Page 43 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Chapter Twenty-Two

Isabelle awoke but couldn’t be certain as the darkness inside the cell was near to the darkness of sleep. When she felt the movement of Donovan against her shoulder, she knew it was real, and the memory of where they were and what was going to happen made her stomach feel like it was filled with lead.

She didn’t know what to say to her companions in the gloom. What words were there to say? How does one calm others when they are on the eve of their death? How does one calm oneself? She had felt the nervousness of it all, her heart beating feverishly as she could feel the weight of her demise upon her, but now, after some hours of sleep, she felt a wave of calm come over her as if she was floating in the sea, feeling the waves surround her and hold her up.

It felt strange, almost like she was drugged with the fear of her loss of life. She had never expected it to end so soon. At least she had others to join her on this journey to the end. She heard the croak of Donovan’s voice next to her. “When is our execution? He didnae even say?”

Isabelle sighed. “I do not know. He does not say much. I think he will delay it for as long as he can until he can find a way to make the most dramatic show possible. That is what he desires, as he said.” Sean grumbled on the other side of the dungeon.

“And he enjoys us sitting here in the darkness wondering what it is like to die. I wonder if he has ever questioned it himself.”

What an interesting thought.Had her father ever thought about death or feared it in any way? He certainly doled it out to others in large doses, but had he ever stopped to think what it all meant or how he would feel when he came to his end? She knew that he understood he would have to die one day, despite his harsh bravado because he had wanted her so desperately to take up his position upon his death and follow through with his legacy.

Sean suddenly spoke up, his voice surprisingly light, “Isabelle, if I may call ye that, lass, I didnae thank ye for what ye did.”

She scoffed, wondering what he could possibly mean. “Thank me? For what?”

“Ye put up the flyers around the country, asking for a rebellion. Ye tried tae bring us tae victory against injustice. Ye dressed as a man and put yerself intae dangerous situations, in order tae do us some good. I must thank ye. It is nae every day that someone would do something like that, especially when it is nae even for their people or their country.”

Isabelle felt tears brimming at her eyes. She never expected this, to be given gratitude for the small acts that she’d endeavored and ultimately failed to complete. “Well, you are most welcome, Sean. I could not let my father plunder and kill forever. I needed to find a way to stop him.” She laughed morbidly. “I was not successful, as we can see.”

The other two men laughed as well, and the small group of prisoners was lightened for a moment, grateful for the brief respite from the heaviness of their impending doom. “I always suspected ye, though. I never trusted that ye were a spy. There was something off about ye, both the spy and yerself as a woman.”

“Perhaps, if I survive this, I should never resort to costumes again. I was not very successful. But I convinced yer brother, at least.”

Sean said, “Aye, well once ye were a woman, I think ye could have convinced him of nearly anything. He was as besotted as a young boy.”

Isabelle smiled, even though it pained her to think of it. “Tell me of your wife, Sean. And Donovan, have you a wife?”

Donovan replied, “Nae, but I was thinking of someone, although it is madness that I should have even considered her.”

Isabelle’s heart began to race with excitement. She wanted to clutch at anything that would tear her mind from her father’s plans. “Who is it?”

He squirmed a little, but she couldn’t see his expression very well in the dark. “Well, I suppose I must have fallen under the same spell as Eamon, for I have thought of yer lady’s maid, Arya since I left the group and was captured. She is a lovely lass. Kind, gentle, beautiful.”

Isabelle wanted to squeal with delight. Even if Arya could not have Donovan, she was still justified in her affection for him. How wonderful she would feel if she could only be told of his interest. “Well, she is a fine woman, indeed. Despite her status and relationship with my family, I consider her a true friend. She has seen me through many dangers. And, if it lightens your heart in this dark time, you should know that she has mentioned you to me as well, as someone that had turned her head.”

Donovan sighed with contentment but said no more. Sean began, “Rose waits for me in the village, with our child in her belly. I swore tae protect her, and so I shall. I hope she knows that she will have tae find a way tae run away from Cutler once we are dead. He knows of the village, and he will try tae go there, I am sure of it. He will have tae check his tracks and his information.”

“What is she like?” Isabelle’s voice had turned to a low, pleasured sound, almost dreamy as she imagined the feeling of being with someone she loved. Sean’s voice took on a similar dreamy tone as he spoke of his love.

“She is a fiery woman, quick to temper, and willing tae fight as ferociously as a wolf for what she wants. But there is a kindness and sweetness about her that makes her a good leader and a wonderful wife. She will be a good mother.” He laughed to himself for a moment, lost in memories. “I would have liked tae see her once more, though, before I am lost tae her.”

Isabelle nodded, feeling that familiar clench of tears in her chest. “I wish that you could too.”

She let her mind wander to thoughts of Eamon. If it had all been different, perhaps she could have been just like Sean’s wife, a fighter, a leader, in love with a wonderful man who loved her back. Even though her luxurious life in London would have been over, she would have been happy. She knew that for certain. But it hurt too much to think about Eamon and what could have been. It was better to talk about happy memories.

After a long silence, Sean said, “All will be well, lass. Our journey ends here, but we will find rest.”

She thought she was empty of them, but a tear made its way down her cheek.

* * *

Eamon rode with the stars as his guide. They had ridden all day and were now nearing the loch and the passage across the river. They were nearly halfway done with their journey. He looked up into the night sky, sending through silent prayers. God Almighty, save my brother from this fate. Let me get to him in time, so that I can return him to his family. I need to make recompense for the past. I am not afraid now. Help him, God.

His head returned to the road ahead, but something niggled at his heart and mind. Save Isabelle too. Keep her safe. Despite everything, the truth that had emerged, he still loved her if she was the Isabelle she had shown him. Even though she’d lied, if she truly acted like herself, then his love was fixed upon her. It could not waver. He wanted to laugh bitterly at how he’d ended up.

He had desired for so long to find a love like Isabelle and to find someone to carry his heart, and now that he had it, he was in pain. He felt like he was being punished for his desire. The sound of horses and breathing surrounded him in the cold darkness, and his mind was focused ahead, willing the Fort to come into view. The air chilled with the nearness of the water, and once he arrived at its edge, he thought of Isabelle as he saw the moonlight streaking its white rays across the surface. She loved the loch. She loved this land. Perhaps Arya was right, and Isabelle was genuine about wanting to leave her father and remain here.

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