Highlander’s Buried Identity (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Shona Thompson

  With a sigh, Sine went for the door, but Finlay finally spoke, stopping her in her tracks before she could leave.

  “I care,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear. “Trust me, I care.”

  Sine’s hand was already on the doorknob, but she didn’t open the door. After a moment of hesitation, she joined Finlay on the bed once more, her fingers lacing and unlacing as she fidgeted with them.

  “If ye care, then tell me the truth,” she said. “Finlay, I…no one kens as much about me as ye do. No one ever bothered to try, not even my own father. I’ve never had a friend before, not a real one. Everyone wanted to be called my friend, but none of them ever wanted to be my friend. And last night…last night I realised that I love ye. I love ye more than I ever thought possible. I love ye like a traveller loves the water of the loch after a day of thirst. I love ye like the waves love the cliffs in the sea, over and over, until the rocks are smooth.”

  Finlay was stunned into silence once again. This time though, he didn’t stay quiet for long.

  “Last night was a mistake,” he said. “Everything…everything between us is a mistake. I shouldnae have kissed ye. I shouldnae have accepted this position in the first place. Tis all my fault, but I can only implore ye tae forget about everything that happened between us. Soon enough, I’ll be gone.”

  Sine didn’t know what Finlay meant by that, but she didn’t care to ask anyway. It felt as though Finlay had taken a knife and stabbed her stomach, or as though she had been hit in the gut. Her breath was cut short, and no matter how much she tried to draw some air into her lungs, they seemed to refuse to help her.

  She had never known pain like this. For a moment, she wondered if that was what her father had to live with every single day. In that moment, she didn’t blame him for everything he had said to her since she was a little child. In that moment, she understood that a part of her would die by Finlay’s hand, and there would be nothing she could do to stop it.

  Sine stormed out of Finlay’s room, running through the castle corridors until she reached the courtyard, and then ran some more. She didn’t care what her father would say if he found out that she had gone off on her own once again; she just needed to be outside, away from the castle’s walls, which seemed to close up on her with every passing second.

  Sine only stopped running when she reached the woods at the edge of the Duncan territory, where she had been assaulted not so long ago and where Finlay had shown her how to protect herself. There he was again, Finlay, invading her thoughts and permeating every single one of her recent memories, burrowing under her skin like a worm in the dirt.

  It had to stop, and it had to stop right then. Sine took a deep breath, her hand clutching at a tree trunk, fingers wrapping tightly around the bark as she tried to steady herself. She wouldn’t let Finlay kill anymore parts of her than he already had. She wouldn’t let him destroy her, because she deserved better than that. Finlay was nothing but a peasant boy, after all.

  A deep breath and a dusting of her dress was all Sine needed to return to her usual self, or at least look like her usual self. She plastered a smile on her face—one that might not have been genuine but was bright enough to stop anyone from asking her questions—and began to head back to the castle. She would have to prepare for Laird Craig’s imminent arrival, after all, if she wanted to make a good first impression on her future husband.

  Perhaps Laird Craig would be precisely what she needed.

  Chapter Ten

  The day of Laird Craig’s arrival had come, as all days bearing unpleasant events tended to do. Finlay had been agitated and restless ever since he had found out that the laird would be coming to Brims Ness. For the past two nights, he hadn’t managed to sleep even for a minute. His exhaustion was painted on his face, dark circles dragging down his eyes and pale skin giving him a sickly look.

  He had spent the past two nights trying to come up with a plan to rescue Sine from Laird Craig’s claws, but it was to no avail. His only plan was to talk to Rory and try to convince him to talk to Laird Duncan himself, as his right-hand man and advisor, with the hope that the laird would trust him without asking for a reason to cancel the wedding.

  It was a weak plan, and Finlay knew it; Laird Duncan would need concrete evidence of Laird Craig’s atrocities before he would even consider stopping the wedding.

  Then there was Sine. Sine, who had confessed her love to him the previous day, begging him to tell her what had happened two nights prior, at the feast. Despite Finlay’s own reluctancy to open up to her, Sine had given him yet another chance. He could have told her how he really felt about her; he could have confessed his own love too, even if he knew it would not amount to anything.

  Perhaps if he had mustered up the courage to tell her the truth, then they would still be on speaking terms, and they would be working on cancelling the wedding together. As it were, Sine seemed perfectly happy to be marrying Laird Craig, and she refused to heed Finlay’s warnings.

  He wished he had Mairi there with him, but in the ruckus and tension of the past two days, he hadn’t had the chance to visit her at all. She probably didn’t even know that he had fainted in front of everyone, because if she had somehow heard, she would have already stormed into the castle and demanded to see him.

  Mairi would know what to do; she always did.

  Finlay jumped out of his bed, where he had confined himself for hours, unable to bring himself to go out of his room. Wallowing in despair and self-pity was somehow still better than facing Sine after the way he had spoken to her.

  He dressed himself hastily, shirt buttoned wrong and plaid askew around him, then tiptoed out of his room, looking back and forth around the corridor to ensure that no one was there to see him.

  Finlay was good at avoiding people; he had done so his entire life. Even after his short time in the castle, he had figured out the best routes to avoid prying eyes. Those routes that allowed him to slip out of the castle undetected and, most importantly, without being asked whether he was alright.

  He didn’t know if he could handle yet another concerned gaze.

  Once Finlay was out of the castle, he headed straight for the borders of the Duncan clan land, where Mairi lived, and where he had lived up until very recently. It seemed like years ago to him, a lifetime’s worth of change condensed in only a few weeks ever since he had moved to the castle. He had embraced the change; he had even changed himself, allowing Sine to turn him into a different person, one who didn’t shy away from other people’s gazes or from conversations. It was what had gotten him in that mess in the first place. Perhaps if he had kept his discipline, perhaps if he hadn’t allowed Sine to get so close to him, then he wouldn’t have broken her heart—along with his own.

  The knock on Mairi’s door was hesitant, Finlay almost changing his mind once his knuckles met the wood of the door. Before he could retreat though, Mairi was right there, pulling him into a tight hug.

  “Finlay? What are ye doing here, mo laochain?” Mairi asked, as she urged him inside and sat him down at the table, as always. “Where is Sine?”

  After so many times of Finlay bringing Sine there after their walks, within the span of mere days, it was not surprising that Mairi was asking about her. Still, Finlay felt a twinge of pain at the mention of her name, as though he had been hit by an arrow through the gut.

  “She’s at the castle,” Finlay said. “I…I need yer advice, Mairi.”

  Mairi was putting some bannock on a plate, the only thing she had at hand from earlier in the morning. She placed the plate in front of Finlay, and only then did she sit down across from him.

  “Eat then,” she said. “Do ye want me tae make something else?”

  Finlay shook his head, but he grabbed a bannock, even though he wasn’t hungry. He began to pick it apart, more to keep his hands busy than anything else. Not even a crumb made it to his mouth.

  Mairi looked at Finlay, her brow furrowing when she noticed that he was acting even more
oddly than usual. “What do ye want to tell me? Dinnae be afraid, mo laochain. No matter what it is, I’m here for ye.”

  Finlay didn’t know how to explain the situation to Mairi. Ever since he was a child, he’d refused to talk about his family or why he had been found in the woods, wounded. His childhood was a mystery to everyone, even to Mairi.

  He didn’t need to tell her about his childhood though; he only needed to tell her about Sine.

  “Mairi…Sine is,” he said, gaze fixed on the bannock in his hands, “I dinnae ken how to tell ye, how to explain…”

  “Ye dinnae have to explain anything,” Mairi assured him. “I raised ye, remember? I ken everything about ye, lad.”

  Finlay never could hide anything from Mairi. She always saw right through him, catching him every time he tried to lie as a child, and even as an adult. Hiding his love for Sine from Mairi would be impossible.

  “Then ye ken the problem,” Finlay said. “And I…weel, I said something foolish to her, and I dinnae ken what tae dae.”

  “I dinnae ken the problem, noo. Ye love her, and she loves ye; where is the problem in that?” Mairi asked. “No matter what ye told her, ye can ask for forgiveness.”

  “I dinnae think I can,” Finlay said. “Not this time, not after what I said. She must hate me now; she willnae want to even listen to what I have to say.”

  “I cannae help ye if ye dinnae tell me what ye told her,” Mairi pointed out.

  This was an embarrassment that Finlay couldn’t overcome. The hurtful conversation he had had with Sine had been playing over and over in his head, plaguing his thoughts. The more he thought about how he had treated her, the more convinced he became that he was a horrible man, unworthy of Sine’s love. She must have known it too, and any love she had ever had for him must have evaporated…

  Finlay opened his mouth, but no sounds came out, so he closed it again. He could feel Mairi’s gaze burning a hole in his head, even though he didn’t dare to look up and confirm it.

  “I cannae say.” Finlay shook his head violently, enough to make himself dizzy. “I cannae repeat it, Mairi.”

  Mairi let out a long-suffering sigh, one of those that were reserved for Finlay, for every time that he was being particularly difficult. “Finlay…stop yer whining and tell me.”

  It was those words that made Finlay finally look up at Mairi. He dropped the bannock on the table, or at least what was left of it after he had picked it apart with nervous fingers, eyes narrowing as he looked at her.

  “I am a grown man! I dinnae whine!” he whined.

  Mairi only gave Finlay a pointed look. She didn’t utter a word, but simply stared at him, until she knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the silence any longer, and so would have to speak.

  With a sigh, Finlay ran a hand through his hair, pushing the red curls back and out of his eyes. It was a habit that he had only developed recently, usually preferring to just let his hair hide his eyes as much as possible.

  “Fine,” he said. “I told her that anything we ha’e between us is a mistake.”

  Mairi stayed silent, once again waiting for Finlay to finish talking. It soon became clear, though, that he had nothing else to say. Mairi couldn’t hold back a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as if that could make Finlay feel better.

  Finlay’s eyes narrowed even more when Mairi began to laugh, and he crossed his arms over his chest. It made him look like a petulant child, as though he was twelve years old once again and hadn’t gotten what he wanted.

  “Forgive me, mo laochain.” Mairi’s laugh subsided after she forced herself to swallow the remainder of it down, but even then, a small smirk with just a hint of mockery stayed on her lips. “Ye always agonise over the smallest things, lad. What ye said was no good, but tis nae reason for Sine to hate ye either. If ye only go to her and apologise, she will forgive ye; I ken that. Tell her ye didnae mean it.”

  “Mairi…if I tell ye something, do ye promise not tae ask me any questions?” Finlay asked.

  Mairi hesitated, her fingers tapping on the table as she considered Finlay’s question. In the end, she nodded, and relief washed over Finlay.

  “Laird Craig is a bad man. Dinnae ask me how I ken that, but I do,” Finlay said. “I must stop the wedding. Sine cannae marry a monster like him. I’ll do anything tae stop it, but I dinnae ken how.”

  Mairi seemed to consider that for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration. When she finally spoke, she did so slowly, as though she was picking her words to lay down the path of least resistance.

  “Ye must tell her how ye feel, Finlay. I dinnae ken how tae convince Laird Duncan to stop the wedding, but I ken that if ye marry her first, then there cannae be a wedding. If ye love her as much as I think ye do, then…then run away with her, lad! When ye’ll be settled, I’ll sell the farm, and I’ll come find ye.”

  Finlay stared at Mairi, mouth agape, unable to believe that that was her advice. “Ye cannae be serious! That’s not a good plan, Mairi; ‘tis insanity.”

  “Is it?” Mairi asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “What dae ye have keeping ye here? What do any of us have? Neither ye nor Sine belong in this place, and as for me…weel, yer ma son. I’d follow ye anywhere.”

  Finlay scoffed at Mairi. Surely, she was going insane alone on their little farm. There was no other explanation. The more he thought about it though, the more he began to see that perhaps a little madness was what they all needed.

  There would be no other way to stop Laird Duncan from allowing the wedding. No matter how much Sine would protest, no matter what Finlay could ever say, Laird Craig would be marrying her very soon if Finlay didn’t intervene, and what else could he do other than whisk her away in the middle of the night? The two of them were powerless against Laird Duncan, but if he couldn’t find them, then they wouldn’t need to fear him.

  It was a terrible plan; that much Finlay knew. It was better than anything else he had, though, and so it was his only option.

  There was only one thing that could make his entire plan crumble to pieces.

  “Do ye think Sine will forgive me?” Finlay asked.

  “I ken she will.” Mairi reached across the table and gave Finlay’s hand a gentle squeeze. She stood up and began to clean up the mess he had made with the crumbled bannock, hands working quickly. “Sine is a good lass, and she loves ye. Ye do anything ye can tae make her happy, ye hear?”

  Finlay didn’t need Mairi to tell him that. “I will. I’ll dae anything for her.”

  Finlay spent the rest of his time in Mairi’s presence talking about her and the farm that Finlay still considered as theirs. Even after settling into his life in the castle and feeling more comfortable among the hordes of people with every passing day, he still missed his old life in their little cottage and dreamt of coming back to it soon.

  Eventually, it was time for Finlay to head back to the castle, no matter how much he’d rather stay with Mairi. He hoped that no one would have noticed his absence, but even if they had, he had no reason to lie to them; he would simply tell them he was visiting his mother.

  With a hug and a kiss on the cheek, Mairi sent Finlay off, watching him until he disappeared in the horizon. Finlay walked slowly, having no desire or intention to get back to the castle any sooner than absolutely necessary, instead enjoying the walk back.

  Sine always liked to walk through the weeds and the overgrown grass of the meadow. Finlay knew that she liked the smell of the earth after the rain had passed, and she liked the way the grass felt under her feet when the earth was dry, taking off her shoes and running barefoot with every chance she got. She would always laugh, and Finlay couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

  Finlay thought back to what Mairi had told him; he had to run away with Sine and do anything he could to make her truly happy.

  Even though they would live as peasants—Sine losing every privilege she ever had, losing the very life that she was born to—Finlay knew that she would be happy with that kind of life.
Even though, at first, he had thought of her as a spoiled noble girl, he had seen her when she helped the poor and needy, and it had been impossible to miss the joy that helping others gave her. Once they ran away together, Sine’s new life would suit her more than her life in the castle, which Finlay knew suffocated her daily.

  Of course, he would also have to propose that idea to her first, see if she would even be willing to run away with him. Finlay was risking something that he had never put on the line before: his heart. He didn’t know what he would do were she to reject him, but even heartbreak sounded better than spending his entire life in regret after not gathering the courage to ask Sine for a chance to make her happy.

  Finlay could see the castle ahead of him, looming over the Duncan land. He took a deep breath and marched up to it, wildly unprepared for either outcome, but determined to follow Mairi’s advice.