“Ye must forgive me, sir.” She curtsied. “The dwellers within the castle atop this outcrop have long been afflicted with the greatest suspicions and misgivings. I no longer ken the difference between friend an’ foe.”
Then the man did the strangest thing. He moved his sword to his left hand and took hold of her fingers with his right, saying, “Lady, please think of me as a friend. I am a man from this castle, although I judge ye’re too young to remember me much, if at all. I am Finlay Dougal, at yer service.” And then he kissed her fingers.
The sensation of his rough beard pricking her fingertips had a startling effect on Isla. Her heart skipped a beat and then beat faster. She could feel her cheeks blushing, and a light beading of sweat began to drip down her chest. It was a warm day, and Isla was happy to put her reaction down to that. It could never be anything else… How could the precious young blacksmith’s daughter be swept off her feet by a dirty sword-bearing soldier? It was unthinkable!
And then, just like that, he let go of her hand and stepped closer. Isla neither cried out nor backed away, but she did have to tilt her head back so she could continue to look at his face. It was a stern face, battle-scarred in places and hardened by much toil and stress. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, the stranger lifted up one hand and straightened her circlet.
“There, that is perfect, lass.” For a moment, his hand lingered on her soft tresses, feeling the shining ringlets between his fingers. Then he let it drop. “I gather yer faither is nae here, lass, an’ I’ll no’ take one step without me sword comin’ with me. D’ye mind if I sharpen the blade on the whetting wheel?”
If the tall, dark stranger had asked Isla whether he could use any of the forge tools, she would have told him to take them, use them, do whatever he wanted with them. She was in awe of the man’s lordly presence and gallant manners. She promised herself to never judge a man by his outer appearance again because everything this travel-weary man did had the ability to charm her.
“There are many Dougals up at the castle, sir,” she said, speaking a bit louder over the scraping sound of the blade on the wheel. “Might I ask which one are ye? Are ye part o’ the lost battalion, by any chance? I only say so because ye look so…so…”
The man called Finlay Dougal smiled as he kept his eyes steadily on the whetting wheel.
“Aye, lass, that I am. How auld were ye when we headed out? Still in the schoolroom, I’ll wager.”
Isla was happy to enlighten him. “Aye, sir, that I was. Although these two years passed, I have been allowed to leave me studies behind an’ be a maiden, but the only problem is that…”
The warrior finished her sentence for her. “But the only problem is that there are nay young men left to take yer fancy? To woo ye all day an’ night? To leave posies at yer window?”
Happy to be so well understood, Isla said aye. “It’s so borin’ without young men around, sir,” Isla told the stranger. “Nay dancin’ or reels, nay dalliance of any kind.”
The man gave a deep laugh. “Will it comfort ye to ken this ‘lost battalion’ of which ye speak has experienced the same losses as ye for these two years past? Two years of hidin’ in the woods, skulkin’ in forgotten hamlets, an’ disguisin’ oneself as the most lowly servant.”
He finished honing the blade and slid the weapon back into the sheath behind his back. Isla heard a sound as the blade settled into place; it was razor sharp once more.
“Are we to have dancin’ in our halls once again, sir?” Isla wanted to know.
If the return of the battalion meant there would be no more raids or elderly counselors ruling the roost, then Isla suddenly desperately wanted to stay at Dougal Castle. If anyone told her that this change of heart had come about because of the tall, dark stranger’s return home, she would have laughed in their face. He was all unwashed and sweaty and unshaven, for heaven’s sake! How could she, Isla the blacksmith’s daughter, want to stay at a boring old castle just because one man had made her legs tremble and her heart beat faster? It was absurd!
“Would ye care to walk up the bailey road with me, lass?” the tall man inquired.
She said aye immediately and darted secretive looks up at him as he tramped up the hill beside her.
“Would ye like to stop off at the healer’s, sir?” she asked. “Because…”
She touched the filthy bandage around his wrist. Even injured, she could feel the great strength in his arm.
“Nay, but I thank ye, lass,” the man said in his deep voice. “Me men are already waitin’ for me at the gates.”
When Isla looked up the hill, she saw over a dozen men standing at the gates, all equally disheveled and weary-looking.
