Highlander’s Broken Love by Fiona Faris

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Elisabeth scrambled to leave the tent with Ian as he put his clothes back on and she fussed with her dress. Stumbling out of the tent, one glance from Alex showed he knew exactly what they had been doing. Elisabeth rushed to flatten her hair as Ian tucked his shirt into his trousers.

“Well, I am glad to see ye two have made up,” Alex smiled mischievously.

“The army?” Ian said, his face serious now.

“On the outskirts of the camp,” Alex pointed to the edge of the camp. From that direction, Bhaltair was running toward them, and came to a skidding halt as he reached them.

“He’s paused the attack,” Bhaltair explained. “The regiment are nae makin’ a move forward.”

“Why nae?” Ian asked. “He wants to talk, does he?”

“Aye,” Bhaltair nodded. “He’s sent a messenger to say he’s willin’ to talk to ye, with seconds present.” He pointed at Ian.

“Then we’ll do that,” Ian said, his expression tight. Elisabeth laid a hand on his arm, trying to give him physical comfort. In return, she felt him slide that hand down to his own and entwine their fingers together.

“Before ye do this,” Alex said. “I think we need to talk to Grier first.” He paused as Ian turned toward him. “If this is a trick, if General Rolfe wishes to talk to ye while other men attack the camp from the back, then we need to be prepared. The only one who will ken his plan is his spy. Grier.”

“Then bring him here,” Ian ordered Bhaltair.

Elisabeth didn’t let go of Ian’s hand as they waited in the center of the camp. Kenny and some soldiers ran around, urging their clan to take cover in what was left of the castle ruins, just in case there was an attack, but Elisabeth, Ian, and Alex didn’t move. They stayed where they were, their eyes turned to the edge of the camp where the trees hid her father’s regiment beyond.

Bhaltair eventually brought Grier forward. He looked dirty from his time in the dungeons; his beard was matted, and his eyes were narrowed in anger and despair. Bhaltair brought the old Laird to a stop in front of Ian.

“What do ye ken of General Rolfe’s plan?” Ian asked. He let go of Elisabeth’s hand and stepped toward Grier, menacingly.

“He should have attacked already,” Grier spoke more to himself than anyone else, with his eyes on the earth beneath them. “Somethin’ is wrong.”

“Grier!” Ian barked the word, prompting Grier to snap his head up again. “Tell us what ye ken now. Our people’s lives depend on it.”

“Me people!” Grier gestured to his own chest with his bound hands. “They were mine. I want them back, Ian.”

“They should never have been yers in the first place,” Ian said, stepping back from him again. “We daenae have time for this now. Ye have a choice. Be thrown back in the dungeon now and live, having saved our clan from an attack, or suffer and die at General Rolfe’s hands like the rest of us.”

“He’ll free me,” Grier said, lifting his chin.

“He won’t,” Elisabeth found her voice. Startled, all faces turned toward her as she remembered just what her father had said the night before in his study. “He said he didn’t care whether you were successful in killing Ian or not. He was going to attack regardless.”

Ian snapped his head back toward Grier, with his arms outstretched wide.

“Ye are alone, Grier. Yer new friend has abandoned ye. Save yerself now and tell me what his plan is!” Ian barked the words. When Grier said nothing, Ian gestured to Bhaltair. “Give me a sword.” The soldier passed one over. As Ian lifted the blade toward his uncle, he looked distinctly unhappy about it. Blood hurting blood; it felt wrong. That had to be what was on his mind. “Tell us now, what is General Rolfe’s plan?”

“I’ll tell ye nothin’,” Grier said and spat at the ground. Ian stepped around the spittle as he walked back to Alex, shaking his head in anger.

“We’ll have to set up a perimeter,” Ian said.

All Elisabeth could think about was Grier as she zoned out of Ian’s and Alex’s discussions on preparations. As Grier watched her, she took a step back, never having seen an expression before that frightened her as much as the one on his face did right now. His nostrils flared as his breathing grew faster and faster. Elisabeth took another step back, just as Grier took one forward.

“What are ye doin’?” Bhaltair laid a hand on Grier’s shoulder, but Grier was clearly prepared. He lifted a leg and kicked Bhaltair in the stomach, sending him to the ground, then he ran forward.

“No!” Elisabeth panicked and ran back. All she could see was Grier running for her, his eyes so wide that she could see the whites around his irises.

“All yer fault! Ye Sassenach!” he bellowed as he ran to her. “I should have killed ye when I had the chance.”

There was someone in front of Elisabeth, pushing her back. She barely had time to register that it was Ian. He’d put himself in the way, used his own body as a shield. She clung to his back, holding desperately onto him just as Grier’s shouts died. They were replaced by a screech of pain.

Elisabeth peered around Ian’s arm, trying to see what had happened.

Ian was not the only one guarding her. Alex had put himself between them as well.

* * *

“Alex?” Ian called to his friend. Alex stepped away, revealing what he had done. His sword was no longer in his hand but buried in Grier’s chest. He pulled it free again and Grier sank down to his knees, clutching the wound as blood began to flow.

Ian looked down at the sword in his own hand, thinking about what had happened. It had all been so fast. When Grier ran for Elisabeth, Ian had gone to protect her, determined to strike the blow if it was necessary, and he’d lifted his own sword to be ready. Alex had got in the way.

“Ye…” Grier was trying to say something, but blood seeped from between his lips. Unable to look at him anymore, Ian snapped his gaze away and looked to Alex instead.

“Alex? Why did ye do that?” Ian asked, gesturing to his sword. “I could have taken him.”

“Aye, ye could have,” Alex said and then kicked Grier in the shoulder. It sent the older man down to the ground, just as his eyes closed and his body stopped moving. “Ye didnae want the blood of yer own clan and yer own family on yer hands. I could see that. So, I did the job for ye.” Alex walked toward Ian and held out his hand to shake. “Consider it an act of me gratitude, for what ye did for me and Delilah all those years ago. I hope this does somethin’ to repay it,” he said and gestured to Elisabeth behind Ian. “Also, I need this business to end. Soon. Delilah will kill me for bein’ away for so long.”

“Thank ye, Alex,” Ian said, taking his friend’s hand and shaking it firmly. He was overwhelmingly relieved that he had not had to be the one to take his uncle’s life.

“We have to see my father,” Elisabeth’s voice came up from behind him

“Nay,” Ian said, shaking his head. “I will see yer faither. Ye need to stay here and stay safe.”

“I have to come with you,” she said and stepped forward, taking her hand. “You just stood between me and a man who wanted to hurt me, now, let me do the same for you,” she said smiling. “My father may be a cruel man, but he would not raise an army against me. He is not devoid of heart completely.”

“Ye are sure of that?” Ian asked, a little doubtful.

“You have to let me try,” Elisabeth pleaded with him, entwining their fingers together.

“She’s right. It could be the only way,” Alex said, sheathing his sword again. “Bhaltair, place Grier in the dungeons for now, then go guard the people in the castle.”

“Aye,” Bhaltair nodded and called another soldier over to help with the body.

“I’ll go with ye to be yer second, Ian,” Alex said, clapping Ian’s shoulder.

“Thank ye,” Ian nodded to his friend as they set off. The three of them walked in a line with Ian flanked by two people he cared very dearly about. Alex on one side with his hand on the hilt of his sword, and Elisabeth on the other, with her hand in his. As they walked out of the camp, Ian found he kept glancing at her, unable to stop looking at her.

The more he thought about what he felt for her now, the more he realized that words like care or adoration weren’t enough to describe it. It was something greater than that.

It is love.

As they stepped through the trees, General Rolfe’s regiment came into view. They were in a firm line some distance back, but ahead of them were two men. One was General Rolfe, and the other had to be a captain of his army. Today, Rolfe had opted for grand military garb, with a red coat and excessively shiny silver buttons. When he recognized Elisabeth, he recoiled slightly, taking a couple of steps back.

Ian felt Elisabeth’s hand tighten in his own as they continued forward. The closer they got to Rolfe and his captain, the more Rolfe’s eyes danced frantically across them. They stopped just a few yards from the two soldiers.

“General Rolfe,” Ian nodded his head. “I cannae say it is a pleasure to see ye.” He kept his words dark and husky. In response, Rolfe flinched and shifted between his feet.

“You have my daughter. Give her back to me. Now,” Rolfe extended his hand toward Elisabeth.

“I chose to come to him, father,” Elisabeth said firmly, “and here I will stay.”

“Do not be a fool, child –”

“Daenae call her a fool,” Ian snapped, finding volume with his voice. “The lady kens her own mind.”

“I do,” Elisabeth took a step forward, closer to her father, though she still held onto Ian’s hand. “Father, listen to me. I want to stay here with Ian and the Buchanan Clan. If you attack us, now or ever again, you will be attacking me as well as them.”

With these words, Rolfe reeled back on his feet. His captain even reached out a hand, clearly concerned that Rolfe would fall to the ground.

“I will not leave you here, Elisabeth,” he said, his jowls shaking with anger.

“It is not your choice to make,” she said. Hearing the resolution in her voice, Ian turned his head to her, feeling his admiration for her strength growing all the more. “It is my choice, and I have already made it.”

“You…” Rolfe turned his gaze to Ian. “You have taken my daughter. You have warped her mind.”

“Laird Grier was the one to kidnap yer daughter; I returned her to ye. She came back to me by herself,” Ian said, pulling on Elisabeth’s hand slightly. She happily returned to stand at his side.

“You expect me to accept this?” Rolfe asked with his arms wide. “I can’t do that! What do you expect to do with my daughter?”

“I…” Ian hesitated, but only slightly. With Elisabeth’s hand in his, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. “I expect to marry her.”

Ian felt everyone’s gazes snap toward him, including Alex’s and Elisabeth’s.

“My daughter will not marry a Scottish brute!” Rolfe stepped toward him, but Alex made a move to stand in the way and the captain held Rolfe back.

“That is her choice, General. It is nae yers,” Ian took another step forward. “I intend to make her the Lady of me clan. If ye willnae listen to yer daughter, then listen to reason. End this now, and ye will have an alliance with our clan.”

“She will be your Lady? You wish me to have an alliance with a Scotsman?” Rolfe said with clear derision.

“Do ye nae want a powerful ally?” The simplicity of the question wrong-footed Rolfe who said nothing at all for a minute. “The Buchanan Clan holds respect, even if it doesnae have power in numbers now. It will again; I will see to that. Do ye nae want that alliance?” After a beat, Rolfe nodded his head in Elisabeth’s direction.

“She has not answered you yet.”

“Then let’s hear her answer now,” Ian said before turning and look down at Elisabeth, revealing a small smile. “Marry me, Elisabeth?” he asked softly, so only she could hear him. He’d never before seen the big smile that stretched across her face now. It lit up her features completely.

“I will,” she said loudly, so that her father could hear her. General Rolfe said nothing, he stood perfectly still, his body in shock. “I have made my choice, father; now you can make yours,” Elisabeth said, looking back to her father. “Will you attack your daughter’s new home? Her new clan? Or will you make a treaty of peace with them instead?”

“Elisabeth,” Rolfe said her name as something in his face cracked. The stony expression softened, just slightly. “This would change everything.”

“And it is high time everything did change,” she said firmly. “What would mother say if she were here now? Would she agree with you? Or would she let me marry the man I love?”

Rolfe’s countenance changed entirely. For a minute, Ian felt he could have been looking at Alex and seeing the love in his eyes that he had for Delilah. Instead, he was looking at Rolfe, seeing the evident love he still had for a lost wife.

“I know exactly what she would say,” he said, holding his daughter’s eyes.

“So, father? Will you choose war with me? Or peace?”

Ian watched General Rolfe, waiting for his answer. A minute of silence passed before his answer came.

“Peace.”