Highlander Enchanted(60)

Holding her breath, she kept her eyes closed despite her concern and listened to him enter and close the door. There was a pause, as if he were trying to discern if she were asleep, before he went to the hearth and sat.

He ate again, and she stayed where she was, staring at the stone wall before her eyes. Not long after returning, he, too, stretched out on the other bed to sleep. His breathing soon grew deep and regular.

Isabel relaxed and shifted onto her other side. She was unable to sleep in such a circumstance, especially not knowing if Cade had lived through the night let alone survived Laird Duncan attacking.

Her captor slept in his mask.

She sat up silently, mind on the horse in the stables and escaping. It wouldn’t matter where she went, so long as she was far from him. With one hand focused to quieting her skirts and the other balancing her against the wall, she tiptoed towards the door, paused to ensure he had not moved, then rested her hand on the bar.

Isabel glanced over her shoulder.

Her captor had shifted onto his back, though he remained slumbering. She started to turn away when she caught the glint of firelight off a silver chain around his neck. A dangling silver medallion had fallen from his chest to the side of his neck.

Isabel touched the medallion she wore, and stepped forward, wanting to know who had captured her before she left. She knelt and turned over the medallion.

She stared, dropping it in alarm.

The medallion was identical to hers. They had been gifts given to her brother and her by their father before her brother rode off to the Holy Lands. It was not possible for this to be her brother; he would never hide from her or treat her this way. By all accounts, he was dead.

Anger filled her at the alternative, that this man had stolen her brother’s necklace. This, too, seemed unlikely when she asked herself why he had come to the Highlands let alone sought and captured her.

Bristling with agitation and confusion, Isabel snatched the tip of his hood and yanked it off.

Her captor’s eyes flew open, and he gazed at her before shoving her away and grabbing the hood back.

She caught herself against the wall, a cry of shock stuck in her throat. The scarred, mangled face beneath the mask stuck in her mind, but it was the striking green eyes – mirrors of her father’s – that left her reeling.

“John,” she breathed.

He sat with his back to her, shoulders hunched and masked head bowed.

“My god. John!” She approached him.

“Stay away!” he said and rose, fending her off with one arm extended.

“But … why? I thought you were dead!” She kept her distance, wringing her hands, her heart flipping over in her chest.

“There is nothing left of the man I was.”

His broken voice, scarred features, limp … tears of relief and pity filled her eyes. “Oh, John,” she whispered. “My sweet brother.”

She took a step towards him once more, shaking with emotion, and pushed his arm down. He made no move to stop her this time, and she slid an arm around him before shifting afore him.

His head was bowed, his eyes closed, as if her touch hurt him.

Isabel wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek against his chest, silently praying in gratitude for her brother being alive.

John sank to his knees, trembling. She went with him, unwilling to let him go after discovering him again.

“You must tell me what has happened,” she whispered in a quaking voice. “Where you have been. Why you did not return to me.”

“Return? How could I return when I look like this?”

Tears filled her eyes at his pain. Isabel wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him hard then leaned away. She tugged at the mask covering his face. He leaned back and twisted his head away.

She persisted and stretched forward. He tensed without pushing at her, and she gently peeled off the mask.

There was little resemblance of the man before her to her brother. John’s eyes were squeezed close and he was braced as if he feared her reaction. Knotted, thick scars covered his features. A cleft in his lip had healed unevenly, and half of one eyebrow had never grown back.

She rested her hands on his knotted cheeks, and felt the tears spill down hers. “I will always love you, John,” she whispered. “How did you not know how much I love you? How little I would care for your scars?”

Her brother did not speak, barely seemed to breathe. Isabel wrapped her arms around his neck again and pulled him into her body. Gradually, he began to relax, and his arms circled her. He let her hold him as he never had before, and she rocked gently, not wanting to disturb him with more questions despite her burning curiosity. He clutched the material of her dress, his breathing deep and even.

“I wanted to tell you,” he said in his broken voice. “After father died, I wanted to see you.”

“Do not dwell on the past,” she murmured. “You are here with me now. All will be well.”

“Your heart was always so pure.” He lifted his head enough to touch the pink charm dangling on her chest next to the medallion that matched his. “This is seillie magic.”

“Yes.” Isabel shifted to remove the charm, recalling its powers. She draped it over John’s head, suspecting he needed it more than she did. “It will heal the pain inside you.”

“Cade already has healed what could be healed.”