Page 37 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Chapter Nineteen

Isabelle clung to her father, as he rode hard away from the MacManus camp and to some unknown location. For other women, they might have found comfort in the moment of closeness. But Isabelle had never felt safe with her father, and this time, she felt even less so. The sun was setting, and so the fading light made it easier to see the flames that were licking up towards the heavens back behind them.

She wanted to rage and scream at her father for his hatred and his malice, but she found she had nothing left within her. Once she’d seen Sean give up his life for his people and Eamon’s desolation at the fact, as well as her father’s plan to burn the village, she’d fled out the door, hoping that her arrival would satisfy her father enough to keep the village intact. She soothed herself by thinking that the fire would damage the MacManus clan, but it would not raze their village to the ground.

This is what she had to do to save everyone. She didn’t work fast enough to save Sean, and perhaps it was his own pride that sent him out the door, for her father would not have been satisfied to just retrieve her, but this was the extent of what she could do. However, Eamon’s face as she fled through the door, looking back one more time, devastated her. He knew of her betrayal, and she could see the pain she wrought in his core. It was not her intention, she told herself. It was never her intention.

But what did she really care about? What was it that had driven her to do what she did? Hanging papers in the night that called for war, meeting with Highlanders, planning her own kidnapping. What was it all for? It certainly was not to give herself back to her father, for she knew that she could never convince him to stop his pursuit of The Scots. Then what? Isabelle settled into silence as she let the rhythm of the hooves lull her into a sort of sleep. She closed her eyes against the world, wanting to forget everything she’d ever felt. She wanted to forget Eamon, but in her heart, she knew it would not be that easy.

They finally slowed, and she looked up to see a makeshift camp a long distance from the village. It had been ages, it seemed, since they’d left the MacManus walls, but she couldn’t be sure. She was not sure of anything anymore. She jumped down from the horse, and as soon as she did, her father glanced back at her for a moment, and for one second, she thought he would bring her into his arms with relief. But instead, he said, “We will talk later, daughter.” It was said in a monotone, and she knew that now was not the time to speak to him. She had to confess everything she did. Perhaps she could save The Scots some hardship, at least. She could sacrifice herself to protect them?

She watched painfully as Sean was tied by the hands and taken into her father’s tent. She tried to go after him, but someone caught her by the arm, and she turned to face Martin’s gleeful expression. “Isabelle Cutler, what have you been doing all this time? Dressed as a man, no less?” He clicked his tongue with disapproval. “I am certain that your father will be very interested in where you’ve been and who you’ve been consorting with.” He grinned, and Isabelle slapped him. The little man burned with fury and moved to hit her back but did nothing. He knew that it would not go well for him if he did.

Isabelle smiled smugly. “Why should you assume I have been up to no good, Martin? Do not think that you will escape his ire. One day he shall come for you, and you will feel his fury.” She turned away from him and moved to the edge of her father’s tent, unsure of where to be or where to think. She had to speak to him, to tell him all, but she knew that her father would want to deal with Sean first.

Her heart began to quicken. But what would he do? Inside the tent, it was yet silent, but it would soon be something. She knew that her father would not rest until he had his revenge. She waited for a moment, but then she couldn’t bear it any longer. She burst into the tent, calling out her father’s name.

Once she clambered past the surprised guards, she called out, “Father! Take me! Do not take him. He is innocent!”

Surprised, her father turned around from where he had been standing, and Sean watched her with a strange eye. “What do you mean, girl? How dare you run into my interrogation like this? This is not your business!”

She could see her father’s rage return replacing his look of smug satisfaction at having caught The Wanderer.

She took a breath. “It was me, father. I planned the kidnapping. I am the one who was the spy for this man and his people, giving them the information they needed to avoid your wrath and to find a way to defeat you. I am the one who calls for a battle against English forces in Scotland. The Scots had nothing to do with any of it. Punish me, Father. They did not know what they did when the King’s nephew was killed. Let this man go. He has a family to return to.”

Silence followed her confession. It was eerie and heavy, like a drenched blanket. Isabelle waited to hear what her father would have to say, hopeful for his clemency but fearful of his retribution. His expression was unreadable. After a pause, he wandered forward and stood before her. He looked into her eyes and then struck her sharply with the back of his hand. In her surprise at his reaction as well as the weight of the blow, Isabelle fell to the ground, her face stinging.

It was not out of character for the man in general, but as a father, he had never hit her. He had only used harsh words and played with guilt to make her do what he wanted. But this? She clutched the side of her face, and she looked up at a disconcerted Sean. “What in the bloody Hell are ye doing?” he whispered down to her.

“Shut up, Highlander. You will say nothing in defense of my daughter.” Cutler’s beady eyes turned to Isabelle. “What have you done? How could you have betrayed your family and your people as you have? You were to be my heir.”

Despite being on the ground, the weaker party in the exchange, Isabelle, felt strong. She’d finally told the truth, and the weight lifted off her shoulders made her feel light enough to fly. She clenched her jaw and replied, “It was for hate of you and your ways, father. I do not want a life of greed and murder. I want a life of joy and happiness. I want these people to be free from their chains, just as I wish for myself.”

To her surprise, he began to laugh. “You have attempted all this at the expense of your own country! You are a traitor, my dear!” He paused, and his laugh ended, replaced with a menacing voice. “You know what a servant of the King must do with traitors.” He tilted his head as if to make an attempt at sympathy. She did know. Every beat of her heart told her what must happen. And yet, she could not detect any sadness in her father’s eyes. Regret, perhaps, but not a deep, enduring sadness that a parent would feel at the loss of a child, especially if the loss was at their own hand.

That last realization blew the last bit of hope and energy from her. She cared for nothing anymore. She replied, her voice drained of its former vigor, “So be it.”

Something unknown flitted across her father’s taut expression, but then he snapped his fingers. “Guards, tie her up and leave her outside the tent. I shall deal with her later, once I have spoken to the Highlander.” His gaze turned to Sean, and it was as if Isabelle no longer existed.

* * *

Cutler could not let his mind linger on his daughter’s betrayal. He had his man now, and he wanted to drag it out for as long as he could. He paced back and forth in front of the tied man, contemplating what he would do next. “We have your man with us, Wanderer, and he guided us to your abandoned camp. He was lucky enough that we found you as we traveled towards your supposed village. Where are The Scots?”

Sean blinked in surprise. “Ye didnae kill him then?”

“Of course I killed one of them, but the other we needed for information. Do not worry. He will meet his end as you will yours.”

Sean was silent. Cutler sighed. It was the way of all people. Not wanting to give up information until they had it beaten out of them. There was always a price. There was always too much pain. “You say they have been disbanded. Why?”

Sean kept his eyes down as he stated, “They have cause to find a new way in the world. They dinnae want the life of a thief—”

“Or murderer.”

“Aye. Anymore. They want a new life. We havenae seen each other in many months. I couldnae tell ye.”

Cutler nodded. “And what about the information I received about your village beyond the dark forest? All of my informants told me there was such.”

He could see the man falter, and he grinned. It was all so easy. Sean replied, “I do live there, aye, it is true. But it is nae with The Scots.”

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