Page 16 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

The men nodded in agreement and finished their pints in one swig. “Come. There is nae much time. We must hurry, or else we will be too late. We cause the distraction, grab the girl, and then we are gone. Keep yer hoods up—dinnae stop. Always keep moving. We will meet behind the stable as the note says. If ye have the opportunity, grab as many weapons as ye can find.” They stood and moved toward the back exit. Their movements were not noted, and so Eamon was hopeful as he raised the hood on his jerkin and left, separating from his men to mix with the crowd.

This bloody plan better work. Boy, ye better nae be steering me intae a trap. Once he had pushed himself a few people deep, he saw a Scotsmen being bound in the center of the circle. Eamon could see Lord Cutler, and then amongst his other men, he saw a woman whose face stopped him in his tracks. She stood tall, up to the shoulder of her father, dressed in English garb as well, a fur wrapped around her shoulders, her long, dark hair braided down her side. He blinked his eyes in surprise. This Sassenach was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

This is Cutler’s daughter?He was paralyzed for a moment at the strangeness of the scene. Despite her parentage, the woman looked pained at what was going on before her, standing amidst all the chaos. It was an almost laughable juxtaposition. Once he saw the look on her face, he was confident that she would accept her kidnapping, although he could not consider not kidnapping her now. And, if he admitted it to himself, it would not be so unpleasant after all, not with a beauty like that.

He yelled out, “And who gives ye authority over us, Lord Cutler?” Once the words were uttered, he slid away and hid amongst a new section of the crowd.

Another voice yelled out, “Aye, our men outnumber ye! We could take ye ourselves afore ye murder our people!” Cutler looked around in a fury, speechless for a moment.

“Who dares to defy English orders and English justice?!”

A new voice called out and then a new voice, and then the multitude of Scottish throats opened to cry out as well, their resolve clear as they were energized by the words. Eamon pulled back from the crowd once more as they grew restless.

He was surprised but pleased at the reaction. Cutler was attempting to yell them to move back, and soldiers pointed their weapons at the villagers, and yet they yelled in anger at the Englishmen, their voices growing louder and louder with each moment. Eamon saw his chance. He scrambled out of the way of the growing crowd and kept his hand on his sword as he rushed towards the stable.

His lungs were screaming for breath as he found his way behind the large building, at least partly safe and away from the angry crowd. Their voices still carried over the roof, though, and he knew he had to move quickly. His other men were there before him, a couple of them clutching muskets, and out from inside the stable came two women—one petite with light blond hair, and the other, the dark-haired woman from the crowd.

* * *

Isabelle could not believe her plan worked. She could hear the result of it behind her, and her heart was racing with fear of what would happen next. An angry crowd was unpredictable, and Eamon had started all of it. She was satisfied that he had done what she’d asked, but a little frustrated at his execution. This was a bit too much. She had expected something a little smaller and tamer.

Soon she saw him, in the bright light of day, as she stepped out of the stable with Arya. Once the crowd had begun to go wild, Isabelle slipped through it, Arya at her side. Now she stood looking at Eamon with her clear, violet eyes. Despite having only seen him in shadows before, she could have picked him out from anywhere amongst the other dirty, ill-looking men that surrounded him.

He was taller and broader than she’d remembered, for now, the sun gave her eyes view to all parts of his beautiful form. His dark hair, even darker with the sun upon it, was tied back, and a light layer of a beard was on his strong jaw. His dark, nearly black eyes mesmerized her as she watched them look back at her with interest. It made her stomach warm with happiness to see him and have him see her in her true form.

She moved forward with Arya, and for a moment, no one spoke. And then, Eamon rushed forward and grabbed hold of her arm, not painfully, but firmly. “Ye are coming with us, Mistress, whether ye agree or nae. Where is the boy?”

Isabelle eyed the men with suspicion. She had a role to play after all, despite their necessity for speed. “What do you mean, go with you? The boy? My father’s aid is with him at this very moment, quelling the unrest that I assume you lot have incited?” She tried to inject a fury she did not feel into her voice, hopeful they would fall for her trick.

Eamon looked aghast. Perfect, she thought. He will never suspect me. Then he crossed his arms. “Lass, ye can either come with us or stay with yer bastard of a father and live a life torturing Scotsmen across the country. But,” he turned back to the voices for a moment, “he may nae live tae see ye again, and then where would ye be?”

He smiled wryly, and Isabelle tried to keep her own smile hidden as her heart fluttered at the sight of his lovely full lips with straight teeth behind them. She jutted out her chin in fake defiance. “You would dare to capture a fine lady?”

Lukas laughed. “Ye’re fiery, are ye nae?” Eamon laughed as well.

Eamon began to pull her along, and Isabelle tried her best to pull herself out of his grasp. “So I am simply to be kidnapped. Might I know the purpose?”

Eamon paused. “We havenae the time tae explain tae yer fine ladyship why we do this. Dirk! Errol! Take two horses from the stable. I shall take this miss on mine, and Lukas will take the other.”

The men hurried to do his bidding, and Lukas helped Eamon heave Isabelle up on the side of the horse.

Isabelle cried out, “Take my lady’s maid with you as well! If I am to go, I wish her to accompany me.” Eamon shifted for a moment and observed the two women. “Have some small mercy, Scotsman.”

Eamon watched her for a moment, and Isabelle swallowed slowly, nervous under his gaze. “Aye. Take the other lass as well!” he called to the men, and soon they were off, riding towards the edge of the town, while the other men raced behind them.

Once they were safely out of the town, and the sounds of fighting began to fade, the horses slowed as they waded through the cold river and up the hill into the forest. Arya’s and Isabelle’s horses neared one another, and Isabelle tried to reach out a hand, for she could see the fear in her lady’s maid's eyes. She gave her hand a squeeze before the movement of the horses tore them apart.

“Will we be safe, Mistress?” Arya whispered with fear once they were taken down from the horses and allowed to stand together.

Isabelle squeezed her hand. “We will be more than safe, Arya, we will be free.”

---