Siren of the Highlands: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Cherrythorn)
Page 28
Isabelle nodded. “I told the spy as much. Surely we can think of something. Perhaps Eamon can orchestrate a sort of meeting beforehand in order to make terms?”
Arya was grim. “You know your father would never agree to terms.”
Isabelle sighed. She had felt hopeful after meeting Gareth, the Scot, but now, it all seemed to darken before her. Had she just led Eamon into a bloodbath? But what else was she to do? Without him knowing, her father would have slaughtered his brother and all of The Scots.
Despite the somber tone of their discussion, Isabelle smiled at Arya. “I have hope. These Highlanders are brave, and they persevere.”
Arya smiled back lightly. “I don’t think I understand you quite well, Mistress. It could be that these nightly wanderings and rebellions are getting to your head. You are an Englishwoman, and yet you wish to fight for the freedom of Scottish people, even at the cost of getting caught. Not only that, but I think you might be falling in love with the Highlander you meet with! Your face is all aglow with admiration and concern for his welfare. This cannot be just for the Scottish in general.”
Isabelle sighed and laid back. “It’s not love, Arya. It can’t be. At least not yet. He does not even know who I really am. But there is something about him that calls to me. He is strong, brave, fearless, and he wishes to save his kinsmen. That is honorable, is it not?”
Isabelle’s eyes were eager as she watched Arya’s reaction. Arya sighed and then said, “Yes, it is honorable. But I do wish you wouldn’t get yourself hurt in more ways than you need to be. What would your father think if he heard you speaking thus about a Highlander?”
Isabelle laughed. “He has far worse things to concern himself with, Arya. I just wish that somehow Eamon can find a way to survive tomorrow.” She clasped her hands over her stomach and let her mind wander to the dark hair and impossibly dark eyes of Eamon Wilson.
Later, after the sun had set, Eamon and Sean stared at the flames of their campfire while the rest of their camp slept. Dougal had given them blankets and tents, and they planted themselves outside the fortress walls, everyone’s mind full of the battle that would rage tomorrow.
“I wish Gareth would return soon. We need tae ken how many men ride with Cutler. Here we have 22, not including us, and then with my men, we will have 26. That may nae be enough.”
Sean nodded, his elbows on his knees and his jaw set with thought. “It is what I feared, brother. But we will have tae make do. We will meet yer men on the morrow then?”
“Aye. I wait for word from them too.” Eamon couldn’t sleep. He knew Sean couldn’t either, while the fate of his newly found life hung in the balance, and so both of them watched as the sun set below the mountains and a heavy darkness settled over the land. While they waited in silence. Eamon wasn’t sure of the time. It could have been minutes or hours, but he almost hoped that the night would be endless so that he wouldn’t have to bring these men into battle.
After a long while, Eamon said, “Sean, I know ye dinnae forgive me for what I did many years ago. I can never release myself from that guilt, but I am glad tae go intae battle with ye tomorrow. There is naeone else I would wish tae have by my side.”
He waited, his hands in fists as he let the words float out into the darkness. His brother remained stoic as he watched the fire. Once he began to speak, Sean did not lift his eyes to Eamon. “I only wish that I could say the same, brother. That is the fear that rages in my chest. I cannae deny that I am glad tae see ye again after all these years, but how do I ken that ye willnae desert me when the sun rises, and the battle is before us?”
Eamon looked down. The moment had finally come for the conversation he had envisioned in his mind for so many years. In his imagination, it had gone a myriad of ways, and he thought he was prepared for whatever Sean would say in return, but even still, Sean’s words cut him deeply. The old guilt resurfaced with a vengeance.
While it had always lingered, now it came back afresh, pulsating with pain inside of him. Why had he fled? That question had filled his mind for years afterward, and he had tried to harden himself to the past, but he found he could not. It was so long ago. It felt like he was a completely different person then. He knew that he would not run now, but how did Sean know? And how could he prove it to him?
He cleared his throat, finding it slightly thicker after Sean’s stark words. “Ye are right tae doubt me, brother. I can only say I am sorry for the past. I was a fool, and I have regretted it every day. But I have come tae ye now, and I wish tae prove tae ye by my actions that ye can trust me. I would put myself in the line of fire for ye, brother, and yer new life away from all this.”
He watched Sean’s face, his eyes pleading for him to look up and see the truth in them. Sean did, and a moment passed between them. He knew his brother was still wary, but Eamon felt that he would be given a chance. Sean sighed. “I suppose I dinnae have any choice. It was a long time ago when ye fled our home once the other Scotsmen came. Father is dead now, and so is my wife and child, but it was nae solely because of ye. Anger burns in me against ye, Eamon, though. I dinnae ken that I can relinquish it.”
Eamon nodded. “I ken. I dinnae ask ye tae do so. I only ask that ye dinnae send me away if we are successful against Cutler. I want tae be near. I want tae meet yer child. Give me that chance, brother.”
Sean’s jaw clenched, and tiny movements crossed over his face as he digested Eamon’s words. He opened his mouth to speak when the sound of horse’s hooves entering their tiny encampment interrupted him. Both Sean and Eamon stood and clasped their swords, peering into the dark. Then he spotted the figure of Gareth hurriedly dismounting and moving towards the men.
“Sean,” he breathed hurriedly. “Eamon. I have met with the spy.”
Eamon clasped onto the man and laughed with glee. “Ye are brilliant, lad! Tell me everything!”
Gareth kept trying to catch his breath. “I have never ridden so fast. My head spins.”
“Come now, this is urgent business.”
Gareth nodded. “I have met with yer men at the tavern. They will meet ye come morning as we pass by. As for the spy, I met him while he was in the act of nailing up the posters.”
Sean turned to Eamon, “So ye were right. It is yer spy who asks for treason.”
Eamon nodded, satisfied that his theory had been correct, and so relieved that the boy had been out at just the right time. He knew Sean’s man could find his men, but he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to find the spy.
“The spy says that Cutler comes with over 30 men, some of them redcoats. They camp on the Loch taenight and will ride taemorrow just as we do. The spy worries that ye may nae have the numbers.”
Eamon sat down. His fears had been realized. “26 against more than 30? All armed with muskets?” The hopelessness in his voice was evident, and to his surprise, Sean chimed in.
“It is still possible. If we attack from the sides, hidden in the forest with bows and arrows as we planned.”
Gareth said again, “And I agreed with the boy that we will meet at the same place taenight if something changes.”
Out of the darkness, an unfamiliar voice arose. “What is this? 26 against more than 30 Englishmen with their fiery weapons at their sides? Nae, we willnae do this. It is certain death!” The voice called from the side of the fortress, and to his dread, Eamon could hear others around him stirring from their beds. He knew it would put fear into their hearts, and they might wish to turn back as Sean had predicted.
The man stomped forward, and then his face was in the light of the fire. He wore the colors of the MacManus. “Our laird would never allow us tae go nae when a brutal man comes tae slaughter ye all. We had nae idea of the numbers we fight against, and it is all for ye! We thought only it was tae kill a few Englishmen. But this…” He shook his head and rushed back to the castle.
“He goes tae tell Dougal, nae doubt,” Gareth said, resignation in his voice.
“Aye. I was afraid this would happen.
The numbers are too much for us.”
The rest of the camp had awoken because of the raised voices and were moving towards the lone firelight. Sean turned to Eamon. “I am sorry, brother, but many of them may have tae turn back if MacManus’s men will nae join us. We may need tae think of a new plan.”
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Kenna Kendrick is an American based author of Historical Scottish Romance living in Austin Texas with her husband and three children. Her more than 25-year-old experience as an English Teacher has brought her close to the literary world, growing her love for fictional stories.
Her love for literature was also strong because of her father John who used to write crime-stories. While she tried following on her father's footsteps, a trip to Scotland sealed the deal for as she fell in love with the Celtic myths and the bleak Highlands.
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