Highlander Enchanted(38)
“Forgive me, my lady,” he said quietly. “I canna undo what was done. But I owe you. I owe yer brother. If letting ye go, when I know it t’be wrong, is what ye say will make this right, then I will do it.”
She lifted her eyes to his, surprise crossing her features.
“If, instead, ye tell me challenging an army of Richard’s English knights will make this right, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded once, displeased.
“I will return with Richard. It is the just action. I would consider it a personal favor if you agreed to protect the writs from others,” she added. “Use them to ransom Richard when we are returned to England. He will supply you with gold not to reveal their contents.”
He studied her, once more impressed by her sharp mind, while also unsettled she thought him capable of ransoming her secrets. “And ye? Ye ken ye go to yer death.”
“So be it. I am at peace with it.”
He knew better. They both did.
He released her, and his magic began to pace inside him once more.
Isabel walked away from him.
It was wrong to let her go. As in the Saracen’s prison, when he had seen his cousins dragged off to be tortured, he was helpless to stop the suffering of another. Yet why did her suffering matter? She was not kin or blood or even an ally. He could not risk the lives of his clan and kin for a woman who had hidden the truth from him since she arrived.
Cade fetched his practice swords once more and returned to the lists, his fury burning hotter than before. He raised one for his first strike, when he heard someone’s feet scuff the stone floor beneath the eaves.
Ready to rip off the head of anyone who disturbed him, he quelled his anger upon seeing Father Adam. “Should ye no be with yer wine?” he snapped.
“I wished t’tell ye first. I am finished with the writs.”
Cade turned away. “I doona care. She leaves tomorrow morning.”
“My son, ye will want to hear what I have to say,” said the priest with more glee in his voice than Cade could ever recall hearing. “’Tis a delicious scandal!”
Cade hesitated, fighting the temptation to know more about the woman who was going to become nothing more than a memory tomorrow. “I doona wish to ken tonight,” he said finally with great effort.
“Ye are in a delicate state?”
“Yea, Father.”
“Verra well. I will tell ye when ye wish it.”
Cade nodded and began pounding into the dummy once more.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Isabel kept her head low, disheartened by her visit to the Highlands. She was almost relieved to learn Cade had not killed her brother, because she doubted her ability to take his life. If he admitted to torturing and murdering her brother, would she have been able to stab him the night she had the chance?
A tiny voice inside her said no, plunging her further into her misery. Her desperate journey was doomed from the beginning, not because Richard would catch her, but because of her weakness. She was returning to her home to be beaten by the man she least wanted to marry – and with the knowledge she would never discover her brother’s true fate.
“My lady.” Richard’s master-at-arms, a seasoned knight with bright blue eyes, held out a water bladder to her. “The journey will be hard. You must eat and drink well.”
She hesitated, uncertain why his random kindness affected her. Richard was not a good man. How was it his master-at-arms was?
“Thank you,” she said, accepting it. She sipped from it for his sake and handed it back.
“Can you handle a knife?” he asked, glancing towards the head of the column, where Richard rode.
“Not well,” she admitted.
“The berserkers are wild and constantly at war. You may need this,” he said and handed her a dagger.
The sheathed weapon was heavy. She hefted it before placing it into the pocket of her Highland gown. “Again, thank you for your kindness,” she said.
“’Tis duty, my lady,” he replied. “Your brother was well respected. Very able. I hope you found your peace with Black Cade. War is not fair to those who survive.”
Isabel nodded. She had no chance to address him about her brother before he nudged his horse ahead of hers and took his place ahead of her in the line of horses leaving Cade’s lands.
At least Richard had good men serving him.
She glanced at the sky. The clouds were as dark as her thoughts, though the rain had stopped. Cade’s cousin, Niall, had seen them off, going so far as to give her one of the precious few destriers in the stables so she could keep pace with Richard and his men.
Cade, however, was absent from the quiet farewell. Why did this disappoint her? Why was she not instead relieved to avoid a man different than any she had met before?
His kindness from the night before, the claim he would honor her choice, saddened her. She had found such goodness in a man she wanted to hate.
They plodded through muddied roads away from the keep. Richard appeared cheerful despite the gloomy day, no doubt gloating over the title he had all but stolen. She was at a loss as to what to do next, aside from accept her fate beneath his fists, bearing his child and subsiding into a life of fearful domestic servitude.
Her gaze lingered on the squat form of the keep nestled between the verdant moors and the grey-black sky. Why did she think life here would be any different among the merry seillie with their songs and music? This place held magic that did not belong and a moody laird with no real home and naught to offer, except for his steely resolve not to fail his people.