Page 54 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When he got to the edge of the forest, she pulled on his arm and spun him around to face her. He winced, and she pulled back. “I am sorry to have hurt you, but I need you to listen to me. I have loved you ever since we met, and I hate that I left the way that I did, but I did it for you, you bloody idiot!” Her anger was reaching a peak, and she could feel her cheeks heat as the blood rushed to her head. “I was on the brink of death by the hand of my own father, but my thoughts were filled with you. I wanted you to come and rescue me, and I hated the fact that I would not have been able to have the life I wanted to have with you!”

He stared down at her. She didn’t notice the slight smile that began to turn up the corners of his mouth. “Then, you rescue us, and you get stabbed by my father. I kill my own father with you in my mind, and I save your life! I was the one to press the blade to your wound so that you did not bleed to death, and yet you continue to treat me with disdain! I am sorry. I am terribly sorry about what has happened. I care nothing for England or my life there. I want to live here forever, but if you do not want that, or if you still cannot bring yourself to care for me or to forgive me, then I shall not force you!” Her loud voice felt like it echoed against the tree trunks and was replaced by the sound of her breath as she tried to regain her balance after releasing her rage.

She was almost dizzy with how hard she had yelled and how much emotion she had put into her words. Never before had she been so honest, so open with her thoughts and feelings, letting herself appear so exposed. Her father would never have approved of such “weak” behavior.

“Are ye finished now, lass?” Eamon said, and Isabelle was annoyed by the smile he wore that was growing wider with each moment.

“I suppose I am, but I could say more if I need to—” her words were cut off as she felt Eamon’s lips close over her own, and she tensed with surprise as Eamon’s hands slid around her waist, pulling her close to him.

Tears of happiness began to well in her eyes, and Isabelle wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her lips to Eamon’s, finally feeling at home again in his passionate kiss. The taste of him was so familiar and so sweet, she melted into him, forgetting that they were in the forest far from home, and not lost in the wonder of each other’s bodies back in a solitary tavern room with a steaming bath nearby.

Suddenly, Eamon pulled back abruptly, wincing. She glanced down and saw her hand on his wound. “Oh, I am sorry. How does it feel?”

He grinned. “Like I have been stabbed and then burned with a hot metal sword by a mad Sassenach.”

Isabelle laughed. “This madwoman sounds quite brilliant. At least your attitude is strong enough. Perhaps that could use a little adjustment.”

Eamon laughed loudly, and the sound made Isabelle’s heart glad. All the anger was behind them. Now she and Eamon could be together. “Will ye come with me, lass? Come tae my tent this evening.”

“So I shall, but I am afraid, but I could do with a bit of water to wash with. Let me go to the river for a moment while it is still light out.”

“Fine, but I shall watch you to make sure that no one is about.”

Isabelle laughed and pushed his chest away. “No, you shall do nothing of the kind! The river is close enough to the camp if there is something I need. I do not wish you to see just how dirty I am after days in a dungeon. Go to the tent! I will be there soon.”

“All right. I will see you soon, but if you do not return quickly, then I shall come and search for you myself, dirty or not.” He winked, and Isabelle laughed again before hurrying to the water’s edge. There was still a little daylight left, and as she stripped off her clothes and stepped into its depths, she felt the wonderful icy plunge of the cool water rushing over her skin.

She scrubbed furiously, wanting her body to be just as desirable as it was on that day in the tavern. She was embarrassed by the dust and grime that had created a thick layer on her skin. It did not take long to wash, and once she emerged from the water, she felt like a new woman. She had no choice but to put on the same dirty clothes, but she thought with a smile, I shall not need them in a moment.

Making her way back towards the camp, she paused as she heard a rustle of leaves and the crunch of sticks behind her. She turned around in the dim light, expecting to see a curious animal nearby. Finding nothing, she turned back, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves before meeting Eamon again. She took another step, and then she felt a sweaty, thick hand clamp over her mouth, and a dagger pointing into her side.

* * *

Eamon waited in his tent, overjoyed at their reunion. He loved her, and he was worried about her own affection for him after all that had happened, but there she had been, yelling her love at him. He was happy to hear her full explanation, and she was absolutely right. He was a bastard and an idiot. He knew after talking to Arya and others that it was not her real motive to align with her father and go against the Scots.

He had known deep down, and yet he hadn’t been able to get over it. He wanted to punish her for the hurt and pain he felt by her betrayal. But as he sank onto the mat on the floor of the tent, he had a startling realization. He now understood what Sean had felt like all those years ago when Eamon had fled their clan lands, leading to the death of his father and his brother’s family.

He grinned. He had been fully punished, and now he could finally let go of all the guilt that held him back. But now that he had made up with Isabelle, he would have to go and speak to Sean, to see if they could be true brothers again, not only in blood but also in spirit and in action. Where was Isabelle? It had been far too long since he had seen her go toward the river. She had said that the washing would not take too long, but he lost track of time, as he was lost in his thoughts.

He stood, wincing slightly at a sharp pain in his side. He would have to do his best to look for her to make sure she did not get sidetracked by some of the others down by the fire. He wanted her all to himself tonight, and he wasn’t going to share his time with her tonight with anyone. When else would they have the time again while they rode back to Sean’s village the next morning?

He left the tent, a little nervous as he saw that it had darkened considerably since he’d seen her last. He turned towards the fire, but he didn’t see her there, so he plodded on towards the river and the thicker woods. It was getting far too hard to see, and he wished he’d brought a makeshift torch, but he spotted something moving close by and heard the crunch of leaves underfoot. “Isabelle? Bloody Hell, lass, what are ye doing? It has taken ye quite long enough tae do yer washing.”

He stepped forward, straining to see in the darkness, but Isabelle did not answer. There was a shaft of moonlight streaming down into the trees, and he could see her outline. “Isabelle, why do ye nae answer me?” His voice began to tremble a little, and he chided himself for not coming prepared with his dagger.

There again was no answer, and then he saw two forms shift forward into the path of cold moonlight. It was Isabelle, her eyes wide, with a hand over her mouth. He saw a dagger being pushed into her side, glinting in the light and behind her a tiny man with beady eyes. Instinctively, he stepped forward in order to fight, but the man called out. “Do not take another step, Scot, or else your beautiful Isabelle will receive a dagger to the side, just as you too have received. But this time, I will be sure to go deep enough, so that she cannot be saved.”

Eamon recognized the voice as the man with the keys in the dungeon. “What are ye doing here, lad? Should ye nae be with yer soldiers and yer men?”

“What men? What forces? The soldiers have fled to another fort along the water. Fort William is ruined, most of it burned, thanks to your efforts. I came all this way to get revenge. That will at least give me something to do that is for the greater good. This woman was meant to be executed after all.”

Isabelle wriggled, and Martin only clamped tighter. Eamon took a breath. He could feel the anger rushing over him, but he knew he was no match against this man with his wound still radiating waves of pain, even if the man was tinier than him. Eamon could see the angry desperation in the man’s eyes, and he feared he would do something rash and deadly. Even if Eamon was able to get his hands on him and kill him, he might lose Isabelle in the process. He could not risk that.

“What is it that ye want from me?”

“I want you to leave us in peace so that I can do what my leader would want me to do.”

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