Page 17 of Taken By her Highland Enemy

Chapter Nine

Eamon was amazed that they had been able to escape freely with so simple a plan. Simple in explanation, perhaps, but not execution. My men and I could have been slaughtered. He wondered about the fate of the rest of those in Drumnadrochit, who were conspiring together at his men’s instigation. Gunfire had begun to ring out, but then it was silenced, as he assumed the men took control of the weapons from the soldiers.

Or by some miracle, Cutler and his men could have escaped. Eamon felt strong as his arms held the beauty in front of him, her pert derriere grinding up against him as the stolen horse traipsed through the river as they wandered through and up into the hills to meet Sean and Donovan.

He had noticed as he heaved the woman up onto the horse that she was wearing hard boots. They seemed familiar to him. It was a strange attire for a woman. Perhaps because she would be watching an execution? He thought stupidly when in reality, his mind fled to. Perhaps she knew she was going to be kidnapped?

In truth, she had not seemed that much distressed to be removed from her father and his men or to know that they could be murdered by the angry crowd just below. She did put up a fight, trying desperately to get out of his grasp, but he would have thought that normally a woman would have screamed. He had not had time to think of it in the moment, but now he wondered what was going on. Was it possible the spy had told her of the plan, and she had agreed to it willingly? Or maybe it was some odd tactic of Cutler’s. He shuddered to think of that possibility.

Whatever the reason, they would have to take the woman and ride as far and as fast as they could to get away from Cutler before he set out with his men, if any of them survived. They could make their plans and create their ransom from there. He wished the boy had met him at the stables as well, though. Now he was not sure when he would see the boy again, and he had depended on him to tell him their next moves.

They entered the woods, and Eamon looked around before making a sound in the palm of his hand like the twittering of a bird. Both Sean and Donovan emerged from behind a large boulder and sheathed their swords. “Brother, ye have succeeded?”

Sweat had broken out over Eamon’s brow, and it had soaked his linen shirt through. “Aye, brother. But now we must ride. Get tae yer horses, men! We have nae a moment tae lose!”

Sean’s eyes passed over the tired men and then landed upon the two women who stood side by side. Sean’s gaze flicked back to Eamon. “Ye come with two extra horses? Who are these women?”

Eamon took a deep breath, knowing his brother would object to his plan. “The message at the tannery from the boy was that I needed tae cause a distraction and kidnap Cutler’s daughter.” He looked sheepish as Sean grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side.

“Ye cannae be serious? Now Cutler is on our tail and will slit our throats and string us up on a bridge somewhere for public view!”

Eamon laid a hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Sean, we wanted Cutler on our tail. The more he follows us, and the farther we move away the further from the village he is, and Rose.”

Sean exhaled sharply but then nodded. “What do we do then? Did the spy tell ye as far as that?”

Eamon shook his head, and Sean scowled. Cheerily, Eamon walked toward the woman and yelled back to Sean, “We shall discuss it on the journey and make a decision taegether!”

The men came forward with the horses, and Eamon handed Arya to Donovan and motioned to Isabelle to come with him as they made the switch. “We shall return these other horses tae the village later. Come, woman, we are off!”

He reached down for her once he alighted, and she lifted an eyebrow. “Are you never going to ask me my name? Perhaps you might be able to find a better use for the term woman, and then you will know the identity of your captive.”

Eamon smirked, forgetting about the need for haste. “Aye, then, what is it?”

“Isabelle.”

Isabelle.The name moved through his mind like soft silk. It was the perfect name for this tall, lithe beauty who had been etched from a dream. “Come then, Isabelle,” he said, a slight lilt of mocking in his voice, and he held out a hand. She reached forward and laid her soft hand lightly in his. She kept her eyes on him, and in her glance, Eamon felt a frisson pass between them.

It was for one second, but a surprising heat was there that made it seem as if they had known each other for a long time, and intimately. The feeling unseated him, but then once he heard his brother’s call, he lifted Isabelle up to sit in front of him. This time, the smell of lilacs filled his nose, and he felt a stirring within him.

They rode. He led the way down the slope and gave a wide berth to the town boundaries of Drumnadrochit. The extra horses were tied to the others, and they galloped along with them. The sounds of battle had faded a little, and he hoped with enough speed, they would be able to outrun the eyes of Cutler’s men. They followed the line of the river and then moved off to the side when one of its branches turned west. It would keep them close to the water but pull them away from Cutler, but not too far. They needed to be able to get a message to him about the whereabouts of his daughter.

It was a silent ride, but Eamon’s ride was distracted for every time he set thinking to his plans, his focus was pulled away as he felt Isabelle tighten her grasp on him. He was grateful for the wind of the Highland hills on his face, cooling him from his heat of battle and this new, yet pleasant heat of a woman’s nearness. After a few hours, once the sun was beginning to set, the small group of horses slowed at Eamon’s command, and alighted, everyone’s breath heavy and coursing through the evening air.

Donovan held out an arm, and Arya jumped down, using it to balance, and he followed after. Eamon watched with amusement as Arya blushed as she looked up at the tall, strong Donovan. Strangely enough, she did not seem to be afraid of her new fate or him either. Eamon helped Isabelle down, and he said loudly to the group. “One moment, men. I’ll be back soon. Set up camp.”

He could hear stifled chortles from behind him as he knew his men assumed he was taking Isabelle to perhaps persuade her into lovemaking. But that was definitely not the case, although the thought had flitted through his mind and back out again. He pulled Isabelle away with him towards a more secluded area of the woods.

He grabbed onto Isabelle’s elbow. Isabelle pulled away and was successful. “I am not such a weak woman that I cannot walk despite the trappings of my skirts. You would do well, sir, not to underestimate a woman.” Her eyes flashed angrily in his direction.

Eamon made no move to capture her arm again. He could feel his own ire rising, but something else was lifting as well, and the increased contact with her would only make it worse. Once they were hidden by trees and branches, Eamon said, “And in boots nae less, lass.” His eyes narrowed. At his accusation, Isabelle colored for a moment, but then returned to her stoic look.

“Why is it that a woman of yer breeding is wearing a man’s dirty boots with such a beautiful fur? It is almost as if ye intended tae be kidnapped taeday? Why are ye both nae afraid of what we might do tae ye?”

Isabelle smiled lightly. “What do you mean? We fought against you. You mean because I did not scream, I suppose?”

“Aye.”

“Not all women are the same, sir. As for harming me, I know you will not do it. It is something you can tell about a man. You know the men who will take a woman’s honor without her consent, and you know those who will not.” She spoke with such confidence and such a haughty air that Eamon wanted to shake her. He was to be in charge of this kidnapping, not her. Bloody spirited lass. Not that I could have expected much less from a daughter of Cutler.

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