The Orkney Isles were rocky and barren for most of the area. The scattered peninsula of land had been the stepping stone for those sailing north for hundreds, if not thousands of years. The further inland he walked, the more the silence seemed to thicken around him. Leaving the soft bustle of the village behind him made other sounds either fade or sharpen. The whistle of the wind as it cut through the tall yellow-gray grass, the cry of seagulls, and the sigh of water flurrying in the burns—however soothing these sounds might be to a traveler’s soul, they were not enough for Finlay Dougal. He wanted to hear the pounding of the ocean surf on the thick, barnacle-encrusted foundations and walls of his castle.
After striding northward for a length of time, Finlay began to hear voices floating toward him in the wind. He crested one more gentle slope and came to the earthworks. His eyes were drawn to the blacksmith’s daughter. She stood a few paces away from the men digging; she was shouting out directions.
“The ground rises to the left! No’ yer left, my left! Dig there!”
He took pleasure in watching her slender form and wide gestures. The circlet she always wore around her head was tilted slightly, allowing some of her glorious red hair to escape and fly in the stiff sea breeze. She saw him and waved before going back to shouting directions.
“The soil has been disturbed and then covered to the left of the hole! Try there!”
Isla had a bird’s-eye view from her elevation. She was able to see all the recent disturbances in the land. Finlay was able to understand her directions better as he strode up the incline to greet her. A wide vista spread out before him, and the men were digging out a mound next to a standing stone etched with runes.
“Any luck yet?” he wanted to know. “It would feel so good to be able to begin payin’ folks with me own gold.”
She tilted her head to one side and gave him a considered look. “An’ a very good morrow to ye too, Finlay.”
He went to stand beside her so that he might watch the earthworks being dug.
“I beg yer pardon, Isla. Good morrow. I just got so interested with the dig that I forgot I had no’ bid ye a good day. I suppose it is too much to hope for a chest o’ gold to be found. Er…that’s actually the reason why I’m here. In fact, it was nae me own idea to come here; it was yer faither who bid me seek ye out.”
A delicate pink flush spread over Isla’s cheeks, and she smiled at him so sweetly that his heart was won over in an instant.
“Och Finlay,” Isla said, taking a step closer to him, “I am sure I will say aye to what it is ye wish to ask me.”
