Page 25 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Chapter Thirteen

Isabelle felt sick. She was glad that Eamon had taken their moment of silence to go make inquiries to the innkeeper. She didn’t think she would be able to bear talking about the boy anymore. Just in these few moments, she could sense her feelings grow for Eamon. He frustrated her with his lack of confidence and his ridiculous ideas about women, but she knew he was a good man. Now that they’d shared a laugh and a drink together, her heart was beating with affection. It was so loud, she felt that Eamon could probably hear it too.

So once he left the table to go speak to the innkeeper, Isabelle took a few deep breaths, hoping to calm herself before his return. How long can I go on deceiving him? He may never want to see me again once he finds out who I am and what I have done! She felt the weight of her deception like a stone upon her shoulders, and she saw no way out of this. There was no time to tell him, and once the kidnapping was over, she would be returned to her father and probably never see Eamon again.

Unless I tell him of my feelings. This thought began to bounce around in her brain as she watched his back. She could tell him, but what would that achieve? He was a ranger, living off the land and riding from one meal to the next. There was no way he would want to be tied down to a woman, even though she knew there was something going on between them, however small. She could feel it in the way he tensed when she wrapped her arms around him as they rode. She could see it in his dark eyes, for they would sparkle and lighten when she was near. And of course, there had been that kiss, so passionate, so all-consuming.

But she was a Sassenach, and he a Highlander. They were from two different worlds, no matter how much her heart yearned for him to take her as his own, to make love to her, and to marry her. She felt silly for her feminine thoughts, since she yearned for her own freedom, and perhaps marriage would only entrap her further. But she knew it would not be so with Eamon. If he felt the same way. He turned around and came back to her, and her heart sped up again as she saw the concern on his face.

“We go, lass.” He reached out for her hand, and without question, she took it as they left the tavern.

Once they were atop Aine, she whispered, “What is it? What did the innkeeper say?”

“He said that Gareth and Donovan came in to ask him questions about Cutler as well. They rode towards the castle only a few hours ago, but there is something else.”

Isabelle’s stomach sank. She knew something was wrong. “What is it?”

“The innkeeper says he saw a suspicious-looking man stand up and follow them once Gareth and Donovan left the inn.”

“Oh, no. It could have been one of my father’s men. I will pray for your friends’ safety. There is still a chance we could save them.” She spoke the words, but she did not believe them in her heart. She knew that they had been taken. “Let us ride. No one follows us. We will be safe. If there are prisoners with my father, then all the men will be there to protect the castle.”

Eamon nodded and coughed. “There is one more thing, lass.” Aine was trotting slowly towards the river. “The innkeeper said that this man had also asked about you. The innkeeper didnae know anything, of course, but the man was angry.”

“He did not get a good look at the man?”

Eamon shook his head. “Nae. He was bearded and hooded. And the innkeeper keeps the lights dim in the tavern.”

Isabelle sat back a little, unsure of what to think. “So perhaps my father has sent out a search party to look for me? And that is who the man was? He could have been simply riding back towards the castle to inform my father that he had not found me, not to follow Gareth and Donovan.”

“Perhaps.” Eamon sighed and pushed Aine into a faster canter. In half an hour’s fast ride, they could see the dark outline of Urquhart in the distance. It was old and misshapen.

“Is that the castle?” Isabelle whispered and pointed. “Why does it look so strange? It gives me a very bad feeling, Eamon.” She wrapped her arms around him a little tighter.

He slowed. “It was burned years ago tae stop Jacobites from meeting. So now nae one really uses it, but it is a popular spot for English officers. It is better than sleeping out in the open, so exposed under the stars.” He clucked to Aine, and the horse stopped. He jumped down and turned to take Isabelle down from the horse.

He kept his hands on her waist once her feet had touched the ground. The moon peeked through the clouds, and she could see his face. She never wanted him to let her go, but they had to move. She whispered. “We must be careful. They could be watching the outside of the castle, although if the men are captured, they could be celebrating. If only I had a bow.” They clasped hands once more and moved silently through the tall grasses.

“Ye can use a bow?” Eamon asked with incredulity. Isabelle turned to him swiftly.

“Is this about to be another time where you underestimate women and their abilities? Yes, I can use a bow. We are not as completely helpless as you believe.”

Eamon tried to utter something, but she placed a finger upon his lips, lingering there for a moment. “There is nothing more to discuss, Highlander. Come. I can see the light in the windows. Do you hear that?”

Eamon nodded, and they moved a little bit closer. The men were singing. “What in the Bloody Hell!”

Isabelle felt a slight comfort in the fact that men would not be on as strict of patrol if whisky and port were making their way around the group. Especially with the foolish soldiers from Fort Augustus on hand. But then she knew what it meant. She spotted a small group of soldiers on the landing high above them, and she pointed to them wordlessly. She yanked Eamon towards her, and they moved even closer to the ruined castle walls. Isabelle found a place where the tall grasses met with the wall, and she pushed Eamon back up against it. He opened his mouth, and she placed her finger on his lips again, giving him a warning look.

She pressed her back against the wall as well, and they both looked up to listen to the men above.

One drunken voice slurred out, “Cutler is going mad, I think, boys!” The man laughed.

“Too true! He is tickled to have gotten those Scotsmen under his roof. He is planning his revenge. It will be bloody.” Isabelle could hear the slurping of drink as they paused to consume. She turned to Eamon, whose solemn face told her he had made out their words despite the English men’s struggle to articulate clearly.

“Tell me, how did he find them?”

“He sent that Norring man out. Norring was looking for that beautiful daughter of his who disappeared at Drumnadrochit, but he could not find her. He came across those two men heading towards the castle, and he ambushed them. What fools!” The men laughed together and headed further into the castle and out of hearing. Isabelle felt her eyes grow moist. Oh, if only my father wasn’t such a brute! Then perhaps there could be hope for mercy!

She was about to pull Eamon back towards the horse when the two of them heard footsteps coming around the side of the castle. At that moment, the moon slipped behind a dark cloud again, and she thanked the Heavens for its help to cover them. She pushed away from the wall as quickly as she could and laid her front against Eamon’s. “The cloak!” she mouthed, and he hurried to grab it to bend down and cover himself and her.

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