Eamon rubbed his hands, and Sean grinned. “We are saved! At least for a time. Drumnadrochit is nae too far. We will have tae get on the move. Perhaps we can meet him there? He willnae have the numbers now, at least nae for a bit. We could surprise him?”
Isabelle nodded. “It is true. Many of his other men are injured, too, so he would be less armed. But I have a better idea if it is fine to express it?” She glanced at both of the tall, strong Highlanders. The two of them truly did look like brothers, but to her, Eamon was by far the handsome one, with his rough features and growing beard. He looked like he was one with the forest, while his brother was a bit lighter and cleaner. “I think you might call upon the villagers to aid you and add to your number? Drumnadochit is no mere village. There are many there who could fight. I am certain of it.”
Eamon glanced at Sean, and Sean’s eyes narrowed as he watched Isabelle. She swallowed, afraid he might step forward to pull at her cap. “Why do ye do this, boy?”
“Why do I do what?”
“Give us information about your own master?”
“I have told yer brother that I do it for The Scots.”
“There must be more tae it. Ye are nae a member of The Scots, for my wife is their leader. What is yer name?”
Isabelle stepped back a bit. “I cannot say. It would endanger us both. My master is very cruel. I wish only for your people to be free.” Sean did not appear satisfied, but he said nothing more.
Eamon said sharply, “Brother, dinnae question him thus. He has done great work in supplying us with all the information we need. We dinnae wish tae scare him away and lose all connection tae Cutler.” He turned back to Isabelle, his eyes warm. “Ye have given good advice, boy.”
Isabelle blushed, and she was grateful that the shadows hid it from her audience. “I must go now. I must return to the town, or else the master may question me.”
Eamon moved a step closer and placed a strong hand on her shoulder. Her heart beat even quicker. He was so close, she could smell the deep earthiness of him. It made something in her ache, and she knew she needed to rush away before she began to tremble under his grasp. “Good ride, boy. I wish ye safety as ye travel back. Ye take risks coming tae us. Of that, I know. Thank ye for the information.” He placed a coin in her hand once more. “We will meet ye on the morrow in Drumnadochit.”
“Thank you, sir. Yes. If you need to send word, send it by way of the tannery. There is but one in the town. I have given strict instructions to the tanner that I will come for messages, and he must tell no one.”
Eamon’s eyebrows lifted, and his mouth parted slightly. He is impressed, Isabelle thought with satisfaction. She stared into his eyes for a little before leaving hurriedly. “Goodbye. Best of luck to you on your journey.”
She rushed away to her horse and muttered a goodbye to the other men before rushing down the hillside back towards the main road. There was a good moon tonight, but still, it could be a dangerous journey. She was glad that she had thought to bring her horse. Once at the main road, she mounted and paused for a moment, looking back at Eamon’s tiny camp. No light showed from there, so she was content that they would be safe and hidden for the time being. She nudged her horse into a canter and clopped away. Fate was in a precarious balance. They had been saved once by the actions of the Augustus men, but would they be saved again?
She hoped her idea of banding with the villagers would be enough to defeat her father, but she could see her father beginning to think anew. He had said nothing, but she was certain that his mind worked towards a new plan. It would most likely now not be a brash battle to the death, where men were slaughtered openly and left to bleed on the fields. She had a feeling that he would be painstaking in his efforts to find The Wanderer and make him suffer first before killing him.
An hour later, Isabelle slowed her horse’s gait. Her face was sore from the rush of cold air in the March evening, and she was anxious to get to the room her father had gotten her in the town, while he dealt with the villagers. She knew Arya would be waiting for her by the stables. I hope she has not been found!
She worried for her friend, but then her smile widened at the sight of Arya talking to the young stable boy in the dim light of the building. She was surprised at the hour, but she knew Arya had ways of distracting. She got a little closer until Arya spotted her, and then Arya said loudly. “Boy, will you take me somewhere a bit more…private?”
She pulled him towards her. The young man agreed happily, and they moved out of the stable and into the darkness. Isabelle took her chance. She rushed inside and hurriedly replaced her horse in its stall. She tried her best to move quickly as she unsaddled him, but she knew that the sounds were loud. There was no time to brush the horse, and so once she put the saddle on the wooden wall, she scurried out into the night, grateful for the cover of shadows.
“Arya!” She called forward, hoping that the young man was not taking too much advantage over her young friend, and Arya scurried towards her and motioned her to move out of sight around the other side of the stable. The two of them then ran towards the town inn, where they were staying. Her father’s men would hopefully be asleep by now, or, if not, too drunk to notice anything unusual.
Isabelle whispered, “I am glad you are safe. You take risks, Arya! What if the boy wanted to do more?”
Arya grinned. “I have given him his kiss. He is satisfied for now. We never have to see him again.”
They found the back door to the tavern and moved hunched over in the darkness, their eyes and ears straining to find anything that would bar their way. But they were in luck. They rushed through the backdoor and up the stairs. Luckily, it was a busy town, and people were often coming and going from the inn at all hours, so those who were not her father’s men would think nothing of seeing them.
Soon, they arrived in their room, and Isabelle laid back on the bed, sighing. She began to pull at her chest when she heard a knock at the door. “Isabelle? I want to speak to you!”
Her eyes wide with fear, Isabelle motioned to Arya to help her undress. “Father? It is late!” She called, hoping to gain just a bit more time.”
He grumbled from the other side. “It does not matter. It is urgent. I will enter.”
“One moment, Father!” She cried desperately. Arya was busy loosening the straps around her chest, and Isabelle was removing her trousers. “I am not yet decent!”
In a few harried moments, Isabelle slipped her shift over herself and moved her fingers through her hair hurriedly, so as to make it seem she had been abed. She rushed to the door and opened it. Behind her, Arya kicked the men’s clothes under the bed.
Lord Cutler stood outside, partially dressed, his hands behind his back. She could tell he had been drinking a little. “Father? What is it you wished to speak to me about?” She yawned. He peered into the room to see Arya abed.
“Get a robe, daughter, and come to my room. We must be alone to speak of these things.”
Isabelle nodded warily. “Certainly.” After taking her robe in her hands, she followed after him down the hall. She mentally prodded Arya to lock the door after her. In an inn of drunken men, a woman’s safety was in danger.
They entered into his own room, and she stood in front of his fire, hoping to warm her hands in case her father touched them. “You look flushed, Isabelle. Have you been awake?”
He asked the question lightly, and not accusingly, so Isabelle was not afraid to answer. “I have been feeling a little ill, and so I had trouble sleeping.”
“That maid of yours should make you a draught of something.”
“And so she has. I will ask her to make another to soothe my mind.”
He sat down in the chair in front of the fire. “Sit. I come to you because I need to speak to you about things you may need to deal with in the future.”
Isabelle was surprised and taken aback by her father’s slight change in attitude towards her. When she was very young, she had been a nuisance. When she got old
er and began making complaints about his behavior, she was trouble; and now that he thought she was changing, he was a little kinder. It seemed he was happy to finally have a true heir.
Isabelle couldn’t deny the satisfying feeling that gave her. Her father was finally looking her in the eye and not with anger or frustration. It was strange, but it awoke something in her that she’d tried to repress long ago. The desire for a father’s love. But it cannot be, Isabelle. He is doing the wrong thing. You must fight against him.
Her throat was thick as she replied, “I understand. What is it you wish to discuss?”
He folded his hands. “I have told you of the man who is posting papers around the villages and towns asking for another rebellion. He must be executed as soon as I can lay my hands upon him. Do you not think?”
She nodded and looked down at her hands, unable to meet his eye for the moment. Even the whipping of the English soldiers had been difficult enough to bear. With a public execution, she wasn’t sure what to do.
“Well, there are a few other things that are occurring. Apparently, The Wanderer and The Scots are on the move, and I cannot quite understand whether they flee or they are in search of me. My men heard it from the innkeeper here.”
She nodded again and returned her gaze to his. “What is it you ask of me, Father?”
“I wondered what you thought of it all. I think that I must change the game now.” He grinned, and her heart fell.
“Once these Drumnadrochit Highlanders here are dealt with, I think I will send word for there to be a discussion. A way to make peace. When they send their envoys, then I will take them and threaten to kill them until The Wanderer comes for them.”
“But why? Why not simply fight them in a battle?”
He chuckled. “It is too easy, and it will be over too quickly, daughter. These men need to suffer for what they have done. These lands are now fully under our jurisdiction. We must treat them as subjects of the King, as well as teach them how to be proper subjects. They are still in their infancy. Lessons need to be learned.”
Isabelle nodded, and he looked pleased. “What if The Wanderer comes himself instead of sending a representative? What will you do then?”
“Hmm…that would not be as much fun. I think he will want to play my little game. Every man wants to protect themselves if they can.”
“Not every man, father.”Not Eamon. He fights for honor and for his brother. The words sprung out of her mouth before she had a chance to pull them back. Her father’s kind face was suddenly gone, and he was staring at her now with that same fearsome expression he used on everyone else.
Chapter Seven
Once the boy had fled the camp, Eamon felt uneasy. He was so young, anything could happen to him as he journeyed back to Cutler. He hoped that all would be well, but in these uncertain times, there was a chance he would not make it through the night. It appeared Cutler was on a rampage of revenge, but Eamon was satisfied that his eye was turned momentarily.
Now they could make their plans. But once they returned to the fireplace, Sean was grim. “What is wrong, brother? Are ye nae pleased that our men will be saved for another day? We have time tae think of a better plan now! The spy has given us an option!”
Sean shook his head. “Something sets my gut on edge. The boy is kind enough, and it is kind that he gives us information, but I still cannae gather why. What does he have tae gain from this besides mere coin? He puts his young life intae extreme danger, and for what?”
Eamon sighed. “I know it seems confusing, but what other choice do we have? The boy is our connection tae victory, and thus far, he has nae led us astray!”
Sean said, “Well, what if the boy lied, and he has sent us tae our deaths, and Cutler will slit our throats in the night and head towards the village come morning?”
Eamon was beginning to lose patience, but he knew he couldn’t afford to get angry with Sean. Not when their relationship was so tenuous. He kept his voice calm. “Brother, I understand yer concern. But we have already established that the spy is the one who is posting up the calls for Scottish rebellion! That couldnae merely be a diversion for us tae believe him. Look how far and wide he has done so.”
Sean paused. The other men were silent until Donovan said, “The boy was vague when we spoke tae him at the meeting point, afore ye both found us. He didnae wish tae answer any questions. He seemed eager tae speak tae ye, Eamon.” Eamon was touched. “Even though he was shy at so many men surrounding him, there was an earnestness about him. I believe he is honest about what he does.”
Gareth said, “Aye, I agree.” Sean looked at the other men and then back at his brother.
Eamon said, “What else can we do, brother? We go tae the village tomorrow. Men, what say ye tae us asking the villagers for aid? They will be ready for vengeance once Cutler has enacted his brutality upon them. They could join our ranks, and we could be prepared for battle.”
Dirk said, “Aye, lad, I’ll do that. I am nae one tae shy away from a battle, but I like the thought of more numbers.”
Lukas laughed, and Donovan smirked. Sean relaxed a little and said, “Aye. We cannae but wait. We will go tae the village and see what we can do.”
They ate and drank together in companionable cheer. Eamon was grateful for the men of his party, for they knew this rough life well, full of danger and uncertainty, and it did not dampen their spirits or resolve. He hoped it would encourage Sean. Once the men began to lay down on the soft ground to prepare for sleep, Sean called Eamon to him. “We will go on the first watch, brother.”
Eamon nodded, and once they were out of earshot of the men, Sean whispered roughly, “I know ye dinnae wish tae hear more of the spy’s potential treachery, but hear this. I cannae tell if it is a trick of the mind or perhaps I am too worried about Rose and the baby, but I could have sworn, the spy intended tae say father instead of master.”
Eamon shifted on his feet. He had heard it as well, but he didn’t want to worry his brother, and he didn’t think it anything to consider. It was just a slip of the tongue, or so he hoped. Would it really change anything if Cutler was the boy’s father? Would that make him any less trustworthy? It was still strange enough that he was betraying his master and country, wasn’t it? Eamon did not want to give away his thoughts to Sean, or else Sean might return to the village or do something else rash, instead of following the plan.
“Really, brother? I didnae hear it. Ye must have misheard.”
Sean was not satisfied. “What if the boy is Cutler’s son? Then it could definitely be a ruse tae get us intae his hands.”
Eamon nodded. “I agree, that would be a potential if that was the case. But I dinnae think it is true. I sought out a spy myself, someone tae give me information about Cutler. He was given intae my hands. It was nae as though he sought me out. Ye worry for nae reason, brother. Now we have the chance tae fight against Cutler before he comes tae destroy ye. I will do the watch. Ye should go and sleep.”
Sean stood still. “I suppose I have nae choice but tae trust ye, brother.”
Eamon grinned. “Aye, and I swear tae ye, I shall prove myself. Go and rest.”
Sean moved away into the darkness, and Eamon wandered around the boulders and the trees, keeping his eyes on the dark shadows and his hand on his sword. The moon was full and bright, and so it gave him some comfort as he tried to keep all his fears at bay.
He thought about how he had first met the boy. He had been searching for a word of his brother and his whereabouts when he heard about Cutler’s arrival at Fort William, and his plan to kill The Wanderer. It was no secret, and so it had been easy to gain information as he had traveled through the villages and clan lands surrounding the fort.
One day, weeks ago, a woman had approached him, a young woman, and told him of someone connected to Cutler who wanted to give him information, but he’d have to meet him outside the fort. It had been a risk, a great risk, but Eamon had gone with hope in his heart that he might be able to sa
ve his brother and warn him when the man was coming.
His men had assisted him, lying in wait to help him in case the spy was someone dangerous, but all had gone well. It had gone smoothly. Despite that former success, he was discomfited by Sean’s uncertainty. His brother was now a different man with different concerns on his mind. Eamon couldn’t afford to be wrong on this, but in his gut, he felt that the spy was right and honest. He would follow his gut until it told him otherwise.
“What do you mean, not every man? You defy me with such disrespect?” The moment had been so brief when her father had looked at Isabelle with a feeling akin to love and hope. Now his familiar hard expression had returned. The words were hasty ones that she’d spoken, and now she thought quickly how to talk her way out of this.
She smiled. “Father, you are so serious. I simply mean it is not every man because if I am to take over for you, and I am a woman…”
Lord Cutler paused in his scrunched expression before bursting into laughter. “Daughter of mine! You are wise and clever, more so than I have given you credit for.” Isabelle unclenched with relief. “There will be a public trial tomorrow to find the man or men who killed the soldiers. They will be flogged and executed, and the village warned. I want you by my side, Isabelle.”
Taken by her Highland Enemy: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Deceitful Lassies Book 2) Page 6
