Page 33 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Chapter Seventeen

As they rode, one of the men yelled and pointed behind them. They turned their heads and could see thick smoke rising in the distance. Isabelle’s heart fell. She whispered to Eamon. “He comes! My father is on our tail. I know it is he. He is certain to have gone to the inn, asked the innkeeper of our whereabouts, and burned it as a reminder of his own power.”

She was on the verge of tears. After what had happened between her and Eamon last night, all she wanted was to be free of her father. Even if Eamon did not love her or return her feelings, she still couldn’t go back to the life she had before. She had to fight for something, anything, other than staying trapped with a man who only believed in hatred and blood. She had to help the Highlanders fight for freedom and find her own in the process.

Eamon put his arms around her and pushed Aine to ride harder and faster. “If ye dinnae wish tae go back tae him, lass, then I will fight tae the death tae keep ye with me.”

Isabelle’s heart skipped a beat as her mind took in the words. She didn’t know what to say, but her heart screamed ‘yes’ in reply. She closed her eyes and allowed the moment to wash over her, filling her with happy satisfaction, even if it was to be short-lived. “We just need tae make those trees, lass, and then, I hope that we can hide away from him. They are dark and dangerous.” Isabelle took hope in his confidence.

She looked ahead. The woods seemed close, but they were, in fact, quite distant, and she willed Aine to ride harder and faster than she ever had before. In her mind, she whispered, dear Aine, you are to save us now!

She smiled, trying to fill her heart with hope as their group sped towards their destination, but then she heard a sharp cry and saw one of the riders fall away. Her heart sank. “No!” she yelled, and the rest of the riders had to slow to see who it was.

Eamon yelled out once he saw it was Sean, who was barely hanging on to his horse. “Lukas! Grab him! He has been hit!” Isabelle could feel the power of his voice in her back as it rumbled through his chest. Lukas rode next to the horse, and Dirk followed on the other side, ready to take the horse’s reins when necessary. To Isabelle’s relief, Lukas successfully pulled Sean onto his own horse’s back. Sean was crying out with pain, and Isabelle could see blood seeping from a wound in his leg. It was an arrow that was sunken in deep inside of his calf.

She turned to Eamon. “They will be close! Too close. We must not ride to the village then. Is there nowhere else to go to for protection?” Her eyes moved back and forth, but she could not find anything or anywhere to turn to. It was an open road.

Eamon’s whole body was stiff, but once Sean was safely with Lukas, their speed returned. Eamon led the way, turning off the road and down into a sharp valley that led its way along the side of the dark forest. Aine’s hooves pounded heavily into the soft earth, and Isabelle clung to the hope that they could make it. She trusted Eamon with her entire being, even though he did not disclose where they were going. But in a short moment, they arrived outside the large stone walls of a clan village.

Eamon yelled at the gate, and it opened to him. They rushed inside, and Eamon jumped from the horse, pulling Isabelle off with him. He helped the men close the gate and shutter it as quickly as he could. He was heaving for breath, and the rest of the horses were glad to be at rest from a gallop. Isabelle rushed to Arya’s side, clinging to her hands. “It is he, Arya. He comes for us.”

Arya nodded, and everyone turned to see a groaning Sean being helped down from his horse by Lukas and Eamon. The bleeding had stopped, which was a relief, but Isabelle knew that it would resume once the arrow was dislodged.

Strange men rushed to their group. “What is this?” A man bellowed until he saw Sean and Eamon’s face. “Wilson, what have ye wrought upon us now?”

They turned towards their castle and called inside. Isabelle could only assume it was their laird for which they called. She followed her group of men into the large castle, as they carried Sean into the main hall. Eamon was still trying to catch his breath as he waited for the laird to make his appearance.

Soon the portly man arrived, his brow twisted in confusion and fear. “Who is it that puts my men into such a stew?” He squinted his eyes at Eamon’s face. “Aye, the Wilson brothers have come again. I thought ye were tae be in battle with that Lord Cutler of yorn. Why have ye come?”

He looked down to see Sean on the floor, writhing in pain. Eamon began, “I know ye didnae want tae help us, laird, but I come tae ask ye for protection. We have naewhere else tae go, or else our bodies would be strewn across the fields of yer land. Cutler chases us as we ride tae our village. My brother is wounded. We wouldnae have made it in time, and there is nae protection of walls there. Help us, laird!”

His voice was desperate as he looked deeply into Laird MacManus’ eyes. The older man was taken aback by the desperate tone in his voice. “Lad, I told ye nae tae bring trouble tae our lands. We wanted nae part in yer fight.”

“We didnae want tae bring ye in tae it. But yer walls will be strong enough. Cutler has nae the men that he had once.”

Laird MacManus stared down at a suffering Sean. “Men! Take him up tae one of the rooms. We shall look after him. I didnae want this, but I willnae suffer my own people tae be slaughtered on my very doorstep.”

Eamon’s face broke into a smile, and Isabelle wished she could hug the old laird. Eamon cried out, “May the Lord bless ye and keep ye, Sir. We will do our best tae fight off Cutler and his men without any danger coming tae yer clan.”

Eamon followed Sean upstairs as he was carried to an empty room and laid on the bed. “Is there a healer among you?” He turned to see Isabelle and Arya behind him. Isabelle laid a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“I would like to offer my services for a time. I can assist him if you like. Arya is quite good at these kinds of things. We could care for him until a healer has been found.” Eamon smiled and nearly drew her into his arms, but hesitated once he realized they were not alone.

Eamon turned to one of the MacManus men that surrounded them. “Search for a healer if you will.” The man scowled at first. “I know you do not desire our presence here, but this man could be the key to our freedom, so run as fast as you can!” The man left, and it was only the three of them left, watching over a pain-stricken Sean.

“I shall ask the maids if they can bring hot water and cloth,” Arya said quietly, leaving the room without either Eamon or Isabelle noticing. Eamon watched as Isabelle laid her hands gently on Sean’s injured leg.

His heart was tightening with fear. “Will he be all right?” He knew it was not a fatal wound, but he had seen the amount of blood his brother had lost. He had seen many wounds fester into death. The trail of Sean’s blood would surely lead Cutler straight to them now. Perhaps that was the purpose the archer had, instead of dealing a killing blow. But hopefully, the Cutler men would be crushed against the MacManus walls.

Isabelle smiled. “All will be well. I am amazed that the arrow did not go as deep as it could have. My father’s archers are the best in England.” She paused. “They must have been very far away for it not to go as deep as it would normally have.”

“Is there nothing that would keep yer father at bay? Is there nothing that would help tae save my brother and his family from ruin and death?” He couldn’t help the emotion that threaded through his voice. As he watched Sean’s quiet form, he feared that he had let his brother down so greatly once more and that he could never regain his brother’s trust.

Sean shifted and then seemed to slump into unconsciousness. Eamon sat up, his eyes moving across his brother’s body quickly. “What is it? He sleeps?”

Isabelle responded as calmly as she could. “Yes. It has to do with the blood that he lost. Once he is mended, he will be well. The short sleep will do him good.” At that moment, Arya entered in with warm water, herbs, and cloths. Arya and Isabelle rubbed and cleaned the wound as best they could, while Eamon watched from afar, trying to think of a plan.

Isabelle turned to Eamon. “I am afraid that your brother will need the wound to be sealed or else fresh blood will pour out anew, and he could weaken further. If we cannot find a healer soon who could stitch it for him, we will have to sear the wound with fire.”

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