agree with you there, Maura.” Isla laughed, relieved that she did not seem to have heard about Finley’s past. “He is indeed.”

“When is the weddin’ Mistress?” Maura asked as she brushed Isla’s hair with soft, smooth strokes of the brush.

“In a week,” Isla replied. “Don’t worry, Maura, the dress is being made as we speak! But I will need to look my very best, so you must use all your skill.”