She felt him take her hand in his.
“I had nothing to keep me there, Isla. Me faither gave me orders an’ bade me no’ to return until we were assured o’ victory.”
Isla held her breath, hoping and praying that he would tell her that he loved her, wanted her to marry him, and that he did not care about Dougal Castle because she had enough money for both of them. But it was not to be.
“I’ll no’ live off me wife, Isla. If ye cannae understand that, then ye ken nothin’ about me.”
She had to accept the wide gulf of misunderstanding between them. If his mind was set on the castle, then she would do her best to help the rightful laird reclaim it. In her gloom, Isla expected the worst. Finlay would probably be killed in the attack on the castle, happy to be unmourned, landless, and penniless, while she, Isla, would go on to Inverness with the laird’s son, only a distant memory in her heart.
An excited shout came from below.
“I felt somethin’ hard with me shovel!” McCorkindale shouted out. “Gather round, lads, an’ help me dig!”
A tired voice came from one of the diggers. “Begone with ye, McCorkindale! Ye lazy sod. There’s nay ‘somethin’ hard’ there. All ye want is for all us lads to come an’ help ye dig!”
Another tired voice grumbled, “Aye, it’s just another rock like all the other rocks we’ve dug up.”
McCorkindale shouted up to his laird and the blacksmith’s daughter standing high on the hill, “I’ve found something! I swear it!”
Finlay looked optimistic, but Isla shook her head. As disappointed as she was with Finlay, she still did not want him to get his hopes up in vain.
“Belike it’s another rock. We’ve had so many false alarms over the days, it’s no’ wise to raise yer expectations.”
He tried to take her hand to help her walk down the slope, but she whipped her hand away by pretending to store her handkerchief back in the pocket.
By the time they reached the earthworks, McCorkindale had scraped away some more dirt with the edge of his shovel. Isla was able to see the corner of a strong box, a small wooden chest embossed with ornate metal carvings.
Finlay shouted at the other men, “Come here an’ help McCorkindale right now! He speaks the truth!”
Then the two men and the blacksmith’s daughter dropped to their knees at the edge of the hole and began to pull away the dirt using their hands. The other men stood around watching in silence. After days and days of digging, to finally find something was almost anticliMctic. It took a long time to clear away enough stones and soil so that they could lift the chest out of the hole, but when they tried to lift it up, the chest was so heavy it required the strength of two more men to bring it up.
There was a large lock on the chest. Isla said, “Me faither is also the castle locksmith an’ taught me a bit about locks. I ken a lock this size will have a sizable key to go with it—big and heavy. Perhaps we should return to the harbor village to look for it?”
“Break the fouterin’ lock!” one of the men shouted. “We must see what is inside for the love o’ all that’s holy! I’ve been digging for almost two sennights!”
A cheer came from the men when they heard these words, but Isla interrupted them.
“But what if whatever is inside the chest is broken when the lid is stoved in?”
McCorkindale looked up at his master. “Fin, the chest is heavy. I don’ think there’s anything breakable in there.”
One of the soldiers muttered, “Aye, it’s all very well for someone to dillydally about breakin’ a fouterin’ lock when they have a cozy six thousand gold sovereigns waitin’ for them in Inverness, but we’re penniless men! I say break the lock!”
Cheers of agreement roared all around them. His mind seemed to be made up. Finlay took the shovel out of McCorkindale’s hand, stood up, and said, “Get out o’ the way. The wood might splinter,” and smashed the chest lid open with one mighty swing of the shovel.
