Isabelle tried not to let her fear show too much on her face. “It is just that they are two men, instead of all of us going as a group. My father can be rather wily when he desires to be, especially when it comes to ambush. If he sees your men, he will certainly endeavor to capture them. You know that he will succeed.”
Eamon’s expression darkened, and Isabelle worried that she was too direct. But she knew that if her father had survived the village attack yesterday, he would be spewing with rage and would do far worse things to get his revenge than he had done before. It was a frightening thought, and her heart went out to the two unlucky men who had just potentially been sent to their deaths.
Eamon’s voice was at a dangerous level. “Lass, ye may need tae be tied up if ye are tae continue tae spread fear in my men and speak out of turn. Ye have naught tae do except wait for yer eventual return tae yer father.”
Isabelle wanted to stamp her foot into the ground. She needed to dress up as the spy and meet with Eamon as soon as possible. Being a woman, she knew that none of the men would take her warnings seriously, and her anger burned at Eamon. She had hoped he was different than the others, but perhaps she was wrong.
He had seemed so honorable and so wise. She thought he would listen to reason, but apparently not. She left him in a huff, returning to sit with Arya closer to the fire. “These men, Arya, they think they can handle everything themselves. They will hear of no suggestions or help from another, especially a woman.”
Arya smiled as she stared off at the men practicing their swords. “I can tell you desire to return to your male state, Mistress.”
“You know that I do. And I think it must be tonight.”
Arya turned to her. “How could you possibly do that? You have seen the way they guard the camp at night. You would never get away! And what am I to say once they find you missing?” Isabelle’s heart softened at the sight of Arya’s frightened eyes.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I have to try. I need to find out whether or not his men succeeded. If they are captured, then I at least can know where they are being kept.”
“Mistress, how will you get there without a horse? It will be too far to run!”
Isabelle’s heart sank. She hadn’t thought about that in her haste. “You are right. Perhaps I can steal one of the horses from here? Just for the evening?”
Arya’s mouth became a sharp line. “No, Mistress. I am sorry to respond so, but I am concerned for your safety. I beg you not to take such a risk. If you are caught, then Lord knows what the men will do to you.”
Isabelle tapped a fingertip to her mouth. “Do not worry, Arya. I will think of something. We cannot send those men off to their deaths, not if I can do something to help them.”
Arya nodded, satisfied for the moment. “By the way, Mistress, what happened yesterday evening? You mentioned something that filled your mind so much you could not sleep?”
Isabelle grinned. “I do not know if I should share with you, since I am Mistress and you are my lady’s maid.”
Arya crossed her arms. “I sometimes wish I could play the role of only a lady’s maid and brush your hair and help you to dress with none of these dangerous missions.”
Isabelle laughed and looked up into the blue sky, thinking back to yesterday. “It was a surprise, but you remember when he took me off into the woods away from the crowd to discuss something.”
“Yes, I remember. The men kept laughing amongst themselves. I was worried at first, but I had faith you could handle him on your own. And he did not look like such a man to do anything untoward.”
“Besides the willingness to kidnap, of course.” Isabelle kept smiling, the feelings from yesterday’s kiss renewed in her. “He wanted to test me to see if I was a true victim or if my father had sent us to be caught. He was confused about why both you and I were not afraid of our capture. He was also concerned about the lack of the boy’s appearance at the stables.”
“And what did you tell him?” Isabelle could tell by Arya’s strained voice, that she was nervous.
“Do not be concerned, my friend. I told him that I was not a trap and that I knew nothing of the boy’s plans. I said the boy was with my father as he should be during the riot.”
Arya visibly relaxed. “Surely, that is not what kept you up all night?” Arya’s eyebrow lifted in a query.
Isabelle blushed a little. “Most certainly not. One moment we were arguing, if that is what you could call it, and then the next minute, he grabbed me and kissed me.”
Arya’s hand fluttered to her lips. “Mistress! Are you all right? I know that you have never been kissed before. Did he hurt you?”
Isabelle playfully pushed away Arya’s hand. “Arya, it was not like that. I kissed him back.”
Arya watched her for a moment and then burst into laughter. “Well, this little plan of yours is going much better than expected, do you not think?” Isabelle sighed and looked up at the sky again, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her face.
“Yes. That I do. But now, with the scouts out in danger, I am not so certain.”
Isabelle quieted and allowed her mind to wander as she stared off towards Eamon and the men. He had joined in the fighting as well, and now she could see how his strong body moved and swayed, hitting and ducking at the right times. She was very used to seeing men with their weaponry, parading their skills about like prize hogs, but this was different.
His movements were rough, and she could tell that he had fought many a battle, but he had never been officially educated in the ways of fighting like the English soldiers. Sean was slightly better than Eamon as they jumped and swung at each other, but his movements were the same, unrefined, wild. It was to be expected, she supposed, for a Highlander, so far from the constraining refinements of London.
Isabelle thought back to the last time she had been home in England. It had been many months now, and her father never spoke of when they would be returning. She enjoyed the comforts of her home and her friends, but living out here in the wilds made her heart sing. Even when she was with her father, the rough nature of Scotland was far more appealing to her than the busyness of London. Here, she could wake up each morning with a lungful of clean, cool, fresh air just off the hills. She could let her eyes stare out as far as she could see to the lovely green mountains and beyond.
In Scotland, she felt free to hope that her dreams could come true. In some ways, her hopes for Scotland mirrored that of her own, and that was why she desired to fight against her father for their sake. Both she and Scotland desired to be free of tyranny and to live their lives as they so wished. As she watched Eamon fight and allowed herself to think of that goal becoming realized, a large ache filled her body, she almost doubled over from the surprise of it. Now that she was with Eamon, albeit his captive, she felt that she was moving ever nearer to what she wanted.
If she could but make the right choices, she had a good feeling that everything would work out. An idea flashed in her mind. It would take some doing, but she was confident she would be able to convince him. She glanced at Arya and smiled. “Arya, I have an idea.” Arya groaned as Isabelle whispered into her ear.
* * *
Later in the day, while Eamon was on watch around the camp in the waning sunlight, he thought about Gareth and Donovan. His mind would often flash to the worst scene he could imagine, and he thought about the two of them dead, with a grinning Cutler standing over them. He tried to push it away as quickly as it had come into his mind. That would do nothing to help them or help his mind to think of new solutions if the worst did happen. His whole plan hinged on their success tonight.
His boots crunched over the hard grasses surrounding their camp. It was cold, but with each passing day, the coldness of winter was slowly creeping out of the winds, and for that, he was grateful. He thought briefly of the comfort of Isabelle and her lady’s maid, for surely they were used to better sleeping arrangements than laying one’s back on the cold, hard ground.
&nb
sp; He chided himself once more. He swore an oath right then and there that he would never kidnap a woman again for as long as he lived. It was driving him mad by how it filled his mind with other things when it should be focused on more important matters. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Isabelle’s quiet approach until she tapped him lightly on the arm. He jolted around, pulling his sword from its sheath and pointing it towards Isabelle, who jumped back in fright.
Eamon’s eyes widened, and he said, “Bloody Hell, lass. Do ye mean tae kill a man with fright?” He replaced his sword with an angry push.
Isabelle was breathing hard. Eamon could see a patch of dirt on her cheek, and he nearly reached out to brush it off but restrained himself. Breathily, Isabelle said, “I am sorry. I just assumed you would have heard my footsteps behind you. I was not attempting to sneak up on you.”
He grunted. It was true. If he had not been so lost in the path of his own useless thoughts, then he would have heard her. “What is that ye want, Isabelle?”
He kept walking, and Isabelle matched his pace. He was thrilled that she wanted to speak with him, but he was annoyed at his own excitement and bemoaned his innumerable weaknesses, the list growing with each passing day.
“I have something to request of you. I know it is rather unconventional, but I thought you would be interested in a plan of mine.”
“Is this another suggestion for how to appropriately carry off a kidnapping?”
Isabelle shook her head. “Just give me one moment to explain, and then the decision is yours.” She put her hands on her hips, and they stopped their forward motion, facing each other.
Eamon squinted his eyes at her. “So deferential of ye, lass. I see. Ye’ve intrigued me. What is it that ye plan tae do?”
Eamon was suspicious but was entertained by Isabelle’s growing excitement. Her cheeks reddened, and her eyes were bright as she began to speak of her plan. “Tonight, I think we should ride towards my father to see where he is camping. We can ask in the village. Then, we will also find out the whereabouts of your scouts.”
Eamon was surprised, but not very surprised. “We? Ye mean tae ride with me?”
“Of course. I would know the plans of my father better than you, and I would be able to recognize any of his men if we happened to spot any along the way.”
Eamon sighed, feeling frustrated at her skilled ability to create better plans. “Well then, what was the point of me sending men out this morning if I am tae simply run after them?”
“You need both sets of scouts. No one would expect a second set of people riding out to see where my father lies. One set of scouts goes for the information. The next set is able to return messages back to the group if something happens to the first set.” Eamon was enthralled by the shape and movement of Isabelle’s mouth as she spoke.
“You have really put a lot of thought into this, lass.” Eamon moved a hand over his chin and felt the stubble growing there. He was suddenly self-conscious in front of this bonny woman. She was beautiful, intelligent, and he was still floundering, wondering what to do next.
“I have. What say you?”
“Yer plan is sound, but why should I bring ye with me? That seems odd behavior for a captor tae bring his captive close tae where she wishes tae be returned tae.”
Isabelle straightened. “If you must know, I have no wish to be returned there. Once this is all over, you can return me there if you so wish, but I will attempt to escape another way.” Eamon was taken aback. He watched the angry lines of Isabelle’s body.
She continued. “I have no love for my father. Desire for his approval, of course, but it was more like a fear that controlled our relationship. I wish to be free of his tyranny, just as you also wish to be free of England’s hold.” Eamon’s heart softened. He knew that many women were not so lucky as those such as Rose, who led her own people and did not have to answer to anyone.
This fiery, beautiful, intelligent woman was being trapped by having Lord Cutler for a father, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. He had been on his own for so long, and he understood the true beauty of independence, no matter the price he had paid for it. He wasn’t sure if going with her tonight was a good idea, but she was right. She had thought about it, and if Gareth and Donovan were captured and or killed, then he would have no way of knowing where they were unless he rode out tonight.
Eamon looked into Isabelle’s eyes. They shone brightly with her passion, but there was something else he noticed. She was telling the truth.
He smiled and said. “Aye, lass, let us ride out taegether.” At his statement, Isabelle gasped with delight and jumped forward into his arms.
Chapter Twelve
Cutler was now warm with wine, and despite the cold habitation of the broken castle, he felt far more comfortable than in their last camp. He opened another bottle and sat down by the roaring fire to enjoy himself. He had spent too long in fury and rage, and he was weary. It was dark now, yet Norring had not returned with any news. He drank and let his foggy mind wander to thoughts of Isabelle. The last time he remembered seeing her was next to him as he was speaking to the idiot villagers that surrounded him.
Then those voices, those blasted voices, had begun to call out against him. How dare they? He seethed with anger at the memory. He had never thought of himself weak or useless, quite the opposite, but this event had shattered his confidence. He needed to think of a plan much more bloodthirsty than what he had thought originally.
Where could Isabelle have gone? The loss of his daughter only fueled his drunken anger. He had had such high hopes for his daughter, and she had been changing, more open to learning from him, but now she was gone. If she was dead, then all hope was lost at his having an heir. If she was alive but had left of her own accord, then he would have to punish her. And that punishment might include death if she had done anything treasonous.
Norring burst into the room so quickly that Cutler nearly lost his grip on the bottle. “Sir! Lord Cutler. There is news.”
Cutler stood and said, “Go on. What have you to tell me? It certainly took you long enough to return.”
Just then, Norring called out towards the doorway, and his two selected men dragged in another two, their faces bloody and their arms bound. They wore kilts and swords at their sides. Cutler scrunched up his face in annoyance. “What good are these men? There were more than two at Drumnadrochit. We will go back and find our vengeance as a whole. And where is my daughter?” He was growing impatient. His hand clenched into a fist. He was ready to hurt someone.
Norring continued, “No, sir, you do not understand. These two men are from The Scots. And they know where yer daughter is.”
Cutler paused a moment, and then his face folded into a wide grin. “Well, that is good news, Norring. Very good news.” He laughed, all thoughts of feeling weak and useless gone from his mind. I know just what to do with them.
* * *
Eamon sat by the fire in the darkness, the meal ended and the men lying about in various states of slumber, their bellies full of whisky. Isabelle and Arya were nearby, silent as they stared into the flames. He knew what was on everyone’s minds. They waited for news of the scouts, even though Eamon had given them until dawn. He had to, or else everyone would have waited all night, for fear of the men not returning. He knew that Sean would be worried most of all.
Every so often, Eamon’s gaze would slide up to Isabelle’s face, and each time he did so, she was watching him. Once he got caught in her gaze, his confusion would resurface. It was like she was putting a spell on him, and her expression was unreadable. There was a moment between them when she had thrust herself into his arms only a few hours before, and his heart had swelled with desire.
But to his surprise, it had not been simply a desire to sate his body, but it was a deep yearning to be loved and wanted. Isabelle’s embrace brought things up in him. He had not felt for a long while. His mind flashed to Sean and Rose when he had seen their touching encoun
ter before they had to leave. Eamon had given up all hope of ever finding a woman who he could love and who would love him as much as Sean and Rose loved one another, but that encounter with Isabelle had given him hope.
His desire frightened him, and he feared that she could see it or feel it. He pushed her away, not rudely, but brusquely, and she had blushed, saying, “Oh, forgive me. I can get rather carried away with excitement. I am very glad you will allow me to join you.”
He had spied Sean watching the two of them together, so they had quickly made plans to meet by the horses once the meal was over. Now Eamon sat with uncertainly pressing in on him. He had yet to tell Sean, and he dreaded the scene.
Taken by her Highland Enemy: He was running from his past; she was fighting for her future... Page 10