* * *
Eamon felt like he’d been struck in the heart. There she was, or he was, the spy! How could he have been such a fool? Isabelle had played him well and truly, and he had let it happen. The love he had for the woman was all a charade. Who was she really? He blinked in surprise, quieting the sounds around him.
He forgot where he was for a moment, but a strong bout of yelling brought his attention back. His eyes flickered to the flames that surrounded them. He found Arya’s eyes as his mind came back to attention. “Mr. Wilson,” Arya cried tears in her eyes, coming forward to grasp onto his shoulders. “Are you all right?”
He nodded. “Aye, aye.” He pulled away, angry. “Who is that who just left us? Is it Isabelle? Is it the spy?”
Eamon tried to quell his anger as he saw Arya tremble under his loud voice, chaos surrounding them. “Yes, sir. She is Isabelle, but she is also the spy. She is a determined woman. She wanted to do what she could for the cause. She did not want to deceive you, sir.”
Eamon pulled away, his mind swirling. His brother was gone, and his true love was gone, and now it was all a lie. What was the point of survival anymore? Nothing mattered. “But she did. Was it all a plan? Is she on her father’s side?”
Arya’s eyes widened. “No, no! She wanted to escape her father! She loves you, I know it! And now she has gone and left us.” But Arya’s words were drowned out by the sound around them.
He was about to go through the door himself when Lukas pulled him back again, pushing him roughly against the wall. “What are ye doing, lad? We go! We go after yer brother, and we fight for him!”
Eamon pushed against Lukas, hard. “Why? What does it matter anymore? She is gone. She’s left with him. With them!”
“Who? The lass?”
“Aye! She has left, and now they are both gone tae me forever.”
“Ye bloody idiot! They didnae want tae go, surely. We run after Cutler and his men! We get that wealth, and we kill that English bastard! Forget the lass!”
Eamon tried to escape Lukas’ grasp once again, pushing against his chest. But he felt drunk with his fatigue and his sorrow. He wanted to curl up into a ball and close his eyes to the world. It brought back the memories of when Redcoats rained down upon his family home and began to burn it, killing everyone in sight. His heart had sped to the point where he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Stars had spun in front of his eyes, and all he knew was that he had to leave.
That same feeling took over his body now and drove him to escape through the gate. His heart was broken. He had disappointed his brother and lost the only woman he’d ever loved. What life was there for him now? He tore again towards the gate, and Lukas pulled him back. He could hear him calling the others towards him. When he rose up to fight again, pushing against anyone in his path, he felt something hit the side of his face hard, and he fell back into darkness.
Chapter Nineteen
Isabelle clung to her father, as he rode hard away from the MacManus camp and to some unknown location. For other women, they might have found comfort in the moment of closeness. But Isabelle had never felt safe with her father, and this time, she felt even less so. The sun was setting, and so the fading light made it easier to see the flames that were licking up towards the heavens back behind them.
She wanted to rage and scream at her father for his hatred and his malice, but she found she had nothing left within her. Once she’d seen Sean give up his life for his people and Eamon’s desolation at the fact, as well as her father’s plan to burn the village, she’d fled out the door, hoping that her arrival would satisfy her father enough to keep the village intact. She soothed herself by thinking that the fire would damage the MacManus clan, but it would not raze their village to the ground.
This is what she had to do to save everyone. She didn’t work fast enough to save Sean, and perhaps it was his own pride that sent him out the door, for her father would not have been satisfied to just retrieve her, but this was the extent of what she could do. However, Eamon’s face as she fled through the door, looking back one more time, devastated her. He knew of her betrayal, and she could see the pain she wrought in his core. It was not her intention, she told herself. It was never her intention.
But what did she really care about? What was it that had driven her to do what she did? Hanging papers in the night that called for war, meeting with Highlanders, planning her own kidnapping. What was it all for? It certainly was not to give herself back to her father, for she knew that she could never convince him to stop his pursuit of The Scots. Then what? Isabelle settled into silence as she let the rhythm of the hooves lull her into a sort of sleep. She closed her eyes against the world, wanting to forget everything she’d ever felt. She wanted to forget Eamon, but in her heart, she knew it would not be that easy.
They finally slowed, and she looked up to see a makeshift camp a long distance from the village. It had been ages, it seemed, since they’d left the MacManus walls, but she couldn’t be sure. She was not sure of anything anymore. She jumped down from the horse, and as soon as she did, her father glanced back at her for a moment, and for one second, she thought he would bring her into his arms with relief. But instead, he said, “We will talk later, daughter.” It was said in a monotone, and she knew that now was not the time to speak to him. She had to confess everything she did. Perhaps she could save The Scots some hardship, at least. She could sacrifice herself to protect them?
She watched painfully as Sean was tied by the hands and taken into her father’s tent. She tried to go after him, but someone caught her by the arm, and she turned to face Martin’s gleeful expression. “Isabelle Cutler, what have you been doing all this time? Dressed as a man, no less?” He clicked his tongue with disapproval. “I am certain that your father will be very interested in where you’ve been and who you’ve been consorting with.” He grinned, and Isabelle slapped him. The little man burned with fury and moved to hit her back but did nothing. He knew that it would not go well for him if he did.
Isabelle smiled smugly. “Why should you assume I have been up to no good, Martin? Do not think that you will escape his ire. One day he shall come for you, and you will feel his fury.” She turned away from him and moved to the edge of her father’s tent, unsure of where to be or where to think. She had to speak to him, to tell him all, but she knew that her father would want to deal with Sean first.
Her heart began to quicken. But what would he do? Inside the tent, it was yet silent, but it would soon be something. She knew that her father would not rest until he had his revenge. She waited for a moment, but then she couldn’t bear it any longer. She burst into the tent, calling out her father’s name.
Once she clambered past the surprised guards, she called out, “Father! Take me! Do not take him. He is innocent!”
Surprised, her father turned around from where he had been standing, and Sean watched her with a strange eye. “What do you mean, girl? How dare you run into my interrogation like this? This is not your business!”
She could see her father’s rage return replacing his look of smug satisfaction at having caught The Wanderer.
She took a breath. “It was me, father. I planned the kidnapping. I am the one who was the spy for this man and his people, giving them the information they needed to avoid your wrath and to find a way to defeat you. I am the one who calls for a battle against English forces in Scotland. The Scots had nothing to do with any of it. Punish me, Father. They did not know what they did when the King’s nephew was killed. Let this man go. He has a family to return to.”
Silence followed her confession. It was eerie and heavy, like a drenched blanket. Isabelle waited to hear what her father would have to say, hopeful for his clemency but fearful of his retribution. His expression was unreadable. After a pause, he wandered forward and stood before her. He looked into her eyes and then struck her sharply with the back of his hand. In her surprise at his reaction as well as the weight of the blow, Isabelle fell to the ground, her face
stinging.
It was not out of character for the man in general, but as a father, he had never hit her. He had only used harsh words and played with guilt to make her do what he wanted. But this? She clutched the side of her face, and she looked up at a disconcerted Sean. “What in the bloody Hell are ye doing?” he whispered down to her.
“Shut up, Highlander. You will say nothing in defense of my daughter.” Cutler’s beady eyes turned to Isabelle. “What have you done? How could you have betrayed your family and your people as you have? You were to be my heir.”
Despite being on the ground, the weaker party in the exchange, Isabelle, felt strong. She’d finally told the truth, and the weight lifted off her shoulders made her feel light enough to fly. She clenched her jaw and replied, “It was for hate of you and your ways, father. I do not want a life of greed and murder. I want a life of joy and happiness. I want these people to be free from their chains, just as I wish for myself.”
To her surprise, he began to laugh. “You have attempted all this at the expense of your own country! You are a traitor, my dear!” He paused, and his laugh ended, replaced with a menacing voice. “You know what a servant of the King must do with traitors.” He tilted his head as if to make an attempt at sympathy. She did know. Every beat of her heart told her what must happen. And yet, she could not detect any sadness in her father’s eyes. Regret, perhaps, but not a deep, enduring sadness that a parent would feel at the loss of a child, especially if the loss was at their own hand.
That last realization blew the last bit of hope and energy from her. She cared for nothing anymore. She replied, her voice drained of its former vigor, “So be it.”
Something unknown flitted across her father’s taut expression, but then he snapped his fingers. “Guards, tie her up and leave her outside the tent. I shall deal with her later, once I have spoken to the Highlander.” His gaze turned to Sean, and it was as if Isabelle no longer existed.
* * *
Cutler could not let his mind linger on his daughter’s betrayal. He had his man now, and he wanted to drag it out for as long as he could. He paced back and forth in front of the tied man, contemplating what he would do next. “We have your man with us, Wanderer, and he guided us to your abandoned camp. He was lucky enough that we found you as we traveled towards your supposed village. Where are The Scots?”
Sean blinked in surprise. “Ye didnae kill him then?”
“Of course I killed one of them, but the other we needed for information. Do not worry. He will meet his end as you will yours.”
Sean was silent. Cutler sighed. It was the way of all people. Not wanting to give up information until they had it beaten out of them. There was always a price. There was always too much pain. “You say they have been disbanded. Why?”
Sean kept his eyes down as he stated, “They have cause to find a new way in the world. They dinnae want the life of a thief—”
“Or murderer.”
“Aye. Anymore. They want a new life. We havenae seen each other in many months. I couldnae tell ye.”
Cutler nodded. “And what about the information I received about your village beyond the dark forest? All of my informants told me there was such.”
He could see the man falter, and he grinned. It was all so easy. Sean replied, “I do live there, aye, it is true. But it is nae with The Scots.”
Cutler felt frustrated. What was he to do? He felt a wave of fatigue rush over him. “You will give your life for your people, would you not?”
Sean nodded solemnly. “I would do anything tae protect those who are innocent. It is I ye want. Naeone else.”
He realized he had not the stomach for further questioning or torture tonight. He could set his guards to the task, but he wanted to sit alone and think of his plan. He did not want the bother of thinking of how his daughter had disappointed him more greatly than he’d ever expected. He had to focus on the task at hand. The King would want word of his success, and soon.
He waved his hand in the air in dismissal. “Get out, Highlander. I will deal with you later. I am too fatigued from attempting to burn your village this afternoon to deal with you now.”
A guard took a silent Sean by the arm and pulled him outside. Cutler sank into the chair his men had set up in his tent and bellowed to Martin to bring wine.
* * *
Isabelle let her mind slip into nothingness as she stared into the night sky, leaning back against the tent, waiting for something to happen. If it would all be over, then so be it, just as she had said. What was life worth any more if she had done nothing right? If her father did not regret her death, or if Eamon was lost to her forever? She felt useless and limp.
She was jarred a little by Sean’s departure from the tent. One guard held onto him tightly, and another picked her up as well, moving them towards the fire. They sat them down and tied them to a tall tree nearby. It was some kindness at least to be within the fire’s orbit, and Isabelle smiled at it. At least they hadn’t noticed their kindness. She was certain it was not intentional.
Once the guards had stalked away, Isabelle turned reluctantly to Sean. “How is your leg?”
Sean did not turn to her but kept his eyes forward. “‘Tis well, although I dinnae think it matters much anymore.”
Isabelle couldn’t bear to leave the words between them unspoken any longer. “I returned to my father, hoping it would stop him from decimating the MacManus village. I did not want to leave. I did not want you to give yourself up.”
“There was nae choice for me, lass. I had tae do so, for the sake of my family.”
Isabelle felt that these could be their last moments, and she would be spending them with Sean Wilson. She stared straight ahead at her father’s tent. “You must think it strange that a father captures his daughter and ties her to a tree like a criminal?”
Sean chuckled morbidly. “Aye, I did think that a bit odd. Why does he do so?”
“Because my father has no heart. He lost it years ago. He thinks only of revenge and bloodshed. It fuels his power. He has never cared for me the way a father ought to care.”
Sean was solemn. “I am sorry for that. I had a child once. I loved that boy with everything in my being. I do not understand a father who could not feel so.” His voice lowered to a mere whisper, “There is another child on the way as well.”
“I am happy for you, Sean. And thank you for your understanding and compassion.” There was a pause before Isabelle plunged into her speech. “It was me, you know. I was the spy. I was the one that shared everything with Eamon.”
Sean finally turned to her, incredulous. “Aye, I can see it now. I confess I hadnae thought of it until ye told me. Why in the world would ye do that, lass?”
Isabelle swallowed, afraid of her next words. But what did words matter now that her death was imminent? “At first, it was just to help protect those from the wrath of my father. Why should Scotland suffer at our hands? But then, it was more than that.” She swallowed, feeling a hard lump in her throat. “I love your brother, Sean. He is the one I want more than anything, and now I have disappointed him. He will not want me again, I know it. He knows now that I am the spy and have deceived him all this time. It was I who orchestrated the kidnapping.”
Sean laid back into the trunk of the tree, digesting her words. It seemed an eternity before he spoke. “I could see it. I could see it in both of ye. I didnae trust it, since ye were a kidnapped victim, but something was there.” He turned his head to her. “If we survive this, I know my brother will forgive ye. I have nae seen him for many years, but I remember his heart. Deep down, he wants tae be loved. He wants tae find someone who will love him in return.”
Isabelle began to cry, heavy tears falling down her face rapidly. “How wonderful if that were true. But I fear, Sean, that we will not survive this.”
Chapter Twenty
Eamon felt steeped in darkness. It was like he was floating in a starry land, for only pinpricks of light made it through his consci
ousness. He wandered to and fro in the darkness, wondering why or for what purpose it was there. People came into his vision, melting into his view as if they were made of hot wax. He saw before him Lord Cutler, Isabelle, and Sean. Isabelle and Sean were tied by their hands and looked on as Cutler began to mouth a speech to an unseen crowd. There was a wooden block at the base of their feet, ominous in its obvious purpose. Sean was the first to kneel, and he laid his neck over the side of the wooden block as Cutler lifted a gleaming axe aloft. Eamon tried to yell, but nothing came forth from his mouth, and it was like his voice was lost in the heavy, threaded darkness.
The axe fell, and he heard the sharp, slicing sound cut through the air, and it roused him from his sleep. He sat up, pulling his dagger out in the process, feeling threatened. He blinked his eyes as he stared into the night, and Lukas moved to his side. “My friend, my brother, are ye well?”
Taken by her Highland Enemy: He was running from his past; she was fighting for her future... Page 16
