Page 55 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

“Yer leader is dead now. He was killed fleeing the fort away from everyone. He was going tae leave ye all tae die. There is nae reason ye need tae continue his work.”

Martin sputtered, his fury causing him to spit. “I know that he is dead. I could see him being killed by this bitch’s arrow. That is how I knew about your wound.”

Eamon was intrigued, and he needed to keep Martin talking while he tried to think of a plan. “Why were ye there? Were ye running away as well?”

Martin growled. “I was not going to be left behind, not when I had spent so many years in service to that man. I had hoped he would let me inherit his title and legacy since his daughter was a useless wench. Now, he is gone, and I have nowhere else to go. I will get my revenge. She never appreciated her father’s power. She never wanted any of it.” Eamon could see Martin push the dagger a little deeper into Isabelle’s side.

Isabelle gasped. Eamon was frantic. How could he save her when she was again on the brink of death? He had done it once, he could do it again.

“I think ye shall regret this, lad. For yer death will come soon after if ye harm this woman.”

“What is my life anymore? I lived only to be of service to Cutler, and now that he is gone, I can only finish his work.”

“But what about the rest of The Scots? He wanted all of them to die, not just his daughter. The Wanderer yet lives, and I know where the rest of The Scots reside. If ye die taenight, then ye will nae be able tae complete his noble quest!”

Eamon’s plan was working. He could see Martin’s eyes moving from side to side, trying to think of a plan and a response. “Then, I shall free myself of both of you. There is no way you can fight with your wound, and I will be able to run far faster than you once I plunge the knife into Isabelle. Sit. I want you at a disadvantage, while I complete my noble task and run into the woods, away from you.”

“Ye will nae survive. The whole group of men behind me will search and find you and kill you before you barely take the first few steps. I shall call them into action.”

Martin looked furious. “Sit,” he said again, emphasizing the word strongly.

Eamon followed instructions, moving slowly. He had precious minutes to think of a plan. He stared into Isabelle’s eyes, wishing he could send her a message. Once he made it to the ground, he felt the soft earth underneath his hands, and then it came to him. Glancing at Isabelle, he turned his eyes to the side, hoping she could get his message.

Confused, Isabelle turned her eyes away, following the gaze of his own eyes. Then, in a flash, Eamon grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it towards Martin’s face, hoping to blind him in a quick moment, while he grabbed Isabelle. Martin cried out in pain, closing his eyes, and Eamon saw his chance.

He pulled Isabelle towards him, freeing her from Martin’s loosened grasp. His dagger fell to the ground as he groaned with pain. “My eyes! You bastard!” Before he could react, Isabelle knelt down to pick up the dagger, and blindly, Martin plunged forward, his small form crushing Isabelle to the ground.

Despite the rush of searing pain, Eamon tried to grab at Martin’s shoulders to pull him back, but before he could, Isabelle had sunk the dagger deep into Martin’s chest. There was a gasp of pain, and then a sigh as his form relaxed and lay heavily upon Isabelle. Eamon strained to pull the man off of her and throw him to the side. He helped Isabelle up.

“Like father, like daughter, I see.” He smirked. Isabelle was breathing fast, and she glanced at Martin to see if he was dead.

She yanked the dagger from his chest. “Dead. And good riddance to him.”

“Aye. We must leave his body be then and tell the rest of the group about him. We may wish to hide it in the forest.” Isabelle went to the river and washed her hands and the knife in the rushing water.

“I suppose I should carry this with me, always, in case of another ambush.”

“Ye know, I feel rather like a useless hero, unable tae rescue the woman I love.”

Isabelle took his hand in hers and pulled him away from Martin and towards their tent. “You have saved me! You threw the dirt in his eyes, an absolutely brilliant plan! And you are injured. You did very well for a man who has just been stabbed himself.”

They entered the tent, and before Eamon could reply, Isabelle wrapped her arms around him and kissed him slowly, deeply, passionately. She said, “Come, I have waited long enough for this. I was not going to let Martin get in the way.” Smiling, Eamon kissed her back, feeling his desire rise with a vengeance.

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