Highlander Enchanted(68)

“Niall isna the better warrior!” Brian said defensively.

John’s rugged laugh was the warmest she had heard. Seeing her brother at ease, if not happy, with them melted what remained of the resentment she harbored knowing they had left him.

“John’s right,” Niall retorted. “And I already ken the stewart. Who would ye choose, John, t’defend yer sister against the Saracens?”

“Och, Niall!” Brian shoved his cousin. “Ye canna ask that! I can thrall any man we meet.”

“And I can grow us food so we doona starve!” Niall shot back.

“Ye canna eat flowers.”

“Flowers were all we had in the Saracen dungeon fer months!”

“We were their curse,” John said. “The four northern men who would not die.”

Isabel gasped, horrified by the image his words painted across her mind, but the two men with him laughed. Unable to find mirth in such a statement, she frowned at them.

“You are both able men,” John said and clasped each of them on the shoulder. “But I would ask Niall to escort my sister and Brian to stay behind and thrall any scout of Laird Duncan’s who ventures too close and seeks to reveal our plans to his chieftain.”

“Always the peacemaker,” Niall said gruffly.

“Go, before I decide not to allow my sister to endanger herself,” John said.

Isabel shook her head at him. They had both changed in the time they were apart.

“She’s a Highlander in spirit,” Niall said. “She commanded Black Cade to be civilized with her when they met.”

“Why could ye no’ do that with Richard, lass?” Brian asked, facing her. “He wouldna beat ye if ye looked at him as ye did Cade that day.”

“Lady Isabel,” she corrected him. “It is not your concern, Brian. You should not speak of it.”

He snorted, amused.

Her cheeks felt warm under John’s intent look. “What is this? Richard raised a hand to you?” he asked, confused. “Richard who spent his youth in Saxony training for knighthood with me and served with me in the Crusades, until we were separated by?”

“’Tis of no matter, brother,” she said.

“Ye didna tell him?” Niall raised his eyebrows. “Yea, John, that Richard, who claimed t’be the rightful laird of Saxony and turned her face black the day he found her in our forest.”

John’s features flushed and his eyes sparked with anger. “Did he behave thusly before I left?”

“John, it is of no –”

“Isabel.” His tone startled her. “Did he behave thusly before I left?”

“No,” she snapped. “Only when you did not return!”

“You did not think to mention this?”

She sighed. “I have other matters this night in need of my attention.”

Niall and Brian had both gone quiet and were watching the siblings curiously.

“We will speak of it upon your return.” John’s low growl left her no doubt as to his sincerity.

She said nothing and instead, motioned to Niall.

“Doona worry,” Niall said to John. “Cade has protected her since we found her.”

John’s face shuttered at the mention of Cade. Isabel recalled his guilt when he spoke of how Cade had saved him from the madness only to go mad himself.

“Come, Niall,” she said softly. “We cannot tarry.”

He took the writ from Father Adam and rolled it carefully.

“Take Laird Cade’s horse, m’lady,” Siobhan said and motioned to one of the riders. “Ye ‘ave a hard night of riding ahead of ye.”

Isabel dismounted and went to the familiar tan destrier. “Hello, my friend,” she murmured, rubbing its forehead. “We will share another adventure.” She tried hard not to think of Cade, of what he faced in Laird Duncan’s clutches. The sight of his horse comforted her.

She mounted the large warhorse. Niall had taken the other horses and motioned to the boy who would guide them.

With one last look at her brother, Isabel turned the powerful destrier towards the dark night and urged it forward. For the first time since leaving Saxony, she was driven by more than anger and hurt. With Cade and John standing with her, she was eager for a second chance at life with those she cared for. Hope flooded her with warmth and strength.

Since her father’s death, she had been lost, uncertain and scared. She had born no hope of discovering what was missing here, in the Highlands, on the very land where her mother had been born, and she never once considered Black Cade would quickly become the man she admired most.

At last, I know where I belong, she thought. She breathed a silent prayer for strength, not about to fail Cade and his clan when she had the power to help them.





Chapter Twenty Two


Cade’s goal had been to stall Laird Duncan and to that end, he was successful. When his injuries did not slow the ambitious laird chasing his clan, the weather did. He awoke between storms, at times lucid and at others not, but always aware of whose prisoner he was and the rain battering the shelter around him.

The fifth time he awoke, he was soaked with sweat in place of rain, and his mind was clear. He smelled heavily of the poultices and herbs Laird Duncan’s desperate healer had used upon him. The older man with worn clothing was hunched in a corner of the wagon, hugging himself for warmth in the cool autumn weather. Cade felt his bandages and grimaced, recalling how he had not been so weak or injured since his long stay in a Saracen dungeon.