4
As the steward looked over at Isla, she blushed, not because the gentleman was braw (the steward was as old and bent as the laird he had replaced) but because his gaze was critical. He raked his eyes over her from head to toe. Isla shook her long red hair behind her shoulders and tilted her chin up as he looked at her. She was not afraid of being judged and was resolved to finally leave this castle!
“What have ye to say about yer faither’s decision, young lady?” the steward wanted to know.
Isla replied, “I will nae lie, sir. I have long hoped for the war to end so that us young folk might set up some jollifications, but what use is it to invite anyone under the current circumstances? No one will visit this plaguey castle because of the war, an’ if we try to organize something amongst ourselves, sure enough, it will be ruined by a raiding party. In all me eight an’ ten years, all the dancin’ I have ever kent are the jigs I dance with Pila, the cook’s daughter, an’ all the men I ken are…middle-aged soldiers!”
The steward’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. “Are me soldiers no’ good enough for ye to marry one o’ them, Miss Highty-Tighty?”
Isla was caught off guard by the man’s acidic reply. She reached for her father’s hand and moved closer to him. “I would definitely have something to say if Isla wanted to marry a soldier, sir!” The blacksmith raised his voice and continued, “I’m the girl’s faither at the end o’ the day, an’ if I say I want Isla to have a more delicate life than what we have here, that means a soldier is the last man I would want for a son-in-law! The forge has been razed to the ground so many times, I’ve lost count! We have nae had a proper home forten years.Movin’ from the bailey to the castle every time there’s a raid, we nay longer ken if we’re comin’ or goin’! I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve made a pretty penny from makin’ all the weapons, but there comes a time in a man’s life when he must put the needs o’ his child first—an’ that time is now.”
When Isla glanced over her shoulder at the laird’s son, she was inspired to add something to her father’s speech.
“An’ ye cannae say all these raids are the result o’ the auld laird’s carelessness or the laird’s son’s lack o’ protection, sir, because the conflicts have increased since ye took over, which goes to show ye ken naught about the business as well!”
The steward, who had become very used to styling himself as laird for the last two seasons, gave a ferocious frown, his bushy gray eyebrows pulling so close together over the bridge of his nose that it looked as if he had a hairy band of animal fur pulled around his forehead.
“Ye saucy whippersnapper! How dare ye criticize me after all I’ve done for the clan! I’ve emptied the castle of every young man to go fight for the clan, just so that ye can be safe. If they failed in their mission, why should I be blamed?”
Inspired by the steward’s attempt to shift the responsibility, Isla began to list the reasons why he should be blamed. Drawing herself up to her full height and ignoring her father’s alarmed expression, she launched into a scathing criticism of the man’s lack of insight.
“If ye were half the leader ye thought ye were, Steward, the first thing ye should have done after our laird died was to seek out his son using every means at yer disposal! Instead, ye went an’ hid in yer library an’ began to style yerself a worthy successor to the laird because of the blood feud between the McTavishes an’ the Dougals. If the feud was the problem, then why no’ seek peace? Why did ye no’ send word under truce to the McTavish, tellin’ him his enemy was dead an’ that ye had no need to continue the quarrel?”
Silence descended over the hall as everyone craned their necks to hear the steward’s explanation for Isla’s very valid questions.
The steward sneered. “Look at the blacksmith’s daughter, everyone. It’s women like her that show why they’re no better than washing our dirty undergarments! Females should ken their place.”
Isla was unrepentant. “Why stop there? Why no’ call me a witch an’ throw me in the duck pond with a stone tied round me neck? Ye superstitious auld goat!”
A few of the soldiers were heard to chuckle at this keen observation, but the steward frowned, turning his attention back to Isla’s father, Master McDonnell.
“When did ye plan on leaving for Inverness, Master Blacksmith?”
Isla’s father stepped forward to the dais. “Sir, we plan on leavin’ as soon as we can. We have no’ much goods an’ chattels to take with us.”
“Aye!” Isla was emboldened to say. “Because most of our goods an’ chattels have been burned or stolen by raiders!”
The steward held up his hand and leaned back so he could talk with his counselors in hushed voices. They took their time, and Finlay would have been amused to see Isla’s little slippered foot creep out from under her kirtle and begin to tap with impatience on the floor. Eventually, the steward leaned forward again.
“Give us time to find another blacksmith, Master. Then ye may take yer daughter an’ leave.”
Pila gave a cheer from where she had been listening at the back of the hall.
“Hurrah! Soon we can all go an’ live in Inverness!”
This cheer made the steward frown and scribble something down on the parchment on the table in front of him after dipping his quill in ink.
When Isla turned to leave, she noticed the laird’s son was still there. He was as scruffy as she ever remembered him to be, but there was an undeniable smile in his eyes that had not been there before when he had stood at the forge entrance, looking for a place to sharpen his sword. His smile seemed to draw her to him, and when he held out his arm, she placed her hand on it with no hesitation.
“Why did ye no’ tell me ye were the auld laird’s son, sir? I am sorry for yer sad loss. Ye must be devastated ye were nae here to attend yer faither’s wake. That gave the counselors all the confirmation they needed to presume ye dead,” she said with just a hint of reproof in her tone as they left the hall together.
He looked down at her and seemed to be searching for evidence that her statement was genuine. He must have found it because he nodded before saying, “Aye, thank ye. I would have told ye, lass, but I get the feelin’ it would nae have changed yer behavior toward me much. Ye’re no’ an easy lass to intimidate. When did ye decide ye dinnae like soldiers?”
Isla was very aware that her father was walking behind them, listening to their conversation with interest. She demurred, “Forgive me, sir. I spoke out o’ line, but I find that auld man’s smug assurance that he is ready to step into yer shoes quite infuriatin’, especially when he had done nothing to stop the raids and seems content to hire as many soldiers as it takes to protect the castle while leaving everything else exposed to the chaos!”
He seemed to contemplate her words before stopping to allow Master McDonnell to catch up with them. When Isla’s father started to bow, Finlay put out his hand to stop him, saying, “Don’ make even more enemies for yerself than ye already have, Master Blacksmith!”
Isla’s father frowned. “What do ye mean, Laird—I meanFinlay—Dougal? All we want to do is leave an’ the sooner the better because it looks like the steward and his men are shapin’ up to ensure their supreMcy!”
