at an awkward angle. “Do something, Dain, it hurts like hell.”
Isabelle realized that the injured man was little more than a lad, and his finger indeed looked quite painful.
“The coin, mistress,” said Captain Erskine, holding out his hand.
Isabelle glanced at the captain and back at the injured lad, distracted.
“Naught I can do for ye,” said Dain to the whimpering lad. “We’ll need to get ye back to Mairi.”
“But that winna be till tonight or the next morn,” wailed the lad.
“Here, we can wrap it for ye,” said another man. Whatever he did to the lad’s finger caused the young man to scream in pain.
“Mistress!” demanded Captain Erskine.
“Please, wait a moment. I believe I can help this injured man.” Isabelle stepped up to the boat of the injured lad. The ministrations of his shipmates caused him to scream again. “No, please stop whatever you are doing and let me look at it.”
Two of the Highlanders looked at each other and shrugged, then helped her on board the craft.
Hamish, the injured lad, sat on the deck, holding his hand protectively, while the man he had called Dain kneeled beside him.
“Who are ye?” Hamish asked, his eyes narrow, his mouth surly.
“I am here to help. Let me see your hand,” replied Isabelle.
“Ye’re English! I hate English,” snarled the lad.
Dain cuffed him softly on the head. “Mind yer manners. He’s just a hurt lad, mistress. Please dinna bear him no mind. Can ye help us?”
“If he will let me.”
Dain nodded to Hamish and the hurt lad held out his finger, his bottom lip trembling. Isabelle gave him a bracing smile, and gently examined the finger. The ring finger extended at an awkward angle from the middle joint.
“I don’t think it’s broken. This may hurt a bit.” Before Hamish could respond, Isabelle grabbed the finger and popped the dislocated joint back into place. Hamish screamed, and everyone leaned in to examine the finger. Hamish tentatively tried moving it and found that it once again worked properly.
“Well now, Hamish,” said one man. “Looks like ye’re in the service o’ an English woman.” He laughed and gave Isabelle a bow. “I’m Finnáin and this is my twin brother Gill Crist, my older brother Dain, and our young, accident-prone Hamish.”
The four men were all various forms of tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome. “Good morn to you,” said Isabelle.
“Good morn to ye, mistress,” said Gill. He motioned to his twin. “Ye can call us Finn and Gill. Like fish, ye ken?” Finn and Gill resembled each other so closely Isabelle gave up all hope of ever telling them apart. They both beamed at her, their eyes dancing.
“I thank ye, mistress,” said Dain, his gray eyes more serious. “Ye have been a great service to us. Pray tell me how we can be a service to ye.”
“I am looking for passage back to England.”
“We dinna travel in that direction, but I will find ye someone who will.”
Isabelle smiled and sighed in relief. “That would be a great help, sir. I was speaking to the Captain Erskine next to you about passage.”
“Dain, Gill, Finn, Hamish,” called a familiar voice. Isabelle cringed at the sound, while the four Highlanders stood at attention, blocking her from the man on the shore. “Make haste, I need ye men.”
David Campbell leapt onto the boat. “I’ve lost a lass and I need yer help to find her.”
“Ye’ve lost a lass?” asked Dain.
Isabelle stood behind the four men, effectively hidden from Campbell’s view.
“Aye,” barked Campbell. “She is an Englishwoman who was separated from her traveling companions. We need to spread out, search the city. I have already asked at the gates, but no one has seen her leave. Och, who knows what trouble she might be in.”
“What does she look like?” asked Hamish.
“She’s young, excellent figure, wearing a green gown and a brown traveling cloak. She has long black hair and is too beautiful for her own
Isabelle realized that the injured man was little more than a lad, and his finger indeed looked quite painful.
“The coin, mistress,” said Captain Erskine, holding out his hand.
Isabelle glanced at the captain and back at the injured lad, distracted.
“Naught I can do for ye,” said Dain to the whimpering lad. “We’ll need to get ye back to Mairi.”
“But that winna be till tonight or the next morn,” wailed the lad.
“Here, we can wrap it for ye,” said another man. Whatever he did to the lad’s finger caused the young man to scream in pain.
“Mistress!” demanded Captain Erskine.
“Please, wait a moment. I believe I can help this injured man.” Isabelle stepped up to the boat of the injured lad. The ministrations of his shipmates caused him to scream again. “No, please stop whatever you are doing and let me look at it.”
Two of the Highlanders looked at each other and shrugged, then helped her on board the craft.
Hamish, the injured lad, sat on the deck, holding his hand protectively, while the man he had called Dain kneeled beside him.
“Who are ye?” Hamish asked, his eyes narrow, his mouth surly.
“I am here to help. Let me see your hand,” replied Isabelle.
“Ye’re English! I hate English,” snarled the lad.
Dain cuffed him softly on the head. “Mind yer manners. He’s just a hurt lad, mistress. Please dinna bear him no mind. Can ye help us?”
“If he will let me.”
Dain nodded to Hamish and the hurt lad held out his finger, his bottom lip trembling. Isabelle gave him a bracing smile, and gently examined the finger. The ring finger extended at an awkward angle from the middle joint.
“I don’t think it’s broken. This may hurt a bit.” Before Hamish could respond, Isabelle grabbed the finger and popped the dislocated joint back into place. Hamish screamed, and everyone leaned in to examine the finger. Hamish tentatively tried moving it and found that it once again worked properly.
“Well now, Hamish,” said one man. “Looks like ye’re in the service o’ an English woman.” He laughed and gave Isabelle a bow. “I’m Finnáin and this is my twin brother Gill Crist, my older brother Dain, and our young, accident-prone Hamish.”
The four men were all various forms of tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome. “Good morn to you,” said Isabelle.
“Good morn to ye, mistress,” said Gill. He motioned to his twin. “Ye can call us Finn and Gill. Like fish, ye ken?” Finn and Gill resembled each other so closely Isabelle gave up all hope of ever telling them apart. They both beamed at her, their eyes dancing.
“I thank ye, mistress,” said Dain, his gray eyes more serious. “Ye have been a great service to us. Pray tell me how we can be a service to ye.”
“I am looking for passage back to England.”
“We dinna travel in that direction, but I will find ye someone who will.”
Isabelle smiled and sighed in relief. “That would be a great help, sir. I was speaking to the Captain Erskine next to you about passage.”
“Dain, Gill, Finn, Hamish,” called a familiar voice. Isabelle cringed at the sound, while the four Highlanders stood at attention, blocking her from the man on the shore. “Make haste, I need ye men.”
David Campbell leapt onto the boat. “I’ve lost a lass and I need yer help to find her.”
“Ye’ve lost a lass?” asked Dain.
Isabelle stood behind the four men, effectively hidden from Campbell’s view.
“Aye,” barked Campbell. “She is an Englishwoman who was separated from her traveling companions. We need to spread out, search the city. I have already asked at the gates, but no one has seen her leave. Och, who knows what trouble she might be in.”
“What does she look like?” asked Hamish.
“She’s young, excellent figure, wearing a green gown and a brown traveling cloak. She has long black hair and is too beautiful for her own
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