Page 23 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Chapter Twelve

Cutler was now warm with wine, and despite the cold habitation of the broken castle, he felt far more comfortable than in their last camp. He opened another bottle and sat down by the roaring fire to enjoy himself. He had spent too long in fury and rage, and he was weary. It was dark now, yet Norring had not returned with any news. He drank and let his foggy mind wander to thoughts of Isabelle. The last time he remembered seeing her was next to him as he was speaking to the idiot villagers that surrounded him.

Then those voices, those blasted voices, had begun to call out against him. How dare they? He seethed with anger at the memory. He had never thought of himself weak or useless, quite the opposite, but this event had shattered his confidence. He needed to think of a plan much more bloodthirsty than what he had thought originally.

Where could Isabelle have gone? The loss of his daughter only fueled his drunken anger. He had had such high hopes for his daughter, and she had been changing, more open to learning from him, but now she was gone. If she was dead, then all hope was lost at his having an heir. If she was alive but had left of her own accord, then he would have to punish her. And that punishment might include death if she had done anything treasonous.

Norring burst into the room so quickly that Cutler nearly lost his grip on the bottle. “Sir! Lord Cutler. There is news.”

Cutler stood and said, “Go on. What have you to tell me? It certainly took you long enough to return.”

Just then, Norring called out towards the doorway, and his two selected men dragged in another two, their faces bloody and their arms bound. They wore kilts and swords at their sides. Cutler scrunched up his face in annoyance. “What good are these men? There were more than two at Drumnadrochit. We will go back and find our vengeance as a whole. And where is my daughter?” He was growing impatient. His hand clenched into a fist. He was ready to hurt someone.

Norring continued, “No, sir, you do not understand. These two men are from The Scots. And they know where yer daughter is.”

Cutler paused a moment, and then his face folded into a wide grin. “Well, that is good news, Norring. Very good news.” He laughed, all thoughts of feeling weak and useless gone from his mind. I know just what to do with them.

* * *

Eamon sat by the fire in the darkness, the meal ended and the men lying about in various states of slumber, their bellies full of whisky. Isabelle and Arya were nearby, silent as they stared into the flames. He knew what was on everyone’s minds. They waited for news of the scouts, even though Eamon had given them until dawn. He had to, or else everyone would have waited all night, for fear of the men not returning. He knew that Sean would be worried most of all.

Every so often, Eamon’s gaze would slide up to Isabelle’s face, and each time he did so, she was watching him. Once he got caught in her gaze, his confusion would resurface. It was like she was putting a spell on him, and her expression was unreadable. There was a moment between them when she had thrust herself into his arms only a few hours before, and his heart had swelled with desire.

But to his surprise, it had not been simply a desire to sate his body, but it was a deep yearning to be loved and wanted. Isabelle’s embrace brought things up in him. He had not felt for a long while. His mind flashed to Sean and Rose when he had seen their touching encounter before they had to leave. Eamon had given up all hope of ever finding a woman who he could love and who would love him as much as Sean and Rose loved one another, but that encounter with Isabelle had given him hope.

His desire frightened him, and he feared that she could see it or feel it. He pushed her away, not rudely, but brusquely, and she had blushed, saying, “Oh, forgive me. I can get rather carried away with excitement. I am very glad you will allow me to join you.”

He had spied Sean watching the two of them together, so they had quickly made plans to meet by the horses once the meal was over. Now Eamon sat with uncertainly pressing in on him. He had yet to tell Sean, and he dreaded the scene.

But he drew himself up and nodded briefly at Isabelle. “Sean, will ye watch the camp taenight? I must go. I have a duty tae the men. I must go after them tae make sure that their course is steady.”

Sean looked at him with surprise. “What? Are ye mad, brother? Go out alone?”

Eamon cringed, worried about what Sean would think of his next words. “Nae, nae alone. I ride with Cutler’s daughter.”

Sean laughed bitterly and stood to face his brother eye to eye. “I knew it. Ye take yer woman, and ye leave us tae die! I knew ye would weaken and leave when ye had the chance!”

Eamon’s stomach tightened. He was shocked by Sean’s vehement reaction. He stepped back a little as if to escape the range of his brother’s ire. “Sean, dinnae be ridiculous! I came tae ye with the news of Cutler’s arrival tae begin with! To ride after Gareth and Donovan is a good plan. Ye will see. If the men are captured, then at least we will know where they are and how we can save them.”

Sean shook his head. “Eamon Wilson, how do I know that ye will nae also be captured or leave us as I think ye are wont tae do?”

Sean’s voice had softened a little, but the edge of anger and doubt remained. Eamon felt helpless, and his own rage swelled at his brother’s doubt. “Brother, ye cannae know such a thing. Only the Almighty knows the future. All I can tell ye is that I promised I would prove myself tae ye, but ye need tae give me a chance tae do so.” The two of them ended their words, breathing hard near each other’s faces. Eamon was done asking questions. He understood the doubts and fears of his men, but he could not bear them all himself.

He pulled away from Sean and walked towards Isabelle. “We hope tae return taenight, brother.”

“And the lady’s maid? What are we tae do with her?”

“Keep her safe, of course. Her mistress will return as soon as she is able.”

Eamon fled towards the horses and did not look back. Isabelle walked hurriedly beside him, wrapped in a long cloak. His instinct was to pull her by the elbow again, but then he remembered he did not want to get slapped in the face for forgetting such an easy instruction. His whole body was tense with emotion. He knew that behind him, Sean was stewing and might very well begin to poison his own men against him, if that was possible. He couldn’t believe Sean’s accusation, but he had to begrudgingly admit, it did look suspicious.

He would have to make sure that they did return, or else he knew that Sean would assume the worst, and they might flee the area on their own. They approached Aine, and in the dark, the horse shivered as he approached. He reached out for her and smoothed her mane softly. “Lass, it is only me. We have an important job for ye tae do this night.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Isabelle reach out her hand to brush Aine’s nose. He was glad it was dark, or else she would have seen him color with embarrassment. He kept forgetting that others were around when he went to talk to his horse. “What a beautiful horse, Eamon. She is sweet as well.”

Eamon nodded. “Aye, she has seen me through many troubles. I hope that taenight is nae her last ride.”

Isabelle moved her hand from the horse to his arm. “It will not be. There is always hope if you know where to look,” she said softly in the darkness. He could only see the outline of her face, but he felt the heat coming from her hand.

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