“It was not unconscionable. It is justice! Vengeance! I am seeking to end the life of the man who destroyed my family,” Isabel justified.
“Are ye truly that blind? Foolish girl…”
They were quiet for a moment. Isabel finally worked up the courage to ask what she truly wanted to know.
“And how is my father?” she asked in a small voice, trying not to choke on the tears she felt spring to her eyes.
“Sad,” was the only word that came from Charles’s mouth.
“Why?” she asked. A silent tear spilled over the edge of her lower eyelid and another pooled behind it.
“Why d’ye think? His only son is not long since dead. His daughter has run off to be captured by the very same killer. It’s a wonder he hasn’t died himself, lass,” Charles replied.
“That is a very harsh thing to say.”
“But it’s true. Yer faither is miserable without ye,” he told her.
Isabel’s heart sunk. The weight of guilt was crushing her as she thought again of her father. She had tried so many times to push through her thoughts, to set aside the guilt of leaving her father, of lying to him. She set aside the guilt of her growing feelings when her eyes lingered on Edan.
Isabel began to wonder if it was all worth it.
“And what plans does my father have?” she asked.
“Yer faither? Why, revenge of course. Ye didnae get yer bloodlust by chance, lass. Ye came to revenge yer brother. Yer faither is coming to revenge ye,” Charles said lazily.
“But…but what if he should fail?” she asked.
“Isabel,” Charles said in a low voice, using his English accent for the first time. “Your father has never failed in battle until your brother lost his life. Your father has a strong reputation. But his love for his children is far greater, and that puts him at risk.”
“So, what are you saying?” she asked, the tears coming all over again.
“I am saying that you had best prepare yourself for a messy battle. One of which you are the sole prize. It is your life he will be fighting for, and it is your life that the Scots will try to hide,” he said.
“What do you mean by that? How will they hide me? And why? They do not even know who I am,” she said.
“But they know you are English. And if an Englishman comes up against them, they will fear his discovery of an English prisoner. You could so easily become collateral, Isabel. Think about it. Think about what might happen. All of this is because you found yourself unable to let your father handle it himself,” Charles spat, bitterness in his words.
Isabel felt the full force of it until she thought she might vomit. Her actions had been so costly, and the price was yet to be paid.
“What must I do? When the army comes, I mean. When shall I expect them? And how might I help?” she asked.
“You are not meant to expect them. You may help by staying in your room, out of sight. You may help by being a young lady and not pretending that you are a warrior or someone with any real plan for standing against Edan,” Charles lectured, looking directly in her eyes.
“I am to do only that?” she asked.
“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” Charles asked her dumbfounded. He sighed and hung his head.
“If you insist that it is in my father’s best interest, then I will stay away, confining myself only to my rooms and the dining hall,” she promised.
And the library, but he needn’t know that.
“Good. That is the smartest thing you have done in this whole ordeal. Stay far from the Laird. Rumor has it that he is smitten with you. I know now how weak you truly are. I cannot allow you to fall for the man you came here to kill,” Charles warned.
“Ha!” Isabel scoffed. “Do not be so foolish. I am seducing him intentionally. They have kept me from weapons since I arrived, and it is merely a ploy to access them,” she explained.
“A ploy?” he questioned.
“Absolutely. Do you think I am so daft as to allow my feelings to be swayed toward the man who murdered my beloved brother? I understand that ye think I am foolish, but come now—”
“Ye?” Charles asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You just said ‘ye’ in the middle of a sentence,” he pointed out.
“I did no such thing,” Isabel countered.
“Aye, ye did,” Charles said in his Scottish brogue, nodding in his frustration.
“You are a bitter man. A man determined to shame me. How can I believe a word you say? I would never sink to speaking like one of them. In that, I have the upper hand on you,” she said.
“Foolish indeed. You know, I have been speaking as one of them because it is my duty. Not like you, who seems to already be learning their ways and becoming distracted by their leader,” he mocked.
“You have no idea of my duty,” Isabel countered, wiping salty, bitter tears from her cheeks.
Chapter 17
“And what is this grand surprise?” Isabel asked as she blindly walked forward, led by Edan who had tied a scarf to cover her eyes. She tried to stay the nervous fear in her heart that she was being blinded.
“I will show ye right…now!” Edan exclaimed. He pulled the silk scarf from her eyes, revealing a horse had been readied at the stables for her. She was finally outside! No longer were there drab ceilings and hard floors. She saw a boundless sky above her and felt the lush grass under her feet. Walls were no longer closing in on her and the stuffy odor that permeated the air in the castle was fading. She could now savor the panorama. She took it all in, beaming from ear to ear.
“So, it is true! I really am outside? I felt the breeze and the fresh air but did not wish to believe it until I knew for certain,” Isabel marveled.
“It was time,” Edan replied.
Isabel noticed Charles standing near her horse, looking at her shamelessly. She had promised to remain only in her chambers and the great hall. But he couldn’t fault her for breaking the promise if she was being led with a blindfold by a laird. It wasn’t as if she’d had any choice in the matter.
“Can ye ride?” Edan asked.
“Somewhat,” Isabel replied. “In traditional English style. I had some training, although I cannot say that I have the best history of cantering.”
“Practice makes perfect, lass. Today ye shall be cantering and trotting, and any other number of things. Ye will love it. I promise,” he declared.
“As you wish!” Isabel agreed. She allowed the stable boy to help her onto the saddle. She felt unladylike with her skirts draped over the horse, but she knew it was the only way she would manage to stay on. Sidesaddle would not be adequate for the speed she anticipated Edan was looking for.
Days prior, when the maids had brought Isabel her cleaned and pressed dresses, they had brought her underwear as well. Isabel had momentarily been offended as such garments were reserved for only prostitutes in England, but in this moment she was grateful and now understood that perhaps in Scotland, such a thing was far more useful than she had ever imagined when spreading her legs over the back of a horse.
“Ye look right bonnie on the mare. She had been sick two days before, but our new friend from Galloway has helped her greatly, havnae ye, Charlie?” Edan called.
“Indeed, me Laird. She has greatly improved,” Charles replied, avoiding eye contact with Isabel.
“Her name’s Beatrice,” Edan informed her.
“Beatrice?” Isabel questioned, not liking the taste of the name on her tongue.
Edan laughed.
“A sour name to be sure. Perhaps if ye dinnae tell me yer name by the day’s end, I’ll start calling ye Beatrice,” he threatened.
Isabel was quiet for a moment, trying to form her thought into words.
“Give me until the end of the week,” she said.
Edan was caught off guard. “The end of the week? For what?”
“For my name,” she replied. “Give me until the end of the week before you make me tell you my na
me. By then, who knows? Perhaps my father will already have a ransom prepared for you.”
Edan studied her face. His eyes seemed to swallow her whole. He gazed at Isabel’s white-blonde hair being gently nudged by the breeze, and she allowed her eyes to trace up and down his entire form.
“I will grant ye a full week,” Edan promised, trying to detach himself from the moment of unguarded lust. He rode his steed forward at a slow jog to allow Isabel a chance to catch up beside him. They remained at the pace for a time until it was clear that neither was willing to speak aloud.
“All right then, time for speed,” Edan declared in the midst of the quiet.
His horse began to take off at great speed, and Isabel’s instinctively followed. She felt the great rush of wind through her hair and adored the sensation of it. It was a sense of true freedom, this rushing through the trees on a clear path. A nervous tingle was in her stomach, wondering if Edan might take her off the path and where that might lead them. But they stayed along the ground trodden by many hooves before.
“This is quite a feat!” she shouted with excitement before nudging her mare faster until she was outpacing Edan on his steed. His beast picked up his own speed to match, and they felt as though they were flying.
“Ye are quite the rider!” Edan called to Isabel.
“And you are quite the keeper of excellent horses!” she replied with a grand smile of her rosebud mouth.
“Yer hair is a mess!” he shouted.
“I don’t care!” she laughed, feeling more carefree than she ever remembered. Isabel felt all the guilt and shame and anxiety blow away as she whipped past branches and they came out into a beautiful landscape edging against mighty cliffs that steeply dropped into the sea below.
“Slow yerself!” Edan called. “We are nearing the edge!”
Isabel pulled on the reins and the mare began to slow. A sudden burst of fear alighted in Isabel’s stomach at the thought of falling over the edge of those cliffs, and she enjoyed the relief of knowing that her horse had stopped far from them.
“Here ye are. There are the trees I always tie me beasts to,” Edan said. He dismounted and was guiding her to the branches with the rope leading from the reigns.
“Oh really? I thought it might be one of the other trees,” Isabel teased, gesturing to the otherwise barren cliff. Save for grass, there was very little in terms of trees, even like these two that had been warped by the wind.
“So ye do have a sense of humor after all?” Edan questioned.
“I think the very fact that I am here with you is quite funny, actually. A well-bred English woman with a Scottish Laird who is currently holding her hostage? Why, that would make for a fine opening to a story with a lesson in piety.
“I might be called upon to answer the question, ‘who is my neighbor?’ And you might be called upon to treat me as a sister with only the purest of intentions,” she said.
Edan listened to this, watching the way her lips moved when she was uninhibited and truly enjoying herself.
“Come to me,” he urged, standing before her.
“Wh-what do you mean?” Isabel asked.
Edan answered by circling his strong arm around her waist and pulling her closer to his body. He captured her mouth with a feral intensity and she melted into his embrace. Edan felt the warmth of her response. He was confident that she really did want this, that she enjoyed it every bit as much as he had.
Raising his mouth from hers, he saw the glow on her face. He placed her face lightly against his chest and held her tighter for a few moments more. Finally, they separated and stood before each other. The mare snorted, and it broke Isabel from the momentary awkwardness at her willing response to the touch of his lips. She quietly turned in the breeze and walked toward the cliff.
Edan followed at her pace, catching up to walk silently beside her. They stood at the edge of the cliff, and the sea breeze blew in their faces. The air was crisp and clean and smelled of salt and moss.
“What do you expect of me?” Isabel finally asked him.
“What should I expect?” he asked back.
“I only wish I knew. Do you think I will grow to love you? That I will be as smitten as you are? Do you think I will ask my father to allow us to marry? You know, surely, that I must remember that I am merely a prisoner of yours,” Isabel said in a rush.
“Yes, I ken ye feel that way. But I dinnae think of ye as such. Ye are so much more than a prisoner.”
He reached out and caught her hand in his. “I have watched ye — yer dedication to learning through books even when ye didnae ken what ye were likely to face as our prisoner. I’ve seen yer spirit, yer strength. Even me sister seems to like ye,” he said.
“Well, that is some small comfort I suppose,” Isabel replied.
The sound of gulls below led Isabel to creep closer to the edge. It was how she seemed to continually feel nowadays. Ever present at the edge. The edge of her lies being discovered as truths. The edge of falling for this man who had murdered her brother. It was all far too much trying to walk along the edge.
“Dinnae get too close,” Edan warned. He moved behind Isabel and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him, sighed sadly, and together they watched the sun begin to set on another day.
“It is quite beautiful here,” Isabel finally said.
“I do love to spend me time here when I can. Most often alone, like. But now and then I come here with me sister or with Robert,” he said.
“And do you think your sister and Robert might feel for one another?” she inquired.
“Ha! Never!” Edan scoffed.
“How can you be certain?” Isabel asked.
“Because they wouldnae make sense,” Edan said matter-of-factly.
“And us? Does this make sense? You are standing here with your arms wrapped around me as though we belong to one another. As though our countries are not bitter enemies,” Isabel said passionately.
“Tell me, lass. Am I standing here anyway?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“And are ye fighting to get away from me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Can ye imagine me sister standing here, allowing a man to wrap his arms around her?” Edan asked.
Isabel gave a light laugh amidst her choked anguish. “No, I suppose not.”
“Then I think we have an answer. Me sister and Robert would never be a match. But ye and I — no matter our rival countries — we have something. Am I wrong? If ye dinnae want it, tell me now. Otherwise, I’ll nae let ye go ever again,” he said.
“I am here. With you. And I cannot fight that,” Isabel promised.
But I shall continue to try. My God, these lies are too much! Isabel was anguished. This man is too much.
Chapter 18
Edan stood in the hall outside his uncle’s rooms and heard the voice of Cormag infuriated and yelling.
“I dinnae ken what ye want me to do about it all! It wasnae me own fault! Say what ye want. Blame me, lie about me. But I only did as I was ordered, and that’s a right and true fact,” Cormag said at the end.
“That may be so, but yer behavior has remained inexcusable. My nephew is growing weary of ye and yer antics, Cormag. Ye are not a healthy member of our clan,” Callum replied.
“Me? Me? Ye are the worst of men, Callum, if ye are going to try and have me lowered even further. I ken what ye be hiding. And ye dare to tell me that I’m nae a healthy member of the clan. What a right bloody scoundrel ye are!” Cormag burst.
Edan did not dare turn and face them, but he also knew they might overhear his steps walking away. He effortlessly shifted himself into the shadows beneath the stairs to remain hidden out of sight.
“Calm yerself and quiet yer voice,” Callum ordered. “I am still yer superior, though I am not Laird.”
“But ye wish ye were. Ye would do just about anything to prove yerself worthy, wouldnae ye?” Cormag suggested.
Even going so far as kill
ing my friend because he was English? Edan wondered.
“What are you implying?” Callum asked.
“Just that it seems an awful shame that yer nephew has all that power, and it was ye that had to teach him, ye that never tasted it. Yer brother got it all, and now ye be left with naught,” Cormag reminded him in his brutal voice.
“Cormag, ye are a dog. Leave me. I cannae stand the sight of ye anymore,” Callum ordered.
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