Page 45 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Chapter Twenty-Three

Eamon was at a small creek, allowing Aine a bit of rest and water. The men were doing the same. Hardly any words were spoken. The men had ridden too long and hard and had barely stopped at all. Yet they would soon have their victory, for the Fort was slowly coming into view. It was afternoon, and Eamon wondered if he was too late. He knew that Sean could not have reached the Fort much before he and his men would, especially not with all their materials and wealth weighing them down.

But what would he do if he was too late? How would he be able to face Rose after his failure to save Sean? He pushed that thought aside as he sat atop Aine once more. “I am sorry, my girl, but we must keep riding,” He whispered down by her ear and rubbed her neck. The other men followed him, and he slowed their pace just a little since the Fort was just ahead of them. Lukas rode alongside. “Soon, we will have tae hide, lad, tae make a plan of attack.”

“Aye. But I dinnae ken where. We may have tae wait until night. My brain is so foggy I can barely think straight.”

“Aye. The same with all of us. And now that Cutler is back in the Fort, he will have more men at his disposal.”

Eamon had not thought of that in all his preparations. “Aye, ye are right. Damn. Have we any hope, Lukas?”

Lukas chuckled. “Nae much, but we have been looking for some bloody excitement for too long. We need tae take our chance now while we still can.”

Eamon was lightened by his friend’s words. “Come, we shall reach the Fort by the evening, and then we will decide what tae do.”

As they rode, Eamon was grateful for a few clumps of trees that surrounded the Fort, even as it faced its open side to the sea. They would have to hide, deciding what to do next. He knew that the men would probably be residing in the dungeon, and so they might be able to find a way to get below, open the bars, and fight their way to escape. He had to hope that the soldiers would not be expecting any sort of raid since they assumed that The Scots had disbanded and most likely did not know of Sean’s capture.

He kept his mind on plans as the Fort edged closer and closer, and the sun neared the horizon. He began to slow Aine’s pace as they neared the patch of woods closest to the Fort. They could see soldiers atop the Fort’s walls as they hid behind the trees. As the men dismounted and crept towards him, he said, “We shall approach at nightfall, tae see if we are too late.” The young man of The Scots grinned.

“That is just what we ken how tae do. Ye should leave it tae us tae find out what we need. I will take myself and a few others. We are quick, unseen. Ye and the others should sleep. Rest yer bodies for the battle ahead. I will find ye the word that ye need.” Eamon looked at Lukas. Fatigue had settled over his body, he wanted so desperately to agree to it. Lukas nodded at him in agreement.

“Aye. We agree.”

“Good. The other men will stay behind and rest as well.” They set up a small camp and lit a fire while the evening light remained, in order to try to keep it as hidden as possible from the soldiers’ sight.

He said to Lukas, “I feel like there is still time. Cutler is a showy man. Ye saw him. He would want tae make the execution as dramatic as possible. He would do it in the light of day, with an audience. I have a feeling it will be either outside of the Fort on the front area, or it will be up on the rooftops, open for view.”

He nodded. “Aye, I think yer right. Get some sleep, lad. Ye will need it if ye plan on doing any fighting with yer sword.”

“I thought we had a few guns.”

“Aye, just a few, but we dinnae have much gunpowder. In the end, we will have tae rely on our bows and swords.” He grinned. “But that should nae be a problem.”

Eamon said, “I want tae stay awake until I see them gone tae the fort. How could I sleep when they might nae be able tae succeed?” But the fatigue was too much. He saw the evening darken and a few small shapes head towards the fort. He fell into a deep sleep, forgetting all that was at stake.

* * *

In a few hours, he was awoken roughly by Lukas. He blinked his eyes that were heavy with sleep. He was angry. The rest had done little more than tire him further. “What is it?”

“They have returned!” Lukas’ voice was light and energetic. The young man from before crept towards him, and Eamon sat up to meet him.

“Eamon, the execution has nae yet taken place! There is time!” Suddenly, Eamon snapped awake. Perhaps it was the fear of failure that was exhausting him, but now that hope still lingered, his brain fired into action.

“When is it tae happen? Have ye heard?”

“Aye, aye,” the young man said excitedly. “We heard them atop the battlements. They are preparing the place. It will happen tomorrow morning. They have three prisoners tae execute.”

“Three?” Eamon looked at Lukas with confusion. “I suppose Cutler has nae murdered Donovan and Gareth after all. That is strange, is it nae?”

Lukas nodded when the young Scots man said, “Nae. From what we gathered, one of the prisoners appears tae be a woman. They were discussing how tae make the execution quicker and less painful for her.”

“A woman?” Eamon wracked his brain for who it could possibly be. “Perhaps a Scotswoman that they took captive from Drumnadrochit?” The rest of them shrugged in reply. It was a possibility, but Eamon knew that it didn’t sound like Cutler’s sort of thing. He would only want to execute those who he could get a show out of. Eamon was certain Cutler wouldn’t consider dramatically executing an unknown Scottish woman for some small matter beneath his notice and not worth his time.

He shrugged with the rest of the men, knowing that there was not much time left to make their plans, but the thought still nagged at him. He thought about Isabelle. Perhaps she told her father of her ventures in hanging up pamphlets around the country. Calling for war? Calling for rebellion? That was treasonous, but Eamon could not imagine a father executing his own daughter. Punishing her certainly, but not putting her head atop a chopping block for an audience to see.

It was callous, heartless, and cruel. Eamon’s fears grew as he realized that those were the exact words that described Cutler. If anyone was capable of murdering their own child for the sake of their country, then it was Lord Tiberius Cutler. He tried to shake the feeling that Isabelle was the third prisoner, but it wouldn’t leave. He had to try to focus on something else.

Lukas tapped him on the shoulder. “Eamon? Are ye with us? We must plan, lad!” Eamon looked at the men and women that surrounded him, ready to hear his words, ready to fight. He nodded. It was time.

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