Highlander’s Broken Love by Fiona Faris

Chapter Seven

When Ian and Alex reached the camp again, Alex headed straight into his tent, but Ian’s feet hesitated outside. His looked at Elisabeth in the cage on the far side of the camp.

Her head was lolling against the corner of the wooden bars, and her body was curled up on itself, clearly trying to ward off the chill. The position made her look even smaller than she was. The gentleness of her hands placed under her cheek also suggested that she belonged in some grand bed, the rich kind with four posts and curtains between the posts, with layers on layers of blankets. She should not be curled up trying to find warmth from the earth in a cage designed more for wild dogs than humans.

“Ian? You all right?” Kenny’s voice made Ian jump. He had been so fixated on watching Elisabeth, he hadn’t heard the man approach. “How is your back?”

“It’s fine,” Ian lied.

“Here,” Kenny stepped forward with some kind of linen in his hand.

“What is this?” Ian took it from his grasp.

“I spoke to a healer they have in town. She used to work in the apothecary, when they had one,” Kenny explained. “She was only too eager to help. She said it was best to put these on right away. She has treated the bandages with a mixture of honey and egg whites; it’s supposed to help.”

Ian was tempted to smile as he analyzed the thief’s face, full of sincerity.

“Ye’re takin’ this vow of yers to return the favor of savin’ me life very seriously, arenae ye?” Ian asked, at which Kenny laughed in a derogatory way.

“Yeah, I’m doing well, aren’t I? So far, you’ve been whipped so bad that most men would have confessed to a crime they didn’t do just to stop the pain,” Kenny moved to take a seat beside the fire. In the darkness, the flames threw dancing shadows across his face.

“Kenny, I volunteered for it. Nae a thing ye could have done to stop me,” Ian assured him as he took a seat beside him on the ground, looking at the bandages. “Listen, I’ve been thinkin’…” he paused, waiting for Kenny to look back to him, away from the fire. “Ye should go home.”

“What? Why?” Kenny sat bolt straight. Ian’s swim in the river hadn’t done as much for finding peace as he had hoped, but it had brought one thing sharply into focus.

“Kenny, this is a dangerous place to be,” he gestured around the camp.

“Strangely enough, I noticed that part,” Kenny’s jest brought a small smile to Ian’s lips. “So?”

“So, ye should go home. What good would it do if I stopped that English soldier from killin’ ye only to see ye die here at the hands of someone in me clan?” Ian shook his head at the idea. “I cannae allow that to happen.” It was this he had decided upon. It was time to protect Kenny from getting involved in any more of these problems.

“Well, thank you for the worry,” Kenny nodded his head and sat comfortably again, staring into the fire, “but it is my decision whether I wish to risk my life or not.”

“Kenny –” Ian warned, but Kenny cut him off.

“You can’t change my mind. As I understand it, you are not the laird here, so it’s all right for me to talk over you and argue with you. Is that right?” he teased again, smiling with it.

“Perfectly all right,” Ian laughed gently.

“Then you should know there’s no point in trying to dissuade me. I have made up my mind. I made a vow to return the kindness you did me, and I will not go home until that vow has been met.”

“But…what about your family?”

“What family?”

“Do you nae have anyone?” Ian asked, frowning. “Brothers, sisters, parents –”

“I have a sister, somewhere,” Kenny nodded, “but she has a life of her own. The last thing she wants is her criminal brother turning up again. No, Ian. I’ve made a promise. Nothing can make me back out of that now.”

Ian watched the Englishman for a few minutes, feeling a little more respect for the man. A thief Kenny may have been, but he had more honor in him than some soldiers and gentry that Ian had met.

Without knowing what to say, Ian opted for an action instead. He offered his palm to Kenny and shook his hand.

* * *

Ian had napped a little by the fire before he stood and changed his bandages. He had applied them with some difficultly and then stepped outside again, needing some ale or whisky to curb the pain that was coursing across his back. It was then that he saw Jockie moving stealthily past the tent. Jockie saw him at the same time, for they both froze in their positions. Ian was standing by the fire with a flagon of whisky in his hand, while Jockie was midstride, his eyes on Ian.

“Ye off somewhere, Jockie?” Ian asked, sipping the whisky.

“Nay,” Jockie said, putting his feet together again. Ian’s gaze darted in the direction Jockie had been heading, realizing his target after all: Elisabeth. Ian’s hold tightened around the handle of the flagon as a darkness took over his heart.

“Take another step toward her and ye will be the one comin’ out of it bleedin’. Understood?” Ian warned, startled when Jockie merely laughed to himself. How times had changed for this one irritating teenager to have grown into a man full of arrogance.

“Ye have nay power here, remember, Ian?” Jockie walked toward him, moving to the fire, so that soon it was only the flames that separated the two of them.

“Aye, I daenae want it,” Ian assured, but he saw Jockie sneer in response.

“Really? Then why are ye here?” he asked. “Ye could have gone anywhere. Why did ye come here?”

“I’m sure when ye grew up ye learned somethin’ of maps,” Ian could feel the belittling in his tone, but he hardly cared. After the disgusting advance he’d made on Elisabeth, he deserved everything he got. “Ye ken very well this clan is the closest to the English border. That was where I was bein’ kept prisoner. I needed food and water. Clearly, I mistakenly thought that me family might offer them with some degree of kindness and be glad to see me well after so long.”

“Ye thought me faither would ever be happy to see ye?” Jockie’s words were tinged with his own repulsion. “Ye ran out on this clan, remember?”

Ian didn’t answer; he just sipped from his whisky again. He did remember, all too well. That was why he knew he didn’t ever deserve to be laird of these people. They deserved someone who had stood by them all these years. They didn’t want someone like him.

“I daenae want trouble,” Ian attempted to make his cousin see reason, but clearly the man’s mind had been polluted by his father’s.

“Aye, and I choose nae to believe ye.”

“Then, that is yer choice,” Ian sipped his whisky again. “Now, if ye would excuse me, I am in need of some sleep.” He picked up a blanket that he had been using and waited for Jockie to depart.

His cousin looked torn. His feet were about to move back to the main tent in the camp, yet he was glancing back in the direction of Elisabeth.

“Go back to yer tent,” Ian said the words darkly, thrilled when he saw Jockie physically recoil at the tone. He said nothing in reply, but he scurried off back to the tent, like some kind of admonished rat that had been kicked out of a room.

Ian sat down by the fire, about to cover himself up with the blanket when he hesitated, his gaze darting between the tent where Jockie had just disappeared and the cage where Elisabeth was being kept.

“God damn it.” He muttered the words to himself and stood to his feet, tossing the blanket over his shoulder as he walked across the camp toward the cage. With each step he made, he was recalling the conversation he’d had with Alex down on the riverbank. How he didn’t want to get involved in this clan, and how it wasn’t his responsibility to protect them.

Then…why am I doin’ this?

He tried to reason with himself that this had nothing to do with clan business; this was merely about protecting an Englishwoman who had been caught up in the middle of something that she did not belong in.

When he reached the cage, he found she was still fast asleep, her forehead resting against the bars in the corner. He placed himself by the other corner and leaned back against the bars, dragging the blanket over his legs to stay warm.

For the first few minutes, he just kept staring at Laird Grier’s tent. When Jockie’s head made another appearance, looking his way out of the tent flaps, Ian made sure to wave at Jockie, showing him exactly where he was. When his cousin retreated back inside with clear anger, making the tent flaps whip behind him, Ian had to stifle his laugh.

Aye, ye willnae get yer hands on the lass tonight.

With the threat gone, Ian turned his eyes to the woman. Elisabeth’s lips were parted just a little bit, a soft pink color, even in the moonlight. There were bags under her eyes from exhaustion, and her hair had fallen completely out of its updo now, so that the long blonde tendrils fell across her shoulders to her waist.

Ian could imagine himself passing his fingers through that golden hair. It looked feathery and soft to the touch. He sighed at the idea and looked away from her.

He tried to tell himself that it was just the fact he hadn’t been with a woman for a long time. The last time he had shared a night with a woman was back when he had worked with Alex in the MacPherson Clan. It was just his desire that made him look at Elisabeth the way he did. That’s what it had to be.

Yet his eyes were drawn back to Elisabeth even though he knew how wrong it was. He could have desired any woman in the camp, but Elisabeth was something else. She did not belong here. She was too delicate and fairy-like, in an ethereal kind of way, and it brought out the protector in him. He wanted nothing more than to break open this cage, hurl her over his shoulder and run from this place, determined to get her to safe ground, far away from Laird Grier and Jockie.

His eyes dropped down to her dress, seeing how torn the silk was now and how dirty it was getting. He thought back to the conversation he had shared with her. How nervous she had appeared at first but then gave way to small smiles when he teased her. There was something innocent in her conversation, too, such as when she had felt guilty for prying into the reason he didn’t want to be laird.

He liked her. That was the simple truth of it all.

Watching her sleep and hearing her soft breath, he felt this strange determination washing over him. It wasn’t just caused by how gutting it was to see her in this situation, but also by the stories that Alex had told him. He didn’t want to see that history of women wronged by his uncle and cousin repeat itself.

He rested his back on the bars and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, realizing his purpose was fixed now. For as long as he was here, back in his clan, he would make sure that no harm came to Elisabeth.

* * *

When Ian woke up, he stretched the cricks out of his neck and back. Even in his sleep, the pressure of the bars against the fresh wounds was too much to allow him an easy sleep. For years after the torture in prison, he had slept on his front all night, in the effort to ward off further pain.

As he opened his eyes, he looked around the camp. It was dawn, with the sun just beginning to lift above the trees and hills nearby. People were stepping outside of their tents, with some starting to go about their business.

Behind him in the cage, Elisabeth was still fast asleep. Her position had only altered slightly from the night before, with her body just that touch more slumped against the bars. She was so deep in sleep, clearly, that she would not awake for some time.

To his left, a young woman appeared with a flagon in her hand. When she caught sight of him, she practically jumped, sloshing some of the water over her hand. He looked at her, watching to see what she would do next.

She approached, but more slowly this time. Her hair was a deep dark red, bundled into a chignon at the back of her head. Later, he saw that she had pretty facial features, but the way she hung her head now mostly masked this from view.

“Is everythin’ all right?” he asked, once she was within earshot. She held up the flagon of water and nodded to the cage behind his head.

“I brought this for her,” she said softly.

“Aye, that’s good,” he stood to his feet and took the flagon from her hand then passed it through the bars to the other side. Finding an empty flagon there already, he brought that one back out and offered it to the girl to take.

“Ye willnae tell anyone, will ye?” the young woman said quietly which made Ian frown.

“What? Why?” he asked. She looked away from him, back across the camp.

“Laird Grier wouldnae like it if he kenned that I’m bringin’ her water,” she shook her head. “Please, daenae tell him. He’s already taken me faither’s land off him. I daenae ken what they’d take next –” she was speaking fast, one word coming so quickly after another that they were jumbling together. Ian held up a hand to slow her down.

“There is nae a thing to be worried about. I willnae tell him. I give ye me word,” he said to her with a smile. She sighed, clearly relieved, and stepped away again.

“Thank ye,” she nodded. “By the way, it is good to see ye home again.”

Ian’s tongue failed him. He didn’t know what to say; he just watched as the red-haired woman hurried off again, moving so quickly that she practically ran, holding her skirt around her ankles as she went.

It took a few minutes after she was gone for Ian to gather himself and look back round. He couldn’t believe that Grier’s people were so scared of him that a young woman was terrified about bringing a prisoner some water to drink. The mere idea was horrific.

Without thinking, Ian stalked off, heading toward the tent where Alex was sleeping. When he reached the tent flaps, he found Bhaltair and Gilroy outside, talking with Alex’s guards, laughing about something.

“Ye two are up early,” he commented to them.

“Aye, have to be around here,” Gilroy said as he began to pass some fish around for all the guards to eat. “First ones up get first choice at the market they’re holdin’ on the far end of the camp.” Ian froze, letting the words sink in. When he was last in the clan, the market could be held all day. Even if you went down late in the evening, there would be plenty of food to find. This was a different clan indeed now.

“Go on, ye were tellin’ me about Laird Alexander’s castle,” Bhaltair encouraged the guard at his side, but Ian jumped into the conversation once more.

“Why do ye want to ken about the castle?” he asked.

“Well,” Bhaltair grimaced, as though reluctant to speak at all, “Gilroy and I want to ken more about the clan. It may be a happier place to live, ye ken?” He gestured around to the camp.

Ian could not answer. As Bhaltair and Gilroy relaxed back into talking with the guards, he pushed his way into the tent, moving through a couple of different flaps that formed little antechambers until he found Alex.

“Alex!” he called.

“What happened?” Alex nearly fell off the bed in his scramble to get up.

“Ah…ye’re still asleep.”

“Well, nae anymore,” Alex sat straight, blinking madly. “I cannae believe after all this time ye’re still wakin’ me up.”

“Some things daenae change, eh?”

“Thank God for that. Did somethin’ happen?”

“Nay, it’s just…” Ian was shaking his head. He wanted to know more. “Ye said ye kenned more stories about what has happened in this clan while I have been away.”

“Aye, I do.” Alex yawned. “Though I prefer to be awake to tell them.”

“Think ye can tell me more of them now?” Ian could see his words startled Alex for he sat up straight and began to push off the blankets.

“Does that mean ye intend to do somethin’ about yer clan’s state?”

“I daenae ken yet,” he shook his head. “Just…tell me everythin’ ye ken. Right back to the attack from the English.”

“Well, that’s odd in itself.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, Arthur Rolfe, the English General, he needed information to take this land the way he did,” Alex said more to himself. “Grier blamed ye for bein’ the one to leak that information. If we ken that ye didnae do it, then the question is…where did he get that information?”