Taken by her Highland Enemy: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Deceitful Lassies Book 2)

by Kenna Kendrick

  He scowled at his own thought. Focus, man! That has nothing to do with the matter at hand! He could not afford to be distracted when the lives of his men and his brother’s people were at stake.

  “Ye are right. He willnae shy away if he has a chance tae kill us. Well, we have new weapons, do we nae? Once we get word tae him that his daughter is with us, I will send scouts back tae the village tae find out what happened and get people tae join our cause. Once we know Cutler’s whereabouts, we could all attack him by surprise.”

  “And what of the women? If you will not use us to bargain with, then what purpose was it to have taken us? Would you not wish to prevent fighting?” Isabelle spoke out over the men, her voice loud and clear and confident. It irritated Eamon, especially since, at her words, the rest of the men scowled in response.

  Chapter Ten

  Eamon fumbled to think of a response quickly before his men got themselves concerned any more than they already were. He called out gruffly, “Leave it tae us, lass, as I said.” He gave her a severe look, and she quieted, but the shadow of a smile played across her lips.

  He had never met a woman who openly defied men and wanted to take part in her own kidnapping. It was madness. The men grumbled in reply, and Eamon placated them by saying, “We will sleep on it. Make our plans in the morning. It has been a long day. We need the rest.”

  They dispersed, rolling out their blankets and skins to lie on under the stars. He charged Donovan with providing cover for the ladies, and he laid his back upon the hard ground, his hand under his head. Despite his fatigue, sleep wouldn’t come to him just yet. The future of his men and his brother’s village laid heavily upon his shoulders. When he had started this plan, he had such confidence and direction. Now, everything seemed jumbled and confused. First, the MacManus men had left them in fear, so their numbers were too low to fight against Cutler.

  Then, the plan had changed once he arrived in Drumnadrochit, and he had ended up with two women in tow and no idea what to do with them or how to use them to fight Cutler. He would have to speak to Sean, but his brother was growing ever colder. He was constantly questioning his decisions, and he seemed on edge. It could simply be about their former distrust, but certainly, there was more to it than that? Eamon also feared that the men would see his weakness, that he did not know what they were supposed to do.

  The thought niggled at his brain, but he turned to the side when he heard a slight rustling. He could spy the figure of Isabelle, laying down on the ground, lit lightly by the pale moonlight. What a mysterious creature she was. He could not think what had possessed him to kiss her in the woods as he had. He was no stranger to kissing women he had just met, but to kiss the one he was kidnapping and without any warning!

  It was like he had been compelled to do it, and even though he felt an idiot for doing so, he didn’t regret it. It was the most sensual and intoxicating kiss he had ever experienced. He could still taste her lips, and he wanted more. That lilac smell had awoken something in him as their mouths fought to capture one another.

  Why did she kiss me back? At the passion of his kiss, innocent maids would have tried to fight him off, fearful that he was about to take their virtue. But instead, she had fallen into it instantly, as if she’d been waiting for him to do it all along, and as if she’d done it before. He would have said it was a trap, but nothing had befallen him then and there. No dagger between the ribs as Sean said that female fighters were wont to do. That new thought fought for prominence in his mind. Why would a woman kiss a strange man who had kidnapped her and brought her to an unfamiliar place? It was totally nonsensical.

  His mind twisted and turned, and it kept him awake for many hours, but eventually, fatigue took over, and he fell into a deep sleep, the image of a pair of violet eyes flashing in his consciousness before the darkness took him.

  Isabelle’s breath was growing steady, and even as she laid back against the ground. She was tired from the day’s events, yet she didn’t want to fall asleep just yet. She wanted to stay awake, look at the stars, and think endlessly about the way Eamon Wilson’s mouth had felt against her own. A frisson of excitement welled up in her every time she replayed the scene in her mind.

  His strong hands on her back, pulling her towards him, his slick, warm tongue exploring her mouth, and the earthy, wild smell of him. It filled her core with heat, and she knew she would not be able to contain her desire for long. She wanted him, and she feared that with each passing day, she would fall more and more in love with him.

  “Mistress! Are you awake?” Arya whispered towards her in the dark. They had been placed in the center of the men, but the man called Donovan had been respectful enough to leave plenty of space between the women and the others.

  She tried to keep her voice low, but she was grateful for the sound of the wind rustling the leaves in the nearby trees and the crackling of the fire as it slowly died off. One man was walking sentry around their circle, but he was too far away to hear any proper words. “Yes, are you all right, Arya? I hope you do not mind coming with me on our little adventure.”

  Even in the dark, Isabelle knew her lady’s maid was rolling her eyes. “Mistress, what will we do next? Surely this Eamon man means to find the boy again. How will he find him when he does not exist?”

  “Have you brought the clothes, Arya?”

  “Yes, but,”

  “Then, I will propose to meet him somewhere along the way. But I have to think about it. We shall see. We will just have to wait and find out what happens next in all this excitement.”

  “You are enjoying this tremendously, are you not?”

  “A night under the stars, free from all constraints? Well, most constraints. Yes, I certainly am. And yourself?”

  “Well…” Arya began.

  “I knew it. That Donovan is quite handsome, is he not?”

  Arya giggled and tried to stifle it. “He is extremely handsome, but it would be very unusual for a kidnapping victim to flirt with one of her captors.”

  “Unusual, perhaps, but it does happen,” Isabelle said, smiling towards the dark form of Arya.

  “What do you mean? What has happened?” Arya groaned, and Isabelle bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

  “I will tell you later, my friend. But it is excellent news, and I shall lie awake all night thinking about it.”

  “You mean thinking about ‘him’. Oh, Mistress, I do hope you are wise. I know that I cannot order or instruct you, but I do hope you are doing the right thing.”

  “You are quite correct, Arya. Now, take my instruction and go right to sleep. We must rest for who knows what will happen tomorrow?” Normally the statement could have been taking in a dire, despairing way, but Isabelle said it cheerily and laid back with a smile on her lips, thinking about the fine figure of Eamon, wondering when he would chance to kiss her again.

  Lord Cutler spat, blood mixed with dirt and sweat on his forehead. He raised a fist to the air, having just alighted from his horse after a hurried ride from Drumnadrochit to Urquhart Castle. They had rushed across the river to avoid the large area of the Loch. “These Scottish bastards! They shall receive my fury tenfold, once I regain my men. How many have we lost, Martin?”

  Martin was trembling, his former confidence shattered after the event. Cutler appraised him with scrutiny. “We have lost ten men, sir. It was a brutal fight. These Highlanders do not stop with their brutish acts.” Martin looked almost like he was going to cry, and Cutler was disgusted. He looked around from his stone perch on the castle walls to see his other men either injured or merely fatigued from their day of battle against an angry crowd.

  Many of their weapons had been pilfered as the crowd swelled upon them, and Cutler refrained from calling for the slaughtering of the entire village. The King would not look too kindly upon that, especially since it would appear that he had lost control of his men and his fighting. They hadn’t even had enough time to burn anything down. He looked at the men who stood before him
, dirtied or hurting, and he wanted to spit again. The men he’d gotten from Fort Augustus were proving ever more useless, and he hadn’t brought enough men to pick up the slack they left behind.

  And, he’d heard that The Wanderer and The Scots were on the move, and he’d lost valuable time and energy dealing with those blasted villagers. Now that they’d gotten safely away, he remembered that Isabelle had suddenly disappeared. He had scoured the village as best he could with his men, fighting the villagers off, but she was nowhere to be found. He had called his best man, Norring, and ordered him to find her, while the battle raged around them.

  He had yelled, “Bring two men with you to search the surrounding areas for my daughter. I care nothing for her lady’s maid, but I want you to find my daughter wherever she may be. You have my full permission to do whatever you must do to get her untouched and unharmed back to me!” Norring had nodded and run off with his men, their swords at the ready.

  “Where is Isabelle?” He grabbed Martin by the collar and pulled him close to his face. “Where is my daughter, you idiot! You are completely useless to me!”

  Martin hung limply in his master’s grasp. “I do not know, sir. It was all so muddled. No one has seen her or her lady’s maid, but I am certain Norring will find her, sir.”

  Martin sputtered out the words as best he could while hanging slightly off the ground. Cutler dropped him in anger. “Where could she have gone? Perhaps some of those bastards have taken her. What if she is left in that cursed village?”

  Martin stammered, “We searched everywhere. She was not there, sir!”

  Cutler growled at Martin, and the trembling man was silent. Then, he called out, “Make camp!” and moved away from the men. His course had steered so much from its original direction. He stomped away to the crumbling main hall of the castle, thinking about what he was to do next. His only goal had been to catch The Wanderer and The Scots in their entirety and wipe the Scottish earth with their bodies. Now, he was busy planning revenge doubly on Drumnadrochit and finding where in the hell his daughter had gone. With useless Martin, his plans were falling to pieces like sand through his fingertips.

  The next morning, Eamon felt decidedly better. He had gotten some rest at least once dreams, and memories of Isabelle had abated and left him in peace. His mind was clear and ready for action. He would send the scouts.

  He moved back towards the fire and began to light a new one. They would need to send the scouts as soon as possible and begin a search for new food for the camp. As Eamon sat tending the fire, Sean wandered up behind him. “Brother, have ye thought more about our plans?” His voice was hesitant.

  “Aye, so I have. I shall send the scouts as soon as they’re ready. They will bring us information about Cutler as well as get a message to the boy and Cutler about his daughter’s whereabouts.”

  Sean nodded. “I agree. Scouts are the best option.”

  Eamon smiled. “Thank ye. I was beginning tae think ye doubted me entirely.”

  Sean lowered his voice. “It is the stress of everything that has me so low. I will have the men practice their fighting taeday. Perhaps it is my blade that itches tae be drawn and plunged intae English flesh.” Sean made a stabbing motion, and behind Eamon, Isabelle walked up, her arms crossed.

  “An uncommon goal for a Scotsman, I am sure. But I hope you do not mean to plunge anything into our flesh, sir.” At the light, merry tone of her voice, Eamon swung around. For a moment, he was paralyzed once more. It was as if he had dreamed of a vision and forgotten that she was actually a real woman, flesh, and blood. Once he saw her again, her beauty sent tingles through his veins.

  Eamon worried that Sean would reply with vehemence or coldness, but to his surprise, Sean smiled. “A quick-witted Sassenach, brother. What a surprise. It is too bad that the men of your nation are not as intelligent. Perhaps that would help them tae avoid all that flesh-plunging?” Isabelle laughed, and Arya smiled next to her.

  Eamon was incredulous. What sort of a kidnapping venture was this? Why were captives and captors getting along, smiling, and laughing? This was absolutely ridiculous. Eamon gave Sean a dark look, and then turned back to make a retort to Isabelle and Arya, but they were already off, having walked away, and looked deep in their own conversation. He turned back to Sean, whose arms were crossed, with a grin spread across his face, making him look like the cheeky older brother he had known and loved not many years before.

  “What is it? Why do ye look at me so?” Eamon demanded, feeling the heat under his neck as he watched Sean’s amused glance.

  Sean leaned forward and whispered. “I have nae desire tae plunge the flesh of those Englishwomen, but I have a feeling that ye might. Well, just one of them.”

  Laughing, Sean backed away, calling to the other men to begin sword practice. Eamon stood still, his fists clenched. One thing he had enjoyed about being away from family was that others could not see so deeply into his character and secret desires. A brother was a different story. They knew one another from infancy and would be able to sense what one’s heart truly wanted underneath it all. Sean had always been that way, and perhaps that was why he had been even more hurt at Eamon’s departure all those years before. Maybe he had sensed it.

  Eamon wasn’t sure what to do next. Sean had just seen to the heart of him and laughed at the truth of it. At least he hadn’t told the other men. Despite Eamon’s anger, Sean was right. He was very much interested in “flesh-plunging” as Sean had so indecorously put it, and he knew that it would be his undoing if he allowed thoughts of and desires for Isabelle to get in his way.

  He stomped towards the men as they began to fight one another in the open glade. He knew he would have to send Gareth and Donovan as scouts, for they were the best ones and the most used to such work, but he feared their willingness, after Gareth’s frustration the previous evening. Eamon was pretending to be a clan leader, and with nothing to help guide him, he was not doing a very good job.

  “Gareth! Donovan!” he called out, and in a few moments, they stood before him, their reddish hair gleaming in the sunlight, and the breath moving fast in their chests. “I would like ye both tae be our scouts. We need information on Cutler’s movements, but we also need tae get a message tae him that his daughter is with us if he is willing tae make a bargain tae have her returned. Send it however ye like. See if ye can find any word on the spy. We will expect ye tae return at first light tomorrow.”

  “And we should return tae the village as well?” Gareth asked, the irritation from yesterday gone. Eamon was relieved.

  “Aye, see if any of them can join us.”

  Donovan and Gareth were soon off on their horses, riding away towards the direction of the main section of the river. Donovan often remained silent, Eamon noticed, and he watched Eamon with a wary eye, but at least he did what he was told. Almost as soon as they’d left, Isabelle approached him, and she shaded her eyes as she watched the men ride away. Sounds of swords clanging echoed in the background as the remaining men practiced their skills.

  “Eamon, I wished you had asked me my opinion before you sent off the scouts.”

  Eamon crossed his arms and smirked. This Sassenach was ever-amusing. “I am certain ye do wish that. Ye seem tae think that somehow this kidnapping was all yer idea.”

  Isabelle did not answer him on that score. She merely stepped a little closer and whispered, “But they could be in grave danger.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Isabelle watched the fading figures of the two men that Eamon had just sent off to scout for her father. Fear seized her chest. Her mind had been so full of dreams and Eamon’s kiss that she hadn’t spent enough time being sensible. In the light of day, once she saw Eamon take action to get word to her father, she knew she had to act quickly.

  Her mind needed to work to think of a plan. She scolded herself for her nighttime flights of fancy, which had kept her awake and clouded her judgment. She approached Eamon to tell him that he should have asked her for her
opinion on what to do next. Once the words were said, she felt completely silly. He was right. She was pretending as if the kidnapping was all her idea. While it was, she couldn’t have Eamon thinking that, or else he would think her ridiculous.

  Why should that matter when people’s lives are on the line? She scolded herself again. Eamon looked at her as if she was the most curious woman in the world. “Of course, they will be in danger. We are all in danger, lass, every moment we spend in running from your father. But they are intelligent men and good fighters. They are part of The Scots. They know what they do.”

  Isabelle tried not to let her fear show too much on her face. “It is just that they are two men, instead of all of us going as a group. My father can be rather wily when he desires to be, especially when it comes to ambush. If he sees your men, he will certainly endeavor to capture them. You know that he will succeed.”