Highlander’s Broken Love by Fiona Faris
Chapter Twenty
“This way,” Ian said as he held out a hand to help Elisabeth down from the horse.
“I still can’t believe it,” Elisabeth muttered, more to herself than to him. She dropped down to the ground a little shakily, with her legs still trembling. “They attacked us. Both of us. It just…it shouldn’t happen.”
“Elisabeth, it will be all right.”
“How can it be all right?” she wondered as he took her hand and began to lead her through a dense thicket of forest, with the spruce pine trees so close together it was impossible to get a horse to slip through.
“Right now, I’m just concentratin’ on gettin’ us to safety. I’m nae thinkin’ too far beyond that,” he said kindly, drawing her forward.
The ground in front of her abruptly became steep, reaching sharply into the sky. Ian clambered up first, still clutching her hand to draw her up behind him. Her feet slipped a few times on the earth. Soon, she was having to use her free hand to tug at the moss and tufts of grasses between the rocks to help her up.
“Where are we going?” she asked, unable to get rid of her fear.
“Just a little further and we’ll be there,” he assured, his voice deep in that comforting tone he so often used with her. She couldn’t find much solace in it now. She kept glancing back over her shoulder every few seconds, searching the trees just in case anyone had followed them, but there was no sign of anyone at all.
“How are you not more scared?” she asked, genuinely wanting to know the answer. “I can’t stop shaking.”
“I ken. I can feel yer fingers tremblin’,” he said and squeezed her hand in another attempt in comfort. “Trust me, Elisabeth. Where we’re goin’, Grier will never think to look for us there.”
She struggled to follow him up the incline as they lapsed back into silence. With his tall legs, he could climb easily, using footholds in rocks and clumps of earth. She had more difficulty because of her shaking, practically having to take two steps for every one he took. Just as she grew breathless, unable to keep following at this fast pace, the ground levelled out.
She looked up at last, seeing the spruce trees had fallen away at the top of the hill to reveal an old set of ruins.
“What is this place?” she asked, her voice just a whisper of wonder. Ian stopped at her side, trying to catch his breath, too.
“It was once a priory church,” Ian explained, gesturing to the tall walls. Where there should have been a roof, there was just open air. On each side, the stone walls were crumbling, though some were still intact, at least four times her height. Where stained glass windows used to be, there were now just holes. “The English sacked it on a campaign years ago.”
He drew her forward once again. Together, they clambered over a smaller outer wall before turning through an open archway, walking into the ruins themselves. It appeared to Elisabeth as though nature had tried to reclaim the place. Ivy was growing along one wall behind the altar stone, each green leaf rimmed with white as it stretched out against the stone. On the opposite wall, small clumps of moss and leaves appeared every so often through the stones, as though each plant was trying to escape the building.
“It’s beautiful,” Elisabeth murmured as they came to a stop in the center of the priory church. Even around her feet, the stone floor that used to be there was skewwhiff. With some slabs missing, others were upturned or at an angle, overtaken by grass and pale lichen. “How did you know about this place?”
“When I was younger, I used to come here to escape the clan every now and then when I wanted to be alone,” Ian said, staring around at the tops of the crumbling walls. “It’s a perfect place for watchin’ the stars at night. It’s hidden by the trees too. It’s nae an easy place to find, but I told Alex about it once. He’ll find us here. In time.”
Elisabeth nodded, trying to find some comfort in the idea. She released Ian’s hand and walked to one of the holes that stood for windows. A spruce tree was peeking through, blocking part of her view. She tried to crane her neck to see beyond it and down the hill, back to where they had left the horse, but the terrain was far too cluttered. It was impossible to see if anyone had followed them.
“What if they find us?” she asked, lifting her hands to rest on either side of the window.
“They willnae,” he assured her, coming up behind her.
“I cannot believe what just happened,” she said, shaking her head as her panic returned. Now that the danger was behind them, the adrenaline of the chase had left her body and been replaced with pure, unadulterated fear. “They were my kin. They attacked me, too. Why would they do that?” she asked, turning around and looking at Ian for an answer.
“Because of this, perhaps?” he asked and placed a hand on the plaid covering around her shoulders. The touch startled her with its warmth, and she leaned into it, desperate for the distraction he could cause. “Ye’re wearin’ me clan colors,” he explained gently. “Would they nae just think ye were a lass from our clan because of it?”
She closed her eyes, realizing what perfect sense it made.
“I don’t know whether to be relieved by that or more frustrated,” she confessed after a moment, breathing heavily and opening her eyes again.
“What do ye mean?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Those soldiers were willing to hurt a woman from your clan who had done nothing wrong, then? If that’s who they thought I was. Isn’t that barbaric?” she exclaimed loudly and walked away from Ian, feeling her fear and anger overtaking her again. “Everything my father has ever told me about the Scottish is wrong. He claims you are the ones who are the savages, and yet, from what I can see, there are as many brutes amongst the English soldiers as there are Scottish.”
“Elisabeth, please, calm yerself,” Ian followed her as she walked across the priory church, clearly intent on bringing her to her senses, but she couldn’t be calmed so easily.
“How can I be?” she asked, turning her head to look back at him. “I have been lied to all my life, and now my kin are trying to harm me too –” she broke off and covered her face, trying to stop the tears. Yet they were strong and sudden, so much so that she couldn’t help herself.
She supposed it was a result of the pent-up fear from the last few days finally escaping her. The release of it all had just been sparked by the attack on the roads and the dash to survive.
“Elisabeth,” Ian’s voice was closer than she had expected it. When his arms came up around her, she sank into his chest, needing that warmth and comfort.
“I’m sorry,” she said through her tears.
“Ye daenae need to apologize,” he said gently, with one hand coming up to brush her hair away so that he could lean down and whisper in her ear. “After all ye have been through, I’m surprised ye havenae cried before.”
“It doesn’t do any good, does it?” she said as she pressed her face against his waistcoat, trying to stop her tears.
“It’s natural,” he said, bending his head down to her even more. She could now feel the brush of his lips against her ear. It sent a tremble up her spine, but this time it was not from fear. “I think ye are one of the strongest people I have ever met.”
“What?” Elisabeth said in surprise, leaning back from him a little. He’d wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her body against him as he returned her gaze.
“Ye were kept in a cage,” he pointed out with raised eyebrows. “I’d say fear and tears are only natural, and I never want ye to be ashamed of cryin’ in front of me,” he said with a small smile, drawing the same from her through her crying. She lifted one of her hands and tried to dry the tears with the backs of her hands. “Now, I have a feelin’ we’ll be here for some time. Let’s see to that wound on yer neck while we wait.”
He took her hand, releasing her waist, and drew her across the church. She followed only too gladly, though she already missed the warmth of his arm.
* * *
Ian had been honest in his appraisal of Elisabeth. Seeing her finally capitulate to her fear and cry had been a perfectly natural thing, one he was startled he hadn’t seen sooner, yet the sight of it only made the need to protect her grow in strength. Right now, protecting her didn’t mean saving her from attackers, or Jockie and Grier. It meant trying to comfort her.
He would do anything to see her smile now.
“Here, sit here.” He gently drew her toward the altar stone that stood at the far end of the church. The stone was a great, grey slab erected on top of two plinths. Around the edge, the stone had grown lichen and moss, but a few carvings of old Christian symbols could still be seen across the surface.
He took her waist and lifted her to sit on the stone, enjoying her gasp of surprise at the intimate touch. It made him prolong the touch and hold one hand against her waist for a beat longer as he reached with his other hand for a pouch he kept at his belt. Inside, there were some basic medicinal supplies he’d taken from the camp.
“How bad is it?” she asked, lifting her hand back to her neck again.
“It is fine,” he assured her with a smile. “Ye have practically stopped bleedin’ now, but we need to clean the wound.” In the pouch, he found two small vials, one of turpentine and the other of honey. He took out a tiny bundle of cloth and poured a few drops of the turpentine on the linen, before reaching toward Elisabeth. “This will hurt a little,” he warned. He gently took her neck with his other hand, lifting her chin higher.
He grew distracted and started marveling at the curve of her throat instead. She seemed to notice his pause, as her eyes slid back to his, wide and surprised. They said nothing, though they just stared at one another for a minute, lost in the gaze.
“I think you’re the one who’s now a little distracted,” Elisabeth was the one to break the silence, repeating the same words he’d said to her the night before.
“That I am,” he acknowledged with a chuckle, before lifting the cloth to her neck. As soon as he brushed the wound, she hissed at the pain. “Ye distract me a lot, Elisabeth. Now, hold still.”
“It hurts,” she pointed out. He brushed his other hand along the curve of her neck, trying to distract her from the pain. At once, she gasped, only this time it was clearly from the surprise of the intimacy of his touch.
He lowered the cloth and turned it over to place a small blob of the honey from the other vial across the surface. When he lifted it this time to dab her wound, she didn’t make any sound at all. She just returned his gaze.
He was struck by her fairy-like features again—the pretty, elfin-like expression with the incredibly light blue eyes. It was as though he were looking at a woman from one of the many old myths and legends that could be heard in these parts. Not a real woman at all, she was far too beautiful for that.
“There,” he said, lowering the cloth and placing the things away again in the pouch. The moment he stopped touching her, he wanted to touch her again. “That should help.”
“Thank you,” she said, as she inched closer to him on the stone, apparently missing the loss of his touch as much as he was hers. “Why was Grier with the English soldiers, do you think?”
“I think it has somethin’ to do with what that last soldier said to me.”
“What did he say?”
“That I took ‘her’. I think he meant ye,” he explained, placing his hands either side of her on the stone. “If I was to put a wager on it, I’d say Grier went to yer faither and told him that I was the one who kidnapped ye.”
“That’s awful,” her face turned to an expression of horror.
“Grier will do whatever he can now to have his vengeance,” as Ian said the words, he realized with conviction how right they were. “Even if it means an alliance with the English, and me death.”
“No!” Elisabeth said strongly, inching forward again on the stone. She was so close now that she nearly fell off the stone, with her chest just inches from his. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” The passionate way in which she spoke made something in him crumble. No woman had ever wanted to protect him so much. She was the kindest soul he’d ever known.
“Strange, that’s what I’ve been sayin’ about ye ever since I met ye,” he said, leaning toward her, with his lips hovering just above hers. He was replaying in his mind the moment from the night before when they had kissed. At this moment, he couldn’t remember why he was supposed to stay away from her at all. When the desperation to protect one another and the need to be near her were so strong, why was he resisting?
The wind whistled up the hill and through the gaping holes in the ruins around them. It ruffled Elisabeth’s light-blonde hair, and she shivered in the breeze, despite the warmth of his plaid.
“Ye are cold,” he said, reaching for the plaid and pulling it tighter around her shoulders.
“Ian,” she said softly, with one of her hands moving to still his. “Keep me warm?” she asked. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Please?”
