Highlander Enchanted(39)
She possessed all he did not – gold, lands, noble name – and left his temporary home empty and envious of his ability to carve his own path out of life. She had never known the wildness and freedom his clanswomen displayed or let herself imagine a life so unlike that which she was destined to live. Her fate as a noblewoman was set upon her birth. She had accepted it, if unhappily, until her father and brother passed. And then, she had been driven to avenge them, so desperate and alone, she had not considered how she would choose to live, if she had the choice.
Gazing at the cramped keep, she could not help considering the relative virtues of a life filled with magic instead of fear, at the side of a man with some honor instead of one with none.
Her land, title, and name set her aside from others, but they trapped her as well. She tugged the braids Richard hated over one shoulder and sighed.
“It will be good to arrive home,” Richard said from his position riding ahead of her. “We will prepare the contract upon arriving. Your uncle has agreed to act in your father’s stead. Our wedding will be the greatest affair of the winter.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” she forced the words out.
“As am I. My stewart was making the arrangements when I left. He should be complete when we return.”
My stewart, she corrected him. Richard was not the Lord of Saxony yet, even if he were directing her servants as if he were.
She knew better than to remind him of this. No Cade stood between her and Richard’s fists, and she did not feel up to challenging him this day. Her gaze went to the black mane of her bay horse.
For three weeks, she had been free. It had been terrifying never knowing if bandits would beset her, if she would sleep the night or find food the next day, how she would manage to feed all the mouths at Cade’s. But freedom, even if scary, was better than the life awaiting her. Once she wed Richard, she would have no influence or power at all.
Perhaps I deserve Richard. She had not just failed her brother and father, she had failed herself. Her fingers were clenched around the reins, and she began to resent entertaining thoughts of freedom after a lifetime of accepting her place. Perhaps, if she had never challenged him, Richard would not have raised a hand to her, and she would be peacefully managing her father’s household with a husband she did not want.
Anger stirred, and she recalled why she had not wished to settle into such a life, why she had chosen to try to avenge her brother instead of becoming the demure, docile wife to a proud man like Richard. It had never been her place, not when she was learning to read in multiple languages or managing her father’s finances or conversing with priests about such unwomanly pursuits as alchemy and astronomy.
And certainly not after she learnt who her true father was. She did not belong in Saxony. She belonged here.
Frustrated tears rose as she realized she was helpless to fight her destiny. But was this not what her father wanted for her? She wrestled with herself once more, unable to accept a fate with a man she did not care for or trust, even if it was a sin to oppose her father’s wishes.
Isabel tugged up her hood to prevent Richard and his cousin and guard from seeing her tears.
Lost in her thoughts, she pulled out of her melancholy when they reached the forest where she had first met Cade. They passed through it without being confronted by his men or any thieves, and left the forest at the edge of his lands for the rolling hills dividing one patch of forest from the next.
“What is that?” one of the knights asked.
She twisted in her saddle to see where he pointed and craned her head. Smoke rose from some point beyond a hill, its source hidden by the terrain.
“Dawson, ride ahead and warn my men,” Richard ordered in response. “We continue with caution. I believe this to be the disputed land belonging to the MacDonald’s. ‘Twas said Laird Duncan was torching the villages. We need only reach the neighboring lands to be safe.”
Men on horseback with swords drawn raced from the northern part of the forest across the hilltop and disappeared behind it.
Dawson dug his heels into his horse’s belly and galloped ahead, towards the second forest.
“Move quickly. We should be safe in the forest,” Richard urged and took her reins.
She allowed even her horse’s head to be controlled by the man who would soon rule her life. Uneasy with the warring clans, angry with Richard’s assumption she was incapable of handling herself, she was powerless.
They galloped to the forest three leagues from the disputed land and slowed upon reaching the narrow road winding through it. A cold drizzle began once more, pattering on the leaves above them and soon filling the muddy indents of the trail with water.
Isabel glanced around at the quiet forest and pulled her cloak around her more tightly. She was dry – for now. If it rained any harder, she would be drenched fast.
The men around her were tense, their hands on the hilts of their swords, as if they were aware of danger she was not. They reached a meadow, and Richard drew his horse to a halt.
His knights did the same.
Isabel had no insight into whether or not danger lurked until she saw the long look Richard exchanged with the leader of his personal guard. No words were spoken, but an understanding passed between them, and the master-at-arms motioned the other knights to follow.
“My lady,” the master-at-arms said to her with a bow of his head. “These woods are dangerous to a noblewoman. The MacDonald’s and brigands hide here. We will ride ahead to clear the path.”