Highlander’s Broken Love by Fiona Faris

Chapter Seventeen

When Elisabeth woke, she found Ian was gone from the floor, no longer there sleeping beside the bed. She gathered herself quickly, stood from the bed and went to a bucket of water at the side of the room to wash and clean up. She stripped completely and cleaned her body, feeling refreshed, yet as she pulled her clothes on again, her mind was on just one thing.

Ian.

The night before had been pure temptation, with him admitting that he was as attracted to her as she was to him. Yet it was clear it was a boundary he was not willing to cross, and that hurt her, more than she could put into words.

Once she was dressed, she left the tent, walking outside to find Ian in deep conversation with Laird Alexander, Bhaltair, Gilroy, and Kenny.

“Ye are sure?” Ian asked again, addressing Gilroy.

“I watched all night,” he nodded. “They had to ken I was there. I only left to relieve meself a few minutes in the early hours of this mornin’. When I came back, the tent was empty.”

“What’s happened?” Elisabeth asked. Her voice made Ian look sharply around at her. She saw the way his eyes dropped down to her body before lifting up to her face again. She tried to ignore the sensation it caused.

It can never happen. Remember that.

“Grier, Jockie, and their friends have left the camp,” Laird Alexander explained. “We daenae ken where they have gone.”

“Then let us hope they have just moved on,” Ian said, turning back around.

“Do you think that likely?” Kenny asked, nervously shifting his weight between his feet. “They don’t strike me as men who are going to take defeat easily.”

“Then maybe they have moved on to start again,” Ian said with conviction in his voice. “Let us hope that’s the case. I daenae care if they have gone. It means nay division in the clan and nay feud.”

“Aye, true,” Laird Alexander nodded. “It’s better with them gone.”

“That’s if they truly are gone,” Kenny said, his gaze turning to the trees.

“We have good watchmen,” Bhaltair joined the conversation. “If they were still here, we’d ken it. They’re nae here.”

“Then we daenae waste any more time,” Ian said to the group. “Gather everyone, we leave within the hour.”

“Aye, me Laird,” Bhaltair and Gilroy bowed and hurried off, causing Ian to stop walking completely.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Laird Alexander asked.

“I cannae get used to the bowin’ thing,” Ian explained, drawing a chuckle from his friend. As Ian turned to walk off, Elisabeth hurried after him, determined to stay close by his side.

“Ian?” she called to him just as she caught up with him. “Where is it we are going today?”

“A town northeast of here,” he explained. “When the clan was attacked, it was gutted like everywhere else, and the people moved on. There are still a few buildin’s standin’ though, and it is close to the border with Alex. The clan will be safe there.”

“After that?” she asked.

“After that, I’ll return ye home. As I promised,” he said and walked on, heading toward the horses that were being gathered nearby. Elisabeth stopped walking, no longer following him.

She knew it was the right thing to do, of course she did. She had to go back, and she wanted to go back home, too, but she couldn’t help feeling that leaving Ian was going to be one of the hardest things she’d ever have to do.

* * *

Elisabeth had watched the preparations to leave with some admiration. The clan seemed to pack their lives into just a few small bags that were strapped to the backs of carts and saddles. She waited near the front of the entourage where Kenny had asked her to stand beside a horse. The steed was tall, with a black mane that practically shimmered in the sun and a long nose that kept snorting every few minutes.

“You’re a restless one, aren’t you?” she murmured to the horse as she turned to him and stroked his nose. As though in protest, he snorted loudly again and reared his head. “Impatient too, it seems,” she murmured, no longer trying to stroke him as his head settled back down again.

She looked around the line of people, seeing how near they all were to being ready to leave. Within a few minutes, they would be on their way. Bhaltair and Gilroy were nearby astride their own horses, but neither Ian nor Laird Alex could be seen.

The horse snorted at her again.

“Are you now annoyed I’m not giving you attention?” she said softly to the horse, looking back at him. She missed her horses back home. She always did this, talking to the animals at length. Even her most skittish horses had calmed down in time by her doing this, as though they grew used to the sound of her voice. “So, shall we be friends?” she asked and held out her hand to the horse.

It took a minute or so of the steed snuffling before he took a single step forward and placed his long black nose against her palm.

“There we are,” she cooed and stroked him gently. The snorts began to settle until he made no noise at all.

“Well, that’s a surprise,” Bhaltair’s voice came from nearby, and she turned her head to look at him.

“What is?” she asked.

“The horse is a wild one,” he explained. “Few can tame him. Well done, me Lady,” he said with a smile and bowed his head toward her. She was startled by the change in manner and the sudden deference toward her, while also being warmed by his compliment.

“Thank you,” she said as she looked back to the steed. “Most horses are gentle souls beneath it all.”

“Ye think so?” It was not Bhaltair’s voice that replied, but Ian’s. She looked around as he appeared beside her, with a saddle in his hands.

“I do,” she smiled as she watched him place the saddle firmly on the horse’s back. In protest, the horse threw back its head and whinnied. “You’ve upset him now.”

“He’ll be fine,” Ian said as he buckled up the saddle.

“Shh,” she said softly to the horse, holding out her hand to him again. This time, the horse approached her as though needing her comfort and walked straight into her hand.

“Och, it’s like ye have a magic touch,” Ian marveled, leaning on the saddle as he watched her. Elisabeth felt analyzed by the intensity of his gaze.

“There is no magic in it,” she explained. “All souls just need a little kindness. That is all.”

“People as well as horses?” Ian whispered to her as he reached her side with the reins.

“Just so,” she acknowledged as she helped him put the reins on the horse.

“Now, up ye go,” he said, gesturing for her to get up on the saddle. She didn’t hesitate. She’d missed her rides and longed for such a moment again. She eagerly took hold of the saddle and swung herself up, riding side saddle with one leg hooked around the pommel. She reached to take the reins, just as Ian pulled them away.

“Why’d you do that?” she asked, as he stepped up to the side of the horse.

“Because ye may be ridin’ the horse, but ye arenae the one in control today.”

“What – oh!” she gasped in surprise as he placed a boot in the stirrup of the saddle and swung himself up. Within seconds, he was behind her on the saddle. She had to inch forward, but there still wasn’t enough room in the saddle for her to put any space between them.

She was relieved there was no one looking her way as her blush returned tenfold. She was incredibly aware of how his tall, strong body was pressed against her back and rear. It was an intimate position indeed.

“Ah-em,” she cleared her throat, turning her head so he could hear her.

“Aye?” he asked as he pulled the reins forward with one arm outstretched beyond her waist, allowing his elbow to brush the curve of her hip.

“Where I come from, gentlemen and ladies do not ride horses together,” she said with a giggle.

“Well, ye’re in Scotland now,” he chuckled in her ear, sending a thrill up her spine that made her tremble. “I’m nae goin’ to let ye ride alone, Elisabeth.”

“Why not?” she asked, trying to control the thrill.

“Because it is me responsibility to keep ye safe now, remember?” he said, looping his other arm past her to take hold of the reins. She was practically being embraced by him as he prepared to begin riding. “Here, I can be sure nae harm will come to ye.”

She couldn’t say anything in return; her mouth had gone dry.

“We’re all set,” Laird Alex appeared on a horse behind them.

“I’ll take the scout position at the front,” Bhaltair rode forward too, “and I’ll call if I see anythin’.”

“Take Gilroy with ye,” Ian ordered. At once, Gilroy nodded his head and hurried to take his place next to Bhaltair. It struck Elisabeth how well-respected Ian already was as a leader. His men smiled as they followed his orders; it wasn’t like that when her father gave orders. People often moaned about following his instructions.

Kenny pulled up along Ian’s other side, atop a smaller steed, just as Ian called out for them all to move forward. Together the group moved on. Behind them, Elisabeth could hear people chattering excitedly. She caught snippets of conversation from different groups; they were all talking about the future, discussing hopes and wishes of how great the clan could be again.

It made her look down at the hands on the reins in front of her. This man was the source of all their hope now. The kindness he had already shown to his people made her like him even more.

I have never met anyone like him in England.

Elisabeth listened to the conversation between Ian and Laird Alex for some time. They were talking of the MacPherson Clan and Alex’s wife, Delilah. She asked questions, interested to know more about Ian’s friend, and was delighted to watch Laird Alex talk of his wife and son. He was truly a happy man.

“I hope ye can find such happiness soon, me friend,” Alex said, addressing Ian.

“In time, perhaps,” Ian said tightly. “First comes the people’s safety.” As he said the words, she felt one of his arms brush against her waist; the brief touch was a tantalizing moment of intimacy.

As Alex dropped away to talk with friends, Elisabeth and Ian lapsed into silence, and she concentrated on the horizon as it changed from flat land to hills. The trees began to disappear, and the hills stretched high around them.

“Ye’re shiverin’,” Ian’s voice disturbed her thoughts. She had been aware of the cold seeping in through the torn silk dress she was still wearing, but the wind that was whistling up the valleys across the hills they were trekking had made the cold more acute. Her teeth were chattering, and her fingers were trembling.

“There is not much warmth to what is left of this dress,” she acknowledged.

To her surprise, Ian passed the reins into her hands.

“Hold this,” he instructed. She took them, trying to calm the shivering feeling. She heard cloth being removed behind her and glanced back to see Ian had taken off the plaid covering he had been wearing around his shoulders. “Put this on,” he passed it to her as he took the reins back.

“Then you’ll be cold,” she said and tried to pass the plaid back to him.

“I think I can bear it better than ye,” he teased with a smile, “I’m a born Scotsman. We can handle the cold. The English cannae so easily.”

“I think I should say thank you,” she said with a smile of her own, “but that was almost an insult.”

“Ha, I meant nothin’ by it,” he said with a chuckle and gestured for her to put on the plaid. She turned back to face the front of the horse and wrapped the plaid shawl around her shoulders. At once, the difference was stark. Where the chill of the wind had raised goosebumps on her arms and shoulders through the tears in her dress, now there was warmth.

There was more than that, though. The plaid had his scent, and she buried her nose in it, enveloping herself in both the warmth and smell.

“What else can you tell me about Scotland then?” she asked, poking her nose out again, just as his arms came back up around her. She found it easy to lean back against his chest, using him for support. He didn’t pull away from her. On the contrary, he rested his arms so that his elbows came up against either side of her waist.

“What would ye like to ken?”

“Everything,” she acknowledged, turning her head so she could just see Ian’s mouth and jaw. “I’m beginning to think that everything I’ve heard might not be true. I’d like to know the truth.”

“Well, it’s a superstitious place, I’ll give ye that,” he said, turning his mouth to whisper in her ear. “Lots of myths and legends about creatures that walk these lands.” He lowered his voice and mockingly spoke in a spooky voice, pulling a giggle from her.

“What kind of myths?” she asked, intrigued to know more.

He turned the horse to follow the path Bhaltair and Gilroy had taken through the mountains. They were now circling the lower foundation of a mountain, crossing from heather and into an open section covered in rocks and stones. Here, the wind was even stronger, with no trees to abate it, making her sink into Ian’s embrace.

“Well, they say on this mountain there lived a giant.”

“A giant?” she asked, interested by the idea.

“Aye, ye see all these rocks around us?” he gestured to the giant boulders. “He supposedly threw them from the top of the mountain just to see just how far he could throw them.”

“He sounds a little bored.”

“He was, until he fell in love,” Ian’s voice turned a little wistful. “The tale goes he used to watch the nearby town from the top of his hill. One day, he saw a village girl so beautiful that he fell in love with her on sight. At night, he crept down from the hill to go and meet her.”

“A sweet tale,” she said softly.

“Ye say that now; wait for the end,” Ian warned. “When he met his love, she was enamored, too. Every night they met in secret outside the town, but, over time, they began to realize it could never be. They were too different, their lives on different paths.”

“This is not so happy anymore,” Elisabeth said sadly, turning her head to see Ian’s face.

“On their last night together, the giant said goodbye to his love, but on his walk back to the mountain, he was seen by others in the village. They thought he was attackin’ so they attacked him instead.”

“This is an awful tale!” Elisabeth complained, pulling a small laugh from him.

“Thought ye may nae like it,” he chuckled. “The giant was strong though and turned and fled. Yet he was injured and couldnae get far. One of the men from the town tracked him as he ran. Fearing for her love’s life, his lass followed him too. When the man found the giant and lifted his bow, his love stepped in front of him, takin’ the arrow.”

“You Scots sure know how to make a heartbreaking story,” Elisabeth moaned.

“It’s true,” he nodded, “we do. As the woman lay dyin’, the giant took revenge on her killer, then scooped her up in his arms and took her back to the mountain with him. There, they bled out together and died in each other’s arms.”

“I regret asking you for a story now,” Elisabeth teased.

“Ah, but here comes the nice bit,” he said and turned her head to face up the mountain again. “Ye see the way the clouds dance around the top of the mountain?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“It is said that those clouds are heaven itself, and the giant and his love rose into heaven. Now they live there happily, forever. Finally able to be together.” At the close of his story, Elisabeth was tongue tied.

“I’m no longer sure whether to say it was beautiful or heartbreaking,” she said quietly. To her surprise, she felt Ian brush her waist with his hand.

“I think beautiful,” he said. “They did what they could to save each other. That must be a strong love indeed.”

She couldn’t agree more.

Listening to his voice and thinking how easy it was to speak with him, Elisabeth found a realization dawning. She didn’t just care for Ian; neither was she just attracted to him. She was completely enamored by him. If she knew him for much longer, she knew there was a very real possibility of falling in love with him.

What would my father say if I told him that I loved a Scotsman?

If only she had the independence to make her own choice about the man that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

She lowered her gaze away from the stunning landscape in front of her, away from the curving mountains and the forests dappled with small lochs, to look at his hands on the reins. The more she looked at those hands, the more she saw the scars across the fingers and across his wrists. His left hand too was slightly distorted, as though the fingers had once been broken.

“What happened?” she asked, releasing her grasp on the plaid and going for his hand. She traced the odd bone structure for a second before he turned his hand and held her palm against his. The sudden grasp made her lean even more into him.

“The prison didnae offer good hospitality,” he said from behind her, his voice dark. “They tortured me. Repeatedly.”

She gripped his hand, horrified by the idea. She knew something like that had to have happened when she saw the scars across his back and heard that he had been whipped, but hearing the words spoken was new territory.

“Why would they do that to you?” she asked in a whisper.

“They wanted to ken about me clan. I refused to tell them,” he explained. “They whipped me often. Last year, they broke me fingers, too. They healed themselves though they still daenae look right.”

“It’s just too awful,” she said and slid their palms together, so that she could touch the fingers that were just a little misshapen. “This should never have happened.”

“I agree with ye. But it is what happens. When the English take a Scottish soldier as a prisoner, I am nae sure they are treated better than dogs.”

“I’m so sorry, Ian,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Ye daenae need to apologize, Elisabeth,” he said, turning his head so that his lips danced across the top part of her neck, near to her ear. She reached up closer toward him, wanting that touch as she remembered the kiss that they’d shared the night before. “It is nay one’s fault except the man who ordered the torture.”

She closed her eyes, thinking about his words. She knew her father had ordered the capture of some prisoners in his years as General. To think he might be the one giving similar orders to torture men just like Ian was too horrendous to bear.

She resolved that the next time she saw her father, she would talk about it with him. She didn’t want any man like Ian to suffer again.