6
Alex asked Isla if she would like to accompany them back to the barracks.
“There are a few fellows who would welcome yer healin’, Miss Isla,” he told her. “We’ve had a rough time o’ it, but nae so bad as those poor men waitin’ for us back at the island harbor.”
The three of them discussed their plan as they walked up to the castle gates, but they fell silent when they approached the sentries.
“From where did the steward hire ye?” Finlay stopped and asked the guards. “It might be that I need some more men soon, seein’ as these raids don’ seem to be stoppin’. We saw a troop o’ McTavish busterts less than a league from here as we followed the burn down to the shoreline. Belike they will attack again tonight. They’ll reach the castle by midnight, even if they were to slow their march.”
The effect these words had on the mercenaries was immediate.
“These fouterin’ raids! The McTavishes seem to have a never-ending supply o’ the busterts! We don’ ken where auld McTavish is gettin’ his soldiers from, but auld McMichaels hired us up from Inverness. There’s a trainin’ camp there the lairds use to find men for hire.”
“I trust he’s payin’ ye well?” Finlay wanted to know. “It must be hard work with these attacks happenin’ all the time.”
The sentries assured the laird’s son they had good salaries that were paid promptly every quarter.
“Yer faither gave the order that we come to work here, sir,” the one sentry told Finlay, “but when he passed, we saw no need to change our allegiances, if ye get my meaning.”
Finlay laughed, and Isla looked over at him with a startled expression. Was he changing his mind about leaving?
“Hoots, lads! I understand completely. He who holds the purse strings holds the power, am I right? The thing is, the steward is doin’ me a favor—if only the auld bampot kent it! I am a fightin’ man, born an’ bred, an’ I plan on dyin’ like one too! Speakin’ o’ which, what d’ye say to me an’ my men stayin’ down in the bailey barracks to stave off those raiders if they come tonight? Maybe we’ll show ye a thing or two about how to make them flee with their tails between their legs!”
The two sentries’ relief at not having to ward off an attack at the castle walls with all the men and warn the bailey villagers to come inside was palpable.
“Are ye sure less than two dozen men will be enough for the job?” one of them wanted to know.
“Och aye,” Finlay said in a careless manner. “We saw there were only twelve of them in the troop as we walked along the hilltops. We can take them, nay problem.”
Suddenly, Isla felt him sweep her into his arms and plant a kiss on her cheek, only to place her gently back on her feet as if nothing had happened as he continued chatting to the sentries.
“An’ I might no’ be in the barracks tonight anyway, lads! Who’s to say the blacksmith’s bonny daughter might no’ invite me to tell her a bedtime story in her bed tonight!”
There was much laughter from the two sentries as Finlay let her go. Isla knew it was part of the act, and she would be the last person to break the illusion that the laird’s son was trying to make the soldiers believe, but there was a small part of her that wished he was holding her in his arms so that he might kiss her passionately for real. When she felt his hard embrace on her cheek, she had nearly swooned from how good it made her feel—hot and excited, with her heart fluttering and her legs shaking.
“Och sir, good luck with that yin. Yon blacksmith’s daughter is notoriously indifferent to bein’ wooed by a soldier.” Finlay placed a large hand in the small of her back and propelled her irresistibly toward the castle barracks, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll let ye ken how I go tomorrow morn when I come back up, shall I lads!”
It was a masterful performance, and Isla was given a fair idea of how skilled a spymaster the tall laird’s son must have been.
When she got to the barracks, Alex went inside to make sure the soldiers were in a fit condition for a lady to come in.
Isla took the chance to say to Finlay, “I’m off to the kitchen to fetch some hot water. Remember how I bathed Master Alex’s wound with hot water to lance infection out o’ it while we were in the forge? I want to do that with all the men’s injuries.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Forgive me brash behavior at the gates, lass. It was an act. I am no’ usually such a braggart.”
Isla wanted so badly to say something witty to him, but she had no references to pull from. She had no mother to teach her how ladies act with gallant men, and there were no titled women at the castle to show her how to accept a compliment graciously. All the women living at the castle were rather elderly and staid.
He completely took her mind off how to reply to him when he turned her hand around and kissed her palm. His mouth was warm, and his beard stubble scratched her in the most delightful way.
“Oh…” Isla said the first thing that came into her head but then deeply regretted it. “That feels lovely.”
She cringed inwardly and wished herself far away so that she would not have to hear his response, but once again the laird’s son exceeded her expectations.
“No’ half as lovely as ye are, bonny Isla,” he growled the words, and for one moment, Isla thought she was hearing what she dreamed and not what she had actually heard, but then she came to her senses, stuttering, “Well…I-I’ll just be off to the castle—I mean, the kitchen—then, shall I?”
She was determined not to look over her shoulder at him but failed. When she reached the kitchen courtyard garden gate, she looked back quickly. He was staring at her with an intensity that she had come to associate with him in such a short time. He lifted his hand in a small salute, turned, and went back inside the barracks. It was then that Isla knew he had been waiting for her glance.
Was it even possible to be this excited and still be able to function? Isla asked herself this question as she greeted Pila’s mother, the cook, requesting if she might take some hot water down to the barracks.
“Aye, dearie, take as much as ye like. I take it yer faither will nae be needin’ wood for the forge fire today?”
