Claimed By A Charmer (The Pith Trilogy)

by Griffin, Kara

  As he entered the swarthy room, he noticed her form on the bed. She must not have heard him enter. His eyebrows furrowed, seeing a glint of steel.

  Chapter Eleven

  Her future was mirrored in the steel of the dagger.

  Isabel was left alone with scarcely a morsel to appease her hunger. What fare she’d been given wasn’t fit for a hound. Friar Whickham had come that morning to relate that Nigel would arrive later that night. She’d been fortunate that the friar hadn’t taken her satchel away. She left it in a dark corner, hoping he wouldn’t see it. The bag’s weight forced her to use two hands when she carried it to the pallet. She opened the bag, retrieving an eight-inch dagger. Contemplating the worst, she knew there was no help for her now. No one could save her from Nigel or her imprisonment at the asylum.

  There was no turning back, she would have to do the unforgivable, and only hoped God would understand. She lay upon the stiff covers, and didn’t know if she had the courage. The steel handle felt cold against her skin as she gripped it tightly. Not wanting to suffer the indignity of being abused by Nigel, her tears streamed down her cheeks. Soon, no one could hurt her or make her feel unworthy. She aimed the dagger at her heart.

  Just as the blade reached her skin, someone plucked it from her hold. She heard the dagger hit the wood of the floor. The assailant placed his hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. His face moved closer, and he positioned his mouth an inch from hers. She couldn’t see him well in the dark.

  “Shhh, quiet. ‘Tis Douglas Kerr. Candace sent me.”

  Her heart seemed to stop beating. She nodded as he released his hand from her mouth. Relief brought tears to her eyes.

  “Come,” he said quietly.

  Isabel rolled off the bed and ran to him. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “Thank God, you came. I was about to end it.”

  Douglas stiffened when she pressed against his back. She hoped he’d take her into his arms, but now wasn’t the time. He gently pushed her away, and opened the door.

  “We must make haste if we’re to escape this place.” He clutched her cold hand, and moved into the hallway. She noticed that he scanned it for guards, and then nodded at her. She slunk through the doorway.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he pushed her back against the wall, pressing his large body against hers. She clutched his arm, feeling the warmth of his body so close. They waited for a guard to move past. The man walked down the hall, and didn’t notice them. The exit was just ahead and she hoped they would make it through without being seen.

  Once outside, Isabel’s pulse raced. The thought of being caught made her hesitant to move. Douglas made a strange sound, and smacked a horse on its rump. He ducked behind a vine-covered wall, positioning himself in front of her. She held onto his waist and tried to peer over his shoulder, but she wasn’t tall enough. Another guard came in their direction. Douglas waited for the guard to pass, and then he ran. Isabel’s feet barely touched the ground as she tried to keep up.

  They reached the woods where his horse waited. Her breath grated, but he didn’t seem affected by the strenuous dash at all. She noted the two men who came with him. There wasn’t an extra mount for her to ride, and she grew nervous about that. Douglas extended his hand and she took it, relieved to know she would ride with him. Then she released his hand, remembering she had left her satchel back at the asylum.

  “Wait, my satchel. Please, you must return to fetch it.”

  “I’m not going back inside that place for a bloody satchel.”

  She must have looked like a transient, as filthy as she was. Even so, she made certain her displeasure shown on her dirty face. He appeared to be aghast that she’d ask him to return there.

  “I cannot leave without it. It holds my only possessions. Please, go, and retrieve it.”

  “Hell no, I’m not going back there for a bunch of cosh. What do you have, dresses and hair-pins? I’ll replace them when I get you home. Now, be sensible and take my hand.”

  Douglas didn’t seem to believe she’d asked him to return there. He looked like he wanted to jump on his horse and get out of there. The evil place, and the thought of what could have happened to her made her shudder. He retook her hand, and led her to his horse.

  Home, he’d said, making Isabel smile inside. She pulled her hand from his again. “Then I shan’t go anywhere. Either you retrieve my satchel or I’ll sit here all night.”

  “I think she means it, Douglas. Where’s your satchel, lass? I’ll fetch it.” She turned when the ornery warrior spoke, the man she’d met at Uncle Stan’s.

  “Nay, you won’t,” Douglas said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  The ornery warrior laughed, well actually, it was more like a guffaw without joy.

  Her brazenness must have amused the two men who came with Douglas, they smiled at her.

  “I left it in the chamber. Pray, I need it. Please.” Isabel knew there was only one way to get him to return for it. She cried, cried like a babe. She couldn’t leave her precious weapons behind. They were special because Nate had given them to her, and she might have need of them traveling with these warriors.

  Douglas became worn-down by her cries, and probably realized she meant what she said when she sank to the ground and wept harder.

  He muttered a few curses in Gaelic, and all but stomped away. “I’ll be back, watch her.”

  Isabel stood and waited by the tree for his return. She noticed the ornery warrior watch Douglas’ back as he marched angrily toward the asylum.

  “Lass, I appreciate your scheme. Douglas was always easily swayed by a woman’s tears. Och, don’t worry, he didn’t see through your ploy.” The man continued to frown at her.

  “Pardon me, my lord? What ploy?” She wanted to laugh at the ornery one’s intelligence, but kept a straight face.

  “I will have to have a word or two with my cousin about the wiles of women.” He shook his head. “Yet, I admit, I’m not as experienced with women as Douglas is. ‘Tis good to see you again, Lady Calvert.”

  Isabel kept watch for Douglas’ return, but nodded. “Aye ‘tis good to see you, too. What was your name?”

  He guffawed again. “Brendan, Brendan MacKinnon. I never thought a lass could forget me, but you’ve done just that. I’m certain ye haven’t forgotten Douglas or his name.”

  “Nay, I suppose I haven’t given his sister is my best friend. I remember you now, aye, Brendan.”

  She peered at the darkness, anxiously awaiting Douglas’ return. Guilt started to creep into her mind.

  “If you’re worried that Douglas might get hurt, ‘tis a wee bit late for that.”

  She ignored the other man’s comment, pressing herself against the tree, listening intently for signs or sounds of trouble.

  After ten minutes passed, Douglas finally ventured from the trees, holding her precious satchel. Isabel ran to him and hugged him. The impact of her body against his didn’t move him at all. He stood firmly in place. She held onto his shoulders, feeling his strength.

  “My lord, thank you. Did you remember to grab the dagger?”

  Douglas lifted her arms from his shoulders, pressing her backward. “Aye, I tossed it inside. The satchel weighs more than you do. What do you have in there?” He handed it to her.

  Isabel didn’t reply. What would he think if he knew she had her own armory of weapons?

  “Let us go,” he said, after she didn’t respond. He scaled his horse, and pulled her behind him.

  She held onto his tunic, now praying for a different reason. His mount was considerably high, and she felt dizzy looking down. Heights didn’t usually concern her. However, moving at such speed panicked her. She closed her eyes against the vision of the ground moving fast beneath her. Lord help her, if she didn’t hold on tight, she’d end up under the horse.

  She pressed herself against his back, tightening her hold. They rode for hours before stopping and no one spoke during the trek. The men looked serious. Their a
ttention focused on the trail before them and behind them. Isabel didn’t speak to them, knowing they searched the forest for dangers. She decided to play the innocent maiden, and would pretend to be aloof on the journey. Didn’t men adore ladies who were incapable? He definitely wouldn’t want a lady like her—if he knew what she was really like. She wanted Douglas to adore her, and would play at being the coy lady all men desired.

  He’d saved her. Her relief was so great that she hadn’t cared how, only that she was secure. She escaped hell, after all. Thank you, thank you, thank you, God.

  Isabel turned her face which had been pressed against his back, and saw Douglas ground his jaw at the thought of her sitting behind him. His fists tightened around the reins when she pressed her body against his. She didn’t look like a gentle maiden dressed in such garb, but hoped to fool him. He probably expected her to be dressed in her finest gown, shrieking at him for messing her garments, but she hadn’t uttered a word during their trek. She likely looked as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. Being held captive in such a place would do that to a person. She hoped he didn’t notice, but how could he not? He rode hell-bent, putting distance between them and the asylum. The farther away she got, the more she relaxed.

  They entered a knoll surrounded by high firs with the ground covered by their dispensed needles. A chill set the air and she shivered. She hoped they would at least get warm by a fire before they moved on.

  “Douglas, this is as good a place as any,” the other warrior said.

  “Aye, let’s stop for a few hours.” Douglas dismounted, and helped her from his warhorse’s back. He secured his horse then went to check the surrounding area, leaving her in his comrade’s capable hands.

  Isabel hobbled to a rock, sitting down with a thump. The men talked low, and she didn’t care that they ignored her. She was far too happy to be away from the asylum. She’d watched Douglas from across the camp, and noticed that he hadn’t changed much. She still felt drawn to him. He emitted strength and an aura of vitality. His form held a mien that could withstand any foe. She certainly felt safe being protected by him. His hair seemed lighter than she remembered, but it wasn’t too light, and he looked somewhat earthy.

  “Milady, I’m Gilbert, you all ready know Brendan. Are you well enough?” The handsome blond-haired warrior handed her a cover. Isabel took it from him, nodding.

  “Please, call me Isabel. I recall meeting you, my lord.” She nodded to Brendan.

  “Aye, it’s Brendan,” he reminded her again.

  “Aye, and what shall I call you, my lord?”

  “Gil.”

  “Are you a Kerr?”

  “Aye, Milady, I’m Gilbert Kerr. I’m kin of Laird Kerr.”

  “Who’s Laird Kerr?”

  “Douglas.”

  “I remember now. Will we take rest here?” Isabel realized that Douglas became laird of his clan when his father died. She looked to where he had stood, wondering where he’d gone. He left without a by-your-leave, and was nowhere in sight. As she searched for him, she began to panic, but then she realized he was probably securing the location. She would forgive his rude behavior.

  “Aye, Milady, we’ll rest here. Are you tired?”

  “Nay, I’m too excited. I cannot wait to see Candace again. I haven’t seen her in a long time. Is she well?”

  “Aye, she’s well,” Gil said, then added, “and to be married in the spring.”

  Isabel smiled. “She is? In the spring? To whom?” Had her friend forgotten her promise? Isabel wouldn’t believe that, because she knew Candace would have sent for her eventually.

  “Willard MacIver,” Brendan told her.

  “MacIver. Is he a gentleman and kind?”

  “Kind, Milady? I don’t know if he is or not. She seems happy about it,” Gil said.

  “Good. I suppose it will be a long ride to the Kerr land?”

  “Aye, very long. Ye best get rest while you can.” Gil motioned to a plaid that he’d placed on the ground for her to rest upon.

  Isabel stepped forward and sat on it. She was happy to hear of her friend’s betrothal. As long as Candace was happy about it, then she would be too. At last, she was on her way to the Highlands and to safety. She lay on the ground, trying to rest, but couldn’t. She watched the men, who kept to themselves. Gil seemed a likeable sort. The warrior, Brendan, still held himself rigid. She gasped when someone tapped her shoulder.

  “Lass, do ye want food?”

  Isabel turned to see Douglas crouched next to her. He leaned so close that she could smell his masculine scent. She took a deep breath before answering.

  “Aye, thank you, Laird Kerr.”

  Douglas handed her food, and sat beside her on the plaid. His large-scaled body took up most of it, but she didn’t mind, as long as he stayed nearby.

  “Why are you dressed so?”

  “Oh,” she mumbled then swallowed the bite of whey bread she chewed. “I wasn’t allowed to change my attire and … the caretaker made me wear these garments. I do have belongings and clean garments in my satchel. I’ll change in the morn.”

  “How did you end up at that asylum?” He waited until she swallowed the food she stuffed in her mouth before asking again.

  “My father didn’t want me at his keep. He has no use for a daughter, you see, so he sent me there.” To her it sounded pathetic, but it was the truth, even though it pained her heart to admit it.

  “Have ye caused much trouble then?”

  His voice appealed to her. Gruff, but gentle at the same time, and his burr seemed to caress her everywhere. She couldn’t help smiling, hearing him.

  “Nay, though my father would tell you differently.”

  “You were going to do it, were ye not?”

  She scrunched her eyes, disbelieving he would ask that. “Do what, my lord?”

  “Thrust the blade. I saw you. You were going to kill yourself.”

  “Better to die by my own hand than face … I don’t wish to talk about it. Thanks to you, I’m safe now and was unable to go through with it. How is Candace? I miss her so.” She tried to sound compliant.

  Good Lord, she practically stuffed her face with food. She hoped he hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t a very ladylike thing to do. She picked a small piece of cheese from the chunk she held, and nibbled it.

  “She’s well, and excited you’re coming.”

  “Thank you.” She raised her eyes and looked into his.

  He grinned. “For what, lass?”

  “For coming to retrieve me and for rescuing me.” It seemed to her that the forest’s sounds suddenly stopped. Everything stilled in that moment, and the silence became deafening while she waited for him to say something.

  “I promised my sister I would.”

  “It was good of you to do so.”

  Douglas nodded then stood. “You rest, Isabel. You look like you could use it. We’ll be on our way in a few hours.”

  “Aye, Laird Kerr.” Isabel lay back on the plaid. Her hunger mollified, her stomach no longer rumbled. Sleep evaded her, so instead she watched him, remembering the kiss they had shared so long ago. She listened to the distant sounds of chirping insects and eventually couldn’t fight sleep.

  Darkness coveted her chant as she looked into the glass sphere swirling

  with molten colors. “Oh, how you wish to love her, but ye shan’t, warrior.

  Eyes look your fill, for it will matter nil. You will remember me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Douglas couldn’t get over what she’d told him. He sauntered to Gil and Brendan. They ate silently, and hadn’t paid attention to him. He grew still and thought about his misconception. She’d changed much, and was sweet, gentle, and soft-spoken. Where was the hellion he’d thought her to be? Why had he though her a hellion? He recalled her yelling at him, when they first met. Now, she was a troubled lass. He felt guilty for his assumptions, and he was relieved he was able to get to her before she killed herself.

  His eyes narrowed, a
nd he thought it bizarre that she was willing to kill herself rather than face being at the asylum. Aye, she had courage. He’d never met a woman like her. No woman would go to such extremes to escape such an ordeal, would they?

  Brendan shoved him. “Douglas, did ye hear me?”

  “Nay, I was thinking about something.”

  “Is the lass all right? What happened at the asylum?”

  “Aye, she’s well. I talked the caretaker into letting me have her. I was able to get to her in time.”

  “In time? In time for what?”

  Douglas ignored him. “Nothing happened. Now I have to get her safely to Candace, then I can shake my hands of her.”

  “Do you really want to?”

  “Of course, I do. What do you mean by that?” Douglas yelled. She was just rescued from hell itself, and there he was acting as though he could care less. It didn’t sit well.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting like a priss-arsed page.”

  Douglas ignored his remark, even though he was right. Not many would speak to him in such a way, but Brendan was his friend, and often reproached him. Brendan only answered to his brother Colin, and offended many with his coarse manner. Douglas frowned at his flask before lifting it to his mouth. Brendan continued to hound him for details.

  “She seems different. Wasn’t she a bold lass that screeched at ye?”

  “Aye, she’s different. Mayhap she’s changed, I don’t know why. Who cares?” Douglas grumbled under his breath.

  “Aye, let’s rest then.” Gil blurted it out then laughed.

  Douglas wanted to laugh at Gil’s tone, he obviously tried to get them both to settle down. Mayhap he’d thought a fight was imminent. Though Gil had broken up many a fracas between him and Brendan, he probably didn’t want to do so this night—not with the lady present. Gil shared a look with Brendan. Douglas knew his agitation amused Gil. He hoped he didn’t show his attraction to the beautiful woman. Aye, he acted as surly as any man in love.