Highlander Enchanted(20)
Isabel watched in consternation before she recalled the audience he ordered her to attend in the morning. Not only did he have her precious writs, but Richard was not going to be pleased if he were forced to wait here for her for another day. He would surely not permit her to stay another day longer than necessary, and the skies were too clear for there to be rain as there had been the past several days.
Would she have another chance to confront the man who killed her brother? A better place or time than at night, when she was able to escape and travel half a day before Richard and Laird Cade’s clansmen hunted her down?
Returning to the bed, she dressed herself hastily with no care for the comeliness of her appearance. After all, there was a chance she died this night. The thought stilled her movement until she reminded herself she likely had one chance to seek revenge. The night was hers. Tomorrow belonged to the men who wished to control her.
She shoved the dagger into her pocket. Isabel sat down and carefully untied the brace, laying it out in case she failed in her purpose and needed it upon her return. Tucking the pink necklace beneath her collar, she struggled into her boots then stood and sucked in a breath, waiting for the pain to return. As before, there was none at all.
Her shin felt healed. No weakness, not even soreness, remained.
She left the bedchamber.
The corridors and halls of the hold were silent, and she hurried through to the bailey and past it, to the door in the side of the wall beside the stables where she had seen Cade emerge from. The night breeze chilled her as she stepped through the wooden door into the grass beyond.
The sparks of light surrounding Laird Cade were just starting to disappear into the forest. She lifted her skirts and began to run, praying her leg would hold her. It made no complaint, aside from general stiffness, and she rushed to reach the woods before she lost sight of him. The cold air energized her while a stiff wind tossed her wavy hair around her head.
Breathless, Isabel paused a short distance from the forest, straining to see the glimmers of color indicating where he had gone. She caught one faint flicker of yellow and started towards it. When she was nearly at the tree line, she spotted the narrow path leading into the quiet forest and followed it.
No more flashes of color lit the night. Darkness closed in around her, broken up by bars of moonlight that slipped through the canopy above. She stayed on the trail, fearful of leaving it when she knew not what animals or pits or other dangers lurked in the shadows.
Just when she considered turning back, she caught the faint green spark of light emanating from a point ahead. Her step slowed, and she held her skirts close to her body to prevent them from brushing the bushes and tree branches lining the path. The closer she ventured, the quieter she willed herself to become.
Laird Cade came into view, and she held her breath.
Shirtless, surrounded by flickers of color, he sat beside a small water hole, his sword across his thighs. Moonlight pierced the forest and dusted his muscular upper body with silver, lovingly outlining each curve and dip of his exposed skin.
She found herself staring, jaw slack and mouth open, unable to recall when she had ever seen anyone who set her blood on fire in the most un-Christian way imaginable. His sheer size, the chiseled nature of his warrior form, the physical power such a man commanded, even the golden color of his sun-kissed skin were no less mesmerizing than the strange flickers of light surrounding him. His dark hair was captured at the nape of his neck, his moon-hued eyes closed. His features were heavier than those deemed attractive at court, but even his thick jaw and broad forehead filled her with wonder. The sensation of fire began to burn in her belly.
My mind is addled with fever, she thought. The inexplicable attraction was not natural or holy, and neither was her sudden immunity to the cold night air. If not illness, was this magic affecting her? His magic?
Too enchanted by the mere sight of him, she realized she had not questioned what he was doing out here alone in the forest with his sword, until the sparks of light coalesced into one single, white light of such purity and softness, she had never seen its equal.
It settled between his hands before it raced along the sword, over his knuckles, up his arms, and surrounded him with a halo that seemed connected to the moonlight.
She was witnessing magic. True magic. Unnatural magic, for it did not exist in the Christian world. She watched it race around him before settling and seeming to sink into his skin. Similar to Marie’s healing magic, Isabel was once more unable to convince herself what she saw was evil. She had no explanation for what she witnessed in the Highlands but Marie’s advice was sound. This world was entirely unlike that which she knew.
Laird Cade breathed a sigh, and his shoulders relaxed as his tension disappeared. More flickering lights – these green – rained down upon him from the tree branches overhead while blue lights rose from the water source towards him. Rather than joining or sinking into him, these hovered around him, often grazing his skin and just as often hovering or letting the wind push them around.
Laird Cade’s head bowed, and his lips moved in silent prayer.
Isabel had the sudden sense this was a private moment, one of vulnerability, even if she did not understand what was happening before her. The sight of the warrior-laird in a state of weary relaxation left her troubled. The healer had said he bore his own darkness, and she had yet to hear of anyone returning from the Holy Lands without grievous tales of loss and hardship. This man seemed too strong for the world to bend him, too hardened to bow his head even in private.