Claimed By A Charmer (The Pith Trilogy) (8 page)

Her future was mirrored in the
steel of the dagger.

Isabel was left alone with scarcely
a morsel to appease her hunger. What fare she’d been given wasn’t fit for a
hound. Friar Whickham had come that morning to relate that Nigel would arrive
later that night. She’d been fortunate that the friar hadn’t taken her satchel
away. She left it in a dark corner, hoping he wouldn’t see it. The bag’s weight
forced her to use two hands when she carried it to the pallet. She opened the
bag, retrieving an eight-inch dagger. Contemplating the worst, she knew there
was no help for her now. No one could save her from Nigel or her imprisonment
at the asylum.

There was no turning back, she
would have to do the unforgivable, and only hoped God would understand. She lay
upon the stiff covers, and didn’t know if she had the courage. The steel handle
felt cold against her skin as she gripped it tightly. Not wanting to suffer the
indignity of being abused by Nigel, her tears streamed down her cheeks. Soon,
no one could hurt her or make her feel unworthy. She aimed the dagger at her
heart.

Just as the blade reached her skin,
someone plucked it from her hold. She heard the dagger hit the wood of the
floor. The assailant placed his hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. His
face moved closer, and he positioned his mouth an inch from hers. She couldn’t
see him well in the dark.

“Shhh, quiet. ‘Tis Douglas Kerr. Candace
sent me.”

Her heart seemed to stop beating. She
nodded as he released his hand from her mouth. Relief brought tears to her
eyes.

“Come,” he said quietly.

Isabel rolled off the bed and ran
to him. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “Thank God, you came. I
was about to end it.”

Douglas stiffened when she pressed
against his back. She hoped he’d take her into his arms, but now wasn’t the
time. He gently pushed her away, and opened the door.

“We must make haste if we’re to
escape this place.” He clutched her cold hand, and moved into the hallway. She
noticed that he scanned it for guards, and then nodded at her. She slunk
through the doorway.

When they reached the bottom of the
stairs, he pushed her back against the wall, pressing his large body against
hers. She clutched his arm, feeling the warmth of his body so close. They
waited for a guard to move past. The man walked down the hall, and didn’t
notice them. The exit was just ahead and she hoped they would make it through
without being seen.

Once outside, Isabel’s pulse raced.
The thought of being caught made her hesitant to move. Douglas made a strange
sound, and smacked a horse on its rump. He ducked behind a vine-covered wall,
positioning himself in front of her. She held onto his waist and tried to peer
over his shoulder, but she wasn’t tall enough. Another guard came in their
direction. Douglas waited for the guard to pass, and then he ran. Isabel’s feet
barely touched the ground as she tried to keep up.

They reached the woods where his
horse waited. Her breath grated, but he didn’t seem affected by the strenuous
dash at all. She noted the two men who came with him. There wasn’t an extra
mount for her to ride, and she grew nervous about that. Douglas extended his
hand and she took it, relieved to know she would ride with him. Then she released
his hand, remembering she had left her satchel back at the asylum.

“Wait, my satchel. Please, you must
return to fetch it.”

“I’m not going back inside that
place for a bloody satchel.”

She must have looked like a transient,
as filthy as she was. Even so, she made certain her displeasure shown on her
dirty face. He appeared to be aghast that she’d ask him to return there.

“I cannot leave without it. It
holds my only possessions. Please, go, and retrieve it.”

“Hell no, I’m not going back there
for a bunch of cosh. What do you have, dresses and hair-pins? I’ll replace them
when I get you home. Now, be sensible and take my hand.”

Douglas didn’t seem to believe
she’d asked him to return there. He looked like he wanted to jump on his horse
and get out of there. The evil place, and the thought of what could have
happened to her made her shudder. He retook her hand, and led her to his horse.

Home, he’d said, making Isabel
smile inside. She pulled her hand from his again. “Then I shan’t go anywhere. Either
you retrieve my satchel or I’ll sit here all night.”

“I think she means it, Douglas. Where’s
your satchel, lass? I’ll fetch it.” She turned when the ornery warrior spoke,
the man she’d met at Uncle Stan’s.

“Nay, you won’t,” Douglas said. “It’s
too dangerous.”

The ornery warrior laughed, well
actually, it was more like a guffaw without joy.

Her brazenness must have amused the
two men who came with Douglas, they smiled at her.

“I left it in the chamber. Pray, I
need it. Please.” Isabel knew there was only one way to get him to return for
it. She cried, cried like a babe. She couldn’t leave her precious weapons
behind. They were special because Nate had given them to her, and she might
have need of them traveling with these warriors.

Douglas became worn-down by her
cries, and probably realized she meant what she said when she sank to the
ground and wept harder.

He muttered a few curses in Gaelic,
and all but stomped away. “I’ll be back, watch her.”

Isabel stood and waited by the tree
for his return. She noticed the ornery warrior watch Douglas’ back as he
marched angrily toward the asylum.

“Lass, I appreciate your scheme. Douglas
was always easily swayed by a woman’s tears. Och, don’t worry, he didn’t see
through your ploy.” The man continued to frown at her.

“Pardon me, my lord? What ploy?” She
wanted to laugh at the ornery one’s intelligence, but kept a straight face.

“I will have to have a word or two
with my cousin about the wiles of women.” He shook his head. “Yet, I admit, I’m
not as experienced with women as Douglas is. ‘Tis good to see you again, Lady
Calvert.”

Isabel kept watch for Douglas’
return, but nodded. “Aye ‘tis good to see you, too. What was your name?”

He guffawed again. “Brendan,
Brendan MacKinnon. I never thought a lass could forget me, but you’ve done just
that. I’m certain ye haven’t forgotten Douglas or his name.”

“Nay, I suppose I haven’t given his
sister is my best friend. I remember you now, aye, Brendan.”

She peered at the darkness, anxiously
awaiting Douglas’ return. Guilt started to creep into her mind.

“If you’re worried that Douglas
might get hurt, ‘tis a wee bit late for that.”

She ignored the other man’s
comment, pressing herself against the tree, listening intently for signs or
sounds of trouble.

After ten minutes passed, Douglas
finally ventured from the trees, holding her precious satchel. Isabel ran to
him and hugged him. The impact of her body against his didn’t move him at all. He
stood firmly in place. She held onto his shoulders, feeling his strength.

“My lord, thank you. Did you
remember to grab the dagger?”

Douglas lifted her arms from his
shoulders, pressing her backward. “Aye, I tossed it inside. The satchel weighs
more than you do. What do you have in there?” He handed it to her.

Isabel didn’t reply. What would he
think if he knew she had her own armory of weapons?

“Let us go,” he said, after she
didn’t respond. He scaled his horse, and pulled her behind him.

She held onto his tunic, now
praying for a different reason. His mount was considerably high, and she felt
dizzy looking down. Heights didn’t usually concern her. However, moving at such
speed panicked her. She closed her eyes against the vision of the ground moving
fast beneath her. Lord help her, if she didn’t hold on tight, she’d end up under
the horse.

She pressed herself against his
back, tightening her hold. They rode for hours before stopping and no one spoke
during the trek. The men looked serious. Their attention focused on the trail
before them and behind them. Isabel didn’t speak to them, knowing they searched
the forest for dangers. She decided to play the innocent maiden, and would
pretend to be aloof on the journey. Didn’t men adore ladies who were incapable?
He definitely wouldn’t want a lady like her—if he knew what she was really
like. She wanted Douglas to adore her, and would play at being the coy lady all
men desired.

He’d saved her. Her relief was so
great that she hadn’t cared how, only that she was secure. She escaped hell,
after all.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, God.

Isabel turned her face which had
been pressed against his back, and saw Douglas ground his jaw at the thought of
her sitting behind him. His fists tightened around the reins when she pressed
her body against his. She didn’t look like a gentle maiden dressed in such
garb, but hoped to fool him. He probably expected her to be dressed in her
finest gown, shrieking at him for messing her garments, but she hadn’t uttered
a word during their trek. She likely looked as though she hadn’t slept in
weeks. Being held captive in such a place would do that to a person. She hoped
he didn’t notice, but how could he not? He rode hell-bent, putting distance
between them and the asylum. The farther away she got, the more she relaxed.

They entered a knoll surrounded by
high firs with the ground covered by their dispensed needles. A chill set the
air and she shivered. She hoped they would at least get warm by a fire before
they moved on.

“Douglas, this is as good a place
as any,” the other warrior said.

“Aye, let’s stop for a few hours.” Douglas
dismounted, and helped her from his warhorse’s back. He secured his horse then
went to check the surrounding area, leaving her in his comrade’s capable hands.

Isabel hobbled to a rock, sitting
down with a thump. The men talked low, and she didn’t care that they ignored
her. She was far too happy to be away from the asylum. She’d watched Douglas
from across the camp, and noticed that he hadn’t changed much. She still felt
drawn to him. He emitted strength and an aura of vitality. His form held a mien
that could withstand any foe. She certainly felt safe being protected by him. His
hair seemed lighter than she remembered, but it wasn’t too light, and he looked
somewhat earthy.

“Milady, I’m Gilbert, you all ready
know Brendan. Are you well enough?” The handsome blond-haired warrior handed
her a cover. Isabel took it from him, nodding.

“Please, call me Isabel. I recall
meeting you, my lord.” She nodded to Brendan.

“Aye, it’s Brendan,” he reminded
her again.

“Aye, and what shall I call you, my
lord?”

“Gil.”

“Are you a Kerr?”

“Aye, Milady, I’m Gilbert Kerr. I’m
kin of Laird Kerr.”

“Who’s Laird Kerr?”

“Douglas.”

“I remember now. Will we take rest
here?” Isabel realized that Douglas became laird of his clan when his father
died. She looked to where he had stood, wondering where he’d gone. He left
without a by-your-leave, and was nowhere in sight. As she searched for him, she
began to panic, but then she realized he was probably securing the location. She
would forgive his rude behavior.

“Aye, Milady, we’ll rest here. Are
you tired?”

“Nay, I’m too excited. I cannot
wait to see Candace again. I haven’t seen her in a long time. Is she well?”

“Aye, she’s well,” Gil said, then
added, “and to be married in the spring.”

Isabel smiled. “She is? In the
spring? To whom?” Had her friend forgotten her promise? Isabel wouldn’t believe
that, because she knew Candace would have sent for her eventually.

“Willard MacIver,” Brendan told
her.

“MacIver. Is he a gentleman and
kind?”

“Kind, Milady? I don’t know if he
is or not. She seems happy about it,” Gil said.

“Good. I suppose it will be a long
ride to the Kerr land?”

“Aye, very long. Ye best get rest
while you can.” Gil motioned to a plaid that he’d placed on the ground for her
to rest upon.

Isabel stepped forward and sat on
it. She was happy to hear of her friend’s betrothal. As long as Candace was
happy about it, then she would be too. At last, she was on her way to the
Highlands and to safety. She lay on the ground, trying to rest, but couldn’t. She
watched the men, who kept to themselves. Gil seemed a likeable sort. The
warrior, Brendan, still held himself rigid. She gasped when someone tapped her
shoulder.

“Lass, do ye want food?”

Isabel turned to see Douglas
crouched next to her. He leaned so close that she could smell his masculine
scent. She took a deep breath before answering.

“Aye, thank you, Laird Kerr.”

Douglas handed her food, and sat
beside her on the plaid. His large-scaled body took up most of it, but she
didn’t mind, as long as he stayed nearby.

“Why are you dressed so?”