Highlander’s Broken Love by Fiona Faris

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Are ye ready to talk about it yet?” Alex asked.

“Nay,” Ian replied sharply, just as they arrived in Abbey St Bathans. This town hadn’t been demolished to the degree that some of the others had. As they dismounted their horses and walked through town, Ian was pleased to see that his people had taken refuge in some of the old buildings. It renewed his determination to build homes for them back at their castle. One of the first things he would dedicate his soldiers to was building homes from the ground up.

“How about now?” Alex asked, walking alongside him.

“Are ye goin’ to be this irritatin’ all day?” Ian asked.

“Aye, so ye best get it over and done with,” Alex shrugged as they reached the center of town. Ian looked away, turning to watch his people instead. Off to one side, Bhaltair and Gilroy were giving out supplies, with food going toward families in particular. On the other side of the central square, families and children were playing together; their simples smiles showed how much fear they had been living in before.

Those smiles will be here to stay now.

As they tacked up their horses nearby, Ian felt Alex take his shoulder.

“Ye arenae goin’ to let this go, are ye?” Ian asked.

“Nay,” Alex said, steering him toward a fire that had been set up near a well in town. “Let’s get some food. As we eat, ye can talk.”

Ian knew he wouldn’t be able to put off Alex forever. He would have to speak of it at some point, no matter how painful it was.

Once they had sat down beside the fire , with pewter plates full of food, Ian felt he could talk at last.

“I didnae ken who she really was,” he started, unsure how else to say what had happened.

“Very well, what happened last night between ye then? Ye got into an argument?” Alex asked, staring at him over his plate of food.

“Nay,” Ian said quickly. “We definitely didnae argue last night.” At the memory of what had passed between them, he felt an involuntary flicker of a smile. He had never known anything like the night before. He had shared nights with women some time ago, back in Alex’s clan, but he’d never had an experience that had consumed him with such passion. Never before had he felt such adoration for any of them, either.

Elisabeth was different. Each touch from her had been intoxicating; each time their bodies moved together as one had made pleasure shoot throughout his body. It was as though she were some sort of drug, one he wanted to go back and taste again and again.

“That is a certain kind of smile,” Alex’s voice tore his attention away, and the smile faltered. “Ian,” he said with a mischievous twinkle, “did ye enjoy yer guest’s company last night, by any chance?”

Ian said nothing, he just looked down at his plate and ate some more.

“Ian!” Alex snapped in reprimand.

“What?” Ian looked up again. “And ye were the perfect gentleman with Delilah, were ye?”

“Nay,” he accepted quickly. “Nae always, but I didnae reject her the mornin’ afterwards, either.”

“It isnae as simple as ye and Delilah were,” Ian explained.

“We were simple?” Alex scoffed. “Have ye forgotten what happened? I abducted her, and she was a blind lass! Aye, sounds very simple, doesnae it?”

“Nay, of course nae,” Ian said quickly. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Then start by sayin’ somethin’,” Alex insisted. “Ye made love to her and then rejected her. Nay wonder she was cryin’. Why did ye do that?”

“Because she isnae who I thought she was,” Ian inched forward in his seat, nearly dropping his plate in his focus on his defense. “She is Elisabeth Rolfe. She said her full name this mornin’. She is General Arthur Rolfe’s daughter.” Ian could see Alex was confused, his brows knit together.

“And?” Alex urged him on.

“General Rolfe is the man who attacked the Buchanan Clan; ye must ken that?”

“Of course, I do,” he nodded. “I still daenae understand the problem.”

“He is also the man that kept me imprisoned. He watched over every torture session I ever had, demandin’ answers from me,” Ian said quietly, whispering and looking around, not wanting anyone else to know he had become besotted with the daughter of the man who had destroyed their homes and castle. “Listen to me, Alex. I ken that man. I was forced into his company and to watch his cruelty while they flogged me.” He watched as Alex flinched with the words. “Elisabeth is that man’s daughter. He is the devil incarnate on this planet. Any child spawned of him cannae be kind underneath it all.”

“What makes ye say that?” Alex asked, pausing with his food.

“Dear God, how many times have we seen men and women follow in their parents’ footsteps? Flaws of parents are delivered on their children. Greed, selfishness and cruelty to name just a few,” Ian said with insistence.

“And ye think that sweet little lass has all that in her?” Alex asked, sitting straight and placing his plate down on the ground.

“I ken her faither. He carried a false front—a façade, with all his fancy outfits, pretendin’ to be somethin’ he wasnae. She is just the same.”

“And ye ken that, do ye? How?” Alex demanded an answer.

“Because I do,” Ian said loudly, amazed that he found himself so easily drawn into arguing with Alex on the subject. “She tricked me. She manipulated me. Everythin’ she did in our camp was a façade she wore; she just wanted me to feel sorry for her.”

“Ye felt sorry for her because she was locked in a cage—that was hardly her doin’, was it?” Alex’s snapped words made Ian falter slightly. “Are ye seriously tellin’ me, Ian, that ye think she deceived ye?”

“I am confident,” Ian said with feeling, trying to return his attention to his food. “Born of that man, General Rolfe, she will be just like him. I cannae trust that she isnae.”

“And everyone in this world is a copy of their parents, are they?” Alex asked, standing up sharply. Ian was startled, looking to his friend in alarm.

“Blood is blood,” Ian said with feeling. “She cannae escape it. None of us can. We all come from somewhere and are shaped by our parents.”

“Blood only goes so far, ye fool.”

“Why does this bother ye so?” Ian asked.

“Why do ye think?” Alex asked, his voice pitching loudly. “Look at yer own past. Look at me past. I married a woman whose faither was responsible for me own faither’s death. I daenae hold that against her. How could I? What of yer family? Yer uncle was Laird to this clan and drove it into the ground.” He gestured at the clan around them that were now happy. A few were overhearing their argument, including Bhaltair and Gilroy who were now looking their way. “Are ye like him? Hmm, Ian? Are ye just like yer uncle?”

“Of course, I am nae!” Ian barked the words, leaping to his feet, too.

“Yet to use yer argument, his blood is yer blood, is it nae?” Alex’s words brought Ian up short, and he had nothing to say in return. “Jockie’s blood is yers too, yet ye two are as different to each other as day is to night.”

“It is nae the same,” Ian found his voice, even though he knew the argument was weak.

“It is exactly the same,” Alex said, taking a step toward him. “I have kenned ye a long time, Ian. Ye have always been honest with me, blunt when it was needed to let me ken when I had messed up. Now, I am returnin’ the favor. That was badly done indeed.”

Ian said nothing in reply. He just stared at his friend, amazed at the strength of feeling in his face.

“Nay one blames ye for Grier’s actions, and Elisabeth shouldnae be blamed for what he faither did either,” Alex continued on. “I ken what is happenin’ here. Ye are sufferin’ the trauma of yer torture.”

“Ye daenae ken what happened in that prison, Alex. I havenae told ye all. Daenae pretend to ken all about it.”

“Nay, I daenae. But I can tell it is the memory of it that is hauntin’ ye now. Ye are allowin’ yer trauma of the past to ruin yer future,” Alex said, gesturing toward him. “If ye doubted Elisabeth’s genuineness, then ye could have challenged her on it, talked to her about it. At least then, ye would have kenned the truth, whether she was someone ye could trust or nae. As it is, all ye have done is harmed yer chance of true happiness.”

“Happiness?” Ian repeated, puzzled by the word. “I am nay longer in prison. I am happy.”

“Are ye?” Alex asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Tell me that again on lonely nights when ye nay longer have Elisabeth to turn to.”

“Alex, listen to me, I beg ye,” Ian said again. “I didnae ken if I could trust Elisabeth or nae.”

“Ye chose nae to find out an answer to that question,” Alex didn’t back down. “Instead, ye cast her aside, without givin’ her a chance to prove herself to ye.”

He said no more and walked away. Ian didn’t even attempt going after his friend. Instead, he sat slowly back down and tried to return to his food.

He had done the right thing. He had been sure of it, but now Alex’s words were lingering with him, persistent and niggling.

Is Alex right?

As he worked over the argument in his head, his eyes turned to the Arbroath smokie on his plate, and he recalled the way Elisabeth’s eyes had lit up when she first tried the smoked fish from inside that cage. He had always thought her genuine and honest, until he’d heard her name.

Now, he didn’t know what to think anymore.

* * *

When Duns Castle slowly began to appear through the trees, Elisabeth finally had her tears under control.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured with the handkerchief bunched up in her hand. “I think I have ruined your handkerchief, Kenny.”

“Think nothing of that,” he said with a smile, glancing back to her. “You keep it. You need it more than I do.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling in return. “You have been very kind to me.” He pulled the horse to a stop as they paused and looked out at the castle. “I’m beginning to think kindness is a rare thing indeed. Even when you think you find it,” she paused and swallowed, stopping any chance of more tears falling, “we are sometimes mistaken.”

“If I can speak honestly, my Lady,” Kenny said, turning a little to catch her eye, “I know I’m just a thief who has spent many years in prison, but, in that time, I think I’ve discovered a little about kindness in people.”

“What is that?” she asked, encouraging him to speak.

“Kindness is never-ending; it can just be hidden for a while,” he said with a sigh. “I once saw a man in prison place himself over a young lad and volunteer to take the boy’s beating just so the child never did. That man was Ian.” Elisabeth bit her lip, torn as she heard of the goodness of Ian yet again. It did not fit with the man who had dismissed her with such coldness that morning. “If that man has forgotten how to be kind for a short while, all I can say is, there has to be a reason for it.”

“I suppose so,” Elisabeth sighed, wondering yet again if she had done something wrong. She considered that perhaps her inexperience as a lover had made her unsatisfactory to him. Perhaps that was why he retreated from her. The thought made her feel small indeed.

“Now, let’s get you home,” Kenny urged the horse forward again. They only went two steps before he pulled the horse to a stop.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Elisabeth asked, peering around him.

“It’s…the flags,” Kenny said, pointing ahead.

Between the tree trunks, Elisabeth could now see Duns Castle clearly. Tall and built of a pale creamy stone, it was narrow in structure, yet included several high towers, each one rimmed with square battlements. Atop these walls, her father’s flag and standard had been hung, red with their family’s coat of arms in the center.

“What about them?” Elisabeth asked, peering round Kenny to see that his face had paled a little.

“It is the same emblem that was at the prison,” Kenny said. Elisabeth felt her palms grow clammy as she looked back to the flags.

“Where Ian was tortured?”

“Exactly,” Kenny nodded. “You know Ian was not just flogged in that place, don’t you?”

“His hand had been broken, too,” Elisabeth said quietly, remembering gazing down at the once broken fingers.

“It was. They pulled him on the rack once, too. Thumb screws were used, as well. All because they wanted to know where his clan was. They wanted Ian to give up information that would help them to attack the Buchanan Clan and have the advantage.” Kenny pointed forward at the castle. “Whoever’s emblem that is, he ordered that torture, and he watched over it too.”

Elisabeth felt her jaw slacken. Surely such a thing was not possible; otherwise, that would mean her own father was responsible for Ian’s imprisonment and torture. She didn’t want to think her father could be capable of such cruelty. For all his pursuits in the north, they were campaigns for the crown, weren’t they? He wouldn’t engage in such hostility and aggression just for the sake of it, would he?

“I can’t believe it,” Elisabeth muttered, still looking at the flags.

“Wait, you know who the General of this regiment is?” Kenny asked, looking back at her.

“I do,” she sighed, as the events of that morning came back to her.

“Then I hope the General sends you back to your father quickly.”

She didn’t comment; she was too busy thinking of that morning. She had told Ian her full name.

Elisabeth Rolfe.

That’s why he had rejected her. He had gone from saying he adored her to walking away from her because she was the daughter of the very man who had tortured him for all those years. She covered her face in shock.

“I am very sorry, my Lady, but I can’t risk going any further,” Kenny said, turning the horse a little. “The soldiers might recognize me and take me back to prison.”

“Of course,” Elisabeth uncovered her face and hurried down off the horse. To her surprise, Kenny followed her and bowed a little.

“I wish you all the best, my Lady. I hope whatever happened between you and Ian, you will not be left hurt by it.” He said kindly with a sad sort of smile.

“I wish I could say otherwise,” she said before taking his hand. “I wish you luck, Kenny. Goodbye.”

With this final word, she released his hand and walked through the trees, heading toward the castle. Once she reached the open grass, she lifted her chin a little higher, trying to feel like her old self, but she didn’t. The torn dress and ragged hair were a reminder of all that had passed. She was returning to her father a very different young woman from the one that had been captured.

As she neared the castle, shouts went up from the battlements. Soldiers were calling for her father, and there was a mad dash of people across the rooftops and walls. Elisabeth’s eyes danced across them all, but they wouldn’t settle. Her mind was too consumed by what she had just learned from Kenny.

Is my father truly responsible for such cruelty? Please, don’t let it be true.

When the door to the castle opened, her father appeared in his fine outfit with lacy cuffs, a russet red jacket and an excessive amount of jewelry; he ran toward her.

“Elisabeth, it’s you. Thank God!” he said, and then kept gushing. Words and exclamations of wonder came fast, but they sounded far away to Elisabeth’s busy mind. As she was enveloped in her father’s arms, she was arguing with herself.

Is my father the man I always thought him to be? Or is he someone else entirely?