No, her place was at the castle, married to a powerful laird and popping out his children for the rest of her life.
“Something’s on yer mind?” Elspet’s words pulled Sine out of her own mind, and she looked up at the other woman, smiling.
“No, nothing,” Sine assured her, putting on her most charming smile, the one she reserved for someone asking her if she was alright. “How are ye, Elspet? Last time I saw ye was weeks ago.”
“Aye, didnae have much to sell. Rough times, the ones we live in…I dinnae ken what I’ll do if it happens again.” Elspet had a family, and that family had six mouths to feed, not counting her own. Without any merchandise to sell, she would have no money, and with no money, her family wouldn’t survive the winter. They had come down to their last chickens, and the grain could only do so much to fill up their grumbling stomachs.
Sine could feel a knot in her stomach and an ache in her heart, as if a hand was gripping it with its entire might. It was a story that she had heard all too often; the most unfortunate locals in Brims Ness would often have neither money for food nor cattle to eat. She had tried arguing with her father about it, trying to suggest ways that the laird could alleviate the pain of the poor, but none of the clansmen would have it. She was only a girl, after all, and girl’s opinions were irrelevant in the castle.
Sine had her own ways though. She peeked around, making sure that no one saw her, and then she pulled a small pouch out from her skirt. It was full of gold that she had accumulated throughout the past months—either gold that drunken clansmen would drop in their stupor or gold that she would steal from her father. It all went to the same place: the poor.
“Take this,” Sine told Elspet, grabbing a handful of gold and placing it in the woman’s hand. “Take it and feed yer family.”
Elspet looked down at her hand, now full of gold, mouth hanging open. It wasn’t enough to make her rich, but it was enough to put food on the table for a long time.
Elspet couldn’t hold back the tears that began to fall down her cheeks, nor could she stop the smile that almost split her face in half. “Lady Sine…I dinnae ken what to say. Ye dinnae have to do this.”
“No, but I want to,” Sine said. “Please, I beg ye, take it and hide it. Use it when ye need it, but dinnae let anybody see it.” She didn’t want someone with intentions less than pure to steal the gold from Elspet. Besides, there was only so much gold that she could steal from her father and her clansmen.
“God bless ye!” Elspet would keep Sine in her prayers from then on, wishing all the happiness in the world on her. “Ye made me so happy. I cannae ever repay ye.”
“All I want ye to do is keep yer family fed and warm, ye hear? Everything else, I have,” Sine pointed out. “Promise me ye’ll be happy.”
“I’ll be verra happy, Lady Sine! I am verra happy.” Elspet wiped the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand, still clutching the gold tightly, as if she was afraid it would disappear into thin air.
That was how Finlay found the two women. He had looked everywhere for Sine, and it was only fitting that he found her at the edge of the market, right where she would be least protected.
Finlay ran up to her, glancing between her and Elspet, a frown scrunching up his brows almost comically. “What are ye doing?”
Sine’s entire demeanour changed the moment she heard the familiar voice. It was a question directed at her often, ever since she was a child, everyone around her demanding to know what she was doing and why she thought such behaviour would be appropriate for the daughter of a laird.
“Nothing,” Sine said. “I dinnae need to tell ye everything I do.”
“Ye cannae run away whenever yer heart so pleases. I’ll be in a lot of trouble if I lose ye. If something happens to ye, the laird will have my head.” Finlay had been fearing more than anything that Sine would end up getting hurt in one of her little adventures. She would never be in real trouble, of course; perhaps she would get scolded, and that would be the end of it. He, on the other hand, would be hanged for letting her out of his sight.
It was something that Sine didn’t seem to understand. It was one thing for her to put herself in danger, and another to put Finlay in danger. Her actions had consequences that she didn’t seem to fully grasp, and it was enough to drive Finlay mad.
“Keep up next time, then.” It was all that Sine had to offer. She didn’t want Finlay to be punished for losing track of her, but she also didn’t want to be followed around all the time. “Finlay, this is Elspet. Eslpet, this is my new…guard.”
There was so much venom in the way that Sine uttered the words that Finlay thought he would need an antidote. It didn’t help that she was introducing him to a stranger. It always seemed to be so easy for Sine to talk to other people, always running around and chatting with the locals, like a butterfly jumping from flower to flower. Finlay was nothing like that though, and he didn’t want to become like that.
“Verra nice to meet ye, Finlay,” Elspet said, as she composed herself, always glad to make a new acquaintance. “Are ye from around here? I haven’t seen ye before in Brims Ness.”
“Aye, I’m from around here.” It was all that Finlay said, not even meeting Elspet’s gaze. Most people thought he was rude, and he didn’t try to correct them. If Elspet thought the same, then she would just become one more person in the long list of people who disliked him.
Elspet frowned a little, thinking that Finlay was a little odd, but then again, so were a lot of people. She thought she was a little odd herself. “Weel, hope I’ll be seeing ye again, lad.”
It was Finlay’s turn to frown in confusion, wondering why Elspet wasn’t spitting out vitriol like the rest of the people who didn’t know him. He said nothing about it though, instead turning to Sine and nodding towards the castle.
“We must go,” he said. “Yer father will be wondering where ye are.”
Sine rolled her eyes like a petulant child, but she knew better than to argue. Finlay had been given the right to just sling her over his shoulder and carry her back to the castle whenever she was misbehaving, and she would much rather walk instead; it was much more dignified.
With a final goodbye to Elspet, Sine followed Finlay back to the castle, back to her personal prison and hell. She decided to enjoy the last minutes of freedom, breathing in deeply and enjoying the crisp, fresh air, but Finlay seemed to have other plans. As soon as they were away from the market and from prying eyes, he pulled her aside, eyes narrow and face red with fury.
“Ye’ll listen to me from the noo, ye hear?” he asked, as he backed Sine up against a tree, her eagerness to get away from him trapping her between his body and the tree trunk. “I’ll no risk my head for any little lass, not even the laird’s daughter. Ye want tae get yerself killed? Then tell yer father to relieve me of my duty. Ye can do anything ye wish, as long as I dinnae have to keep ye safe.”
Sine held onto the tree trunk, nails digging into the wood with such force that she drew blood. Despite her heart racing in her chest, and all of her senses telling her to either fight or flee, she tried to put on her most indignant face in the hopes that it would get Finlay to back away.
“I didnae do anything!” Sine protested. “I stayed in the market. I was right there. Ah’m in no danger other than the one yer putting me in right noo! What will ye do, hmm? Ye’ll hit me? Or ye’ll stab me? Or will ye just talk tae me until I die of boredom?”
Finlay didn’t appreciate the way Sine spoke to him, but he wasn’t expecting anything else from a girl like her. He stayed there for a few more moments, so close to her that their noses were almost touching, and he could feel the warmth that radiated from her like the sun. He could see a bead of sweat on her chest, the aftermath of his cornering her and scaring her, and he followed it with his gaze until it disappeared between her breasts.
Sine watched Finlay as he went silent, their closeness almost stifling, his breath on her skin making her shiver. She closed her eyes, her chest heaving
with short, shallow breaths.
Too soon, Finlay was gone, and Sine could feel the chill of the breeze on her skin once more. When she opened her eyes, Finlay was pacing back and forth in front of her like a caged animal.
“Ye cannae leave my sight. I dinnae ken what ye want, but as long as I am responsible for ye, ye’ll do as I say.” With that, Finlay reached out a hand, offering it to Sine.
Sine didn’t say anything; there was no use arguing, after all. She would simply continue to do what she wanted, and Finlay would continue to reprimand her for it.
With a frustrated huff, Sine began to walk back to the castle, completely ignoring the hand offered to her. She wanted to be as far away from Finlay as possible—which wasn’t that far at all.
Chapter Four
It had been days since the incident at the market, and yet Finlay couldn’t stop thinking about it. He was pacing back and forth by the entrance of the castle, Rory watching him wearily as he leaned against the castle wall.
Finlay had always been one to stress over small things, Rory knew, but it was quickly becoming absurd. “Stop pacing, lad. Ye’ll dig a hole in the grass.”
Finlay stopped pacing, but only to glare at Rory, who simply raised his hands as if in surrender. “I dinnae want to do this anymore, Rory. Ye ken the lady…she is nothing but trouble, and she’ll bring that trouble onto me.”
Rory couldn’t argue with that; Sine had always been a spirited young woman, with too many opinions and too many words coming out of her mouth, but she was also the laird’s daughter, and whatever Laird Duncan said was the law.
“I’ve known her since she was a bairn. I ken ‘tisnae an easy task to look after her,” Rory agreed. He placed a hand on Finlay’s shoulder, fatherly and comforting. “But it’s yer duty now. Ye must do it.”
“Are ye certain ye cannae tell the laird to find another man?” Finlay was desperate to be relieved of his duty and go back to the farm where he belonged. Just the thought of being included in another one of Sine’s little adventures made his head hurt, the idea of meeting more people sitting worse in his stomach than Rory’s admittedly almost lethal homebrewed alcohol.
“Aye,” Rory said, though if he were honest, he could most likely find someone else to do the job. It was Finlay’s, though, and not only did he have to see it through, but Rory also knew it would do him a lot of good to be outside every now and then. “The laird wants ye to watch over his daughter, and so it’ll be. We have no say in this, lad.”
Finlay could hardly stop the pout that dragged the corners of his mouth downward, more disappointed than angry. He stayed silent though, knowing that complaining any further would do nothing to change his situation.
“Promise me ye’ll take this seriously,” Rory continued. “I dinnae want to see either of the two of ye dead or harmed.”
Finlay sighed, running a hand through his fiery red locks. It was getting long, he noticed, the curls often falling into his eyes. “Aye…I promise.”
“Good lad.” Rory had to admit that it was a relief, knowing that Finlay would keep an eye on Sine. She had a disconcerting ability to constantly draw trouble upon herself.
While Finlay agonized over his own duties as Sine’s guard, Sine was at the other side of the castle, in her room, thinking about what had happened between her and Finlay after the market. She recalled the words that they exchanged that day, her tongue sharp as shards of glass, uttering words that she didn’t mean, not really. She was worried more than anything that she had offended Finlay, and it was the last thing that she wanted to do.
Despite everything, despite her own insistence to be left alone and her own issues with being treated like a prized pig, she had begun to grow fond of Finlay. He was a good man, and he seemed to truly care about her, not just because he was tasked with keeping her safe; after all, he had saved her before he even knew who she was, back when she had been attacked in the woods.
It didn’t hurt that Finlay’s gaze made her skin burn and tingle wherever it fell. The gaze that came from those mismatched eyes, Sine found charming and intriguing—even though she knew that Finlay himself hated them—and often accompanied her thoughts at night, when she was alone in her bed. So did images of the glimpses Sine had caught of Finlay’s body, hardened muscles flexing under his shirt with his every move, and hands roughened by daily hard work guiding her as they walked.
She would imagine those hands on her, unlacing her corset, caressing her hair, gripping her thighs as he slid between them. It was only a fantasy, of course, something that could never possibly happen, but she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it, thinking about Finlay’s lips against hers and his body pressing her down on the mattress…
Those were thoughts reserved for her nights, though, and now it was daytime. The clouds had parted enough to allow some sunlight to fall over Brims Ness like a veil of gold. Sine basked in it, an unstoppable need to go out in the town taking over her.
She had decided that she would try to include Finlay in everything that she did. Then perhaps he wouldn’t complain about her running away, and perhaps he would even end up enjoying himself—though Sine doubted the man could enjoy anything.
Sine found him right outside the castle walls, standing in the shadows as usual, next to Rory. She didn’t hesitate to grab Finlay’s arm, making him jump a little at the sudden contact. “Come on, then. We’re going.”
Finlay didn’t have to do much to resist Sine’s incessant tugging, simply standing there and not allowing her to move him. “Where are we going?”
“To the town,” Sine said, quickly running out of breath as she tried to pull Finlay along. The man was like a boulder, unmovable. “Rory, will ye please tell Finlay that he has to come with me?”
“Finlay, ye have to go with her, lad,” Rory said. It wasn’t in his best interest to get in the middle of that.
“Fine! Stop pulling me!” Finlay yanked his arm away from Sine, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she gave him a big smile, one that he hadn’t seen directed at him before; a smile that made her cherry-red lips stretch far and wide, and wrinkled her nose in the adorable way that it did when she was truly happy.
Finlay couldn’t help but give her his own little smile, no more than a twitch of his lips, but the soft look that Sine gave him meant that she knew its importance.
He followed her into the town, reluctantly as always. The streets were filled with people, all of them going on about their days and not paying much attention to him, but all he could see was prying eyes and people who wanted to know what was wrong with him. It was a constant, unmoving weight in his stomach. Though he tried to ignore it, he could never bring himself to keep his head up and look at people in the eyes. He simply trailed after Sine, his gaze fixed on the ground as they walked.
Finlay didn’t know where Sine was taking him, but Sine had a very specific destination in mind. She hadn’t had the chance to visit that place in a while—what with her father forbidding her to do anything that could put her in danger—but she had never once forgotten about the people that were there.
It was the healer’s croft, Finlay realised once they were there. They weren’t even in the town anymore, not really, but just outside of it.
Sine often visited the healer, Mysie Barrach, to see if there was any way that she could help. She was no healer herself, knowing only the few things she had picked up from Mrs. Crannach every time she’d tended to her as a child. Even as an adult, but even lending a hand could mean the difference between life and death for the sick.
Mysie was tending to a child, a small, frail-looking girl paler than snow. Sine could see her collarbones protruding from her skin, twig-like and prominent, an unfocused gaze meeting her own.
She could have cried, but she didn’t. She had her health, and the only thing she could do was to try and help that child.
“Lady Sine,” Mysie said, as she rushed to her, excited to see her. “We didnae think ye’d be coming back.”
�
�I told ye I would,” Sine reminded her. “This is Finlay, he can also help ye today. Finlay, ye’ll do us a favour and help, willn’t ye?”
Finlay couldn’t deny even if he wanted to, partly because he was put on the spot and partly because he seemed to be having a hard time saying no to Sine when it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. “Aye, I’ll help.”
With that, Mysie put the two of them to work, tending to the simpler cases, grinding herbs and mixing up medicinal concoctions. Neither Sine nor Finlay knew what they were doing, simply following the healer’s instructions, but Mysie seemed grateful for the help regardless.
The last thing Finlay saw was Sine spoon-feeding one of Mysie’s concoctions to the sick girl—before Sine ran out of the room. Finlay followed her, abandoning his half-ground herbs in the mortar, worried that something had happened to Sine. If she were to become ill, he didn’t know what he would do.
Highlander’s Buried Identity (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance) Page 3
