She moved forward with Arya, and for a moment, no one spoke. And then, Eamon rushed forward and grabbed hold of her arm, not painfully, but firmly. “Ye are coming with us, Mistress, whether ye agree or nae. Where is the boy?”
Isabelle eyed the men with suspicion. She had a role to play after all, despite their necessity for speed. “What do you mean, go with you? The boy? My father’s aid is with him at this very moment, quelling the unrest that I assume you lot have incited?” She tried to inject a fury she did not feel into her voice, hopeful they would fall for her trick.
Eamon looked aghast. Perfect, she thought. He will never suspect me. Then he crossed his arms. “Lass, ye can either come with us or stay with yer bastard of a father and live a life torturing Scotsmen across the country. But,” he turned back to the voices for a moment, “he may nae live tae see ye again, and then where would ye be?”
He smiled wryly, and Isabelle tried to keep her own smile hidden as her heart fluttered at the sight of his lovely full lips with straight teeth behind them. She jutted out her chin in fake defiance. “You would dare to capture a fine lady?”
Lukas laughed. “Ye’re fiery, are ye nae?” Eamon laughed as well.
Eamon began to pull her along, and Isabelle tried her best to pull herself out of his grasp. “So I am simply to be kidnapped. Might I know the purpose?”
Eamon paused. “We havenae the time tae explain tae yer fine ladyship why we do this. Dirk! Errol! Take two horses from the stable. I shall take this miss on mine, and Lukas will take the other.”
The men hurried to do his bidding, and Lukas helped Eamon heave Isabelle up on the side of the horse.
Isabelle cried out, “Take my lady’s maid with you as well! If I am to go, I wish her to accompany me.” Eamon shifted for a moment and observed the two women. “Have some small mercy, Scotsman.”
Eamon watched her for a moment, and Isabelle swallowed slowly, nervous under his gaze. “Aye. Take the other lass as well!” he called to the men, and soon they were off, riding towards the edge of the town, while the other men raced behind them.
Once they were safely out of the town, and the sounds of fighting began to fade, the horses slowed as they waded through the cold river and up the hill into the forest. Arya’s and Isabelle’s horses neared one another, and Isabelle tried to reach out a hand, for she could see the fear in her lady’s maid's eyes. She gave her hand a squeeze before the movement of the horses tore them apart.
“Will we be safe, Mistress?” Arya whispered with fear once they were taken down from the horses and allowed to stand together.
Isabelle squeezed her hand. “We will be more than safe, Arya, we will be free.”
Chapter Nine
Eamon was amazed that they had been able to escape freely with so simple a plan. Simple in explanation, perhaps, but not execution. My men and I could have been slaughtered. He wondered about the fate of the rest of those in Drumnadrochit, who were conspiring together at his men’s instigation. Gunfire had begun to ring out, but then it was silenced, as he assumed the men took control of the weapons from the soldiers.
Or by some miracle, Cutler and his men could have escaped. Eamon felt strong as his arms held the beauty in front of him, her pert derriere grinding up against him as the stolen horse traipsed through the river as they wandered through and up into the hills to meet Sean and Donovan.
He had noticed as he heaved the woman up onto the horse that she was wearing hard boots. They seemed familiar to him. It was a strange attire for a woman. Perhaps because she would be watching an execution? He thought stupidly when in reality, his mind fled to. Perhaps she knew she was going to be kidnapped?
In truth, she had not seemed that much distressed to be removed from her father and his men or to know that they could be murdered by the angry crowd just below. She did put up a fight, trying desperately to get out of his grasp, but he would have thought that normally a woman would have screamed. He had not had time to think of it in the moment, but now he wondered what was going on. Was it possible the spy had told her of the plan, and she had agreed to it willingly? Or maybe it was some odd tactic of Cutler’s. He shuddered to think of that possibility.
Whatever the reason, they would have to take the woman and ride as far and as fast as they could to get away from Cutler before he set out with his men, if any of them survived. They could make their plans and create their ransom from there. He wished the boy had met him at the stables as well, though. Now he was not sure when he would see the boy again, and he had depended on him to tell him their next moves.
They entered the woods, and Eamon looked around before making a sound in the palm of his hand like the twittering of a bird. Both Sean and Donovan emerged from behind a large boulder and sheathed their swords. “Brother, ye have succeeded?”
Sweat had broken out over Eamon’s brow, and it had soaked his linen shirt through. “Aye, brother. But now we must ride. Get tae yer horses, men! We have nae a moment tae lose!”
Sean’s eyes passed over the tired men and then landed upon the two women who stood side by side. Sean’s gaze flicked back to Eamon. “Ye come with two extra horses? Who are these women?”
Eamon took a deep breath, knowing his brother would object to his plan. “The message at the tannery from the boy was that I needed tae cause a distraction and kidnap Cutler’s daughter.” He looked sheepish as Sean grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side.
“Ye cannae be serious? Now Cutler is on our tail and will slit our throats and string us up on a bridge somewhere for public view!”
Eamon laid a hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Sean, we wanted Cutler on our tail. The more he follows us, and the farther we move away the further from the village he is, and Rose.”
Sean exhaled sharply but then nodded. “What do we do then? Did the spy tell ye as far as that?”
Eamon shook his head, and Sean scowled. Cheerily, Eamon walked toward the woman and yelled back to Sean, “We shall discuss it on the journey and make a decision taegether!”
The men came forward with the horses, and Eamon handed Arya to Donovan and motioned to Isabelle to come with him as they made the switch. “We shall return these other horses tae the village later. Come, woman, we are off!”
He reached down for her once he alighted, and she lifted an eyebrow. “Are you never going to ask me my name? Perhaps you might be able to find a better use for the term woman, and then you will know the identity of your captive.”
Eamon smirked, forgetting about the need for haste. “Aye, then, what is it?”
“Isabelle.”
Isabelle. The name moved through his mind like soft silk. It was the perfect name for this tall, lithe beauty who had been etched from a dream. “Come then, Isabelle,” he said, a slight lilt of mocking in his voice, and he held out a hand. She reached forward and laid her soft hand lightly in his. She kept her eyes on him, and in her glance, Eamon felt a frisson pass between them.
It was for one second, but a surprising heat was there that made it seem as if they had known each other for a long time, and intimately. The feeling unseated him, but then once he heard his brother’s call, he lifted Isabelle up to sit in front of him. This time, the smell of lilacs filled his nose, and he felt a stirring within him.
They rode. He led the way down the slope and gave a wide berth to the town boundaries of Drumnadrochit. The extra horses were tied to the others, and they galloped along with them. The sounds of battle had faded a little, and he hoped with enough speed, they would be able to outrun the eyes of Cutler’s men. They followed the line of the river and then moved off to the side when one of its branches turned west. It would keep them close to the water but pull them away from Cutler, but not too far. They needed to be able to get a message to him about the whereabouts of his daughter.
It was a silent ride, but Eamon’s ride was distracted for every time he set thinking to his plans, his focus was pulled away as he felt Isabelle tighten her grasp on him. He was grateful for the wind of th
e Highland hills on his face, cooling him from his heat of battle and this new, yet pleasant heat of a woman’s nearness. After a few hours, once the sun was beginning to set, the small group of horses slowed at Eamon’s command, and alighted, everyone’s breath heavy and coursing through the evening air.
Donovan held out an arm, and Arya jumped down, using it to balance, and he followed after. Eamon watched with amusement as Arya blushed as she looked up at the tall, strong Donovan. Strangely enough, she did not seem to be afraid of her new fate or him either. Eamon helped Isabelle down, and he said loudly to the group. “One moment, men. I’ll be back soon. Set up camp.”
He could hear stifled chortles from behind him as he knew his men assumed he was taking Isabelle to perhaps persuade her into lovemaking. But that was definitely not the case, although the thought had flitted through his mind and back out again. He pulled Isabelle away with him towards a more secluded area of the woods.
He grabbed onto Isabelle’s elbow. Isabelle pulled away and was successful. “I am not such a weak woman that I cannot walk despite the trappings of my skirts. You would do well, sir, not to underestimate a woman.” Her eyes flashed angrily in his direction.
Eamon made no move to capture her arm again. He could feel his own ire rising, but something else was lifting as well, and the increased contact with her would only make it worse. Once they were hidden by trees and branches, Eamon said, “And in boots nae less, lass.” His eyes narrowed. At his accusation, Isabelle colored for a moment, but then returned to her stoic look.
“Why is it that a woman of yer breeding is wearing a man’s dirty boots with such a beautiful fur? It is almost as if ye intended tae be kidnapped taeday? Why are ye both nae afraid of what we might do tae ye?”
Isabelle smiled lightly. “What do you mean? We fought against you. You mean because I did not scream, I suppose?”
“Aye.”
“Not all women are the same, sir. As for harming me, I know you will not do it. It is something you can tell about a man. You know the men who will take a woman’s honor without her consent, and you know those who will not.” She spoke with such confidence and such a haughty air that Eamon wanted to shake her. He was to be in charge of this kidnapping, not her. Bloody spirited lass. Not that I could have expected much less from a daughter of Cutler.
He stepped a bit closer, and Isabelle did not pull back. “Where is the boy? I didnae see him, and I thought he was going tae meet me at the stables with ye. Did he tell ye that ye would be kidnapped? Has he sent any word tae us?”
Tiny muscles flicked on the side of Isabelle’s face, telling Eamon that something was afoot. But despite his suspicions, she said. “No. I came with my maid to escape the crowd, and we know it is safest behind the stables.”
Something was amiss, and Eamon was determined to figure it out. He clasped onto the sides of her arms, and she gasped in surprise. He lessened his grip a little, hoping he did not hurt her. But he wanted to look deeply into her eyes to see where the truth lay. “There is something ye are nae telling me, lass.” He moved ever so slightly closer, trying not to become entranced by the shape of her pink lips, but he was not succeeding. He was beginning to heat, his body aching with need, reminding him of how long it had been since he had last lain with a woman. “Ye try tae fool me with yer bonny looks and yer violet eyes. But there is something, and I mean tae find out what it is.”
Isabelle crossed her arms. “I thought you meant to find a way to use my kidnapping to get back at my father. But I am happy to know that you find me ‘bonny’ as you say.’ It will make this kidnapping rather more pleasant.”Eamon had had enough. This woman was enough to make any man go mad!
He stared at her, unsure of what to say next. There was a slight smile on her lips as if satisfied that she had outsmarted him or at least not shown him her weakness. She continued speaking, “Am I not to know what my kidnapping is about? What is the purpose of taking an English lady and her lady’s maid if you are not to deflower them after all?”
The lovely evening sunlight came through the trees and cast lined shadows across her face. In the soft light, she looked practically angelic, and it was as if Eamon forgot all that was at stake. He felt under a spell. Her eyes were watching him with interest and curiosity. Despite the vehemence of her words, her eyes were not angry.
Without thinking, Eamon pulled Isabelle to him and put his mouth on hers. It was brief, but a moment of weakness, until he pulled away. They blinked at each other in surprise for a moment, and Isabelle’s expression was unreadable. He couldn’t tell if she was about to slap him or pull him to her. And he did not know who brought them together once more, but Eamon found himself back in her embrace, his lips moving over hers quickly, opening to her soft lips.
To his great delight, she responded with passion. Her arms moved slowly over his shoulders and up around his neck, and she opened her soft lips in response. He groaned once he felt the tip of her warm tongue enter his mouth, and she turned her head to the side to deepen the kiss. A soft moan escaped from her throat, and he felt his cock rise, hard and stiff underneath his kilt.
He pulled her towards it and moved his hands over her thin waist, amazed at the feel of her form under his touch. Never before had a woman lit a fire like this in him. He had been with many women before, but no kiss had touched him so deeply, and he had never become as stiff as he had just then. He was lost in a heated daze, his mind muddled with desire. He fell further and further with each movement of her lips on his.
Then, at the sound of footsteps nearby, he pulled away quickly, his mind clearing slowly. He felt the warmth fading away, being replaced by an unwelcome coolness. He held Isabelle in his arms and looked at her questioning face, her swollen lips parted in surprise. It took everything in him to not kiss her again and kiss her until they both fell to the ground and spent themselves making love on the forest floor. He had to be wise, though. He couldn’t afford to make any foolish mistakes, no matter how much he realized he wanted this woman.
If the boy had been lying to him, then this could be Cutler’s way of using him. But would a father be so brutish as to allow his own daughter to be taken? His breath was raging fast in his chest, and he stared at her, scowling. “Too bonny for yer own good, lass. Ye mean tae make a fool of me.”
Isabelle smiled back at him. “None of this was my idea, Eamon.”
Eamon pulled away, dropping his hands to his sides. “How do ye know my name, lass?”
He watched her with scrutiny, the passion of the moment still in his loins but continuing to lessen fast. Even in the fading light, he could see that she fumbled over her words, and her eyes were searching around her. She straightened up and said, “I heard it from the men, of course.”
That made sense, but it still made him suspicious. “Come, we must make camp, and I will begin thinking about what I am tae do with ye.”
“I would be happy to assist with any suggestions, Eamon.”
Eamon scowled. “Ye know, lass, one would think that it was ye who had orchestrated this kidnapping. I will think of the plans myself, thank ye very much.” He then bowed, motioning towards the path in front of them. “My Lady, I dinnae wish tae impede yer ability tae walk.” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue as he spoke, and Isabelle lifted her chin and moved forward.
“You learn quickly, sir.”
Eamon scoffed behind her, and Isabelle giggled a little. It was a light, tinkling sound, and Eamon felt his member tense again as he heard it. He struggled to focus, for what would his men say if he entered the camp with his cock rising high to greet the Heavens?
Once in the circle, he could see that a fire had been started, and the men had begun to pull the meat out of their sacks as well as the bread they had purchased at the tavern. Isabelle sat between Sean and Eamon, and Arya sat next to Donovan. They all ate their bread, and a cask of ale was passed around between them while meat began to crackle over the flames, filling their nostrils with the savory smell of rabbit.
After a time, Donovan spoke up, “What are we tae do with the women?”
The sound punctured the companionable silence, and Eamon tensed.
“Aye, what are we tae do? We got a few weapons, but we did not get any villagers from the town tae help us fight. Our numbers are still the same.” Gareth spoke a little harshly, and Eamon had expected these questions, yet he still wasn’t sure what to do next.
Sean remained silent at the words of his men. Eamon said, “We have the bargaining card, lads. We will send Cutler a message, telling him we have his daughter, and he will have tae make a deal with us. It is simple.”
Errol chimed in. “But he is English. Once he receives his daughter, he will still expect tae fight. He willnae shy away from his duty to the King.”
Fatigue had begun to settle in through the cracks of Eamon’s consciousness, and he was now ready for sleep. He wanted to lay under the stars to think about his next moves, instead of being peppered with questions from his men. I would rather lay under the stars with Isabelle by my side.
Taken by her Highland Enemy: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Deceitful Lassies Book 2) Page 8