Taken by her Highland Enemy: He was running from his past; she was fighting for her future...

by Kendrick, Kenna

  Her eye was on the blade as it heated in the blaze. In a few more moments, it would be ready. “Sean, help me! Hold him steady.” Sean nodded, and he leaned on Eamon’s shoulder, gripping onto his brother tightly. The other men were sitting nearby, watching with grim faces. The other men still back at the fort battling the flames, and the soldiers battling against her father’s men might die, but she could not let Eamon die.

  This was her last chance to prove to him that he meant everything in the world to her and that her betrayal was not meant to hurt him. There was a slight chance that he would never want to speak to her again, even after he survived, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he would remain alive. That was enough if she could have nothing else. She pulled out the blade slowly from the fire, feeling a strong heat emanate from its blackened tip.

  Sean moved aside the clothing that was beginning to stick to the deep wound, and after taking a breath and lining it up, she placed the blade along the gash and heard the searing of skin melting against heated metal. In a moment, Eamon was awake, groaning loudly. Dirk and Errol rushed to his side to cover his mouth.

  Isabelle pressed the blade against the wound for a little longer, gritting her teeth at having to listen to Eamon’s pain, but then it was done. The searing had stopped, and she dropped the blade away to the side, looking at her handiwork. The wound was pink and angry but sealed. She grinned at Sean. “It is done. It looks perfect. All we need is a bandage if we can find it.”

  She turned to Eamon, who had sweat on his brow, and he was huffing and puffing with the pain, his eyes closed. She wasn’t sure if he was totally awake until he grunted out, “What in the Bloody Hell was that, lass? What are ye doing?”

  Sean chuckled. “On the brink of death, and yer still a bastard. Ye had better speak nicely, lad. This woman just saved yer life. Ye almost bled all over the Scottish countryside and got yerself killed.”

  Eamon laid his head back down, continuing to groan loudly, breathing through his clenched teeth, and Isabelle allowed herself a smile. He was talking, and he was angry, but at least he was talking to her, and he was alive. He kept breathing heavily, and Isabelle stood to search for something nearby that could serve as an effective bandage. Eamon said, “And where are the men?”

  “Have ye forgotten so soon? Ye wanted tae leave them behind, but we came across Cutler in the woods, leaving his men tae perish in the flames while he made his escape.”

  “Ah, aye, I remember that now, but he is dead, is he nae? I saw him get an arrow through the back.”

  The men chuckled. “Aye, he is as dead as they come, and did ye nae see who killed him? His own daughter, this Sassenach here, who has bloody good aim and a strong stomach to boot. She has saved us all.” Isabelle was focused on searching the men’s bags for a piece of clean clothing.

  “Och, I see,” Eamon said softly. Isabelle finally found a piece of gray cloth, seemingly clean, and she turned around to bring it to Eamon when she saw all of the men’s eyes on her, smiling in her direction. She blushed without being able to stop it.

  “So, we have ye tae thank for the death of yer father, I suppose?” Eamon said, struggling to get the words out as he sat up a little.

  “Well, it had to be done. I had the weapon at hand, and I had a shot, but there are still plenty of soldiers to be defeated in the castle.” Her voice was soft, and she timidly moved forward and motioned for Sean to help her wrap the cloth tightly around Eamon’s torso. His face was angry, but he did not fight her as she made a tight knot on his stomach.

  “So ye can use a bow,” he said softly.

  Isabelle smiled and then lifted her eyes to him, feeling that sweet tension of attraction build between them again. He was teasing her. “I told you that. Whether you believed me or not is a different story.”

  Eamon was about to reply with another angry answer when they all turned to the sound of hoofbeats heading in their direction and stopping suddenly, and then they heard the stamping of human feet. There were about five redcoats and a few of her father’s men standing in a line, weapons at the ready, with a bearded redcoat standing in the center, looking an awful lot like Lukas, battered, bruised, and furious.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  All of Cutler’s men looked disheveled, and some of them were even partially burned. That gave Eamon a little satisfaction even though he felt like his side was still burning. Bloody lass. Lukas tried to free himself from the grasp, but one of the soldiers held a dagger to his side, saying, “Now, which one of you started the fire, and which one of you deserve to die for it?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer when he said, “Hmm… I think we shall slay all of ye for what ye have done. The fort is in ruins, and many of the men are injured or dead, having perished in the flames.”

  Eamon felt bold. “Ah, I see. Well then, we were successful. I suppose ye’re a bit upset about what has happened, but believe me, we have done ye a favor.” He dared just so far, but he could see the soldier push the dagger a little further into Lukas’ neck, and he saw his friend tense. He was lucky that none of them were carrying any muskets or at least any loaded ones.

  Eamon could tell the soldier was interested in taunting. Just like Cutler, he probably enjoyed playing with his prey before eating it. Eamon glanced at Isabelle, looking stern, and for some reason, it strengthened him. If Isabelle had enough strength and courage to fight the way she had and to kill her own father, so that he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, he could too. He was still the leader of this band of men who had gone to fight for his brother’s release. He still had a point to prove to Sean.

  “Favor? What favor?” One of the other soldiers asked.

  “Well, it appears that yer fearless yet ruthless leader is dead. Ye may want tae pick up his body in the woods by the fort, in order tae return it tae the King.”

  The soldier holding onto Lukas gripped him tighter and stepped a little closer to Eamon. He could spy Sean and the others, slowly moving their hands to their swords. Eamon was glad for the fact that Highlanders were ever wary, but he hoped they would have enough sense not to strike until they could handle the situation.

  “Dead. You killed him, I bet? And he gave you that wound?” Eamon felt strong enough to stand, and he heaved slightly but was able to get to his feet to respond to the soldier.

  He felt a little lightheaded, but he was strong enough to say with a chuckle, “Nae, I didnae, actually, although it would have given me a lot of satisfaction.”

  “Then who did?”

  “A woman, actually. Yer leader was so bloody weak that it only took a woman from the village tae cut him down in his path as he tried tae escape. Tae leave the rest of ye lot tae die in yer fort.”

  Eamon glanced at Isabelle for a moment, feeling a strong urge to wink, but he resisted. He needed to remember how angry he was at her, but seeing her again had flooded him once more with feelings of love and affection and, unfortunately, desire. “You lie!” the soldier yelled. Eamon could tell he was losing control of the soldiers, he could feel the fury rising in the men as he taunted them. He prayed for a miracle. There would not be enough of them around the fire to defeat the group of soldiers, especially with himself injured and unable to lift his sword arm. He was searching his mind for solutions when out of the corner of his eye, he could see a group slowly sneaking up towards the camp behind the soldiers.

  There was no flash of red, and he could see the colors of various clans. His heart lightened. The men were here! They had survived! He cleared his throat, trying to make time until the soldiers were attacked. “I know ye may nae want tae believe the word of a Scotsman, but this time I am telling the truth, and ye may want tae collect his body before its removed by animals or body hunters.”

  The head soldier was about to retort when they were attacked from behind. A few of the soldiers were stabbed and fell to the ground, but there were still a few left behind who turned in time and began to fight back against the group of Scottish men with whatever they
had available. Since there was no time to prepare the empty muskets, some attempted to grab them from their saddles and use their bayonets or bare fists to fight back, but the number of The Scots was too much.

  Once the first soldier was attacked, Lukas lunged forward towards Eamon to escape the range of The Scots’ knives, in case they didn’t recognize him because of the red coat. But as soon as he got there, he ripped it off, ready to join the fight. Sean, Donovan, Dirk, and Errol lunged forward too with battle cries in their throats, punching, stabbing, doing anything that would cease the fight and finish what they began.

  Eamon watched and wished he could do his part, but he’d had to kneel on the floor again, a searing pain moving through his torso. He felt light hands on his shoulder, and he knew it was Isabelle by his side, even though she said nothing. She was here again. He had saved her. His hand was itching to touch hers, but instead, he clenched his fist. He could not let a woman confuse him and betray him again. The pain was far too deep, and he couldn’t bear it any longer.

  In a matter of moments, while he only sat and watched, the soldiers were on the run, clutching their hands to their sides or their heads, or even lying unconscious or dead by their campsite. Some tried to ride the horses back, galloping towards their crumbling fort.

  Eamon burst into hearty laughter when he saw the satisfied faces of the Scots as they approached him. “Took ye long enough, lads. We were about tae become skewered intae the ground.” He tried to stand again, and Sean lifted an elbow to help him.

  “Ye should rest, brother.”

  “Aye, so I should, but nae until I thank ye all for what ye have done.” He spotted Lukas and went over to him, gripping his shoulder in his hand. “Friend, brother, ye have done well. Ye saved these three from execution.”

  “Thank you, Lukas. I cannot thank you enough for saving me, us. You have given us another chance.” She looked at Sean and Donovan, who smiled back at her in reply.”

  “Aye, we agree with the lass, even if she is a Sassenach,” Sean said, his face breaking out into a wide smile. The rest of the men and women laughed heartily and began to pack up their remaining belongings, ready to move camp.

  Sean said loudly, “So I know that we ought tae move away from here since bodies lie in our midst, but I have tae say, I think we prisoners need a little food.”

  Everyone laughed once again, their hearts light, hopeful for the coming of a new day that didn’t leave blood on their hands.

  * * *

  The party had traveled a few miles away to a new patch of forest with the river on their side, just to keep the fort in view. Even hours afterward, smoke from the fort still curled up into the sky, and Isabelle could see how the stone had blackened in large patches over the fortress. She tried to keep her mind from her father’s still form, which lay alone in the woods, and she knew that one day, she might be called to pay for her crime, but today was not that day. Today was to celebrate freedom and success.

  Even though she and Eamon had not yet spoken about all that had happened between them, the attitude was merry around the large fire as the group partook in a hearty meal of fresh venison and rabbit, heated perfectly over the flames. There had been much laughter, and Isabelle finally felt that she had found a place she could belong to. She had laughed along and been amazed at the stories of the battle in the castle against the soldiers and escape from the fire. The flames had been so distracting to the redcoats, that they didn’t have the time or energy to fight back as they would have.

  Instead, they were reduced to fighting with swords and fists, since they were caught unawares. Isabelle said, “Lukas, I knew something was off when I spotted you calling out about the fire, even though I did not recognize you at first. Where did you go when you jumped over the wall?”

  He laughed. “I saw a way tae get intae the window below, and I thought that would be better than getting caught up high when the fires were burning the foundation of the building. God was on my side. I was able tae meet up with a few of the other men, and we fought our way tae escape, except that since I was still wearing the redcoat, and was strangely bearded, I was the only one of the group who got caught.

  But nothing ye lot couldnae handle. That I knew!” The Scots cheered. “Unfortunately, we didnae have time tae get any of the wealth I had heard tales about before I got myself intae this mess.” He looked at Eamon with a scowl for a moment before laughing.

  Eamon did as well. “I said we could only grab it if we had the time, but I suppose we didnae count on the fire working as fast as it did. I do apologize for yer lack of reward, lads.”

  “Who says we havenae been rewarded?” Lukas stood, a comical smile on his face. “I have been able tae dress as a toffish English soldier, been beaten, bruised, and captured. I got tae see Englishmen get their comeuppance, and…” He pulled a large bottle out from behind the wooden stump he was sitting on. “I have been the lucky finder of this lovely bottle of whisky. What say ye?”

  The whole crowd burst into cheers and laughter, no longer concerned about what noise they made in the darkness. As the evening grew, and each person became merrier through whatever alcohol they had left to share amongst each other, Isabelle found her way towards Eamon, who was sitting a little apart from the merrymakers, his eyes on the fire, his expression a little strained.

  She sat down next to him, but not too close, afraid she might see him recoil away from her proximity. “Eamon, where is Arya?” she asked gently.

  For the first time since the excitement of her rescue and freedom, Isabelle thought about her dear friend and lady’s maid. Eamon kept his eyes on the fire and said, “She is safe. I have left her with Rose in the village.”

  “Rose?”

  “Sean’s wife. She will be safe there, and she can decide what tae do next once we return.”

  Isabelle relaxed. “Thank you, Eamon. It means a lot to me that you have saved my friend. I am glad she was not in the party to charge the fort. She would have also been on the execution block as well.”

  He nodded and began tracing lines in the dirt with a stick that had been lying near his feet. “Arya asked that I rescue ye. She told me that ye most likely didnae want tae stay with yer father and that if ye wanted tae go, I must take ye with me.”

  “Ah, I see.” Isabelle’s heart fluttered with hope. Eamon was talking to her and edging closer to the matters they needed to discuss. I must tread carefully, or else he will pull away once more.

  “Then, I am doubly grateful to her. She knows me well. She knew that I did not want to leave and that I only went with my father to try to save the MacManus clan from the fire he was going to create. I know him. He would not have stopped until the whole place was burnt to the ground, even if he could not get inside those walls.” Her voice was still tinged with anger, but her last words died out, and she looked down, afraid to catch his gaze.

  After a pause, Eamon said, “Aye, she told me that as well, but I couldnae believe her.” He sighed long and deep. “How could ye nae tell me about yer disguise as the spy, lass? It would have been simple enough, and yet ye chose tae keep it from me, even after we—” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Isabelle knew of what he spoke.

  “I know, and I can only say how sorry I am. I kept it from you because I feared that you would send me back to my father, thinking that I was in league with him when it was really I who had created everything. I wanted to be kidnapped. I wanted to be with you.”

  He furrowed his brow and took his first glance in her direction. Isabelle was lost in his dark eyes as they sparkled in the firelight. “What do ye mean?”

  She blushed. “Since I have met you and began to give you information about my father, I have wanted you. You were everything I knew to be right about a man: courageous, strong, powerful, confident, and loyal. I spent many nights dreaming of the next time that I would meet you.”

  Isabelle could tell Eamon was surprised by the way his lips parted slightly. “But ye did want the Scots tae have freedom? Or was
that a lie?”

  Isabelle shook her head, wishing that Eamon would get over his anger and fall into her arms. He knew that she loved him. She had basically just admitted it then, but he was too pigheaded to realize it. “No, Eamon. It was not a lie. The only lies I ever told you were about being the spy and who planned the kidnapping. That was it. I wish you could believe me. I wish you could believe that I—”

  He stood with some effort, looking angry again. “I dinnae ken…” He trailed off and shook his head before walking towards the forest, away from the laughter and shouts of the group around the fire and the cluster of tents. Isabelle had a flash of anger, and she chased after him. After all that had happened, there was no way she would let him get away with his continued grudge. She was going to do something about it.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  When he got to the edge of the forest, she pulled on his arm and spun him around to face her. He winced, and she pulled back. “I am sorry to have hurt you, but I need you to listen to me. I have loved you ever since we met, and I hate that I left the way that I did, but I did it for you, you bloody idiot!” Her anger was reaching a peak, and she could feel her cheeks heat as the blood rushed to her head. “I was on the brink of death by the hand of my own father, but my thoughts were filled with you. I wanted you to come and rescue me, and I hated the fact that I would not have been able to have the life I wanted to have with you!”