Highlander Enchanted

by Lizzy Ford

  Brian studied him. “Duncan will kill you, cousin.”

  “He willna, not until he has defeated the clan. What laird doesna want Black Cade chained in his hall?” he asked dryly.

  “I doona like this,” Brian said.

  “I doona ask ye t’like it. I ask ye t’do as I say,” Cade replied. “Protect our people. Father Henry has the writ granting the lands t’Isabel and our messenger will reach Court soon.”

  Brian and Niall were quiet, gazing at him as if they were looking at him for the last time. Weaker than he let on, Cade began to think they were right, that this may be their final moment together. Whenever he considered Isabel in the clutches of Laird Duncan – or worse, Lord Richard – his resolve solidified.

  He offered his hand to Brian, who reluctantly clasped arms with him.

  “We will see ye there,” Brian said firmly.

  “Yea, cousin,” Cade said with a smile. He clasped arms with Niall next. “Fare thee well.”

  “And ye,” the two echoed.

  With one long, last look at him, his cousins took off at a quick lope through the forest.

  Cade waited until the trees and brush had closed their path and hidden them from view before he leaned heavily against a tree. His head was pulsing, his wounds fiery, his skin clammy.

  The thunderstorm had dissipated with the last of his strength, and it rained softly in the forest around him. Willing his natural shield against the elements away, he closed his eyes to the raindrops that washed down his face. They were cold and soothed his fevered skin. He shivered, loving the sensations of nature, and drew a deep breath.

  This was not how he hoped this battle to go, for him to be too weak to fight properly. But, as he had learned in the Crusades, there was more than one way to fight a battle, and he had sent the men he trusted most to defend their kin. Brian and Niall would never fail him.

  As long as his strength held out until he could find Isabel, he was willing to confront Duncan and Richard. With fortune and storms on his side, he would find a way to stall Laird Duncan for the third time, long enough for Brian and Niall to reach the MacCosse lands and ready their people.

  With another shuddering breath, Cade pushed away from the tree and began walking through the forest, back towards the blazing keep. He reached the edge of the woods and observed the armies gathered to attack his people. Tossing his sword and daggers into a bush and willing the forest to conceal them, he strode into the field between the forest and keep and waited for Duncan’s men to see him.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Isabel looked out over the valley in dismay. The MacCosse lands had no proper shelter for the two clans seeking refuge there, aside from forests. As she watched from the hilltop where she rode beside her brother, more clan members arrived. They were greeted with cheers and welcomed to woodsy homes. Seillie magic had turned the canopies of trees into roofing supported by strong boughs. Smaller trees and branches lower to the ground appeared to hold hands to prevent the rain from reaching the ground beneath them while shrubbery had cleared away and piled itself, along with loose leaves and twigs, into walls surrounding the sheltered space. Smoke rose from several points, and large spits with rotating meats stood a short distance from the forest.

  The rain had not stopped once during the long, dreary ride from the bluff where John had been hiding. Soaked and cold, Isabel observed what she could from the scene below them, growing more concerned.

  “They have few warriors,” John said and leaned forward on the withers of his horse. “Laird Duncan will destroy them.”

  “The seillie are no’ ken fer warring,” came a gruff voice from nearby. One of the MacLachlainn kin melted from the bushes marking the edge of the forest. “Lady Cade.” He dipped his head to her.

  “’Tis a shame, since men like Cade make for worthy warriors,” John said.

  “We wish t’laugh no’ fight. Some o’us are born with the warrior fire but most are no’.”

  She offered a smile at the troubled warrior. If his seasoned age were representative of those left to fight, there was no hope at all for the clans.

  “Father Henry will want t’see ye, Lady,” the warrior said. “D’ye bring word of our laird?”

  “I do not,” she said. “No word has reached you?”

  “We heard the keep was on fire and Laird Duncan marching towards us. He comes with English knights.”

  Her breath caught. You all will be slaughtered. Had they truly believed they would be safe to come here? That Laird Duncan would not hesitate to cross into MacCosse lands as he did the lands of every other clan?

  She had no doubt the English knights were none other than Richard’s men, though she had not thought him to possess many outside of Saxony’s, whose vassals and lands he was quick to claim as his own.

  “You need to be farther into the MacCosse holdings,” John stated.

  “We doona listen to English,” came the stubborn response. “Lady Cade, I am Douglas MacLachlainn, appointed t’protect our kin by Laird Cade. I await yer command.”

  She was quiet, not expecting the clan leadership to fall to her so quickly. Did they assume Cade was dead, and this was why they did not wait for him? She found it close to impossible to breathe when she thought of Cade dead.

  John nudged his horse closer to hers. “Command them to move beyond the valley, closer to the ocean. The valley forms a trap, and Laird Duncan will command the high ground.”

  Her gaze went to the direction he indicated. “But where do they hide?” she challenged. “There is only forest and the ocean.”

  “Isabel, if the battle reaches them, they will be at Laird Duncan’s mercy. But if we use the valley to trap his men, the seillie will have a chance to flee if the battle is unfavorable.”

  She fidgeted with the reins. Never had she thought such a decision would fall to her. In an English household, it never would, unless every male member of the family were gone.

  Douglas waited for her decision.

  “We need to move close to the ocean,” she told him firmly. “At once.”

  “Yea, my lady,” he said with a hard look at John.

  “Send Father Henry to me with my writs,” she added.

  He nodded once and trotted down the hill, towards the forest.

  “What writs?” John asked.

  “Those granting me MacCosse land,” she replied. “And the protection of my father, should I wish to claim them.”

  “You think to summon the king’s own men?” John asked.

  “I do,” she said. “And I would be further aided in my claim by the rightful Baron of Saxony. You could bid our uncle to send his men and Saxony’s gold.”

  His gaze went to Fatima, who trailed them, and then to the people trapped in the forest. While his expression was hidden beneath his mask, he was unable to hide the tightening of skin beneath his eyes.

  “I cannot,” he said gruffly. “But I will help you defend them.”

  “Thank you, John.”

  “We must find shelter where they can hide.” He maneuvered his horse away, headed towards the ocean. Fatima remained with Isabel. During a full day of riding, they had spoken often, and Isabel found her brother’s quiet wife enamored by the man whose face was scarred, which endeared her even more to Isabel.

  “I saw John fight in the Crusades,” Fatima said. “He is a natural leader. He can help.”

  “Can you not speak to him about Saxony?” Isabel asked. “You would be comfortable there. Both of you.”

  “It is his decision. He feels great sorrow when he thinks of Saxony. I do not know that he will ever wish to return.”

  Isabel fell quiet. Her tormented brother was ashamed to return to his home after their father’s death, and nothing she had yet said to him had convinced him otherwise.

  “This seillie magic …” Fatima was staring at a tree whose boughs were being reshaped to provide a home for one of those who had newly arrived. “… what is it?”

  “I do not fully understand
it. They harness nature. It is a God-given gift yet they do not believe in the one god.”

  “It is not evil?”

  “They use it for good. I do not think it can be evil,” she replied.

  Members of the seillie clan were gathering around one of the spits. One had a harp, another a lute, and they began playing while the others danced. Isabel glanced towards the sky.

  “’Tis said they love twilight,” she said, noticing their darkening surroundings for the first time.

  More seillie joined the others, along with some of the MacDonald’s. A smile touched her features. He understood why he was so fiercely dedicated to protecting the people who treasured song, dance and peace.

  Two shapes on horseback broke away from the valley and headed towards her. She recognized the gaunt, stooped shape of Father Henry long before she saw his wrinkled features. He appeared more haggard than usual and clutched a bulky satchel to his side. With him was Siobhan, the woman meant to become Cade’s wife.

  “Douglas says we travel to the ocean in the morning,” the elderly priest told her. “Many ‘ave no’ rested or eaten in a day.”

  “Very well,” Isabel replied and glanced at Siobhan. Uncertain what to expect after usurping the woman’s position, she was grateful to see the pretty Macdonald woman smiling. “How is your father?” she asked.

  “Verra well,” was Siobhan’s response. “Cured of all that ails him and prepared to defend his people.” She snorted and shook her head. “Willna sit down and let the men fight or hunt or carry the sword he canna lift.”

  Isabel smiled, recalling how she had liked Laird MacDonald during their brief encounters.

  “Ye seillie can hunt.” Siobhan reached out to tap Father Henry’s arm.

  “You … know?” Isabel asked, eyes widening.

  “Yea, we’ve ken fer some time. My father was a friend o’Laird MacLachlainn the elder. There are some secrets we doona speak of, but the clans who lived nearest the seillie lands always ken. Father always says the seillie possessed these lands long before man and would long after man. He said a friend of the seillie is always safe.”

  “Let us pray this is true,” Isabel murmured, eyes on the refugees in the forest.

  Siobhan’s smile was open and warm. Until that moment, Isabel had never really considered what it meant to leave Saxony with no hope of returning if she did survive the Highlands. Saxony had been her home since birth, and she was the sole heir to its lands. She had believed she would never leave after John did not return from the Crusades.

  Yet she was here. Her new clan, her new husband, had no home, and neither did she.

  For the first time since reaching the Highlands, she also began to realize she was not helpless, either. Cade had been right. She held the favor – however fleeting – of two kings. If she feared using her influence, no one in the valley below was going to live long past sighting Laird Duncan’s army.

  “Lady Isabel?” the priest peered at her. “Are you well?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said. “Cade sent a messenger to the King John, did he not?”

  “Yea.”

  “We must send another. Bring me our two ablest riders and the best horses among the clans.”

  Siobhan and the priest glanced at one another. “I will go now,” Siobhan said and turned to leave.

  “Fatima.” Isabel twisted in the saddle. “Inform my brother I am in need of him.”

  Fatima dipped her head and turned her horse, galloping in the direction John had gone.

  “What d’ye plan?” Father Adam asked.

  “I am the daughter of a king. I intend to behave in a manner keeping with this.”

  Father Adam smiled. “May I ask ye which king?”

  She eyed him.

  “I imparted t’Cade ye had two fathers. I didna tell him ye claimed two mothers in yer writs as well,” he said. “Didna want him t’ think ye were English.” He laughed. “But ‘tis beyond my understanding how this came to be.”

  “My mother had a sister, a twin,” Isabel said slowly. “My father, the Baron of Saxony, imparted the truth to me before his death. One of Laird MacCosse’s daughters was taken at birth to England, after the death of his beloved wife, for he feared possessing no male heir, and no grown daughter to marry off to another clan for protection, would endanger his lands. She found her way into the English court as a courtier. My mother did as well, became a courtier in the Scottish court, where she was favored by the Scottish king for her beauty. I was born of one of them, after she wed the Baron of Saxony, and the other died in childbirth around the same time. My mother died when I was young, but she claimed my true father to be the Scottish king, and my Saxony father believed her. But, before he flung himself to his death, he told me he was uncertain of this truth, as he had met both women and did not know one from the other.”

  “Scandalous,” Father Adam breathed, features glowing. “Ye doona ken yer real father.”

  “The Highlands call to me. I feel I belong here.”

  “Then ‘tis so. Ye can claim King John as yer father,” he said wisely. “This is how ye came by two writs granting ye the husband of yer choice.”

  “Yes,” she said. “You must never reveal this secret. ‘Tis treasonous.”

  “I shall not.” He rested his hand over his heart. “I have burnt the English contract. But ye must tell Cade.”

  “If he survives, I will gladly do so.” Worry left it hard to breath when her chest was so tight. “My father advised me to seek the truth of my birth and to choose the man I wished to wed. I had thought this man was Richard, whom he seemed to favor, so I chose him when I appealed to the English King. When granted an audience with the Scottish king, I chose the Highland warrior who had slain my brother, because I blamed him for the loss of my beloved brother and father.” Her eyes misted over. “And because I could not live in Saxony knowing I did not belong.”

  “Ye b’long here, lass,” Father Adam said. “I was a wanderer, too, and I found my home with the seillie.”

  Isabel nodded and wiped her eyes.

  Siobhan returned, followed by two young men and two horses, and they were joined soon by John and Fatima, who hung back.

  “The writ granting me Laird Cade,” she said to Father Adam.

  He laughed, and Siobhan smiled. The priest dug her marriage contract out of his satchel and handed it to her.

  “What is it?” John asked in his broken voice, drawing the gazes of everyone.

  Isabel went to him and spoke low enough no one else could hear. “I need you to become the Baron of Saxony, if only for a night,” she said. “Our uncle can sign this or you can. You are closer, and I need it to call upon my true father for help.” She passed him the contract. “I must be recognized as Laird Cade’s wife to call upon the Scottish Crown to defend our clan.”

  John accepted the writ with reluctance.

  “And I need your medallion,” she added and removed hers. “Richard has few knights of his own. I do not know what he told our uncle, but they will not fight the rightful heir of Saxony, once they learn you are alive.”

  John went still.

  “You can disappear, if you wish, when I and my people are safe,” she whispered. “I know ‘tis not what you want, but ‘tis what I need to save my people. This is my home, John.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “I will be he in name only,” he warned. “If Cade will not claim Saxony, it will go to our Uncle.”

  “’Tis all I need,” she said.

  He lifted the chain from around his neck and held it before his eyes. “This was all I had to remember you by in the dungeon,” he said. “My sole hope to fight the madness, to leave one day and find you. It became all to me.”

  “I have never taken mine off, since you left for the Crusades,” she said. “I would not ask it, if I did not think we had a chance to sway what English are with Richard. They cannot think to face the rightful heir of Saxony without angering our uncle and the king.”

  “The few
er warriors we must face, the better,” John agreed. He held out the medallion to her. “I will do as you ask, Isabel.”

  She nodded, unable to speak when her heart felt as if it were in her throat. Isabel took his medallion and clutched them both tightly in her fists.

  “There are others,” John said with a glance at Fatima. “Seven of us who escaped the dungeons, men from many lands with nowhere to return. We sought peace here, at the northern end of the Earth. They will fight, if I ask them.” He nudged his horse away from her. “Father, do you have ink and quill?”

  Father Adam bobbed his head and dug through his satchel once more.

  Isabel signaled the riders to her. Her hands shook, and her voice trembled, as she issued them desperate instructions she hoped would sway the outcome of the looming encounter with Laird Duncan.

  “… and finally, I will accompany you,” she said to the rider she tasked with delivering a message to King John.

  “Isabel,” her brother objected, looking up sharply from his position signing the contract Father Adam held for him.

  “An appeal from me will go farther than any other,” she replied.

  “You are needed here.”

  “I am needed where I have the most influence! My request cannot be ignored if I deliver it in person.”

  Siobhan and the riders were looking between the two of them.

  “The lass is wise.” Another voice came from the darkness. Cade’s two warrior cousins, appearing rough, scruffy and exhausted, melted from the night leading their horses.

  “Cade?” Father Adam asked instantly.

  The cousins looked to her, and her breath caught.

  “He isna well. Duncan has him,” Niall answered. His eyes went to John, and he frowned.

  “But he lives?” Isabel asked hopefully.

  “Yea. His storms slow Duncan.”

  “How close is he?” Siobhan asked, approaching him.

  “Too close. A day and a half.” Niall reached out to her instinctively.

  Too unsettled by the idea of Duncan tormenting Cade, Isabel did not notice Niall and Siobhan were holding hands.