16
Isla felt as if a bubble of joy was rising up inside her. She felt a wee bit panicked but more thrilled than anything else. Her father had told Finlay to come directly to her and ask for her hand in marriage! Why else would the laird’s son have walked so far inland to see her? He must have gone to her father at the forge to seek permission to pay his addresses to her and then rushed to find her so that he might get down on one knee in front of her and beg her to be his wife!
It did not matter that there was no gift to symbolize the plight of their troth. All Isla cared about was that she was Finlay’s betrothed wife. Perhaps then her father would allow the young couple to spend more time together because she had not seen much of Finlay lately.
So eager was she to hear the words he wanted to say to her, Isla took hold of Finlay’s hand and dragged him down to the hillock so that they were out of sight of the men digging down below. She felt that she would never forget this moment, adorned as it was by rough nature, the swooping gulls and grass bending in the gentle wind. She looked at the laird’s son, an expectant, exhilarated expression on her face. He seemed to sense she was ready. He did not get down on one knee, but he did keep hold of her hand, which was more than enough encouragement for Isla to say yes.
“Isla, sweet, kind lass…ye must ken why I sought ye out here.”
Isla closed her eyes and held her breath. This was really happening!
Finlay continued. “Yer faither is willin’ to pay for a shipment o’ wheat when it comes into harbor, but he says I must ask yer permission first because it’s really yer dowry money he will be usin’.”
To Isla, it seemed as if his words were an icy pail of water that had been thrown over her. Her eyes flew open, and the “aye” that was on the tip of her tongue vanished, replaced by something else.
“What? Ye want to use me gold? How is that even possible? Me dowry is in the safekeeping of the goldsmith in Inverness.”
He seemed pleased that she was in a mind to say aye; how little the laird’s son knew about women. Since that heavenly night together on the islet bothy, he had not so much as made the effort to visit her at her father’s lodgings, and now he had sought her out to ask for money…
“Yer faither is writin’ promissory notes against the value of yer dowry, Isla. He will send payment once I have delivered ye both safely to the city walls of Inverness.”
That’s all he sees me as now—a way to a means. Did he even believe those dulcet words he whispered to me the other night at the bothy? All me faither and I have been to him since we arrived at the harbor is a merchant’s bank.
When she looked up at his face, she tried to read his thoughts. As handsome as those sky-blue eyes were, Isla was unsure about Finlay’s true feelings for her.
“Please say aye, Isla,” he said. “We’re so close to victory, I can almost taste it.”
The burst of happiness she had when he walked over the fields toward her evaporated, evolving into something else. Isla felt despair and anger. Had he always been using her, twisting her emotions, manipulating her so that he could fund his ambitions? He wanted to be laird more than he wanted to marry her. That much was clear. As a well-brought-up young lady, Isla was ill-equipped to vent her wrath at this selfish man standing in front of her.
“Och aye. Go back an’ tell Faither he can sign for the wheat flour shipment with me blessin’.”
She walked slowly back up the slope of the hill, and this time she did not look back at him over her shoulder.
He ran after her, grabbing her hand to stop her from reaching the summit.
“What’s wrong? Why are ye so sullen? D’ye doubt I will pay ye back? I swear once I have me castle back—”
This time, Isla could not hold back her anger. “Be quiet about yer daft castle! Ye were never there long enough to feel any affection for the place, but now that it’s been taken away from ye, suddenly all ye ever think about is gettin’ it back.”
She saw the shock in his eyes. “So…are ye upset because ye regret givin’ me permission to borrow from yer dowry money?”
Finlay seemed unaware he was digging himself into an even deeper hole.
Isla gave a little growl of frustration, which made her sound like an angry kitten.
“Be gone, Finlay. I cannae talk to ye now. It seems as if we are always talkin’ at cross purposes lately.”
He did not follow her this time, and Isla thought her heart would break in two as she went to stand at the top of the small hill on her own. She stared bleakly down at the men digging next to the standing stone, her thoughts in turmoil.
His voice came from behind her. “Forgive me, Isla. I have neglected ye an’ taken yer good nature for granted.”
She said nothing but gave a doleful sniff before searching for a handkerchief in her kirtle pockets. When she found it, she wiped away the tears that had spilled down her cheeks. Isla felt him come closer and wanted to hide her ravaged face in the handkerchief.
“I crave yer indulgence, Isla. It has unmanned me to go around beggin’ for credit, an’ I did no’ show me gratitude to ye enough every time yer faither an’ ye have come to me rescue.”
Her eyes stared sightlessly out at the ocean; she could not see the waves because of the film of tears.
“I don’t want ye to be thankin’ me all the time, Fin,” she whispered, and the wind nearly whipped her words away, so he stepped closer. “But I cannae compete with this obsession o’ yers. If ye love the castle so much, why did ye live far away from it for so long?”
