Highlander’s Broken Love by Fiona Faris

Chapter Nine

Jockie didn’t challenge Ian again. Elisabeth watched as Jockie turned and walked backward, glancing back at the two of them just once as he made his way through the camp.

Elisabeth waited with bated breath as Ian turned to look at her in the cage. The moment his brown eyes met hers, she felt a jolt in her chest.

“Kenny said ye wanted to see me?” he said, stepping closer to the bars and placing one hand over them.

“I did,” she nodded, walking to meet him. She placed her hand on the same bar, but just above his, so close that they were within touching distance. “I wanted to thank you. For yesterday. What you did for me…” she paused, wetting her lips for a moment, “I cannot thank you enough for that.”

“Ye daenae need to thank me for it, sithiche,” he used the Gaelic word for her again that she couldn’t understand.

“I do,” she said strongly.

“Ye daenae,” he said, matching her strength. “Nay woman should be flogged like that.”

“No man should be either,” she said, keeping her chin lifted up toward his. She was thrilled when the corner of his lips turned up into a smile.

“A novel idea,” he said with a trace of humor. “I’ve seen many a man whipped so. Experienced it meself. Once more hardly matters.”

“Those scars on your back,” she lowered her hand on the bar, touching the side of her fingers to his. To her relief, he didn’t move away. He just maintained the touch. “Was that all from prison?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “I prefer nae to speak of it.” She understood perfectly and said no more on the matter, but she was reluctant to let him go again so soon and leave her.

“Still, I am grateful to you,” she offered a smile. “Kenny says you watched over me in the night,” she gestured down to the blanket with her other hand.

“Jockie willnae get his hands on ye. I give ye me word on that,” he said, leaning down toward her. She found herself leaning up toward him, on the balls of her feet. She had never met anyone quite like Ian before, certainly no one with this propensity for kindness and protection, but there was more to it as well. When she was near him, she felt this heat beneath her skin, crawling up her chest, her neck, and into her cheeks. She didn’t want it to end.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, her voice quiet. “Jockie despises me. He sees me as the daughter of an English military man, nothing more.”

“I am nae as blind as Jockie,” he said with a small smile, shaking his head. “No one belongs in a cage, sithiche.” Something inside of her wriggled with delight when he used the Gaelic term for her again. “I’ll get ye out of here, Elisabeth. It is me vow.”

She said nothing. Though she parted her lips to say something, she couldn’t think of what to say. Instead, she felt his hand lift up to take her fingers off the bar. He pried them away, gently, then lifted her hand through the bars and toward his face.

She held her breath, watching as he kissed the back of her hand. Where his lips touched her skin, the heat grew greater, and she leaned toward the bars, placing her body against them as if wishing she could press herself to Ian instead. She had a feeling in that man’s arms she would feel safe. Safer than anywhere else.

“You are not like the others here,” she whispered as he lowered her hand back down again. This time, he didn’t release her hand; he just held onto it.

“Nae everyone is like Jockie.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she shook her head. “Even those who may not like what is happening to me, they fear what could happen to them if they’re seen helping me. You do not seem to care if you’re seen protecting me.” She frowned at the idea. “They could flog you again.”

“Then so be it,” he said strongly. “I will not stop.” His words made a smile grow across her face. As it took hold, she watched as Ian’s eyes dropped down to her mouth. The simple glance made her imagination run wild, wondering what could happen if his lips hadn’t touched her hand but her own lips instead. The idea made a shiver run up her spine with excitement. “That’s quite a smile,” he said, producing one of his own.

“You have given me cause to be happy,” she admitted, “even if it is brief.”

“Then I’d best stay here a while,” he said, “and I’ll see if I can make ye smile again.” She wasn’t sure how to respond and just held tighter to his hand. “First, have ye eaten anythin’ this mornin’?”

“I’ve had some water,” she said.

“Then I shall bring ye some food.” As he stepped back, about to walk away, she found she didn’t release his hand. It made a new smile grow across his face before stepping back toward her. “I give ye me word; I’ll be back within a few minutes.”

She nodded and released him then, acutely aware of the loss of the warmth of his hand as he walked away.

She waited for a little while, with her eyes fixed on the tent into which he had disappeared. When he returned, he came carrying a single plate he had piled high—far too much food for her to handle alone. As he reached the cage and held it up for her to see, her eyes widened.

“I can’t eat all of that, even this hungry,” she explained, watching as he smiled.

“It’s for us to share,” he said and took a hunk of cheese from the plate. It was an intimate idea as she reached through the bars and took a piece of bread off the plate.

For a minute, they relaxed into a companionable silence, sharing the meal. The entire time, she kept watching him, her eyes running over his handsome face and down the strong arms to the hands holding the plate.

“Ye still stare a lot, ye ken,” he said, urging her to lower her gaze at last. She hoped it hid her blush, for she could feel the heat of it spreading across her cheeks. “Ye daenae need to stop,” he said, chuckling softly.

“Don’t I?” she asked, still staring down at the bread in her hands.

“I am just nae used to bein’ stared at so,” he said, tapping her hand. The touch prompted her to lift her gaze to meet his. “Ye have barely stopped lookin’ at me since I arrived.”

“I find it hard not to,” she said quietly, embarrassed by the truth. “That is all.”

“Then I’m glad it’s both of us and nae just one of us,” he said, holding her gaze with his words. The truth of the statement made her breath hitch, and she stopped eating for a second. “Here, eat some of this.” He pointed down to some kind of fish.

“What is it?” she asked, picking up the flaky fish with a spoon he offered to her.

“Arbroath smokie,” he said. As she scooped the flakes into her mouth, she was startled by the sheer strength of the smoked fish and coughed a little. Though it was not an unpleasant taste, it was just not what she had expected. “Different to what ye are used to?”

“Just a little,” she nodded. “English food is plainer, I think.”

“I ken,” he nodded. “In the prison they served us nothin’ but bread and gruel.” She shuddered at the idea.

“Why were you in prison?” she asked, then felt ashamed for intruding on his privacy. “If you don’t mind me asking…you do not have to tell me, of course.”

“I’ll tell ye,” he answered with a nod. “I lived with Laird Alex for a while in the MacPherson Clan. I went to deliver a message to the MacDonel Clan in Alex’s name, trying to mend their relationship and restore balance. It didnae work,” he shook his head. “The MacDonels took me prisoner and, I have since learned, they sent a dead body back to Alex and claimed it was me. He thought I was dead and held a funeral for me.”

“That’s awful,” she said, as she chewed more of the smoked fish.

“The MacDonels kenned who I was, that I was heir to the Buchanan Clan here, so they sold me to the English. They tried to torture me for information on the clan, but I never gave anythin’ up,” he said and looked back down at his plate. “Many days I thought I would die in that place, staring at the grey stone walls around me.”

“Ian,” she said softly, wanting to speak words of comfort yet she didn’t know what to say. There was nothing right that could be said.

“There is nay need to be sad about it now, I suppose,” Ian said, lifting his chin again. “I’m out, and I have nay intention of ever goin’ back.”

“Thank God,” she sighed and finished what was left of the smoked fish, just as their hands bumped together on the plate. It made her cheeks heat again. Her eyes drifted from his hands to the strength in his shoulders, thinking of Kenny’s story of how the two of them escaped. There was no avoiding the obvious, the man before her was strong indeed and could probably lift her up and carry her with just one hand. The idea thrilled her for a reason she could not quite understand.

“Maybe we should talk of something happier instead,” she reached for a new topic, wondering if she could make his sharp features smile again.

“Ye wish to talk of somethin’ happy when ye are in this state?” he gestured to the cage she was in.

“I do,” she nodded, “I’d be thankful for the distraction, in truth.”

“Aye, very well,” he agreed, revealing the smallest of smiles. “We could start by talkin’ of how you have eaten all of the Arbroath smokie. I didnae even get a look in.” At his tease, her eyes widened.

“You had some. Didn’t you?”

“Nay,” he shook his head.

“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, trying to push the plate back toward him, but he only laughed.

“I’m jestin’ with ye,” he continued to laugh. “I can always get some more. In truth, I’m happy to see ye eatin’ so well.” She smiled at his jest.

“I haven’t eaten anything quite like that fish before,” she explained. “The more I ate it, the more I liked it.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Ye better eat more of the cheese then before I finish that.” She was struck by the lightness of their mood all of a sudden. She had been given the distraction she wanted, and it had worked. For a few minutes, it was possible to ignore the danger around her, to think of something other than the cage or the possible impending death when she was of no further use to Laird Grier. She wanted to maintain this lightness for just a little while longer yet.

“Sleeping on the earth and against the bars was not as bad as I thought it was going to be,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“Ye were tired because of the fear,” he explained. “I suppose ye are used to grand beds with lots of pillows and blankets?”

“So many blankets you could get lost in them.” He smiled, enjoying her jest too.

“I’ve missed such a bed,” he acknowledged, the mood turning somber once again. “At least the camp beds they have here in the tents are softer than the stone floor of a prison.”

She was upset to have lost the light mood they had been sharing and fell still, mid-chew.

“Were there other things you missed in prison?” Elisabeth said, earning his startled gaze. “This may sound odd, but now that I’m in this cage, I’m beginning to realize what things I miss most, what mattered to me the most. It’s not a bed or blankets. I’m thinking of my friends instead, and the simple things, like using a privy instead of a bucket.”

He chuckled softly.

“Aye, I missed the same luxury when I was in prison,” he nodded. His smile lit up his features, and she found herself just watching him for a while, mesmerized by it. “I missed many things. Like ye, me friends. Alex, in particular. There were other simple things I missed too. Seein’ the sun became a rarity,” he admitted, his smile faltering. “A glass of mead…sharin’ the warmth of a bed with another.”

At his words, Elisabeth busied herself with more food. The simple statement hadn’t been addressed to her, yet she felt the heat of the words regardless. She wished once again she knew more of what happened between men and women, for she couldn’t help thinking that sharing it with Ian might not be so frightening. She knew of kissing and the idea that there were no clothes. She found her eyes lifting to Ian’s chest and thinking of what it would be like to see him without his clothes.

A thrill spiraled in her stomach at the imagination and shot somewhere much lower, to the point that she shifted her feet, feeling a wetness pool between her legs.

“I’ve startled ye,” he said, smiling as she glanced back up at him.

“No,” she said quickly, “well, yes, a little.” She hurried to busy herself with a little more bread, surprised when he chuckled.

“Well, ye wanted distractin’.”

“You certainly did that,” she looked up again. As their eyes connected, they smiled at one another. This time, it was a full smile, and that sensation of coiling excitement in her stomach was growing even greater. She didn’t want to let it go.

“Ian? Ian!” a voice interrupted them, shouting across the camp. Ian turned his head away just as Elisabeth stood straight, arching her neck to see who was calling him.

It was Laird Alex, running across the camp toward them.

“Alex? What is it?” Ian asked, passing the plate to her. She took it in a fumble through the bars, for the plate was too wide and big to easily fit through the gap.

“It’s Laird Grier,” Laird Alex’s features were set in darkness. “He’s just received a message. Ye should see this, Ian. Now.”

“Now?” Ian looked baffled by the idea. “What could be so urgent?” he asked, taking a step forward.

“It’s about Elisabeth,” Laird Alex nodded to her, just as her mouth fell open. “Come now.”

Ian didn’t hesitate again. He turned and ran toward the center of the camp with Laird Alex hot on his heels. Elisabeth stared after them, struggling to eat what was left on the plate on the other side of the bars while her eyes followed the sprinting figure of Ian. Even at this distance, she was struck by the muscle tone in his legs through his trews and the way his arms whipped back and forth, displaying strength.

I shouldn’t be so distracted!

She cursed her own thoughts and sat down on the earth, placing the plate on the ground beyond the bars.

Her mind worked quickly, reviewing what Laird Alex had said: ‘It’s about Elisabeth.’

Was it possible her father had responded to the ransom demand?