Highlander Enchanted (15 page)

Niall snorted. “Lady Isabel … yer certain she isna one of us?”

“She is not. Why?”

“When I asked about the MacCosse lands, I was sent straight t’the king’s stewart and given a private audience. The stewart asked after her so oft, I’d think they were wed, if he were not too old.”

Cade frowned. “How is an English noble of interest to the Scottish crown?”

“I doona ken. But she is.”

“Enough fer them t’secure her claim, once she makes it?”

“I doona ken this, cousin,” Niall said. “I saw him but briefly. But he was concerned for her, had heard she left Saxony and was wandering the Highlands.”

“We may have an ally,” Cade murmured. “If she were to stay.”

Niall’s eyebrows shot up. “Ye still consider this madness of wedding her?”

Cade shrugged.

“I, too, am guilty fer leaving her brother, but we owe her nothing. Ye’ve protected her, risked yer life fer hers. Let her go, Cade.”

He heard the wisdom in Niall’s advice but it ran adrift of what his magic wished him to do. “I have much to think on,” he said instead. “Go rest. I feel the unseillie in me stirring.” Cade flipped the swords and strode into the lists once more.

No sooner had he begun than he sensed her silent approach.

She is here.
His magic spoke loudest when it involved the beguiling woman.

“What is it, Lady Cade?” he asked, facing her direction.

She stood beside the entrance to the keep with a stole wrapped around her shoulders, lit from behind by the torches from the corridor. She was watching him with no small amount of unease, as if she had never seen a warrior fight before.

“The evening hunting party has departed. I directed Brian to down as many animals as they could. You need meat,” she said. “Were you aware of how low your grain stocks were?”

“Yea.” He flung one sword across the lists at the reminder. “I am aware.”

She considered him. “And you have no gold.”

He laughed, a harsh, short sound. “’ave ye anything t’say I doona already ken?” he demanded with more heat than he intended.

Her cheeks turned pink, but she did not look away.

“This keep is ours until the weather turns,” he added. “No grain, no land, no gold.”

“This is why you are out here beating dolls,” she murmured. “But this is not why I came. I came to ask you a question.”

Cade retrieved both swords and dropped them into the barrel where they were stored. He approached her, taking shelter beneath the eaves. Isabel’s eyes went to his chest – and stuck. Drenched, his tunic outlined every muscles of his torso.

She cleared her throat and took two steps away, uneasy with his size and nearness.

“I wanted to ask you if what you said the other night was true. That you do not recall the names of those you slayed,” she said, meeting his gaze once more.

“What does it matter?” he asked roughly.

“Brian remembered my brother. I thought you may as well.”

Cade silently cursed his cousin for speaking out of turn about something he should know not to. Although, he was not completely surprised. Lady Isabel had a calming effect on those around her, and her beauty meant nothing she said was taken with offense.

Something in her eyes, a vulnerable despair, disturbed him. He was facing the difficulty of housing and feeding his clan. Why did one woman’s sorrow ensnare his focus? Of the two of them, he had the ability to cast enchantments. Of the two of them, he alone seemed bewitched whenever they spoke.

“It doesna matter,” he said. He meant to return to the lists, too agitated to be fully civilized, but found himself enchanted by the delicate strength of the woman before him.

“I must know what happened.”

“For what purpose? Isna it easier t’think I slay him?”

She hesitated before shaking her head. “I do not know why I feel as if I must ask you. I want to believe the worst of you, but the kindness you have showed me and the MacDonald’s makes me doubt all I thought was true.”

“It was a dark time, Lady Isabel,” he said in a low voice. “I was not the same man I am now.”

“Then tell me you killed him, and I will be forever silent on this matter!”

Cade’s gaze went to the rainy night. “I kilt many but I didna kill him.”

“What happened?” She moved closer, her eyes riveted to him.

“Madness. It stole his mind after so many months in a Saracen dungeon,” he said slowly. The images in his mind of that horrific time left his body stiff and the familiar battle lust surging. “We escaped one night, Brian, Niall, and a few others. Yer brother was mad, too mad. He attacked us when we tried to free him. I couldna find his mind with my … gift. We were forced to leave him there.”

“You left my brother in a Saracen prison to die?” she whispered, growing pale.

“Lady Isabel, there was naught left o’yer brother to save.”

She gazed at him, struggling with emotions. “You swear this is true?”

“On my blood. What fate befell him after we left, I doona ken. But I didna kill him.”

“Why did you not tell me this?”

“Why did ye tell me ye were my wife when we met?” he challenged, irritated by her tone.

“It took me a year to find you and another to wrest a writ granting me …” She started and then shook her head. “All I have done is for not.”

“Ye escaped Richard,” he pointed out.

She blinked back tears. “And now I must return with him and know how angry he is.”

He sensed she was as confused about her fate as he was frustrated by his. Resting a hand on her arm, he meant to speak. The simple touch stilled the rage pacing in his blood. In the few days she had been avoiding him, he forgot how strong the effect of their skin meeting was. His eyes went to the place where his palm rested on her forearm. Her breath had caught at the touch.

What he planned to say escaped his mind. Instead, he found it hard to form any words.

“You can stop the storms,” she whispered. “I will leave with Richard in the morning.”

He lifted his gaze to hers, and he frowned.

“If I stay, he will return with an army. You have suffered enough. You and your clan,” she continued in an even tone he suspected hid a great deal of emotion. “You have a betrothed waiting for you with lands enough for your people and hers.”

“I willna leave your fate in the hands of Lord Richard,” he objected.

“Whatever debt you feel you owed my brother after abandoning him in a dungeon is repaid, and whatever anger I felt towards you … I cannot dismiss it so quickly but it is my duty to forgive you. I will find a way, one day.”

“Isabel –”

“I must go.”

“I warned ye. Ye canna go when ye know of my people!”

“You left my brother to die!” Her voice broke.

Startled by her outburst, he did not speak.

Lady Isabel struggled for control of herself once more. She wiped tears from her face and sucked in a shaky breath.

“You owe me this,” she added much more quietly. “If you do not trust me, then keep my writs. If I speak a word of your kind to anyone, you can bring me to my knees for treason and finish what you started with my brother.”

Words had never struck him as hers did. Cade felt as if she had stabbed him through the gullet. He had always experienced guilt when he considered leaving Saxony to die.

He refused to release her arm as she turned to leave.

She waited, gazing at his chest once more.

Whatever he intended to say, it was gone again.

“This is for the best, Cade,” she said. “Release me. Please. I swear I will not reveal the secret of your people, but neither of us can afford what will happen if I stay.”

She was right. His clan’s situation was already dire without the addition of an army of English knights at his doorstep. What he did not tell her, that he did not intend to marry a woman his cousin coveted, did not matter so much as the relief he experienced knowing the temptation of Isabel, the guilt of knowing her brother suffered, would soon be gone from his life.

He did not need her secrets complicating his life. His attention had shifted from the plight of his clan the day he met Lady Isabel. She was a dangerous distraction, one he could not afford any longer.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said quietly. “I canna undo what was done. But I owe you. I owe yer brother. If letting ye go, when I know it t’be wrong, is what ye say will make this right, then I will do it.”

She lifted her eyes to his, surprise crossing her features.

“If, instead, ye tell me challenging an army of Richard’s English knights will make this right, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded once, displeased.

“I will return with Richard. It is the just action. I would consider it a personal favor if you agreed to protect the writs from others,” she added. “Use them to ransom Richard when we are returned to England. He will supply you with gold not to reveal their contents.”

He studied her, once more impressed by her sharp mind, while also unsettled she thought him capable of ransoming her secrets. “And ye? Ye ken ye go to yer death.”

“So be it. I am at peace with it.”

He knew better. They both did.

He released her, and his magic began to pace inside him once more.

Isabel walked away from him.

It was wrong to let her go. As in the Saracen’s prison, when he had seen his cousins dragged off to be tortured, he was helpless to stop the suffering of another. Yet why did
her
suffering matter? She was not kin or blood or even an ally. He could not risk the lives of his clan and kin for a woman who had hidden the truth from him since she arrived.

Cade fetched his practice swords once more and returned to the lists, his fury burning hotter than before. He raised one for his first strike, when he heard someone’s feet scuff the stone floor beneath the eaves.

Ready to rip off the head of anyone who disturbed him, he quelled his anger upon seeing Father Adam. “Should ye no be with yer wine?” he snapped.

“I wished t’tell ye first. I am finished with the writs.”

Cade turned away. “I doona care. She leaves tomorrow morning.”

“My son, ye will want to hear what I have to say,” said the priest with more glee in his voice than Cade could ever recall hearing. “’Tis a delicious scandal!”

Cade hesitated, fighting the temptation to know more about the woman who was going to become nothing more than a memory tomorrow. “I doona wish to ken tonight,” he said finally with great effort.

“Ye are in a delicate state?”

“Yea, Father.”

“Verra well. I will tell ye when ye wish it.”

Cade nodded and began pounding into the dummy once more.

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, Isabel kept her head low, disheartened by her visit to the Highlands. She was almost relieved to learn Cade had not killed her brother, because she doubted her ability to take his life. If he admitted to torturing and murdering her brother, would she have been able to stab him the night she had the chance?

A tiny voice inside her said no, plunging her further into her misery. Her desperate journey was doomed from the beginning, not because Richard would catch her, but because of her weakness. She was returning to her home to be beaten by the man she least wanted to marry – and with the knowledge she would never discover her brother’s true fate.

“My lady.” Richard’s master-at-arms, a seasoned knight with bright blue eyes, held out a water bladder to her. “The journey will be hard. You must eat and drink well.”

She hesitated, uncertain why his random kindness affected her. Richard was not a good man. How was it his master-at-arms was?

“Thank you,” she said, accepting it. She sipped from it for his sake and handed it back.

“Can you handle a knife?” he asked, glancing towards the head of the column, where Richard rode.

“Not well,” she admitted.

“The berserkers are wild and constantly at war. You may need this,” he said and handed her a dagger.

The sheathed weapon was heavy. She hefted it before placing it into the pocket of her Highland gown. “Again, thank you for your kindness,” she said.

“’Tis duty, my lady,” he replied. “Your brother was well respected. Very able. I hope you found your peace with Black Cade. War is not fair to those who survive.”

Isabel nodded. She had no chance to address him about her brother before he nudged his horse ahead of hers and took his place ahead of her in the line of horses leaving Cade’s lands.

At least Richard had good men serving him.

She glanced at the sky. The clouds were as dark as her thoughts, though the rain had stopped. Cade’s cousin, Niall, had seen them off, going so far as to give her one of the precious few destriers in the stables so she could keep pace with Richard and his men.

Cade, however, was absent from the quiet farewell. Why did this disappoint her? Why was she not instead relieved to avoid a man different than any she had met before?

His kindness from the night before, the claim he would honor her choice, saddened her. She had found such goodness in a man she wanted to hate.

They plodded through muddied roads away from the keep. Richard appeared cheerful despite the gloomy day, no doubt gloating over the title he had all but stolen. She was at a loss as to what to do next, aside from accept her fate beneath his fists, bearing his child and subsiding into a life of fearful domestic servitude.

Her gaze lingered on the squat form of the keep nestled between the verdant moors and the grey-black sky. Why did she think life here would be any different among the merry seillie with their songs and music? This place held magic that did not belong and a moody laird with no real home and naught to offer, except for his steely resolve not to fail his people.

She possessed all he did not – gold, lands, noble name – and left his temporary home empty and envious of his ability to carve his own path out of life. She had never known the wildness and freedom his clanswomen displayed or let herself imagine a life so unlike that which she was destined to live. Her fate as a noblewoman was set upon her birth. She had accepted it, if unhappily, until her father and brother passed. And then, she had been driven to avenge them, so desperate and alone, she had not considered how she would choose to live, if she had the choice.