Smugly, Cutler said, “Have ye naething tae say about the other members of The Scots? Ye know I have heard that the leader of The Scots happens tae be yer wife. Is that so?”
Sean was silent, and Isabelle could see that his mouth had turned into a grim line. “It is nae true. I have naething tae do with The Scots anymore.”
Cutler trailed his finger along the iron bars. “Do you not believe that I could make you tell me the truth? The man next to you knows to what extent I will go to get what I desire.”
Sean turned slightly toward a silent Donovan. “I will tell ye naething because I have nae information that ye wish tae hear. Do with me what ye will. I am the one who is at fault for the death of the King’s nephew. It is I ye wish to kill.”
Cutler looked like a spoiled child, not getting the treat that he thought he deserved. But then his expression turned into a wide smile. “Have it your way, Highlander. You know, I prefer executions much more so than torture. Torture is well enough, but with executions, you can really add a dramatic flair to someone’s final moments. It makes it all worth it.” He chuckled into the darkness of the cell, and Isabelle wanted to wretch at the way her father had truly become a devil. Had he always been so? If he had, how could she have ever spent any time desiring the good opinion of this man?
Her father walked away into the gloom, pausing at the stairwell before ascending into the light of the Fort. “You know, Wanderer, even after your death, I will comb this rugged land with my men until I find the rest of The Scots. I have a feeling they are not far away. Do not think you save them by your death. You only cross one more number off my list.”
He was about to turn away when Isabelle stood and clung to the bars, feeling woozy with the effort, but strengthened by a fire in her heart. “Who are you, father? Who have you become? I thought there was hope for you, but it is now gone. What has someone done to make you such a devil that you would torture and kill at will, searching for innocents, and even put your own daughter in a dungeon?” Her voice sounded strong, but she felt a shuddering in her ribs as she tried to contain her tears.
Had she done something truly heinous in this life to deserve him for a father? There was nothing on his face that showed her words had struck at his heart. She knew it was a fruitless attempt to dig deeper into his soul, but she was clawing only against a heart of stone. He smirked. “Isabelle, I thought I had taught you better than this. There is nothing stronger than honor, pride, and the glory of one’s country. Nothing is more important. The King knows what kind of man I am, and that is why he has sent me to do this work. I will do anything for the sake of my country. What kind of man would I be if I protected my daughter, a woman who foolishly turned to the aid of these Highlanders and thus acted in treason against her own country?” He spat at the ground, and Isabelle followed her eyes to the ground as well, having nothing more to say.
She sank back. He gave her one more angry glance, and then quickly ascended the stairs, leaving the three prisoners in darkness and silence.
* * *
With the new information from Arya, Eamon and his men rode hard through the dark trees towards The Scots’ village. He had no other choice but to get their help and then ride to the fort as soon as they could gather their horses. They would not be able to rest, for Isabelle and her father were hours ahead of them and could arrive at any time.
It seemed that in a few short moments, they crested the hill into the small, nondescript village as a few streaks of dawn were covering the horizon stretching out into the height of the sky. As they slowed in approach, they were accosted by five soldiers, their bows pointed towards them. Eamon kept his hands up and called to them, “Scots, it is I, Eamon, Sean’s brother.” One of them faltered for a moment before laying the bows down as he got a look at Eamon’s face.
“Eamon, what are ye doing here, lad?” He began to smile with joy. “Ye must have defeated the bastard then! That Cutler!” As he looked at the small party, he said with confusion, “But there are so few of ye. So few have returned from victory? Where is Donovan and Sean and Gareth?”
Eamon sighed, dreading the news, but he had no time to waste. “Call the other Scots, my friend. Sean has been captured by Cutler, and we need to make haste to the fort to avoid his execution. I will tell Rose myself.” The man nodded grimly and hurried off, calling to the other members in the village to get their things and get on their horses.
He rushed to Sean’s doorway, and took a pause, dreading to step inside to give Rose his news. When he knocked, Rose pulled open the doorway. At first, she was smiling. “Ye have returned! But then, as she saw that Sean was nowhere in sight, she said, “What is it? Where is Sean?” What has happened?”
Eamon could see Rose began to tense, and the blood left her face. “Nae, lass. Calm yerself. I have nae too much time, but I come tae give ye the news. Sean has been captured by Cutler. Sean sacrificed himself tae the man so that he wouldnae come tae the village.”
“Idiot man!” Rose called, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks.
Eamon’s voice was gentle and slow. “We ride tae the Fort to find him and return him tae ye. I will die in the pursuit of this, sister. Ye can believe me.”
She watched him, and he feared her remonstrances would be bellowed into his face, but instead, she calmly said, “Thank ye. I only wish I could go myself and plunge a dagger intae that man’s flesh.”
Eamon smiled. “Aye, I wish ye could too. Let us hope that one of us is lucky enough tae get that chance.” He took hold of her hand and said, “I shall do my best for ye, for ye and yer new baby, soon tae be.”
Rose nodded, and one of her tears landed on his hand. “Thank ye, Eamon. Now ride on. The Fort is near two days away!”
“We will ride hard with nae stops so that we can be there in time tae save him.” He called Arya to his side, and once she was in front of Rose, he said, “May this woman stay with ye and give ye comfort. She is an Englishwoman. She is the lady’s maid to Cutler’s daughter.” Rose recoiled at his words, but he shook his head. “She is not against us, Rose, she is for our cause. She is kind and decent and does nae wish tae return tae Cutler’s service. May she stay here with ye, until we can find a place for her once we return from battle?”
Rose’s expression had smoothed, but she still looked warily at Arya. “Is this true, Sassenach?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is. I wish to be free of my former master, although I would like to be reunited with his daughter one day.” She glanced at Eamon. “Sir, if she is willing to ride with you, will you take her? Bring her here, and she and I can find a way together if you…” she trailed off unsure of what to say next. Eamon scowled but nodded.
“Aye. If she is willing tae come, then I shall see about her joining us.” Rose looked confused, but she said nothing.
She watched as Eamon left her side and got atop his horse again, waiting for the others to gather around him. They did not need much in the way of supplies, for they would not be camping, and they could rest once they were victorious at taverns on their way back. He saw fear in their eyes, but excitement as well. The excitement he could use.
“It is time now tae bring yer swords and bows, my friends, tae good use. I know that I am nae the clan leader, but I am here on her, and his, behalf, tae call ye intae action. We go tae free him from the hands of Lord Tiberius Cutler, who plans tae take his revenge upon my brother’s body as soon as he arrives at the Fort. We dinnae know which day that will be, so we will follow their trail as best we can. The ride will be hard, and we willnae be able to stop for long, if we are tae make it in time.” He needed them to feel what he felt in order to rouse their passion and ire against the injustice of it all.
“Will ye come? Will ye fight for yer leader, for the village, and the new life that ye have created?”
He looked around and waited for their replies. One by one, they lifted their weapons and said, “Aye!”
“This could be yer last battle my friends, if nae because ye have been
killed upon the battlefield, but that ye will have left violence and bloodshed behind as ye forge a new path of peace and family. Dinnae let this Englishman crush yer dream. If this is tae be yer last battle, then make it yer greatest and fight with everything in ye!” He cried the last words loudly, and the energy he suffused into his speech filled the hearts of the other as well, and they cried out in agreement.
“Come! We ride tae Fort William!” He led the way on Aine’s back, pointing her hooves downward towards the hill, which descended into the gloomy forest. He hated the heaviness of his heart underneath the trees’ dark forms, but it would take more than that to dim his determination.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Isabelle awoke but couldn’t be certain as the darkness inside the cell was near to the darkness of sleep. When she felt the movement of Donovan against her shoulder, she knew it was real, and the memory of where they were and what was going to happen made her stomach feel like it was filled with lead.
She didn’t know what to say to her companions in the gloom. What words were there to say? How does one calm others when they are on the eve of their death? How does one calm oneself? She had felt the nervousness of it all, her heart beating feverishly as she could feel the weight of her demise upon her, but now, after some hours of sleep, she felt a wave of calm come over her as if she was floating in the sea, feeling the waves surround her and hold her up.
It felt strange, almost like she was drugged with the fear of her loss of life. She had never expected it to end so soon. At least she had others to join her on this journey to the end. She heard the croak of Donovan’s voice next to her. “When is our execution? He didnae even say?”
Isabelle sighed. “I do not know. He does not say much. I think he will delay it for as long as he can until he can find a way to make the most dramatic show possible. That is what he desires, as he said.” Sean grumbled on the other side of the dungeon.
“And he enjoys us sitting here in the darkness wondering what it is like to die. I wonder if he has ever questioned it himself.”
What an interesting thought. Had her father ever thought about death or feared it in any way? He certainly doled it out to others in large doses, but had he ever stopped to think what it all meant or how he would feel when he came to his end? She knew that he understood he would have to die one day, despite his harsh bravado because he had wanted her so desperately to take up his position upon his death and follow through with his legacy.
Sean suddenly spoke up, his voice surprisingly light, “Isabelle, if I may call ye that, lass, I didnae thank ye for what ye did.”
She scoffed, wondering what he could possibly mean. “Thank me? For what?”
“Ye put up the flyers around the country, asking for a rebellion. Ye tried tae bring us tae victory against injustice. Ye dressed as a man and put yerself intae dangerous situations, in order tae do us some good. I must thank ye. It is nae every day that someone would do something like that, especially when it is nae even for their people or their country.”
Isabelle felt tears brimming at her eyes. She never expected this, to be given gratitude for the small acts that she’d endeavored and ultimately failed to complete. “Well, you are most welcome, Sean. I could not let my father plunder and kill forever. I needed to find a way to stop him.” She laughed morbidly. “I was not successful, as we can see.”
The other two men laughed as well, and the small group of prisoners was lightened for a moment, grateful for the brief respite from the heaviness of their impending doom. “I always suspected ye, though. I never trusted that ye were a spy. There was something off about ye, both the spy and yerself as a woman.”
“Perhaps, if I survive this, I should never resort to costumes again. I was not very successful. But I convinced yer brother, at least.”
Sean said, “Aye, well once ye were a woman, I think ye could have convinced him of nearly anything. He was as besotted as a young boy.”
Isabelle smiled, even though it pained her to think of it. “Tell me of your wife, Sean. And Donovan, have you a wife?”
Donovan replied, “Nae, but I was thinking of someone, although it is madness that I should have even considered her.”
Isabelle’s heart began to race with excitement. She wanted to clutch at anything that would tear her mind from her father’s plans. “Who is it?”
He squirmed a little, but she couldn’t see his expression very well in the dark. “Well, I suppose I must have fallen under the same spell as Eamon, for I have thought of yer lady’s maid, Arya since I left the group and was captured. She is a lovely lass. Kind, gentle, beautiful.”
Isabelle wanted to squeal with delight. Even if Arya could not have Donovan, she was still justified in her affection for him. How wonderful she would feel if she could only be told of his interest. “Well, she is a fine woman, indeed. Despite her status and relationship with my family, I consider her a true friend. She has seen me through many dangers. And, if it lightens your heart in this dark time, you should know that she has mentioned you to me as well, as someone that had turned her head.”
Donovan sighed with contentment but said no more. Sean began, “Rose waits for me in the village, with our child in her belly. I swore tae protect her, and so I shall. I hope she knows that she will have tae find a way tae run away from Cutler once we are dead. He knows of the village, and he will try tae go there, I am sure of it. He will have tae check his tracks and his information.”
“What is she like?” Isabelle’s voice had turned to a low, pleasured sound, almost dreamy as she imagined the feeling of being with someone she loved. Sean’s voice took on a similar dreamy tone as he spoke of his love.
“She is a fiery woman, quick to temper, and willing tae fight as ferociously as a wolf for what she wants. But there is a kindness and sweetness about her that makes her a good leader and a wonderful wife. She will be a good mother.” He laughed to himself for a moment, lost in memories. “I would have liked tae see her once more, though, before I am lost tae her.”
Isabelle nodded, feeling that familiar clench of tears in her chest. “I wish that you could too.”
She let her mind wander to thoughts of Eamon. If it had all been different, perhaps she could have been just like Sean’s wife, a fighter, a leader, in love with a wonderful man who loved her back. Even though her luxurious life in London would have been over, she would have been happy. She knew that for certain. But it hurt too much to think about Eamon and what could have been. It was better to talk about happy memories.
After a long silence, Sean said, “All will be well, lass. Our journey ends here, but we will find rest.”
She thought she was empty of them, but a tear made its way down her cheek.
* * *
Eamon rode with the stars as his guide. They had ridden all day and were now nearing the loch and the passage across the river. They were nearly halfway done with their journey. He looked up into the night sky, sending through silent prayers. God Almighty, save my brother from this fate. Let me get to him in time, so that I can return him to his family. I need to make recompense for the past. I am not afraid now. Help him, God.
His head returned to the road ahead, but something niggled at his heart and mind. Save Isabelle too. Keep her safe. Despite everything, the truth that had emerged, he still loved her if she was the Isabelle she had shown him. Even though she’d lied, if she truly acted like herself, then his love was fixed upon her. It could not waver. He wanted to laugh bitterly at how he’d ended up.
He had desired for so long to find a love like Isabelle and to find someone to carry his heart, and now that he had it, he was in pain. He felt like he was being punished for his desire. The sound of horses and breathing surrounded him in the cold darkness, and his mind was focused ahead, willing the Fort to come into view. The air chilled with the nearness of the water, and once he arrived at its edge, he thought of Isabelle as he saw the moonlight streaking its white rays across the surface. She loved the loch. She loved this
land. Perhaps Arya was right, and Isabelle was genuine about wanting to leave her father and remain here.
He couldn’t think of that now; he had to ride on. His fingers were blistering as he held tightly to the reins, and he knew Aine was tiring, but they couldn’t stop. Not yet.
* * *
Cutler sat by his roaring hearth, his eyes stuck on the orange of the flames. He did not sleep. It had been almost a day since he’d brought his prisoners to the Fort, and they laid in the belly of the stone structure, awaiting his judgment. He was drunk again, wanting to revel in the time he let them wait. He was certain that their minds were filled with fears of death and the horror of what was to come.
At least for Isabelle, he would work hard to make it a quick end. He felt no remorse in her death, yet there was no reason for her to suffer more than was necessary. Despite having to execute his own daughter, Cutler knew it was necessary to keep him in power and to help the country. If the country swelled into dissent because of his daughter’s doing, then she had to die for her treason. However, it did nothing to quell his disappointment at her acts. He had no one now to take over after he was gone. He hoped that the blood connection meant that there was a power and strength in his daughter that she would be able to continue his work.
Taken by her Highland Enemy: He was running from his past; she was fighting for her future... Page 18