Highlander's Heart

by Amanda Forester

“Sorry,” he said, jerking his hand away like it had been bit.

  “No, do not stop. I was startled. I did not know it would be like this.”

  Campbell rolled back. “I shoud’na be doing this.”

  “Yes, yes you should. You are doing very well. Please, do continue.” Isabelle felt a trembling need for him to return. He made no move so she rolled over onto him and ran her hand up his side to his chest as he had done to her.

  A bit of encouragement was all he needed, and he rolled her back over and settled on top of her. She held on to him with arms and legs, wanting, needing him closer. He rubbed against her, building tension until she could take it no longer. Yet the one thing she wanted he was not giving her. Was something wrong? Confirming her fears, David began to curse.

  David rolled back with a groan. “Sorry, love. It seems I canna…” David sighed again, he sounded almost ill. “I canna do it. I want to, but I… I canna take another man’s wife. It goes against everything I know to be right in this world.”

  Don’t stop! Isabelle grabbed the sheets in frustration until the demanding throbbing slowly ebbed. She rolled toward him and put her head on his chest.

  “Your morals do you credit,” she said, not really feeling the sentiment.

  “My morals are a pain in the arse,” he muttered.

  Take me now!

  Isabelle pursed her lips together to keep from blurting it out. She would not beg this man for sex. She would not. She could not. But oh, David felt so nice and smelled so good. How could she resist him?

  “I love you.” Isabelle froze. Had she truly said that? By the saints, why had she just said that? Isabelle cringed. She was so focused on not revealing one thing that another secret slipped past. Campbell was very still, not even breathing. Surely that was not a good response to her declaration. He brought his other arm around her and gently held her close.

  “I wish ye were mine to love in return, my lady.” He reached up and slowly threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her head to his chest. “I wish ye were mine, my love.”

  Isabelle felt her eyes sting and shut them tight to keep from dropping tears on his perfect chest.

  She was his love.

  Thirty-Nine

  Isabelle woke before dawn alone in Campbell’s bed. She reached over to where he had slept. The sheets were cold. A chill seeped into her bones. She would never see him again.

  Never.

  She sat up abruptly and rubbed her eyes. She had no time for tears. She needed to get on that wagon before the rest of the castle awoke. Isabelle searched the dark room for her clothes and dressed herself as best she could in the gloom. She wrapped her cloak around herself and hoped it would conceal her less than perfect results.

  Isabelle slipped out the door into the dark hallway, softly pulling the door closed.

  “Are ye leaving David’s room?” hissed a voice.

  Isabelle jumped a foot and spun to see who had caught her. It was Cait, holding a single candle and looking disheveled.

  “Ah, Cait. I was… it was… nothing happened.” Her words rushed out in a damning display of defensiveness.

  Cait grabbed her arm. “Ne’er mind that. They came for poor Andrew. They’ve taken him away! Where is David?”

  “What? David is not here. Why is Andrew not on the wagon by now? Tell me what happened.”

  “We had to wait till dark anyway and since we were just married, well… we…” Though the light was dim, Isabelle was sure Cait was blushing. “We are married at least, which is more than I can say for ye and David,” Cait added with defensiveness of her own.

  “Nothing happened,” Isabelle repeated with more emotion than was required. “Wait, are ye saying the two o’ you… in the dungeon?” Cait opened her mouth for what would no doubt be a defensive tirade, but Isabelle held up her hand to stop her. “Nay, that does not matter now. Just tell me how they got Andrew.”

  “Well, we were, that is, afterward it was so tiring we fell asleep. We dinna wake again until we heard steps on the stairs, and Andrew shoved me under his bench. And they took him—”

  “You fell asleep?” Isabelle was incredulous.

  “We were so exhausted—”

  “You fell asleep?” Isabelle’s voice rose. “After all I did to arrange this escape for ye? All ye had to do was get in the damn wagon!” In all her adventures, Isabelle had finally managed to learn how to curse.

  Tears pooled in Cait’s eyes. “I’m verra sorry. But do ye ken where they would take him?”

  Isabelle looked into Cait’s worried eyes with a sense of dread. Andrew could only be taken for one reason. “I warrant they have taken him to commence with the hanging. David is probably doing it early to reduce the chance of you becoming upset. Where are sentences carried out?”

  Cait gasped and put her hands over her mouth. Her eyes went wide. “The far shore, I suppose. I have ne’er been a party to it.”

  “I should think not.”

  “Isabelle, please help me. We must stop this.” Cait grabbed her hands, the tears that had been threatening spilling down her face.

  “Cait, I have tried to help you, but your situation is beyond what I can repair. I would help you if I could.”

  “Just get me to the shore. I know ye can. We can take Rabbie’s boat.”

  Isabelle firmly shook her head. “If I steal Rabbie’s boat again, your brother might decide to have a double hanging with me as the other victim.”

  “How can ye no’ help me? What if it was someone ye loved? Ye dinna understand. Ye’ve ne’er truly loved someone. Ye dinna ken what it is to have yer heart break.” Cait wept openly.

  A freezing jolt hit Isabelle at her core. She wrapped her arms around herself. She was so cold she feared she would never get warm again. “I understand,” said Isabelle softly.

  “Nay, ye’ve ne’er been in love,” Cait sobbed accusingly.

  Isabelle closed her eyes and balled her fists at her side. “Just because I do not express my feelings as freely as you, it does not mean I do not love.”

  Cait blinked and stopped crying.

  “I know what it is to love. What it is to lose someone forever. To never be able to see him again.” Isabelle squeezed her eyes shut. She would not cry. She would not.

  “Ye love David,” said Cait. It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes.” Isabelle opened her eyes to find Cait looking at her with sympathy.

  “I’ve seen how he looks at ye. He’s ne’er looked at anyone like that. I think he shares yer feeling.”

  The tears Isabelle had been fighting chose that moment to win the battle. They ran unchecked down her face.

  “Help me, Isabelle,” Cait whispered.

  Isabelle nodded. “I will take ye to Rabbie’s boat.” She hoped Campbell liked her well enough not to kill her.

  ***

  David Campbell was having one of the worst days of his life. He had to remove himself from the bed of the woman he loved, after his damnable conscience prevented him from showing her the full extent of his affection. To make his day worse, he now stood on the shores of Loch Awe with the hangman and a group of sober witnesses to put to death the lad his sister claimed to love. She was not likely to soon forgive him.

  It was a cool morning, a feisty breeze whipping off the lake and cutting into his skin. He pulled his plaid around himself to protect from the biting wind. The sky was gray, and the sun had not yet emerged from behind the hills. Before him, Andrew McNab stood tall and shivering. He had not been given a cloak. He would not need one for long. Though Campbell wondered if it was only the cold making the man shake. It was an unpleasant thing to face one’s death.

  MacLaren, Chaumont, and Gavin stood a ways apart. The older warriors were grim. Gavin had taken a greenish hue. It was a sad business.

  “Do ye have anything ye wish to say
?” Campbell asked Andrew.

  “I apologize for no’ returning your horses, and I apologize for being a party to the abduction o’ your sister. But I am no’ sorry to have met the Lady Cait. Wi’ my last breath I declare that I love her wi’ all of my worthless being. Please care for her. I fear she will take this hard.”

  Campbell was surprised by the declaration of love by this man. It had been his firm belief that Andrew had misled Cait in his affections to try to seduce her or win her dowry. Andrew’s declaration of love on the verge of standing before Judgment spoke to his sincerity.

  Campbell nodded to the hangman to continue. It didn’t change anything, but it made it more regrettable. A rope was tossed over a high limb of the tree they stood under and a noose was put around Andrew’s neck.

  “I’m glad my mother is no’ alive to see this,” said Andrew, his voice wavering.

  A lump formed in Campbell’s throat. He did not want to think of this lad having a grieving mother. He did not want to think of him falling in love with Cait. He did not want to think of him at all. He just wanted to get it over with. Andrew had committed a crime. None of his family would be safe if he let the lad live. This was the law of the Highlands. Everyone knew it. He had been found guilty by the council and sentence had been passed. It was Campbell’s responsibility to see it done.

  “God have mercy on ye, Andrew McNab. I bear ye no ill will and hope ye will find mercy in the Judgment.”

  “Thank ye,” Andrew said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I forgive ye this. Take care o’ Cait for me, will ye?”

  “I always have,” said Campbell gruffly, but added more gently, “I will care for her. I will tell her ye met death as a man, and yer last thoughts were o’ her.”

  Andrew nodded and closed his eyes. Campbell hesitated, dreading very much what he had to do next.

  Campbell gave the signal and the hangman pulled Andrew McNab off the ground.

  “Nay!” A screeching voice rose up from the loch like an avenging banshee, so inhuman was the sound. The hangman dropped the rope to cross himself, sending Andrew back to the ground.

  Campbell stared into the mist, his hand on his sword hilt. Out of the fog two figures emerged.

  “Dinna hurt him, David,” screamed Cait in a voice he had never heard from her before. “Dinna hurt him or I swear I shall make ye regret this day.”

  “Cait!” coughed Andrew.

  “Isabelle!” growled Campbell at the other shadowy figure. It could only be her. Meddling, defiant, impossible lass.

  “Let him go now!” shrieked Cait.

  “Dinna let her see this,” begged Andrew.

  “Isabelle, come here where I can see ye. How did ye get here? Dinna tell me ye took poor Rabbie’s boat again,” shouted Campbell.

  Isabelle shrugged. “How else could we cross?”

  “Ye are no’ paying heed to the important issue here,” yelled Cait. “I want ye to let my husband go!”

  Campbell continued to direct his attention to Isabelle. “I canna believe ye would steal his boat again, especially after all the pain ye caused the last time.”

  “But I’ll put it back straightaway,” explained Isabelle. “Yer sister can be most persuasive.”

  “Cait is no’ at issue here, she…” Campbell stopped midsentence as if suddenly coming to a realization. He looked down at Cait. “Did ye say husband?”

  “Aye!” declared Cait triumphantly, glad to have Campbell’s attention at last. “We were wed last night. He is yer kin now. Ye canna kill him.”

  Isabelle wished Cait would stop talking. With every word Isabelle felt herself slipping in Campbell’s estimation. He glared at her now.

  “Did ye know o’ this?” he asked Isabelle, his voice deceptively soft.

  Isabelle could not bring herself to lie directly to him so she chose the next best thing and pretended she could not hear him. She stared at her feet as if something very interesting was occurring near her toes. She could feel the heat from Campbell’s glare.

  “Ye do no’ have my approval to wed this man,” said Campbell to Cait. “Ye will marry Gavin Patrick here.” Campbell gestured to a young lad hardly older than Cait. Was this the monstrous Gavin from whom she helped Cait to escape?

  “Approval or no’, we have wed just the same,” said Cait.

  “Then ye shall soon be a widow,” said Campbell. He signaled the hangman who tied the rope to a tree branch. Andrew was fine as long as he maintained good posture. Campbell motioned to a few of the guards. “Take Lady Tynsdale and Lady Cait back to the castle.”

  “Ye canna kill him. He may be the father o’ my unborn child,” declared Cait with vengeance.

  “Cait, wheesht!” exclaimed Andrew, looking even more pale, if such a thing was possible.

  “Cait,” said Isabelle in an undertone. “I do not think you are improving Andrew’s odds of seeing tomorrow.”

  Campbell grabbed Cait by the shoulders. “Did this bastard get ye wi’ child? Answer me!”

  “I… I dinna ken… yet. But I could be. We… after the wedding last night, ye understand.”

  Isabelle could tell by the murderous look of death in Campbell’s eye that he did understand. He understood all too well. Campbell let Cait go and gripped the hilt of his sword with white knuckles. He took a step toward Andrew, and Isabelle wondered if they now needed to advocate for him to hang Andrew, as opposed to hacking him to death in some slow and torturous manner.

  “Riders approaching!”

  Whatever Campbell was going to do was halted with the arrival of several men on horseback. Four horsemen stayed on the hillside, their identities cloaked in the mist. A fifth rode forward to meet them. The sound of many hooves echoed off through the hills, but how many more horsemen remained unseen in the mist, Isabelle could not tell.

  “State yer name and yer business,” cried one of Campbell’s soldiers.

  “I am a messenger from Lord Tynsdale for Laird Campbell.”

  Isabelle’s heart lurched and sank. Tynsdale had come to ransom her? No, no it could not be. She was so close to escaping him.

  Campbell exhaled loudly. “I am the Campbell. I am attending to business as ye see. Please step back, I will see ye when I have completed my task.”

  Another rider rode forward until Isabelle could make out the form of Simon, Tynsdale’s bastard son.

  “You bring the Lady Tynsdale to watch a hanging, do you?” asked Simon. “Curious habits you barbarian Highlanders have. Come now, this business will take but a trifle of your time. We have your ransom, the Lady Tynsdale comes with us.”

  “And ye are?”

  Simon dismounted along with the other riders that were visible and bowed with a flourish. “Sir Simon, sent by Tynsdale to return his beloved wife.”

  Isabelle’s blood turned to ice, chilling her with every beat of her heart. “No,” Isabelle’s voice was no louder than a whisper. “No, I will not go back with him.”

  “Take the ladies back to the castle,” Campbell commanded one of his solders. His face was gray and without emotion. He did not look at her.

  Simon stepped forward. “I would rather you not do that. Here is your demand in full.” He nodded to a man who brought a velvet pouch and opened it. It was full of gold coins. “You have been paid. Hand over the Lady Tynsdale. There is very little else to discuss.”

  “There is much to discuss. Ye will wait.”

  Simon motioned with his hand, and more dark gray figures emerged from the mist on the hillside above. Many appeared to be holding crossbows. Isabelle stepped nearer to Campbell.

  “Cait,” Isabelle said hoarsely, “get back to the boat. Go back to the castle.”

  “I will no’ leave wi’out Andrew.”

  “What trouble is this?” said a low voice behind them. Isabelle spun around to see James Douglas stroll up the bank dressed for
battle. “We heard the screaming.”

  “What goes here?” said Stewart, also stepping out of the shadows. They were followed by Campbell’s brothers and several of their retinue.

  It was becoming a full house, and the bank by the loch was getting crowded. Isabelle glanced back and forth between the English and the Scots. She had the unhappy realization she was standing at the center of what may be their next battle.

  “Now ’tis truly a party,” said Simon in a mocking tone. “Tynsdale has done what you have asked. The ransom has been paid. The return of his wife is all that is required of you. Come, Lady Tynsdale. Let us return to your husband.”

  “No,” said Isabelle, stepping even closer to Campbell. She could not return to Tynsdale, but if she did not go… the English had the high ground. Campbell, his brothers, and Cait stood below them. If there was a fight, the Campbells would be caught in the crossfire. Isabelle turned to Simon, she must find a way out of this. “Simon, why do you wish me to return? Was it not you who warned me never to return to Tynsdale?”

  Simon’s eyes never left Campbell. “What a fancy imagination my lady has.”

  “’Twas not my imaginings and you know it, Simon,” said Isabelle with the indignation of surprise. All these years she had thought of Simon as a sort of savior. What was he doing now?

  “And if the lady does not wish to return to her husband?” asked Campbell.

  “What does her ladyship’s opinion have to do with her return? She is his wife. Her wishes can have no bearing on this matter.”

  Behind her, Isabelle heard the slosh of the ferry raft going back to the island. They were bringing out more troops. Campbell was stalling for time.

  “As a knight, I canna return a lady to anyone who may do her harm.”

  “As a man you cannot stand in between what God has joined together. She is his wife. You have already shown yourself to be opportunistic in the advancement of your own coffers. Take your coin and be done with it. The lady belongs to her husband, and to him she shall now return or you be no knight.” Simon stepped closer to Isabelle and she moved closer to Campbell.

  “Be that as it may, ye shall no’ take her against her will.”