Highlander Enchanted

Chapter Seven

The ride to the keep was short. The forest gave way to the Highland mores – vast, rolling plains of emerald grasses, sweet heather and shrubs broken up by tall hills and patches of woods – beneath a sky that foretold rain.

Isabel shivered in the cool breeze sweeping unhindered across the plains. No longer drenched, her clothing remained damp and her head throbbed from pain. Richard rarely struck her in front of others, and his reaction this day was a warning of what she might expect when they were in private.

He had her reins, or she would have fled him once more. Swiping at angry tears, she settled her breathing, not for the first time since leaving the stream, and looked towards the man she had traveled so far to find.

Black Cade. He was as large as they said but nowhere near as violent. He had shown her mercy upon their first encounter, with the intention of granting her a quick death after she stole his horse, a second display of mercy she would never receive from Richard. She had envisioned the man she came to confront as being more like Richard – with the powerful build of a warrior in addition to a cruel nature.

If anything, she had seen warmth from the man who robbed her of her family and experienced such desire for him that she became almost giddy. The memory of his arms wrapped around her, and his hard frame pressed against her, made her shiver for a different reason.

Richard had never once touched her with affection or spoken to her with tenderness since she met him at court. It was not lost on her that he had already claimed the title of her father, the Baron of Saxony. An ambitious man favored by the king, their marriage had been arranged shortly before her brother died in a dungeon in the Holy Lands. It was unheard of for a woman to inherit her father's estates, and Richard had been a suitable husband, the younger son of a duke, unable to inherit but bearing a title already. When her father fell ill, however, the contract was never signed, but this seemed lost to Richard.

I, too, am favored, she reminded herself. The secret that had to remain her last resort was too dangerous to reveal. At moments such as these, it was easy for her to forget how she came to be in the state she was, hunted across the country by the man determined to wed her. She had been given a choice of husband, as a favor to the king's favorite courtier, her mother, a woman who had been one of his many mistresses for years before she married the Baron of Saxony.

She had thought the granting of that favor a godsend. It had fast become a curse, for Lord Richard's determination to own her father's lands became clear. There were no lengths he would not go to, nowhere he would not go to force her to wed him. Her first choice of a husband had turned up dead, stabbed through the heart, soon after it was announced she was to wed him. She mourned – and then planned to run.

The pounding of hoof beats drew her from melancholy. Isabel watched one of the painted warriors gallop past them towards the wooden walls rising out of the mores. In the south, great lords such as her father and uncle had begun to use stone to build their fortresses rather than wood, and she viewed the structure before them with interest. Men lined the walls and manned the gates, while farmland and ranchland stretched in every direction outward from the keep.

It was no larger than a minor baronet's holdings in England, and far less grand than the home she knew.

The raiding party was greeted with the same cheer as knights returning from the Crusades: with cheers, flowers and a stream of children and wolfhounds that ran from the gates to greet the men on horseback.

The laird and his men dismounted to meet the children. Richard and his knights followed their lead, while Isabel remained on her horse, afraid to tax her injured leg. She watched Black Cade, wanting to find reasons to hate him. The children of his clan squealed and surrounded him, their displays of affection making her rethink what she had heard of him. They bestowed hand woven garlands upon him and those with him. From the depths of the bailey, upbeat music sounded, and women in long dresses with flowers weaved into their hair swayed and sang greetings.