Highlander Enchanted (10 page)

“Yea but not why. Or how or why ye chose me of all men.”

“Because you slayed my brother,” she said hoarsely. “Because I have no intention of ever marrying any man.”

His grip loosened, and he released her. “I ‘ave kilt many men, Lady Cade,” he said, the dark edge in his tone once more. “What do I care if one of them was yer brother?”

She turned on him, anger replacing her fear and confusion. “Because he was a good man. Because he was
my
brother!”

He gazed down at her, the hardened warrior she had come to kill, and she wondered if he had looked upon her brother the same way before killing him. The patter of rain against leaves began from somewhere in the forest, though no rain yet reached them.

“Who was your brother?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“The future Baron of Saxony. John of Saxony.”

Cade shrugged. “It’s possible.”

Her heart felt like it broke anew. “You slayed my brother! My father could not live with his death and went mad before he threw himself from the spire of our church. Have you no decency? No morals or compassion or goodness?” she demanded.

He was unmoved. “I dream of those I kilt every night, Lady. They n’er let me rest, so what do I care if yer brother is among them? What do I care if any o’ them have names.”

Horrified, speechless, she stared at him. The man who granted her mercy, who seemed to have a flicker of goodness, cared not one thought for those he slaughtered, innocent or not.

“Return my knife so that I may kill you properly,” she said.

“Now ye wish me dead.” He appeared darkly amused. “Go back t’yer bedchamber, lady. The forest is no place fer ye.” Black Cade tugged on his tunic and sheath and slid the massive sword into place at his back. He seemed to completely forget her or perhaps, no longer cared she was present. “I shall decide yer fate in the morning.”

Helplessness returned. It was the same feeling she experienced watching her father waste away. Isabel was no threat to Black Cade, and he was not going to listen to the concerns of an Englishwoman who felt wronged by him. He had not the capacity to care, and she had no weapon to wield against him.

At court, she had learned how to plot and escape the plots of other nobles, many of whom wished to claim – rightfully or not – her father’s wealthy lands. Physical force was no longer an option against this savage, but she had more than knives and swords to use against him.

“My mother was a MacCosse,” she said. “Once I submit my claim to the Crown, I will turn on you before the ink is dried on the king’s decree. You shall never be safe, never have refuge where my gold and influence will not find you!”

“The lass who rescued her sworn enemy in the river willna hurt the innocent,” he said with a glance in her direction. “I wish ye good fortune. Our king canna spare the men required to enforce yer claim, and ye’ve nothin’ but the clothes I gave ye t’pay fer yer own army. I need only wait fer yer betrothed to drag ye back to England, where ye belong.”

Finished dressing, Cade started towards the forest. He did not walk to the path she had traveled. Instead, the forest created a new one for him as he approached. Her gaze was caught by the movement of shrubs and trees leaning out of his way.

The fiery gems were floating in the space between them, around them. The grumble of thunder sounded farther away, and the rain had stopped.

Cade turned his back to her and began walking.

Her hand went to the pendant. “Richard, or either your king or mine, would be interested in knowing what lurks in the Highlands. The power to defeat the Saracens, perchance, or another of their enemies? Your healer fixed my broken leg, and your magic controls the sky. If I were to tell either king of the source of such power, he will grant me whatever lands I wish and the army to protect them.”

Cade froze. “Ye think I’d let ye live if ye threatened my clan?”

“I think the man who seeks to protect me from my betrothed will not let anything happen to those he cares for.” She continued, sensing his anger once more but not caring after all he said of her brother. “Anyone with power or influence would tear your clan apart to control this magic of yours.”

“You havena the heart to hurt others.”

“You destroyed my home, my life, my family,” she replied. “What would you do to the man who did this to you?”

He paced towards her, eyes flashing with anger and jaw clenched. His hands were in fists, the tension of his frame clear in his rigid stance. “Yer anger is with me, not my clan.”

She at once regretted threatening his family, but anger made her speak out where she should not. “I know,” she said. “Forgive me for it, but you are making this very difficult for me.”

“Ye made this difficult when ye chose t’flee yer betrothed into
my
lands with writs that might be viewed as treasonous.”

She flushed, hating the truth of her situation.

“I see a beautiful, lost, angry yet strong lass whose heart is larger than the moon. Yer circumstances were bad, and ye made them worse, and now, I am the laird who must sort it out. I won’t kill ye, Lady Cade, if that’s what ye were hoping,” he said. “What was yer plan, assuming ye succeeded in running a knife through my heart? How would ye handle yer betrothed then, if ye outlived my clan hunting ye down?”

She said nothing. She had never thought this far ahead. Perhaps once, she had hoped she could disappear with her father’s wealth, but Richard’s claim on Saxony had all but ended that.

“I do not know,” she whispered, stricken. “You took everything from me. All I wanted was to feel whole again or to know the man who hurt my family was dead.”

Some of his tension released, and he cupped her cheek in one hand. “Ye canna find peace in vengeance, Lady Cade,” he said with unexpected softness. “Ye canna e’er find peace in blood spilt.”

“What else is there?”

“Ye go home t’Saxony. If yer as wealthy as Richard says, ye sit atop yer gold and weep o’er yer finery and coin.”

“I cannot go home,” she replied. “It was never my home. I was but a guest, and Richard …” She stopped and stared at his chest.

Cade’s thumb stroked her cheek lightly. “Ye are no’ seillie, but I would swear upon the Light and Dark Courts both ye cast a thrall upon me.”

“I have no magic, no home, no strength to wield a sword and claim my revenge,” she said with a spark of anger and pulled away from his warm touch.

He chuckled. “Ye need this.” He lifted the pendant from her chest once more. “Yer heart is burdened.”

She saw his gaze fall to the medallion dangling beside the pendant. His amusement faded, and a shadow passed over him once more. Isabel gripped both of her talismans in her hand, hiding the medallion from him.

“You do remember my brother,” she said. “He wore a medallion like mine.”

“Doesna matter, lass,” he replied, gaze flickering to hers. “I can no’ change what happened.”

“What did happen?”

His features shuttered. “Ye need t’concern yerself with yer fate, not yer past.”

Isabel sighed. For a moment, she had been close to discovering more about her brother.

“Your ma was a MacCosse?”

She nodded.

“Yer the sole heir to their lands.”

“If I care to claim them.”

“Yer also a de Clare, with a claim to the Saxony lands.”

“Yes,” she said. There was more. So much more, but now was not the time to bring up how complicated her situation was.

“Yer father was wealthy?”

She glanced up and saw the thoughtful look on his features. “He was. But he left his wealth to my husband, as is custom. I cannot own land or wealth.”

“A clan wife is equal to her husband here.”

“Not in England.”

“And ye call me barbaric,” he said with a snort. “The writs ye secreted into my bags tell a tale both kings would find of interest, were I t’show them.”

“Those are my property. You have no right to read them!”

He gave her a knowing look. “Yer a wealthy woman with lands in two countries but ye have no home. How ye came to torment me, I doona ken.” He looked her over then shook his head.

He was calming and with him, the weather. The sound of rain had disappeared, and moonlight trickled through clouds that had begun to disperse.

At a loss what to do, Isabel swiped away angry tears and batted away the lanterns that buzzed her head.

“I need a wife,” Cade said.

Her gaze snapped to him.

“Preferably one with land.”

Isabel’s brow furrowed.

“Ye need someone t’protect ye from the man who wants to claim your land,” he added with some amusement. “A home and a clan chief t’back yer claim to the court.”

“You think I would consider the man who killed my family?” she asked in disbelief.

“I think ye doona want to die, and I ken ye doona want yer betrothed.”

“And you consider yourself worthy?”

“I consider m’self yer only choice. I’ll protect ye, and support yer claim t’the MacCosse lands.”

“In exchange for my lands and wealth.” Isabel was surprised the savage had a mind for such an idea. It was, in every way, a contract far less intimidating and scary than Richard’s.

“And an heir,” he added. “One who can claim MacCosse land.”

“Lands, wealth and an heir,” she said. “It sounds as if I do not need you in this deal at all.”

“Do ye not know where heirs come from?” he challenged.

“Of course I do. I can find any man to sire an heir.”

He laughed, a warm, rolling sound that surprised her. “Verra well. Ye can think on it.”

“What is there to think about?” she returned.

“Ye ‘ave nothin’ without a husband, and ye have two men to choose from.” He folded his arms across his chest.

The sinking feeling in her stomach bothered her. If she had known this was how her revenge would turn out, she would have stolen the horse earlier this day and fled. “You want me in your bed, knowing I might try to kill you?” she snapped.

“I’d gladly take m’chances.” The intensity of his look caused the warmth within her to rise once more.

What would it be like to be married to such a man? She was unable to fathom the idea, and was just as confused by who he actually was. Ready to throw her out one moment, asking for her hand the next, he was as unstable as the clouds.

“Give me yer answer soon, lass,” he said and turned away once more. “Or I’ll see ye married to yer betrothed before sending ye both back to England.” He began walking into the forest.

She watched the trees and brush move from his path with no small amount of unease.

How was it she was considering marrying such a man? His intentions seemed noble, and yet, the lust burning within her whenever they touched was certainly a temptation meant to condemn her soul.

Unless they were married and producing an heir. The fever that lit within her at the thought of such activity was strong enough to scare her. Was this, too, part of his magic? The ability to affect her mind and body? To infect her with whatever illness this was and make her forget what she owed her brother and father?

Isabel had not planned on living through this interaction. Now that she had, she found herself with a new puzzle: choosing how to proceed with her life.

She betrayed her brother and father even considering his offer. But it was impossible to bear the thought of returning with Richard.

Chapter Eleven

Cade did not know what to think of his night. He had gone into the forest as he did often, to seek solace and guidance from the magic of nature. The forest should not have allowed Isabel to follow him let alone created a path leading her directly to him. His magic should not be visible to her, either.

For reasons he did not at all understand, his magic rebelled against his wishes and joined nature to conspire against him. Was it, too, drawn to Isabel, as he had been since they first met? What was it about her? Her beauty and strength and the soft lilt of her voice? Her claim to the MacCosse land, her influence with two kings, her father’s gold?

Or was this his guilt over leaving her brother to die in the Holy Lands?

When he thought of Saxony, he all but swore Isabel should not return with Richard, especially after she witnessed his magic in the forest. Neither did he know what he should do with her once Richard left. Danger followed her, and allowing her to stay would become a daily reminder of what had happened to her brother.

Was it guilt that made him offer to marry her, when her chances to claim the MacCosse lands were not guaranteed? He had no army to back her claim against other clan chiefs certain to attack once the king lifted his edict governing the land. His people, the seillie, were not warriors. They had not fought those who stole their ancestral home. They could not be forced to fight for the land of another. He and his cousins were the clan’s protectors. He took pride in knowing no clan in the tumultuous Highlands considered the MacLachlainn’s their enemies.

If he were to help her claim the MacCosse lands, this would change. Marrying Isabel was too great of a risk. Cade’s kinsmen were guaranteed a home if he married the MacDonald lass and strife if he wed the English lass.

He was decided, until he recalled how Isabel’s touch stilled the unseillie in him. No one else had ever been able to quell the dark magic, not even Marie, and the memory of Isabel’s cool touch crippled his rationale.

Too much compelled him towards the troubled English noble. However wrong it was, he innately understood he could not oppose his magic. He trusted it as he did his instincts in battle despite how wrong it seemed to allow her into his life.

Deep in thought, he glanced towards the sky. The Englishman had been anxious to leave this day and only remained because Isabel had been placed in a deep sleep by Marie. Tomorrow, Cade doubted there would be any such delay.

Confused by what to do with the English noblewoman, he came to one conclusion. He needed more time to decide for certain.

Whispering a short, quiet enchantment, he paused midway to the hold and bowed his head, praying for a storm large enough to keep the English visitors in his hold. Before his prayer was over, the sky grew cloudy once more, as it often did when he was angry.