Page 4 of Bound to a Highland Beast
Everything seemed to ache. Her head throbbed, a pounding headache gripping her from the moment she opened her eyes. Her back hurt from the way she had carelessly been tossed to the ground, and the skin on her wrists felt raw, painful. When she looked down at her hands, she found them bound with rope, the skin of her wrists rubbed pink.
Memory resurfaced slowly for Isabeau, each moment coming back to her in snapshots. She remembered being in the forge with Tiernan to pick up the daggers she had commissioned for her brothers. Then, she remembered the attack. There had been three men, cloaked and hidden by the shadows. Tiernan had fought valiantly, but even he couldn’t fight three men at once and win. Isabeau could feel the phantom grip of one of them, his hand circling her wrist and keeping her still as he pressed a foul-smelling rag to her face. After that, there was nothing but darkness, her consciousness slipping away from her within moments.
A wave of panic threatened to pull her under, bile rising to the back of her throat. Frantically, she managed to push herself to her feet and stumble through the clearing, her daze and panic blurring her vision. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t even know if she was alone there, if they had simply abandoned her to fend for herself.
Isabeau forced herself to draw in a deep, calming breath. Looking around, the first thing she spotted was Tiernan, and the relief that washed over her was so great that it almost brought her to her knees, turning her legs weak. He, too, was bound, but whoever had brought them there had made sure to tie him to a tree, making it impossible for him to move. He was awake, though, and when he spotted Isabeau, he let out a sigh of relief, eyes falling shut for a mere moment before he looked around once more, scanning the tree line with his gaze for any signs of danger.
Still in a panic, Isabeau approached him, leaning close. She didn’t know what to say, though; there were so many questionsracing in her mind that speech evaded her, her thundering heart drowning out everything else.
“Are ye alright?” Tiernan asked in a whisper. “Are ye hurt?”
The sound of his voice helped Isabeau calm herself a little. Tiernan was there and he was calm, so that could only mean he had a plan—she truly hoped so.
He will make sure we survive this. He kens what tae dae.
Isabeau only had to put her faith in him and believe that everything would be fine. After all, she couldn’t see any signs that the men who had taken them were still there, so perhaps they had left them alone.
But then why would they capture an’ bind us in the first place?
“I’m alright,” she confirmed, keeping her voice to a low whisper as well. “It’s only me head… it hurts terribly.”
Her headache had grown to the point where she was nauseous, her vision swimming every time she took a step, but otherwise, she was unharmed. It was more than she could say for Tiernan. Now that she could take a good look at him, she noticed all the blood that covered his hands and his clothes, the bruise that bloomed over the right side of his face. His lip was cut, and though he seemed alert, Isabeau didn’t know how much of that blood belonged to him and how much belonged to the three men who had attacked them.
Before she could ask him if he was alright, she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. When she turned around, she spotted four men—three of them wearing the same cloaks as those who had attacked them and another one, who walked ahead of them, who didn’t bother obscuring his face.
He was broad-shouldered and stocky, bald, with a short-trimmed, greying beard and the kind of confident gait that came with knowing one was in control. He was the kind of man who exuded an air of power, someone Isabeau would have avoided at all costs, and when his gaze fell on her, his grin was one that sent a chill down her spine.
“Ye remember me, dae ye nae?” the man asked and Isabeau glanced at Tiernan to find him glaring. There was a familiarity in that look, though, something that proved to her Tiernan did, indeed, know the man.
“Beag Sinclair,” Tiernan said through gritted teeth, the name dripping with poison. It was then that Isabeau’s heart stopped, her blood running cold in her veins.
She hadn’t known who the man was until now that Tiernan had spoken his name, but even she had heard of Beag Sinclair. His reputation preceded him; a ruthless merchant who was said to collude with criminals to get what he wanted—more power, more wealth, even titles. His past was drenched in blood and Isabeau’s stomach churned at the thought of what that man could do to them if he so wished.
It was one thing to be pursued by brigands, captured and bound in the middle of a forest. It was another to be taken by Beag Sinclair and to have a personal connection to him, one which had clearly caused the man to hold some sort of grudge. Isabeau couldn’t help but fear that he had taken Tiernan there to kill him and she had somehow been caught in the middle of it, with no way of escaping.
But I dinnae have anythin’ tae dae with this! Why would he take me too?
She didn’t dare point that out. She didn’t dare speak at all, fearful of what could happen if she drew the man’s attention to herself. It was better to let Tiernan do the talking, she thought. With any luck, he wouldn’t kill them.
Besides, if he had wanted Tiernan dead, then it made no sense to bring him all the way out here, in the woods, Isabeau reasoned. He could have had him killed in the forge instead of going into all the trouble of transporting him to the middle of nowhere, so that could only mean that he needed something from him.
“I have finally caught ye,” Beag said with a satisfied grin, opening his arms wide as to invite their praise. “Dae ye ken how long I’ve been searchin’ fer ye?”
“I’m guessin’ fer several years,” Tiernan said. “Ever since I stole from ye?”
“Precisely,” said Beag. “I’m glad ye remember me.”
All this over a few items?
Isabeau could hardly believe it. Surely, Beag Sinclair could afford to buy himself anything he wanted! Surely, some stolen things couldn’t be worth all this chase, one that spanned several years, from what they were saying.
“How could I forget?” Tiernan asked. “I never did manage tae get that sword though. Me sword.”
Beag chuckled, but there was no mirth behind it, no warmth. If anything, his gaze seemed to grow colder at Tiernan’s goading and Isabeau couldn’t help but wish that he would be more careful about the way he spoke to him. The last thing they needed was to enrage him, but Tiernan seemed to enjoy provoking him and all Isabeau could do was shoot him a warning look, one he couldn’t even see, focused as he was on Beag.
“Well, ye have a debt tae repay,” Beag said as he began to pace back and forth in front of them. At the snap of his fingers, one of the cloaked men approached Isabeau, and though she quickly backtracked, trying to put some distance between them, he was quick to grab her arm and pull her back. She couldn’t help the scream that tore itself from her throat. She couldn’t help the panic, the way her heart jumped to her throat, threatening to project out of her.
“Let her go!” Tiernan demanded as he strained against his bonds, desperately trying to reach Isabeau. His efforts were in vain, of course. There was nothing he could do to get himself out of those ropes, no matter how much he tried.
