Highlander Enchanted

by Lizzy Ford

  “Whatever debt you feel you owed my brother after abandoning him in a dungeon is repaid, and whatever anger I felt towards you … I cannot dismiss it so quickly but it is my duty to forgive you. I will find a way, one day.”

  “Isabel –”

  “I must go.”

  “I warned ye. Ye canna go when ye know of my people!”

  “You left my brother to die!” Her voice broke.

  Startled by her outburst, he did not speak.

  Lady Isabel struggled for control of herself once more. She wiped tears from her face and sucked in a shaky breath.

  “You owe me this,” she added much more quietly. “If you do not trust me, then keep my writs. If I speak a word of your kind to anyone, you can bring me to my knees for treason and finish what you started with my brother.”

  Words had never struck him as hers did. Cade felt as if she had stabbed him through the gullet. He had always experienced guilt when he considered leaving Saxony to die.

  He refused to release her arm as she turned to leave.

  She waited, gazing at his chest once more.

  Whatever he intended to say, it was gone again.

  “This is for the best, Cade,” she said. “Release me. Please. I swear I will not reveal the secret of your people, but neither of us can afford what will happen if I stay.”

  She was right. His clan’s situation was already dire without the addition of an army of English knights at his doorstep. What he did not tell her, that he did not intend to marry a woman his cousin coveted, did not matter so much as the relief he experienced knowing the temptation of Isabel, the guilt of knowing her brother suffered, would soon be gone from his life.

  He did not need her secrets complicating his life. His attention had shifted from the plight of his clan the day he met Lady Isabel. She was a dangerous distraction, one he could not afford any longer.

  “Forgive me, my lady,” he said quietly. “I canna undo what was done. But I owe you. I owe yer brother. If letting ye go, when I know it t’be wrong, is what ye say will make this right, then I will do it.”

  She lifted her eyes to his, surprise crossing her features.

  “If, instead, ye tell me challenging an army of Richard’s English knights will make this right, I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He nodded once, displeased.

  “I will return with Richard. It is the just action. I would consider it a personal favor if you agreed to protect the writs from others,” she added. “Use them to ransom Richard when we are returned to England. He will supply you with gold not to reveal their contents.”

  He studied her, once more impressed by her sharp mind, while also unsettled she thought him capable of ransoming her secrets. “And ye? Ye ken ye go to yer death.”

  “So be it. I am at peace with it.”

  He knew better. They both did.

  He released her, and his magic began to pace inside him once more.

  Isabel walked away from him.

  It was wrong to let her go. As in the Saracen’s prison, when he had seen his cousins dragged off to be tortured, he was helpless to stop the suffering of another. Yet why did her suffering matter? She was not kin or blood or even an ally. He could not risk the lives of his clan and kin for a woman who had hidden the truth from him since she arrived.

  Cade fetched his practice swords once more and returned to the lists, his fury burning hotter than before. He raised one for his first strike, when he heard someone’s feet scuff the stone floor beneath the eaves.

  Ready to rip off the head of anyone who disturbed him, he quelled his anger upon seeing Father Adam. “Should ye no be with yer wine?” he snapped.

  “I wished t’tell ye first. I am finished with the writs.”

  Cade turned away. “I doona care. She leaves tomorrow morning.”

  “My son, ye will want to hear what I have to say,” said the priest with more glee in his voice than Cade could ever recall hearing. “’Tis a delicious scandal!”

  Cade hesitated, fighting the temptation to know more about the woman who was going to become nothing more than a memory tomorrow. “I doona wish to ken tonight,” he said finally with great effort.

  “Ye are in a delicate state?”

  “Yea, Father.”

  “Verra well. I will tell ye when ye wish it.”

  Cade nodded and began pounding into the dummy once more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, Isabel kept her head low, disheartened by her visit to the Highlands. She was almost relieved to learn Cade had not killed her brother, because she doubted her ability to take his life. If he admitted to torturing and murdering her brother, would she have been able to stab him the night she had the chance?

  A tiny voice inside her said no, plunging her further into her misery. Her desperate journey was doomed from the beginning, not because Richard would catch her, but because of her weakness. She was returning to her home to be beaten by the man she least wanted to marry – and with the knowledge she would never discover her brother’s true fate.

  “My lady.” Richard’s master-at-arms, a seasoned knight with bright blue eyes, held out a water bladder to her. “The journey will be hard. You must eat and drink well.”

  She hesitated, uncertain why his random kindness affected her. Richard was not a good man. How was it his master-at-arms was?

  “Thank you,” she said, accepting it. She sipped from it for his sake and handed it back.

  “Can you handle a knife?” he asked, glancing towards the head of the column, where Richard rode.

  “Not well,” she admitted.

  “The berserkers are wild and constantly at war. You may need this,” he said and handed her a dagger.

  The sheathed weapon was heavy. She hefted it before placing it into the pocket of her Highland gown. “Again, thank you for your kindness,” she said.

  “’Tis duty, my lady,” he replied. “Your brother was well respected. Very able. I hope you found your peace with Black Cade. War is not fair to those who survive.”

  Isabel nodded. She had no chance to address him about her brother before he nudged his horse ahead of hers and took his place ahead of her in the line of horses leaving Cade’s lands.

  At least Richard had good men serving him.

  She glanced at the sky. The clouds were as dark as her thoughts, though the rain had stopped. Cade’s cousin, Niall, had seen them off, going so far as to give her one of the precious few destriers in the stables so she could keep pace with Richard and his men.

  Cade, however, was absent from the quiet farewell. Why did this disappoint her? Why was she not instead relieved to avoid a man different than any she had met before?

  His kindness from the night before, the claim he would honor her choice, saddened her. She had found such goodness in a man she wanted to hate.

  They plodded through muddied roads away from the keep. Richard appeared cheerful despite the gloomy day, no doubt gloating over the title he had all but stolen. She was at a loss as to what to do next, aside from accept her fate beneath his fists, bearing his child and subsiding into a life of fearful domestic servitude.

  Her gaze lingered on the squat form of the keep nestled between the verdant moors and the grey-black sky. Why did she think life here would be any different among the merry seillie with their songs and music? This place held magic that did not belong and a moody laird with no real home and naught to offer, except for his steely resolve not to fail his people.

  She possessed all he did not – gold, lands, noble name – and left his temporary home empty and envious of his ability to carve his own path out of life. She had never known the wildness and freedom his clanswomen displayed or let herself imagine a life so unlike that which she was destined to live. Her fate as a noblewoman was set upon her birth. She had accepted it, if unhappily, until her father and brother passed. And then, she had been driven to avenge them, so desperate and alone, she had not considered how s
he would choose to live, if she had the choice.

  Gazing at the cramped keep, she could not help considering the relative virtues of a life filled with magic instead of fear, at the side of a man with some honor instead of one with none.

  Her land, title, and name set her aside from others, but they trapped her as well. She tugged the braids Richard hated over one shoulder and sighed.

  “It will be good to arrive home,” Richard said from his position riding ahead of her. “We will prepare the contract upon arriving. Your uncle has agreed to act in your father’s stead. Our wedding will be the greatest affair of the winter.”

  “I am pleased to hear it,” she forced the words out.

  “As am I. My stewart was making the arrangements when I left. He should be complete when we return.”

  My stewart, she corrected him. Richard was not the Lord of Saxony yet, even if he were directing her servants as if he were.

  She knew better than to remind him of this. No Cade stood between her and Richard’s fists, and she did not feel up to challenging him this day. Her gaze went to the black mane of her bay horse.

  For three weeks, she had been free. It had been terrifying never knowing if bandits would beset her, if she would sleep the night or find food the next day, how she would manage to feed all the mouths at Cade’s. But freedom, even if scary, was better than the life awaiting her. Once she wed Richard, she would have no influence or power at all.

  Perhaps I deserve Richard. She had not just failed her brother and father, she had failed herself. Her fingers were clenched around the reins, and she began to resent entertaining thoughts of freedom after a lifetime of accepting her place. Perhaps, if she had never challenged him, Richard would not have raised a hand to her, and she would be peacefully managing her father’s household with a husband she did not want.

  Anger stirred, and she recalled why she had not wished to settle into such a life, why she had chosen to try to avenge her brother instead of becoming the demure, docile wife to a proud man like Richard. It had never been her place, not when she was learning to read in multiple languages or managing her father’s finances or conversing with priests about such unwomanly pursuits as alchemy and astronomy.

  And certainly not after she learnt who her true father was. She did not belong in Saxony. She belonged here.

  Frustrated tears rose as she realized she was helpless to fight her destiny. But was this not what her father wanted for her? She wrestled with herself once more, unable to accept a fate with a man she did not care for or trust, even if it was a sin to oppose her father’s wishes.

  Isabel tugged up her hood to prevent Richard and his cousin and guard from seeing her tears.

  Lost in her thoughts, she pulled out of her melancholy when they reached the forest where she had first met Cade. They passed through it without being confronted by his men or any thieves, and left the forest at the edge of his lands for the rolling hills dividing one patch of forest from the next.

  “What is that?” one of the knights asked.

  She twisted in her saddle to see where he pointed and craned her head. Smoke rose from some point beyond a hill, its source hidden by the terrain.

  “Dawson, ride ahead and warn my men,” Richard ordered in response. “We continue with caution. I believe this to be the disputed land belonging to the MacDonald’s. ‘Twas said Laird Duncan was torching the villages. We need only reach the neighboring lands to be safe.”

  Men on horseback with swords drawn raced from the northern part of the forest across the hilltop and disappeared behind it.

  Dawson dug his heels into his horse’s belly and galloped ahead, towards the second forest.

  “Move quickly. We should be safe in the forest,” Richard urged and took her reins.

  She allowed even her horse’s head to be controlled by the man who would soon rule her life. Uneasy with the warring clans, angry with Richard’s assumption she was incapable of handling herself, she was powerless.

  They galloped to the forest three leagues from the disputed land and slowed upon reaching the narrow road winding through it. A cold drizzle began once more, pattering on the leaves above them and soon filling the muddy indents of the trail with water.

  Isabel glanced around at the quiet forest and pulled her cloak around her more tightly. She was dry – for now. If it rained any harder, she would be drenched fast.

  The men around her were tense, their hands on the hilts of their swords, as if they were aware of danger she was not. They reached a meadow, and Richard drew his horse to a halt.

  His knights did the same.

  Isabel had no insight into whether or not danger lurked until she saw the long look Richard exchanged with the leader of his personal guard. No words were spoken, but an understanding passed between them, and the master-at-arms motioned the other knights to follow.

  “My lady,” the master-at-arms said to her with a bow of his head. “These woods are dangerous to a noblewoman. The MacDonald’s and brigands hide here. We will ride ahead to clear the path.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Do not forget your dagger,” he added almost too quietly for her to hear as he passed her.

  She frowned, not understanding his concern when her surroundings were so quiet. The men returned to the trail and soon disappeared into the forest.

  Richard swung his leg over the rear of the horse and dismounted. “Come. We can rest,” he ordered her. “Niall sent us with fresh bread.” He moved with his horse beneath a tree for shelter from the rain.

  Isabel obeyed and joined him. She kept her eyes on the ground and accepted the bread when he handed her a chunk. She breathed in its fresh scent and bit into it. It was plain but satisfying. After her late nights and long days attempting to organize Cade’s disorderly keep, she was hungrier than she realized and finished off the food fast.

  “Your father did not approve of our wedding,” Richard said.

  She paused mid-chew, startled.

  He glanced at her. “I am uncertain what he wanted for you, if the son of an earl was not good enough.” Resentment was in his tone.

  Isabel swallowed her final mouthful of bread. “I did not know this,” she replied. “Father never spoke his mind to me, especially not on a matter of this nature.” Mixed with her shock was a measure of hope – an acknowledgment maybe she had not dishonored his memory by refusing his wishes.

  “It is not your place to know,” Richard agreed.

  “If my father did not agree, how did his brother?” she asked. “My uncle was charged with managing my father’s affairs once the madness claimed him.”

  “You convinced him when you left,” Richard said with cold amusement. “I swore to bring you back and once I do, he will agree to the alliance.”

  Her heart plummeted. She had unknowingly sealed her own fate. Though, in her mind, there was no question Richard would pursue her. He had been open about staking his claim on her father’s lands since his death and pursued her hand with persistence that often frightened her.

  Branches snapped from the forest nearby. She turned to squint into the shadowy greens and browns surrounding them. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

  “Probably an animal,” he said, unconcerned. He drew a dagger.

  Isabel reached into her pocket for hers as well, recalling what the master-at-arms had said about the restless forest. Another crack of branches, this one closer, was accompanied by the sucking-clop combination of a horse’s hooves on the muddy trail.

  “’Tis not coming from the direction your vassals went,” she said, frowning. “Can we not recall them?”

  Richard took her arm and turned her to face him. She flinched, instinctively waiting for his strike. It was not his fists he lifted but the dagger.

  She instinctively took a step back. “What are you doing, Richard?” she asked, eyes going from the blade to his face.

  “I have it on good authority your uncle will support my claim to Saxony whether you return alive o
r shall we say … mortally wounded, so long as we are deemed wed.”

  She stared at him. “You cannot wish me harm in earnest!”

  “There will be no one to claim we did not wed and my vassals to affirm we did.” He reached for her. “After you humiliated me afore Laird Cade, I came to this decision. It is the best way to protect Saxony from your madness.”

  She stumbled back.

  The whinny of a horse from the forest failed to dissuade Richard. She avoided another attempt by Richard to grab her. “Someone is coming, Richard!”

  “My men will ensure no one finds us.”

  “I need only scream!” she cried, fury replacing her fear. “They will not allow you to hurt the sole heir to a noble family favored by the king.”

  He laughed.

  Coldness streaked through her. “They know you do this?” she demanded, horrified.

  “They are my men are they not?” He paused long enough for her to put some distance between them. She yanked out the knife his master-at-arms had given her, vaguely recalling his warning and look. He had not been cautioning her against the MacDonald’s but against her own betrothed.

  “You will go mad anyway,” Richard reasoned. He strode forward and grabbed her arm. She slammed her fists against his chest.

  “Do not do this, Richard!” she cried, trying to wrench free once more. He shifted the knife in his hand.

  She yanked hers away from her dress and held it to his chest. She had never stopped to consider where to stab a man.

  “You’re mad already,” he said with a laugh. Capturing her wrist, he twisted her arm away from his chest painfully before releasing her with his other hand and backhanding her.

  Isabel reeled, the forest and sky swirling around her, and landed on her stomach. She saw the legs of horses amidst brush lining the trail but had no time to identify the riders when Richard grabbed her and wrenched her up.

  “Be still,” he ordered. “And you will survive long enough to reach England. If my aim is off by the width of a hair, you will not!”

  “No!” She shoved him and tried to pull away once more. This time, she tripped over the hem of her gown and toppled backwards, dragging him with her.