Highlander Enchanted

by Lizzy Ford

  “He frightened you.”

  “Of course!” she exclaimed. “Did he not ever frighten you?”

  John snorted. “He did.”

  “Cade is …” She paused. The Highlander was vexing, as moody as the weather, and strong. But he had never raised a hand to her. “A barbarian. But he is good of heart, I believe.” When he is not tearing off men’s heads with his bare hands, she added silently. “He wed me for my lands and nothing more.”

  “What does a Highlander want with Saxony?” John asked, genuinely confused.

  “No, not …” She drifted off once more. “John, Father told me the truth before he died.”

  John lifted his head from her shoulder and gazed at her with his piercing green eyes. “That he was not your father.”

  “You did know.” She frowned, dismayed.

  “I had to know. I was the next Baron of Saxony. Father believed your true father to be invaluable, if we needed his power or influence.”

  She sighed.

  “Your mother was a courtier to a king. Should you not rejoice to learn you will not suffer the curse of madness befalling Saxony?” he asked.

  “Do you think less of me for not being your natural sister?”

  “Do you think less of me for bearing this face?” he returned with some of the fire she remembered. Her John had always been strong, direct and quick to call another’s bluff or lie.

  Isabel began to smile and held his gaze. “Never. I love you more for bearing your scars.”

  “Forgive me for not protecting you,” he said and cupped her cheek in his scarred palm. “Cade knew of your birthright?”

  “He does now,” she admitted. “I wanted to find him, to seek revenge for you and Father, and I did not care what befell me. I was careless.”

  “Revenge. You tried to kill him?”

  “Once or twice.”

  John laughed, a sound as broken as his voice. “’Tis your Highland blood, sister.”

  Her cheeks grew warm.

  “You came so far for vengeance,” he continued, humor fading. “Why did you not wed Lord Richard and remain at Saxony?”

  “I could not,” she replied firmly. “I did not belong there, not if you and Father were gone and I was never … we are not blood.”

  “Saxony is your home. Our father adopted you as his and you will always be my sister.”

  She hugged him. “My heart broke when I heard you died.”

  “Richard would have protected you.”

  She debated how to tell him about Richard, a knight who had gone on campaigns with John. “It is of no concern now. I am wed to Laird Cade.”

  “It can be annulled, if you wish to return to Saxony.”

  “Are you to return?” she asked, searching his features.

  It was his turn to hesitate. “I do not belong at court with this face.”

  “You do not belong here, either, John. Saxony is yours. You must claim it.”

  “I have thought long on this,” he said. He moved away from her and stretched for a water bladder. “I am not the man I was when I left. I do not think I can be the man Father would have wanted me to be.”

  “Father died believing you dead. All he wished was for you to return. He was consumed by grief,” she said softly. “He would have loved your scars as I do.”

  John was quiet.

  “If you do not claim your birthright, another will take our home,” she added. “Cade does not want it. He wished for the MacCosse lands that belonged to my mother. Our uncle is regent but there is someone else who has sought our Saxony lands by any means.” She sought some indication in his features he was interested in his home. The competitive knight before her had once been very proud of his nobility.

  He seemed to wrestle with himself, his jaw clenched and gaze stormy.

  “You cannot think to stay here,” she said with a glance around. “You are the son of a baron favored by the English and Scottish courts. You have been through enough, John.”

  “I was not there for you when Father passed. I caused his death, Isabel. I do not deserve Saxony.”

  She heard the firmness in his tone and also the conflicted note. She feared saying more about Richard when her brother had been a companion of his. Perhaps, if he witnessed the noble’s ambition, he would be more willing to reclaim his birthright. However, for now, she sensed he was closed to the idea.

  The door creaked open. An exotic woman with dark features, hair and eyes entered and paused, looking them over.

  John motioned her to enter. “Isabel, this is Fatima. She rescued me from the dungeons and healed me.”

  “Because Cade left you,” Isabel said absently.

  “I would not let him stay. He and his kin would have died if they did.”

  Fatima was tall and trim with her hands clenched in front of her. The pretty woman sat opposite them, eyes on John’s features.

  “I am grateful to you,” Isabel said and bowed her head.

  “She is my wife,” John said quietly.

  Isabel hid her surprise. The Saracen woman had a shy smile and common carriage lacking the training and confidence Isabel had gone through as a lady. She was not nobility. The moment she considered all John’s wife had done for him, Isabel’s disapproval fell away. This woman had saved his life, brought him back to her. Her birth, and lineage, did not matter when John was alive.

  “’Tis an honor to meet you,” Isabel said. “You are a great lord and let your wife live in such a place?” She turned to her brother, eyebrow arched.

  “I do not care for finery,” said Fatima in halting English.

  “John knows better,” Isabel replied. “You also know not to kidnap your sister on her wedding night.”

  Her brother shook his head. “I wanted to rescue you. Laird Duncan and the clans allied with him were to attack after dawn.”

  Alarm shot through her. “I was safer there than in Saxony!” she retorted. “Are you certain Laird Duncan meant to attack?”

  “I know it,” he said. “I remained after you left the Hall and heard them talking. Cade’s mercy made an enemy of Duncan before you escaped. He hoped you would keep Cade busy for the night, if not another day and night, while he destroyed the keep where the MacDonald’s were.”

  Isabel rose. “Then we must return.”

  “Did you not hear me, Isabel?”

  “I did, and I wish to return.”

  “You do not belong at war.”

  “I belong with my husband, do I not?”

  “And what will you do?” John challenged. “Aside from causing him to worry?”

  “Then I will go to the MacCosse lands!” she said. “With the rest of his clan.”

  John studied her. “You care for him?” he asked.

  Isabel had no real answer. She had been alternately drawn to and frightened by Cade and his magic. “Is it not my duty?”

  “You had a duty to stay in Saxony and left,” John pointed out. “We have both changed. The sister I left several years ago would never have left her station or home let alone agreed to wed a Highlander.”

  “He has been kind,” she said awkwardly. How did she explain her mixed feelings about Cade? Now that she knew he was not lying about her brother’s death, she began to view him differently. If she asked it of John, he would take her to England. They had the influence to have the wedding annulled, and no English noble would fault her for it.

  But no part of her wished for this solution. Cade was surrounded by hostile clans with a chance he did not survive, assuming he awoke at all, and she had no desire to be elsewhere.

  Aware of her brother’s scrutiny, she took a deep breath to help her refocus her thoughts. “Will you escort me to my lands?” she asked. “I know this is not your struggle. I do not ask you for more than safe passage.”

  “How do you say this?” he asked, irritated. “You are my sister. Your struggle is mine. I owe Cade a life debt, but I will not lose you in order to honor it.”

  She smiled warmly at him
. “You will never lose me now that I know you are alive,” she promised him. “I do not know what to think of Cade, but I cannot fathom the idea of returning to Saxony. If you do not claim it, then there is nothing for me there.”

  “I cannot give you an answer!” he bellowed suddenly and rose, agitated.

  Taken aback by the outburst, she gazed at him uncertainly. He paced then went to the door and tore it open, striding out into the cold night.

  Isabel watched him go.

  “He fears what he will do around others,” Fatima explained quietly. “Since he healed, he has difficulty controlling his temper.”

  Isabel released the breath she was holding. “It pains me to know he still suffers.”

  “He always suffers.” Sorrow was in the eyes of John’s wife.

  “He is a good man. This has not changed.”

  “He is honorable.”

  Isabel paced in the tiny space, desperate for some word on Cade. “There is a village or keep near here?” she asked.

  “Very close, yes.”

  “I need to leave.” She faced Fatima. “What happens to Laird Cade is of great concern to me.”

  “I will speak to John.” Fatima rose and left the cottage.

  Isabel sat beside the fire to wait.

  Not long after she left, Fatima returned. “John says we will all travel to the MacCosse lands.”

  Isabel sprang up and grabbed her soaked cloak.

  Chapter Twenty

  The same evening, from the forest, Cade witnessed the walls of his temporary home burn. He whispered a spell for the rain to fall harder in sheets, partially to stop the fire from spreading and partially to shield him and his cousins from sight as they fled. One of the wounds in his stomach had opened and was bleeding heavily, and he held a fistful of cloth over it. He had come out of one fever soon after Laird Duncan’s men attacked early this morning but felt his weakness and knew – without a seillie healer – he was at risk of collapsing into another before they reached the MacCosse lands.

  “How many survived?” he asked, resting against the trunk of a tree. The forest seemed to be trying to help him. Brush hugged his legs and tree branches stretched to touch him. He absently nudged leaves out of his line of sight.

  “Five,” replied a breathless Brian beside him.

  “Five of thirty.” Most of his kin and the few MacDonald warriors had gone ahead with their fleeing clans. The loss of life was not as great as it could be, but it was a sharp blow when they had too few warriors as it was.

  “Ye need a healer,” Niall said, frowning. “Forgive me, cousin. I did all I could.”

  “I ken it, Niall.” Cade had listened to the tale of the ambush Niall and Marie faced before dawn with dismay. Of the four of them traveling with him, only Niall survived and was wounded.

  From what he knew, Marie’s daughter, who had inherited the healing gift, had only ever practiced her healing arts on animals, and small ones at that.

  Healing ran in their family as well and had been Cade’s gift, until he lost it to the madness. “Niall, ye can stop the bleeding, can ye not?” he asked, turning to his cousin.

  “Poorly.” His cousin stepped nearer and pushed the branches trying to hug the seillie chieftain out of the way.

  “Poorly is better than dead,” Brian said.

  Cade snorted in agreement and lifted his hand for his cousin to access the wound. He grimaced as Niall’s hot magic ripped through the delicate skin around the wound. But it worked, and he ran his fingertips over the skin that had grown over the wound.

  “Have ye heard from Angus?” he asked, referring to the warrior tasked with finding Isabel.

  “Nay. If he found her, he would return.” Niall’s tone was hushed. “Yer wife disappeared.”

  “It wouldna be the first occurrence,” Cade said, conflicted. “I did force her t’wed me.”

  “You didna see her at yer side, cousin,” Brian objected. “She took down all yer talismans and draped them around yer body, thinking they would heal you.”

  Cade smiled at the thought. The talismans were to keep evil away and to calm his spirit so the madness did not torment him. But they had no power to heal flesh. Isabel had no way to know this. That she had done all she could to help him, even entrust his health to the sorcery she often regarded with alarm, touched him deeply.

  “I didna say I would let her go,” he said, straightening. “But if Laird Duncan doesna have her, and she did not steal my horse, then where is she?”

  Niall sucked in a breath, pointing.

  Cade leaned away from the tree trunk to see where he indicated.

  Laird Duncan’s army waited for the walls to finish burning. Hundreds of men were gathered in a crescent shape around the keep, their faces painted and forms clad in the leather jerkins and shields customary in the Highlands.

  The newcomers, however, wore metal helmets that reflected the flames. Cade counted twenty knights under Lord Richard’s banner. He did not have to see past the walls to know there were likely double that in the shadows.

  “Sneaky Englishman,” Brian said. “He was planning this. He couldna ‘ave sent fer so many knights so fast otherwise.”

  Warm anger energized Cade as he recalled what Richard had planned to do to Isabel in the forest. Lightning split the sky in response to his uncontrolled emotion.

  “Easy, cousin,” Niall said and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Save yer strength.”

  Cade pushed away from the tree supporting him. “We must go.” Worse than knowing Richard had brought English knights to a Highland battle was the worry lighting his blood. No one had seen Isabel leave. He did not know if anyone had taken her, or if she simply fled out of fear. She had not wanted to give up Saxony and yet, he did not think she would tend to him and vanish before he woke.

  And their kisses … she had been receptive, eager even.

  Was his own heart mistaken? Did he see what he wished to see? Or had there been a spark of warm affection in her eyes and touch?

  Her disappearance left him furious and concerned. Not knowing what happened, if she were in danger or harmed, twisted his emotions and left him vulnerable to the darkness of his mind.

  Cade began walking through the forest, limping on his injured leg. His cousins trailed him. The path opened before him and closed behind Niall.

  Cade wracked his thoughts for any scenario where Isabel was safe. She had mentioned an uncle, a duke or similar. Had he come to take her home? Sent someone to fetch her out of the Highlands? How had he found her, if her writs had been kept secret? And why would he not come to the gates instead of stealing her away? Wealthy English lords were not to be trusted – and had the gold to do what they wished in the world.

  It was too soon for his message to have reached the Scottish court and assistance to come from this direction.

  Thunder roared overhead, and Cade breathed in deeply, asserting what control he could over himself. Somewhere in the forest, a tree groaned and crashed to the ground. Small brush and leaves were torn from the limbs of trees and flung around, and hail had begun to pelt the delicate forest flowers.

  Shielded from the winds and rains by his magic, he nonetheless regretted seeing the damage his emotions were doing to the forest around him. Cade breathed a quiet spell to the clouds. He was weak and growing weaker. If he had learned one thing from the Holy Lands, it was how much he loathed knowing his weakness caused those around him to suffer as well. He was unable to protect Isabel or his clan. He was unable to stop his feelings from battering the forest that had always protected him and his people.

  “If Richard had her, he wouldna be here,” Brian voiced, aware of the tempest swirling around them.

  “Unless he wished for vengeance,” Niall added.

  “We doona ken where she is,” Cade growled. “Laird Duncan is a shrewd man. He may ‘ave her prisoner and wish to ransom her again.”

  “Yea. This is what I believe,” Brian said. “Ye ken he willna return her t’Richard without gold
. Perchance they made an agreement. Richard destroys his enemies, and he returns her.”

  “Clever,” Cade said. “Doesna explain why they left me alive and stole her.”

  “Ye looked dead, cousin,” Niall said with some mirth. “Perchance she fought them.”

  Cade did not like to imagine any situation where sweet, delicate Isabel was forced to fight someone. She was too small to dissuade someone from hurting her. Her will was strong but her frame too fragile.

  Focused on Isabel, he missed a step and dropped to his knees with a grunt of pain. The wound in his stomach tore open once more, and he stayed where he was.

  Brian knelt beside him and felt his forehead. He exchanged a worried glance with Niall. Cade did not need them to tell him what was wrong; he was burning up and bleeding.

  “I willna make it,” he said hoarsely. “I will slow ye down.”

  “Nay, cousin.” Brian slid an arm under his and helped him stand.

  Dizziness washed over Cade, and he staggered, leaning against his cousin.

  Niall took his other arm.

  “Ye need t’reach the MacCosse lands,” Cade said as he caught his footing once more.

  “We will.”

  “Nay.” Cade ceased walking and pulled his arms free. “Ye will travel faster without me.”

  “Cade –” Brian started.

  “The MacCosse lands are a two day journey. With me, it will be five or six,” Cade said. “Duncan canna arrive before we are ready t’fight ‘im.”

  Brian started to object once more. Niall pushed him.

  “And if Duncan has Isabel, ye can find her when he captures ye,” he said.

  “Yea,” Cade replied.

  “Isabel is a sweet lass, Cade, but yer people need ye!” Brian snapped.

  “Isabel is my wife,” Cade said stiffly. “My magic chose her. If she is a prisoner, I canna let her face Richard or Duncan alone, and ye both can manage a war until I arrive.”

  Niall appeared resigned while Brian seemed to argue with himself.

  “Do this fer me,” Cade said and rested a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “We canna leave our people vulnerable. I canna travel fast enough to reach them ‘fore Duncan.”