Highlander Enchanted

Chapter Six

Cade climbed to his feet, at once alarmed and angry with the Englishmen who stood on his land.

The man who addressed him was a nobleman in finery not often seen in the clannish Highlands and bearing a coat of arms Cade did not recognize from his service with the English in the Holy Lands. The well-dressed man was slender with dark hair, pale skin and a condescending glint in his light eyes that Cade instantly despised. It was a reminder of how the few nobles Cade met at battle had treated him, until they saw what he was able to do.

The rest of the men stayed back with the horses near the narrow road that paralleled the stream.

"Yer betrothed," Cade repeated, casting a quick look towards the woman who claimed to be promised to him. Was this her scheme? To lure in men with wealth or land by lying? If so, did she not know he had no land or gold?

Isabel stared at the ground before her. Too well disciplined to fidget, she had clasped her hands in her lap. There were no more tears on her face. She had gone completely still, an animal braced for a beating. Something about her defeated stance, combined with the flicker of fire he had seen in her eyes when she claimed never to beg for mercy, disturbed him more than he wanted it to.

"Lady Isabel is my betrothed, yes," was the response. "I am Lord Richard of Saxony. I have been chasing my beloved for weeks now. I fear she did not take well to the thought of marriage." His smile held tightness and coldness was in his eyes.

Saxony. Cade's jaw clenched, and the coiled wariness returned to his stomach. One coincidence he was able to dismiss. Two?

"Ye both trespass on my land," Cade stated.

"For which I seek your pardon, m'lord. You are the laird of ... this?" Lord Richard appeared to be trying to be polite.

"Yea." Cade did not fall for the act. If anything, it made him more suspicious. For what reason did a wealthy English lord bother seeking forgiveness from a Highland savage when he was in his right to claim his property, the woman promised to him?

Many years before, Cade had not known the depths of evil that ran in men's hearts. The Crusades changed that, showed him that he, too, was a tarnished soul unable to resist the temptation of evil. He acknowledged his own weakness while becoming grateful for his ability to recognize it in others. Lying, cheating, lust, theft, murder. They became a way of life before his return to his home. There was not one great sin he had not committed countless times.

Isabel's face and words held no such evil, even when she lied to him. He saw only great sadness and despair. She believed what she said was true and had admitted her real reason for being there, to kill him. She was a good woman, if ill guided.

Lord Richard, however, was not a good man.

Isna my battle, Cade told himself. "Yer betrothed stole my horse," he said.

"My apologies, Laird ..."

"Caderyn MacLachlainn."

Surprise crossed the Englishman's face. He suppressed it fast. "Cade ... Black Cade?"

"Yea."

"You are a legend. I have heard tales of your deeds, of the great many Saracens you slaughtered in their sleep."

Lord Richard's praise left him unsettled, and he had an inkling it was because of the soaked noblewoman nearby.

"I would be delighted to hear such tales when told by the legend. Perhaps you would join us this day when we break our fast? I would be honored for the chance to recompense you for the wench's theft of your horse." As he spoke, the nobleman went to the woman he claimed as his and gripped her arm, pulling her up.