Highlander’s Buried Identity (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Shona Thompson

  Sine approached Finlay, a careful finger caressing the handle of the sgian-dubh and then its blade. She had always wanted to wield one, seeing all the men around her having one and using it even for the simplest tasks.

  “Careful, now,” Finlay said. “These blades are sharp, and they’ll cut ye. Ye dinnae want to cut yerself…ye want to cut the other one.”

  Sine laughed softly, nodding at the advice. “I ken. Now show me.”

  “This one is a true weapon,” Finlay said, as he showed her the sgian-achlais, its long blade glistening in the little sunlight that reached the forest. “Ye’ll only use it as such, and it’ll do a lot of damage. It’s a long blade, this one…verra long and verra sharp. Ye willnae need much force, but ye must hit the right places. Now, no matter where ye aim, it’ll hurt, but ye want to make sure yer enemy willnae catch ye.”

  Sine listened to Finlay intently, giving him all of her attention as he spoke. The pleasantness of his voice struck her for the first time—a low, soothing rumble that made even the dullest explanation fascinating. She watched as he walked towards her, even closer than before, and glued her gaze at the blade in his hand.

  “Noo, ye’ll want to aim the blade here,” Finlay said, as he touched his hand on Sine’s side, right below her ribs. “Ye feel that? Ye want to avoid the bones, so ye must go under them. Or ye can aim here,” he said, as he walked around her and stood behind her, his hand laying near the small of her back. “One strike here and ye’ll hit the kidney. He’ll be a dead man in moments.”

  The thought of killing another person brought a shiver down Sine’s spine. She wanted to avoid it, if possible, even if she was being attacked, but she knew she would have to force herself to act if someone attacked her again.

  Finlay’s casual touch on her side and her waist gave her another shiver, a very different one than before. She could feel him close to her body, his breath tickling the back of her neck, and she hoped that he wouldn’t notice the effect he had on her.

  Finlay, indeed, didn’t notice. He couldn’t imagine that Sine might possibly see him in that way, and besides, he was too focused on teaching her how to fight. “This one is another story,” he continued, urging Sine to turn around and face him once more. “Smaller knife, not as potent. Ye’ll need more force for this, like so.”

  Finlay grabbed Sine’s shoulder with his free hand and swung the knife upwards, as if to stab her in the belly, stopping just shy of her corset. She flinched back in surprise, arms wrapping around herself protectively, before she realised that Finlay wasn’t actually going to stab her.

  “I wouldnae mind a wee warning next time,” Sine said, much to Finlay’s amusement.

  “Yer enemy willnae give ye a warning,” Finlay pointed out. “Ye can hide the sgian-dubh more easily, and that’ll give ye an advantage, but only if ye can strike hard. Try it.”

  Finlay handed Sine the blade, and stepped closer to her, seemingly with no fear about his personal safety. She fumbled for a moment, and Finlay took her hand, the one that wasn’t clutching onto the blade, placing it on his shoulder. “Remember, under the ribs, strike hard.”

  Sine swung the knife in the same way that Finlay had done earlier, stopping mere millimetres away from his skin. He beamed down at her, impressed with how easy it was for her to follow his directions.

  “Good lass. Ye’ll have no problem fighting any man,” Finlay said.

  The two of them stood there for a few moments, simply looking at each other’s eyes. It was the first time that Finlay actually let Sine gaze into his eyes, she noticed, without shying away, and she could see in the little sunlight that there was how beautiful they were, even though they were mismatched.

  Sine found herself heaving, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she looked at Finlay. He seemed to be affected in the same way, his pupils blown wide and his lips slightly parted. The two of them leaned closer to each other, drawn by the heat, and the want, and the sheer need they felt for each other, both seemingly in some sort of lust-induced stupor.

  “Ow!”

  The exclamation made Sine jump back, her eyes darting all over Finlay’s body. “What? What is it?”

  Finlay rubbed the left side of his stomach, lifting his shirt just a little, exposing the hard muscles on his stomach and making Sine stare. There was a nick on his skin, a tiny cut that was bleeding there, the flow small but steady.

  “Ye poked me with the blade!” he shouted, pulling back even more when Sine approached him in concern, knife still in her hand.

  Sine was blushing furiously, her face red as a plump tomato. “Forgive me! I didnae mean tae, I promise!”

  “Aye, aye…I believe ye,” Finlay said, even as he took a few more steps backwards, backing away from Sine and the knife.

  “Here,” Sine said, turning the knife around and offering it back to Finlay, blade-first.

  Finlay looked at her, then at the sgian-dubh, then back at her. “Keep it,” he said. “Tis yer blade now. Keep it on ye at all times, and it’ll be as if I’m always there with ye…tae protect ye, I mean.”

  Sine didn’t know what to say. She simply stared at him, speechless. Of all the gifts she had ever received, all the expensive jewellery and furs, this one was perhaps the best.

  “I’ll guard it well,” Sine promised. She would guard it just as it would guard her from then on.

  Chapter Six

  When Finlay told Sine that he had something to show her, she wasn’t expecting him to take her to the place where he had grown up. It was a small farm at the edge of the clan’s land, covered in luscious green grass that swayed in the wind. There were animals there, all sorts of animals, including a rather rowdy rooster, and Sine had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

  There was also a woman there, with dark hair and wrinkles that showed she had smiled a lot throughout her life. The moment the woman spotted them, she rushed to them to greet them, grabbing Finlay and pulling him into a tight embrace.

  “Finlay, ma lad!” Mairi said, squeezing him with so much force that Finlay stopped breathing. He could have sworn he heard a rib or two crack under the pressure. “It’s so verra good to see ye!”

  Finlay let Mairi hug him for as long as she pleased, knowing that there was no use trying to escape her grip. When she pulled back, she looked at him from head to toe with that scrutinizing look she got every time he had been away for too long.

  “Ye dinnae eat,” she said. “Look at ye, thin as a stick! Ye cannae find food in all that castle?”

  Sine giggled from where she was standing next to Finlay, grabbing Mairi’s attention for the first time. Naturally, Mairi knew immediately who the girl was.

  “Lady Sine!” Mairi exclaimed, as she gave her a wobbly, clumsy curtsy. “Welcome to our humble home…come in, come in! Ye must be starving, the two of ye. I’ll make ye some food, and ye can tell me all about yer life at the castle.”

  Neither Finlay nor Sine had any time to say anything before Mairi turned around and rushed back into the house. The two of them glanced at each other, a smile playing on both their faces.

  Sine walked in the small house, looking around in awe. It wasn’t much; in fact, it was perhaps the smallest house she had ever been in. It was warm, though, and the light from the candles made it look like a home, comforting and peaceful. This must have been what it felt like to be in the womb as a baby, Sine thought, as she took a seat, eagerly provided by Mairi.

  Mairi was already milling about when Finlay finally came in, after visiting his favourite animals; the chickens and the two goats they had. The moment he stepped foot inside, Mairi put her hands on her hips, looking at him.

  “I dinnae have any wood again,” she said. “Ye’ll be a good lad and fetch me some.”

  “It’s verra nice to see ye, too, Mairi,” Finlay said. “I thought ye wanted to feed me, not make me work.”

  Mairi cocked an eyebrow at Finlay, wondering where that repartee had come from. He wasn’t usually one to talk a lot, and when he d
id, it was only to answer questions. Now he seemed different, even though he hadn’t been away from the farm for all that long. He spoke without being prompted, he looked cheerful, with a smile on his face—and most importantly, he didn’t shy away from looking her in the eyes.

  Mairi had never thought that she would live to see the day when Finlay would hold her gaze. She didn’t blame him; after all, there was no one else in Brims Ness who had what he had, and he had never managed to overcome his fear that he wasn’t normal. At least now, even if he still had the same fear, he seemed to have some more confidence.

  “I’ll feed ye after,” Mairi promised. “I’ll make ye yer favourite dish.”

  “Aye, I’ll go,” Finlay said. “I owe ye one, after ne’er bringing ye yer wood.”

  “Try not to get into any trouble this time, lad.” Mairi laughed as Finlay left, and then she took a seat next to Sine.

  She watched Sine for a few moments, noticing how she looked around the house as though she had never seen anything like it before. She had to remind herself that Sine probably hadn’t seen anything like it before, in fact. She was a highborn, after all, having spent her entire life in a castle.

  Yet there she was, agreeing to visit Mairi and her humble abode with Finlay. She even seemed happy to be there; a smile permanently plastered on her face made her look even more beautiful.

  “Tis nae castle,” Mairi said. “But it does its job.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Sine said, sounding more sincere than most people ever could.

  Mairi had heard stories about her, about how she would often run to the markets and to the healer’s, helping people as much as she could. But having her there, in front of her, and listening to her speak so earnestly about a house that was no more than four walls made Mairi think that Sine was truly someone special. Anyone else in her position would have been more than happy to indulge their every whim, spending recklessly and not caring about the rest of the world; especially someone as young as Sine.

  “Finlay must like ye if he brought ye here,” Mairi said. “Though I suppose Finlay must like ye if he talks to ye at all. He’s nae talker, that lad, ye ken.”

  Sine couldn’t help but laugh at that, nodding in agreement. “Aye, I ken. It took him a verra long time to talk to me properly.”

  “I can believe that,” Mairi said. “But dinnae blame the lad. He’s had a rough life, and he’s only young still.”

  Mairi’s words intrigued Sine, who had wanted to know more about Finlay ever since they had talked about his parents that day at the healer’s croft, and who would be a better source of information than Mairi, save for Finlay himself? Sine knew that the woman had raised him as her own son, and so she must have been the one to know everything there was to know about him.

  “He never speaks about it,” Sine said. “I wish I knew more…I only want to understand.”

  Mairi didn’t want to tell Sine that she had little chance of knowing everything about Finlay. Mairi herself knew very little, after all, and Finlay, whether he didn’t want to or he couldn’t, would never offer more information about his past than he had to.

  Still, Mairi saw the way Sine spoke about Finlay, and she knew love when she saw it. A part of her felt bad for the girl, knowing how hard it was to love Finlay, closed off as he was. Perhaps if she spoke to Sine about him, it would alleviate her heartache a little.

  “He was given to me when he was only a wee bairn of ten years,” Mairi said. “Rory, yer father’s right-hand man, gave him to me after he found him in the woods. I dinnae ken what he was doing there or how he got there. I dinnae e’en ken if he kens, he was so young. Perhaps he doesnae remember.”

  Sine listened to the story intently, but it was nothing she didn’t already know. “And his parents? Where are they?”

  Mairi shrugged. “I dinnae ken. He doesnae ken either, or he’ll no tell me where they are. I’ve long suspected they are dead.”

  It made sense, Sine thought. She had been suspecting the same thing, but she wanted to know more about them, even if they were no longer alive. Perhaps it would give her a different insight, Sine considered.

  “And his eyes?” Sine asked. “Have ye seen them?”

  Mairi laughed at that, surprised at the question. “Aye, of course I’ve seen them,” she said. “I’ve had him for four-and-ten years noo; I ken they’re different.”

  “Why?” Sine asked. “I’ve ne’er seen anything like it before.”

  “Nor I,” Mairi confirmed. “Some say it’s a curse. Finlay himself believes it, but I ken him…it’s no curse. He is a good lad, he has no curse on him, and he is nae possessed, nor the child of the devil. I dinnae ken what it is, but I ken what tisn’t.”

  Sine could see that Mairi loved Finlay fiercely, like her own son. She could also tell that she had no other children, piecing together the little information she had about Finlay’s childhood and Mairi’s life. Finlay was the only one she had in the world, and Sine felt a little guilty for having him with her at the castle.

  They should visit Mairi often, she thought, as often as they could.

  Before Sine could say anything else, Finlay walked in, carrying an armful of wood. He placed it by the stove, before dusting himself off, the new, fancier clothes that he had been given by the laird already covered in mud and splinters.

  “Good lad,” Mairi said, as she stood up, giving up her seat to Finlay. “I’ll start on the food.”

  “Did she tell ye anything about me while I was gone?” Finlay asked Sine, loud enough for Mairi to know that she was meant to hear the question, almost like an accusation.

  “Only good things,” Sine assured him with a smile. “Ye’ll no tell me anything; I had to ask.”

  “Aye, I told her about how ye wouldnae leave my side when ye were a wee child,” Mairi teased. “Always grabbing on my skirt or my leg.”

  Sine laughed softly as the colour faded from Finlay’s face, leaving him white as a ghost. “I’ll tell ye nothing from the noo!” Finlay said, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “And I’ll no’ bring ye back here, either. Ye’ll stay at the castle.”

  Sine and Mairi both laughed at Finlay’s embarrassment, and Finlay found himself chuckling despite himself, too. It was nice, being there in the farm, surrounded by two of the people he loved the most—and when exactly had Sine become one of them? Finlay didn’t know, but as he watched her laugh and talk with Mairi, he knew it was so.

  Sine didn’t look like she belonged there. Her fine clothes and unblemished skin, her soft hands and her bright, unfatigued face made it clear that she was no commoner, and that she would never belong to a small farm like that. Yet her smile and her excitement to be there seemed to counteract that. She was as warm as the space, and Finlay thought that she felt like home, in a way that Finlay had only felt with his parents and Mairi before.

  They stayed there for a long time, Mairi and Sine getting to know each other. Finlay was content to sit back and watch them while he ate, but he would often join the conversation, much to Mairi’s pleasure and amusement.

  He had grown into a different man, Mairi thought. It was still her Finlay, of course, still her little boy, but he was also confident now, and he could speak his mind whenever he wanted to. She knew that there was only one thing responsible for that, or rather, a person: Sine. Sine was the one who had helped him get out of his shell, Mairi realised once they were recounting the stories about visiting the markets and talking to the locals.

  Mairi knew that Sine was fond of Finlay, but it became clear to her soon enough that he felt the same for Sine. The two of them talked as if they had known each other for eons, finishing each other’s trains of thought and even bantering, teasing each other.

  A part of Mairi was happy for Finlay and how he had bloomed like a spring flower, but another part of her knew that he was in for a world of trouble. There was no way that the laird would allow someone like Finlay—a man who had nothing more to his name than the clothes on his back—to be
with his daughter. No, Mairi knew that Laird Duncan would marry Sine off to another laird, most likely someone brutish, who would not care as much about her as he would for the land that she came with.

  In that moment, her heart ached more for Sine than for Finlay. Finlay would get over it eventually, perhaps marrying another girl and having a family of his own.

  Sine, though, would have to be with a man that she would never love for her entire life. Mairi had never wed, but she had seen other women suffer that fate, and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone—least of all someone as lovely as Sine.

  Too soon, it was time for Sine and Finlay to leave. It was getting dark, and the two of them already knew that they would be reprimanded when they returned to the castle, but it was the first time ever since Finlay had become her guard that he didn’t really care. He didn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun, and he didn’t want the day to end.