Highlander’s Broken Love by Fiona Faris

Chapter Eight

Elisabeth felt groggy as she woke; her eyes were bleary and cased in sleep dust as she stirred and lifted her head off the wooden bars of the cage. For a brief moment as she woke, she was unsure where she was. She might almost have thought that she was in her own bed at home, had it not been for the bars and sleeping sitting up. One thing was sure; she hadn’t dreamt the day before. That nightmare had been real.

She looked around, seeing the camp between the wooden bars and the people meandering to and fro, going about their daily business. She saw a young family walk by with the smallest hunks of bread in their hands, hardly enough to sustain the children, let alone the parents. They didn’t at look her, as though fearful to do so.

Her eyes dropped down to the cage around her, seeing the bars still fixed in place, but there was something new that had not been there the night before. There was a blanket bundled up against the wooden bars just outside the cage, as if someone had been sleeping there.

She frowned at it for a minute, wondering who would sleep in such an odd position, leaning against her cage.

Perhaps it was Jockie or another who wished to break into this cage?

She dismissed the thought the next moment, for he would have just walked straight into the cage and not bothered with staying beyond.

She lifted her eyes once more to look about the camp, searching for one person in particular.

Ian.

She hadn’t seen him come back the night before and had fallen asleep, her body exhausted from the day’s events. Her eyes flitted between the tents and the huts, but there was no sign of him.

“Why did he do it?” she found herself asking the open air, as though it could actually answer her. Her mind jumped from one idea to the next as to why a man, who was a perfect stranger to her, would willingly take her place at the whipping posts and let himself be flogged so hard.

“He wouldn’t have let it happen,” this English accent stunned her. She turned around and jumped to her feet, clinging to the wooden bars as the balding prisoner who had escaped the camp with Ian neared her. She remembered the brief description Ian had given when he had spoken to her the evening before.

“You came from the prison? With Ian?” she asked as the short man walked toward her.

“That’s right,” he nodded, his gaze darting back and forth nervously. “I’m Kenny.”

“Elisabeth.” Seeing the nerves in the man’s countenance and hearing his English accent gave her reason not to fear him. He clearly meant her no harm.

“You were talking of Ian, weren’t you?” he asked, and she nodded.

“I don’t understand,” she confessed, shrugging. “He took my punishment and was so brutally…” she broke off and hung her head, resting her temple against one of the wooden bars. “I don’t know why he did it.”

“He is not a man who would see a woman hurt,” Kenny explained, stopping just a stride away from the cage. “He said it again and again last night,” he went on. “I think he saw enough whipping in the prison to last a lifetime anyway.”

At the mere idea of it, Elisabeth closed her eyes. She was reliving the sight from the night before, recalling just how much Ian’s skin had been torn open by the flogging whip. The thought that it had happened before, causing all those scars, disgusted her.

How could a man like him suffer such a life?

She opened her eyes, finding Kenny was watching her.

“He wanted me to come and check on you,” Kenny said softly. “Are you all right?”

“As well as can be expected, I suppose,” she nodded then tilted her head to the side in thought. “I’m actually surprised I slept so well.”

“That will be the exhaustion.”

“Yes, I was just thinking…” she paused, swallowing as she thought of the way Jockie had barged into the cage the night before, clearly intending to do something with her. She cursed herself for not knowing more of what happened between men and women. Without having full knowledge of it, she wasn’t sure what exactly to fear. “That man, Jockie, he did not try to come here again, overnight.”

“That’s because you had a guard,” Kenny offered a smile and pointed down at the blanket. “Ian wasn’t going to let any man get past him.”

“Ian slept there? All night?” she asked in amazement, her gaze firmly on the blanket. The thought that he’d placed himself within touching distance of her, that close that she could have reached through the bars, made her wet her lips and heat rise up her neck. “That was kind of him.”

“He made it clear he wasn’t leaving until the sunrise,” Kenny explained.

“How come you are here?” Elisabeth found her voice, trying to move her mind off the kindness that Ian had shown her. She couldn’t see him wandering the camp no matter how many times she craned her neck, trying to see him. “I mean in Scotland.”

“Ah, that would be because I owe Ian my life,” he smiled and leaned on the cage beside her.

“Truly?” she asked, her hands clinging to the bars tightly.

“Oh yes,” he nodded. “We were in the same prison and were being moved when an escape attempt was launched by some of the others. It was catastrophic,” he shook his head and screwed up his nose, clearly in despair at the very memory of it. “So many men were shot down who should not have lost their lives. English soldiers killing English prisoners, just to stop them from running,” he hissed in his breath. “It was like a scene from hell on earth.”

“Yet Ian was with them?” Elisabeth asked, frowning. She did not understand how a Scottish man who once stood to be Laird had ended up in an English prison.

“Taken prisoner by a rival clan and given to an English General, I understand,” Kenny explained, his words coming quickly. “He did not try to escape; he seemed to know it was a death trap. When it happened, he was soon out of our control. I ran, only to be caught by one of the soldiers and dragged back, a gun to my head. I thought he was going to shoot.” He bristled beside her, shifting as he clearly remembered the memory with a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Ian shot him before he could shoot me.”

Elisabeth released a shuddery breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, hearing of Ian’s brave actions yet again.

She craned her neck once more, trying to see him in the camp. Still, there was no sign. She wanted to thank him for what he had done for her, but there was more to it now. A man who would go so far to protect others he barely knew was an intriguing idea indeed. She wanted to know him better.

“So, you came with him? When he returned here?” Elisabeth asked, turning her eyes back to Kenny.

“I did,” he nodded. “I owe him my life, and I don’t have much of a life to go home to anyway. In England, I am a thief,” he offered a sad sort of smile, “here I owe a man my life, and I won’t stop until that debt is repaid.”

“Honorable indeed,” she returned the smile before looking out to the camp. “Would you do me a favor, Kenny?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “What do you need?”

“Ian,” she said. Realizing how it sounded as Kenny smiled, she hurried on. “I mean, would you ask him to come see me please? I would like to thank him. For what he did for me last night.”

“I will,” he smiled. “Someone has delivered a gift for you by the way.” He nodded down to the other side of the cage before he hurried off.

Startled by the idea, she looked back, finding a wooden cup with water in it sitting just inside her bars. Suddenly aware of how parched she was, she hurried toward it and gulped the water. It was gone far too quickly for her liking, but she was glad of the momentary relief from the sheer gasping thirst.

When she finished the water, she looked up to see a woman watching her. It was the same woman, with dark red hair bundled on her head and very petite features, who had delivered water the night before.

Elisabeth offered the smallest of waves, smiling in the hope that it would convey her thanks without words.

The woman inched forward, looking back and forth across the camp for a minute. Apparently finding no one looking their way, she hurried toward Elisabeth, using the cover of the trees for a minute before appearing at the cage.

“Here, have some more,” the woman offered another cup to Elisabeth.

“Thank you,” she smiled at the woman. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Daenae mention it,” she said, looking around the camp. “Please.” Elisabeth understood the meaning and nodded to show it.

“Can I ask your name?” she said slowly, sipping the second cup of water.

“Seona,” the woman said, smiling slightly. “And yers?”

“Elisabeth,” she said, taking this cup of water much slower.

“I brought ye this too.” The woman revealed a small bucket of water that she had been holding down at her side; inside was a cloth. “I thought ye might like to wash up a little.”

“Thank you,” Elisabeth said quickly as the woman dropped it to the ground. She sank down to her knees and used the cloth to wash her face, neck, chest, hands, and arms. The whole time, Seona stood nervously on the other side of the cage, shuffling her feet. “Would it be so bad if you were caught helping me?” Elisabeth asked.

“I fear it,” she nodded. “I have to think of me family. We’ll all be punished for it. Best be quick.” She took the handle of the bucket, as though preparing to take it away again.

“You are taking a great risk in helping me then?” Elisabeth asked.

“I was watchin’ ye yesterday,” the woman whispered through the bars. “I was thinkin’ what it would be like if I was in yer situation. I couldnae bear the thought. Nay woman should be held in a cage. Ever.”

“I agree with you there,” Elisabeth nodded eagerly, using the last of the clean water to wash her legs too and her ankles under her dress. She felt fresher for it. “If I can ever find a way to repay your kindness, I promise you, I shall.”

“Daenae think of that now,” Seona took the bucket and stood straight again, placing a hand on the bars. Elisabeth copied her position, but placed both hands on the cage, as though she would break the bars open. “Ye need to think of how to get out of here, Miss Elisabeth. That’s all.”

“Please, don’t call me Miss,” Elisabeth begged. It felt so wrong for there to be such a deference here.

“Elisabeth then,” the woman smiled softly before it vanished and she swallowed, her throat appearing tight with the movement. “If ye are here much longer, sooner or later someone like Jockie will find his way to ye. Even if he doesnae, Laird Grier will…” she paused.

“He’ll what?” Elisabeth asked, her voice quiet indeed, as though fearful of hearing the answer.

“It doesnae bear thinkin’ of,” Seona shook her head. “I hear they’re holdin’ ye for ransom.” Elisabeth nodded her head; with who her father was, she had expected as much. “Once ye have served yer purpose…” Seona broke off, and Elisabeth didn’t need her to say any more.

“I know,” she nodded. “He’ll have no further use for me.” She could find herself dead quickly, perhaps dumped in the river nearby after Jockie had done exactly what he wanted. She shuddered at the picture.

“I best go,” Seona backed away from the cage. “He’s comin’.”

“Who’s coming?” Elisabeth asked, but she was too late. Seona was already backing away. It started as a quick walk, then she dived behind the nearest trees, hiding her body and making her way back to her family’s tent.

Elisabeth backed away from the side of the cage, looking around, her gaze frantic in apprehension of who Seona had spoken of. She found him a second later, striding toward her with confidence through the center of the camp, his eyes fixed on her.

Jockie.

Elisabeth found herself retreating to the door of the cage and bracing her body against it, just in case he tried to come in again. She would not let him, and she would fight him all the way.

“Relax, I willnae come in again in broad daylight,” he said boldly as he reached the edge of the cage. Opposite her, he placed his hands around the bars, the thud of his grasp on the wood emphasized his words. Even though he was lanky, he was so much taller than her, and she was so petite. She didn’t doubt that it would be a struggle to fight him off—one that she would probably lose.

“Stay away,” Elisabeth pleaded, her hands gripping the bars in front of her tightly, out of fear.

“Ye think ye have much choice, Sassenach?” his voice drawled over the insulting term. “Have ye nae noticed ye’re inside a cage? About time ye realized what ye are here.”

“A hostage? Kidnapped against my will?” she spoke up, lifting her chin and trying to hold onto some spirit inside her.

“Just an animal to us,” he shrugged.

“Not to all of you,” she said the words involuntarily.

“Oh, I see,” he tilted his head to the side and began to walk round the cage, his hands moving along the bars as he walked. She went the opposite way around the cage, trying at all times to keep her body as far away from him as possible. “Ye have a soft spot for yer watch dog, do ye? The one that slept all night by yer cage, watchin’ over ye?”

“He has a heart, more so than you could ever hope to have,” she snapped back.

“Aye, a weak thing,” Jockie snapped back, practically spitting through the bars toward her. “Took a beatin’ just to stop an English lass bein’ hurt. Nay strength in him. He’s grown feeble while he’s been away, clearly.”

“So feeble that you wouldn’t challenge him, though, would you?” she said, scoffing at him. “You didn’t dare, did you?” she asked, pointing down at the blanket. “He frightens you, despite what you say.”

He froze, staring down at her, realizing how much she had stoked the fire of his anger. She froze too, waiting to see what he would do next. He began to walk back around the cage the other way; she yelped in fear and sprinted the other direction, scrambling round the small cage as quickly as she possibly could.

“He doesnae frighten me,” he snapped the words at her. “Ye’ll see soon enough. Just wait until night falls tonight. I willnae stay away from what is mine again.”

“What is yours!?” she repeated in shock. “Any half decent man would treat prisoners with respect. They would not steal a woman from her home and keep her locked in a cage like a wild wolf.”

“Ye deserved it.”

“Why?” she challenged.

“Have ye nae seen yer faither? Have ye nae seen what he’s done?” his words made her falter slightly. She didn’t stick her nose in her father’s business; it was a rule they had. Her father loved her, she knew that, but they didn’t have a particularly close relationship. One thing that had always been abundantly clear was that any input she had in his military life was unwelcome. She had been told repeatedly that, as a daughter, it was not her place to question his decisions, even if she wanted to. In the end, she had stopped trying to find out more about his actions in the north, dedicating her days to learning what she could from books instead and riding through their new estate.

“What’s he’s done is hardly my business,” she said, her voice low.

“How can ye say that?” his voice was raspy. “Ye are his blood, born of him and his harlot of a wife –”

“Don’t you dare insult the memory of my mother so!” she said loudly across the cage.

“I’ll insult who I like.” He held his ground, staring back at her as they both fell still once more, on opposite sides of the cage. “Ye are responsible as much as yer faither is for the pain in this land.”

“I…” she faltered, beginning to see what he meant. Her father had to be responsible for some misery that had befallen the clan; it was the only thing that made sense. “I am not. My father and I are two entirely different people.”

“Ye –” he was about to say something else, tugging at the bars, just as a hand appeared on his shoulder.

Elisabeth watched, wide eyed, as the hand tore Jockie away from the bars. He stumbled away, nearly toppling over. He held out his arms to balance and dug his feet into the earth to stop from falling completely, just as someone stepped between the two of them.

Elisabeth’s eyes wandered over the tall, broad-shouldered figure, with the chestnut hair curling around his ears.

Ian.

“Run back to yer faither, Jockie,” he said the words quietly, but with the depth in his voice, the threat was clear. “Now, before I make ye run.”