13
Finlay had never been in love before, but he had a suspicion that the lightness of spirit he was feeling after spending the night in the bothy with Isla might be linked to that emotion.
He found her to be the most desirable woman he had ever encountered in almost thirty years of his hard, battle-scarred life. No comely serving wench or bored chieftain’s wife had ever been able to inspire anything other than a brief burst of lust within his loins; this was the first time he felt something more. Isla McDonnell intrigued him. The way she swung from being an innocent young maiden to a fierce opponent and then suddenly becoming an intelligent ally, meeting someone like that had never happened to Finlay before. It made him feel as if he had been for a ride on a wild mare after spending only a few moments in the blacksmith’s daughter’s company.
After many (almost countless) intimate encounters he had had over the last fifteen years of his life, this was the first time he was experiencing the unique sensation of reliving the moment over and over again in his mind.
He knew enough about women to know not to follow Isla when she left the bothy early in the morning, but when she strolled back to the camp a while later, he stopped what he was doing and smiled at her. When she smiled back at him, the light feeling he had inside him seemed to increase.
She had rebraided her hair and splashed her face and neck with water. Her skin glowed as a few beads of moisture ran down her chest, disappearing into her cleavage. He watched as Isla went to chat with her father. She checked the cut on the blacksmith’s cheek and then went around the camp, asking every injured man how they felt. Then she came to stand in front of Finlay, that playful smile he loved so much curving the corners of her mouth.
“I will nae bother askin’ ye how yer wrist is doin’, Finlay. It was moving perfectly last night.”
And just like that, she spun on her heel and went to help her father and the rest of the men load the remainder of the firewood and food onto the longboat.
Master McDonnell indicated to his daughter that she must climb onto his back so he could carry her to the boat. The tide was high and the waves strong. Finlay watched the blacksmith to see if he needed help, but besides wincing a little bit as he waded to the boat, he kept his footing well. Even when the waves lapped at her ankles, Isla did not cry out: she had her stockings and boots knotted around her neck.
The twenty men divided themselves between the two longboats. By the time Finlay and Alex had erased as many signs of their camp from the beach and pathways as they could, there was only space for them in the other boat.
“D’ye think the McTavishes will ken it was us?” Alex asked Finlay as they waded to the boat bow and began to clamber inside.
“They’ll miss the sheep, ye bampot. There are nay wolves on the islet, but dinnae fash because they will put it down to the work o’ poachers.”
With the bulk of their journey behind them, the sun had not yet begun to sink westward before the shallow waters of the harbor hove into view. Alex and Finlay watched anxiously until they saw the Dougal flag snapping in the wind at the top of a mast.
“Our boats are the only ones still docked in the harbor.” Alex grinned. “I’ll wager the McTavish is still sitting in his long hall, waiting for the mercenaries to arrive.”
Finlay returned his friend’s grin. “That’s the trouble with using men from outside a clan. They are nae reliable, an’ when they dinnae arrive at the meeting point, many days are wasted waitin’ for them to come!”
As the longboats drew closer to the harbor, some of the fitter soldiers came down to the jetty to greet them. The healer had done good work for the most part: only one man had died after his arm was amputated, and two were sick with fever, but the rest of the injured men were on the mend.
After checking the other boat had docked safely and the blacksmith was able to help his daughter onto terra firma, Finlay went to check on his men. Inside the hall, he called for ink, quill, and parchment. He needed to make a note of what had happened in his absence so that he might compensate the men and soldiers accordingly.
“Once I retake the castle,” he told Alex, “I’ll need these new records to work from.”
Alex rubbed his nose. “Och, let’s no’ get ahead o’ ourselves, auld friend. Ye’re a landless laird, or are ye a landed man with nay title? We’ve had so much happen in the last few days, I’m confused. Since this harbor fell into our hands, I can say with some certainty that ye are a landed gentleman, but as for all the rest…”
Finlay laughed. “Are ye doubtin’ me abilities to bring the castle back under me control?”
Alex denied the accusation. “Nay! Fifty mercenaries an’ a handful o’ doddering auld men? Of course ye can take back the castle! But only once we are inside it. But what if they have discovered our escape route? If they have, it’s us against an impregnable fortress. Castle Dougal has sat on the northern peninsula for hundreds o’ years, an’ no one has been able to penetrate it yet.”
“That’s because the clan has always banded together to fight off the intruders. An’ I have a sneaking suspicion that our clan are none too happy about the steward ousting the lairdship away from me.”
The two men discussed strategies together while they waited for McCorkindale and the rest of the men to come and join them.
“Speakin’ o’ impregnable fortresses, Fin”—Alex raised an eyebrow, showing he was ready to drop the subject if Fin wanted him to—“but it was fairly obvious when ye made a play for the blacksmith’s daughter after Master McDonnell fell asleep last night. Ye did nae even bother returnin’ from the bothy. Ye must nae be angry for the men discussin’ it together amongst themselves; it’s no’ like ye to be so indiscreet.”
Finlay listened to what his friend had to say, but it was clear he was cast into confusion over the statement. Eventually he sighed and said, “Alex, we are the same age. Have ye ever felt the urge to settle down an’ leave all o’ this?” He gestured out over the harbor and at the great hall surrounding them. “That this is no longer enough?”
Alex gave the question some thought. Finally, he answered, “Fin, ye have carried a different look in yer eyes since ye came up the bailey road with the maiden walkin’ beside ye back at the castle. I might o’ been addled in me head from the elixir, but I recognized the look as one comin’ from a man who has been struck by some kind o’ enchantment. Be happy that ye felt yer heart give a kick afore the blacksmith told ye about the size o’ her dowry.”
Finlay cocked one brow. “Is that what Isla will believe caused me to approach her? The dowry?”
Alex shook his head. “I don’ ken, Fin. I’m sure the maiden is quite ready to love ye for yer sake alone. Let’s go ask the quartermaster if they had any luck findin’ the buried treasure while we were gone. Perhaps havin’ a bit o’ gold of yer own will make yer wooin’ seem more believable.”
All the time he had been fighting away from his home, Finlay believed it would be worth it in the end because he would be laird over a peaceful estate, free to conduct their affairs and commerce without fear of attack. Knowing that it would be the steward who would benefit from the victory the laird’s son had achieved for his clan made Finlay even more determined to take back his title and land.
Wooing the blacksmith’s daughter would have to come after that.
