It was no news to Finlay that the laird’s wife had been long dead, but he had never bothered to ask how she died. Now, knowing that she was not only the laird’s wife, but also Sine’s mother, he couldn’t help but ask, “What took her?”
“Childbirth,” Sine said. Every time she talked about her mother, a knot began to form in the back of her throat, thorns and nails as she swallowed. “She was pregnant with twins…me and my brother, but neither she nor he made it. I was the only one who survived, and ever since then, my father loves reminding me of it. He loved her dearly, more than he could ever love anyone else, and her death devastated him.”
The hand around Sine’s shoulder tightened in a comforting squeeze, and she looked up at Finlay, seeing the concern in his eyes. She covered his hand with her own, then leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes with a sigh. Sometimes it was easier to simply not look at people while talking about her mother.
“Ye ken he means well. He only wants the best for ye,” Finlay said. “Ye are his only daughter.”
“Aye,” Sine agreed, eyes still closed. “And that is precisely why the only use I have in his eyes is to be married off to a wealthy laird, sold off like a prized pig. He only has ye follow me around because he cannae stand the thought a man would sully me and make him lose a powerful ally. Meanwhile, I must sit quiet and spread my legs for a husband I cannae love, because a lass’ place is not to speak about politics or strategies. I have good ideas, ye ken. I can just ne’er tell my father, because then ah’m told to go to my chambers and practice my embroidery.”
Finlay laughed softly at the thought of Sine embroidering anything, knowing she would much rather be outside, riding, talking, or getting into trouble. His laugh was quickly drowned by the thought of her being trapped in the familial bonds between her and her father, and her ultimate fate; she was going to marry a noble man, and she would be nothing for him than a pretty-faced means to an end.
It was a fate that Finlay didn’t want for someone as caring and kind as Sine—and yet, there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Before Finlay himself knew it, he was leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss on Sine’s hand, his lips brushing against her knuckles. Quickly, though, he pulled back as if he had been burned, worried that he had done irreparable damage to their relationship.
The last thing that Sine had been expecting was a kiss on her hand, and it caused a flush to rise high up in her cheeks. She could still feel the warmth of Finlay’s lips against her skin even after he pulled back. She cupped that hand with her own, as though she was trying to keep the feeling of Finlay’s mouth against her forever.
Sine searched urgently for a topic that could bring them out of the awkwardness of the moment. She didn’t want to talk about the kiss, and judging by the red face that Finlay was sporting, neither did he,
“What about ye?” she asked. “Where are yer parents?”
The mention of his parents was enough to make Finlay forget all about his previous fumble and his strange, blossoming feelings regarding Sine. It was a topic that he always avoided as much as possible, in the hopes that he would manage to spend a single day without thinking about them.
“I dinnae have any,” Finlay said simply, shrugging.
Sine frowned at that. “How is that possible?” she asked. “I dinnae ken any man with no parents! What, ye sprouted off the earth?”
Finlay could have told her some tale about how he was orphaned as a small child or how he had been sold to pay off the family’s debts. He could have told her anything, but once it was time for him to speak, he realised that his mouth would not allow him to lie to her.
“I dinnae remember,” he said instead. “Like ye dinnae have a mum, I dinnae have any parents.”
It was enough of an explanation to placate Sine, as she didn’t press it any further, or perhaps it was due to the mention of her mother. Either way, Finlay was glad that she didn’t try to pry further.
The two of them fell silent, but eventually, Sine stood up and dusted herself off. “Weel then, let’s go.” They had stayed out there long enough to get some unwanted attention.
Finlay followed her back inside, and Sine threw herself back to work. It was the only thing that kept her from thinking not only about her own mother, but of Finlay’s parents and his heritage—something that she feared would always remain a mystery to her.
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About the Author
Shona Thompson is an American based author of Historical Scottish Romance. She spent her student years in the majestic city of Edinburgh, where she fell in love with the history, the legends and the people of Scotland.
Her own Highlander husband was the one who inspired her and awoke her passion of writing. He became her muse, and all her love stories are dedicated to him.
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Highlander’s Twisted Identity (Highlanders 0f Clan Craig Book 2) Page 18
