He stared down at her. She didn’t notice the slight smile that began to turn up the corners of his mouth. “Then, you rescue us, and you get stabbed by my father. I kill my own father with you in my mind, and I save your life! I was the one to press the blade to your wound so that you did not bleed to death, and yet you continue to treat me with disdain! I am sorry. I am terribly sorry about what has happened. I care nothing for England or my life there. I want to live here forever, but if you do not want that, or if you still cannot bring yourself to care for me or to forgive me, then I shall not force you!” Her loud voice felt like it echoed against the tree trunks and was replaced by the sound of her breath as she tried to regain her balance after releasing her rage.
She was almost dizzy with how hard she had yelled and how much emotion she had put into her words. Never before had she been so honest, so open with her thoughts and feelings, letting herself appear so exposed. Her father would never have approved of such “weak” behavior.
“Are ye finished now, lass?” Eamon said, and Isabelle was annoyed by the smile he wore that was growing wider with each moment.
“I suppose I am, but I could say more if I need to—” her words were cut off as she felt Eamon’s lips close over her own, and she tensed with surprise as Eamon’s hands slid around her waist, pulling her close to him.
Tears of happiness began to well in her eyes, and Isabelle wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her lips to Eamon’s, finally feeling at home again in his passionate kiss. The taste of him was so familiar and so sweet, she melted into him, forgetting that they were in the forest far from home, and not lost in the wonder of each other’s bodies back in a solitary tavern room with a steaming bath nearby.
Suddenly, Eamon pulled back abruptly, wincing. She glanced down and saw her hand on his wound. “Oh, I am sorry. How does it feel?”
He grinned. “Like I have been stabbed and then burned with a hot metal sword by a mad Sassenach.”
Isabelle laughed. “This madwoman sounds quite brilliant. At least your attitude is strong enough. Perhaps that could use a little adjustment.”
Eamon laughed loudly, and the sound made Isabelle’s heart glad. All the anger was behind them. Now she and Eamon could be together. “Will ye come with me, lass? Come tae my tent this evening.”
“So I shall, but I am afraid, but I could do with a bit of water to wash with. Let me go to the river for a moment while it is still light out.”
“Fine, but I shall watch you to make sure that no one is about.”
Isabelle laughed and pushed his chest away. “No, you shall do nothing of the kind! The river is close enough to the camp if there is something I need. I do not wish you to see just how dirty I am after days in a dungeon. Go to the tent! I will be there soon.”
“All right. I will see you soon, but if you do not return quickly, then I shall come and search for you myself, dirty or not.” He winked, and Isabelle laughed again before hurrying to the water’s edge. There was still a little daylight left, and as she stripped off her clothes and stepped into its depths, she felt the wonderful icy plunge of the cool water rushing over her skin.
She scrubbed furiously, wanting her body to be just as desirable as it was on that day in the tavern. She was embarrassed by the dust and grime that had created a thick layer on her skin. It did not take long to wash, and once she emerged from the water, she felt like a new woman. She had no choice but to put on the same dirty clothes, but she thought with a smile, I shall not need them in a moment.
Making her way back towards the camp, she paused as she heard a rustle of leaves and the crunch of sticks behind her. She turned around in the dim light, expecting to see a curious animal nearby. Finding nothing, she turned back, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves before meeting Eamon again. She took another step, and then she felt a sweaty, thick hand clamp over her mouth, and a dagger pointing into her side.
* * *
Eamon waited in his tent, overjoyed at their reunion. He loved her, and he was worried about her own affection for him after all that had happened, but there she had been, yelling her love at him. He was happy to hear her full explanation, and she was absolutely right. He was a bastard and an idiot. He knew after talking to Arya and others that it was not her real motive to align with her father and go against the Scots.
He had known deep down, and yet he hadn’t been able to get over it. He wanted to punish her for the hurt and pain he felt by her betrayal. But as he sank onto the mat on the floor of the tent, he had a startling realization. He now understood what Sean had felt like all those years ago when Eamon had fled their clan lands, leading to the death of his father and his brother’s family.
He grinned. He had been fully punished, and now he could finally let go of all the guilt that held him back. But now that he had made up with Isabelle, he would have to go and speak to Sean, to see if they could be true brothers again, not only in blood but also in spirit and in action. Where was Isabelle? It had been far too long since he had seen her go toward the river. She had said that the washing would not take too long, but he lost track of time, as he was lost in his thoughts.
He stood, wincing slightly at a sharp pain in his side. He would have to do his best to look for her to make sure she did not get sidetracked by some of the others down by the fire. He wanted her all to himself tonight, and he wasn’t going to share his time with her tonight with anyone. When else would they have the time again while they rode back to Sean’s village the next morning?
He left the tent, a little nervous as he saw that it had darkened considerably since he’d seen her last. He turned towards the fire, but he didn’t see her there, so he plodded on towards the river and the thicker woods. It was getting far too hard to see, and he wished he’d brought a makeshift torch, but he spotted something moving close by and heard the crunch of leaves underfoot. “Isabelle? Bloody Hell, lass, what are ye doing? It has taken ye quite long enough tae do yer washing.”
He stepped forward, straining to see in the darkness, but Isabelle did not answer. There was a shaft of moonlight streaming down into the trees, and he could see her outline. “Isabelle, why do ye nae answer me?” His voice began to tremble a little, and he chided himself for not coming prepared with his dagger.
There again was no answer, and then he saw two forms shift forward into the path of cold moonlight. It was Isabelle, her eyes wide, with a hand over her mouth. He saw a dagger being pushed into her side, glinting in the light and behind her a tiny man with beady eyes. Instinctively, he stepped forward in order to fight, but the man called out. “Do not take another step, Scot, or else your beautiful Isabelle will receive a dagger to the side, just as you too have received. But this time, I will be sure to go deep enough, so that she cannot be saved.”
Eamon recognized the voice as the man with the keys in the dungeon. “What are ye doing here, lad? Should ye nae be with yer soldiers and yer men?”
“What men? What forces? The soldiers have fled to another fort along the water. Fort William is ruined, most of it burned, thanks to your efforts. I came all this way to get revenge. That will at least give me something to do that is for the greater good. This woman was meant to be executed after all.”
Isabelle wriggled, and Martin only clamped tighter. Eamon took a breath. He could feel the anger rushing over him, but he knew he was no match against this man with his wound still radiating waves of pain, even if the man was tinier than him. Eamon could see the angry desperation in the man’s eyes, and he feared he would do something rash and deadly. Even if Eamon was able to get his hands on him and kill him, he might lose Isabelle in the process. He could not risk that.
“What is it that ye want from me?”
“I want you to leave us in peace so that I can do what my leader would want me to do.”
“Yer leader is dead now. He was killed fleeing the fort away from everyone. He was going tae leave ye all tae die. There is nae reason ye need tae continue his work.”
M
artin sputtered, his fury causing him to spit. “I know that he is dead. I could see him being killed by this bitch’s arrow. That is how I knew about your wound.”
Eamon was intrigued, and he needed to keep Martin talking while he tried to think of a plan. “Why were ye there? Were ye running away as well?”
Martin growled. “I was not going to be left behind, not when I had spent so many years in service to that man. I had hoped he would let me inherit his title and legacy since his daughter was a useless wench. Now, he is gone, and I have nowhere else to go. I will get my revenge. She never appreciated her father’s power. She never wanted any of it.” Eamon could see Martin push the dagger a little deeper into Isabelle’s side.
Isabelle gasped. Eamon was frantic. How could he save her when she was again on the brink of death? He had done it once, he could do it again.
“I think ye shall regret this, lad. For yer death will come soon after if ye harm this woman.”
“What is my life anymore? I lived only to be of service to Cutler, and now that he is gone, I can only finish his work.”
“But what about the rest of The Scots? He wanted all of them to die, not just his daughter. The Wanderer yet lives, and I know where the rest of The Scots reside. If ye die taenight, then ye will nae be able tae complete his noble quest!”
Eamon’s plan was working. He could see Martin’s eyes moving from side to side, trying to think of a plan and a response. “Then, I shall free myself of both of you. There is no way you can fight with your wound, and I will be able to run far faster than you once I plunge the knife into Isabelle. Sit. I want you at a disadvantage, while I complete my noble task and run into the woods, away from you.”
“Ye will nae survive. The whole group of men behind me will search and find you and kill you before you barely take the first few steps. I shall call them into action.”
Martin looked furious. “Sit,” he said again, emphasizing the word strongly.
Eamon followed instructions, moving slowly. He had precious minutes to think of a plan. He stared into Isabelle’s eyes, wishing he could send her a message. Once he made it to the ground, he felt the soft earth underneath his hands, and then it came to him. Glancing at Isabelle, he turned his eyes to the side, hoping she could get his message.
Confused, Isabelle turned her eyes away, following the gaze of his own eyes. Then, in a flash, Eamon grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it towards Martin’s face, hoping to blind him in a quick moment, while he grabbed Isabelle. Martin cried out in pain, closing his eyes, and Eamon saw his chance.
He pulled Isabelle towards him, freeing her from Martin’s loosened grasp. His dagger fell to the ground as he groaned with pain. “My eyes! You bastard!” Before he could react, Isabelle knelt down to pick up the dagger, and blindly, Martin plunged forward, his small form crushing Isabelle to the ground.
Despite the rush of searing pain, Eamon tried to grab at Martin’s shoulders to pull him back, but before he could, Isabelle had sunk the dagger deep into Martin’s chest. There was a gasp of pain, and then a sigh as his form relaxed and lay heavily upon Isabelle. Eamon strained to pull the man off of her and throw him to the side. He helped Isabelle up.
“Like father, like daughter, I see.” He smirked. Isabelle was breathing fast, and she glanced at Martin to see if he was dead.
She yanked the dagger from his chest. “Dead. And good riddance to him.”
“Aye. We must leave his body be then and tell the rest of the group about him. We may wish to hide it in the forest.” Isabelle went to the river and washed her hands and the knife in the rushing water.
“I suppose I should carry this with me, always, in case of another ambush.”
“Ye know, I feel rather like a useless hero, unable tae rescue the woman I love.”
Isabelle took his hand in hers and pulled him away from Martin and towards their tent. “You have saved me! You threw the dirt in his eyes, an absolutely brilliant plan! And you are injured. You did very well for a man who has just been stabbed himself.”
They entered the tent, and before Eamon could reply, Isabelle wrapped her arms around him and kissed him slowly, deeply, passionately. She said, “Come, I have waited long enough for this. I was not going to let Martin get in the way.” Smiling, Eamon kissed her back, feeling his desire rise with a vengeance.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Isabelle was still trembling from just murdering a second man on the same day, and she was concerned that the thought did not bother her. However, she was now rid of the two most selfish and devious men in her life, the two that were keeping her trapped in a life she did not want and could not escape. It felt freeing to have the world be emptied of their power and influence.
Now, she was with Eamon, and she pushed him down onto the mat on the floor of the tent before unbuttoning the man’s shirt she was wearing and pulling off her trousers to reveal her soft, pale, and newly cleaned skin. “Lass, I have thought of little else but ye these last days. The way ye felt in my arms, it is imprinted in my memory.”
Isabelle leaned down with a smile and helped divest Eamon of his cloth shirt. “And I you.” She was feeling bold that day, ready to give herself to Eamon over and over. She wanted to think of nothing else, not even the future. All she wanted was to be in that moment and loving Eamon with her body. His kilted area lifted slightly, and she smiled. “I see that you desire me. I remember the feel of you inside me, and those thoughts filled my mind as I sat in the dungeon, cold and tired.”
Hastily, Eamon pulled off his kilt at a speed that made Isabelle laugh. “I know that I am new to this, but since you are injured, does it work if I sit on top?”
Eamon growled with desire, grabbing her towards him. “Come here, lass. I shall show you.” His member stood up tall and strong and putting her legs over him, Eamon took her small waist in his hands and lifted her over his thick hardness. Lining himself up at her entrance, he pushed her down onto his length.
Isabelle cried out and shuddered with the pure pleasure of a hot, slick Eamon sliding inside of her, filling her tight space with his fullness. She saw Eamon lean his head back, his eyes closed. “Och, lass, I have dreamed of this.”
Isabelle leaned forward to place her hands on his smooth, muscled chest, enjoying the feel of its ridges and curves underneath her fingertips. She wanted to explore every inch of him. “Let me know if I hurt you,” she said softly.”
He chuckled. “I am feeling something far from pain.” He grinned and then lifted her waist again to slide her up and down on his cock, slowly at first, but then he began to push his hips against her with increasing rhythm, and soon the sound of their quickened breath filled the room.
Isabelle wanted to close her eyes and feel the heated pleasure swim around her veins, but she also wanted to watch Eamon, this man she had fallen so in love with and was ready to give everything to. This union of their bodies was more than just passionate lust, for besides filling her core of need, the time with him only served to swell her love and affection for him.
His rhythm increased even more, and Isabelle began to moan with delight at the beautiful feeling of wet, warm friction between her thighs. She called out his name, not caring if everyone else in the camp heard them. Her mind was focused wholly on the feeling that centered in her core, the throbbing growing to an almost unbearable level.
She cried out once more as her ecstasy lifted and then burst, rolling through her like waves, causing her muscles to twitch and tremble, and she laid spent over his chest. He thrust into her once more, and then she heard the sound of his own release as he sighed and laid his head back onto the mat.
Smiling, she lifted off of his body, and he made room for her to sit against him on the mat, curled into his chest, her long brown hair piling in curls on his skin. “I love ye. I love ye more than I could ever express, Sassenach. I have waited too long tae say it.”
Isabelle smiled. “You know, I was wondering when you were going to. I was waiting for it. I thought perha
ps you just wanted to make love to me and then leave me behind as one of your spurned lovers.”
Eamon laughed and pulled her even closer to him. “Never. But in a few short moments, I will be able tae make love tae ye again. I think I have enough energy tae last the whole night through.”
Isabelle kissed him, reveling in the final reunion of her and her truest love, and another chance at life.
* * *
The next morning, they packed up their camp and began to ride, Isabelle sitting happily in front of Eamon, adorned with a set of clean clothes. Unfortunately, there were no women’s clothes to be had, but Isabelle found the man’s breeches and loose linen shirt comfortable enough. She had been used to dressing as a man for many weeks after all, while she was pretending to be the spy. Now, she could leave her playacting behind her forever. She was free to do as she pleased, and she hoped that her life would be with Eamon.
Taken by her Highland Enemy: He was running from his past; she was fighting for her future... Page 23