Enraptured by the Highlander

“Pardon?”

His head dipped to her ear, “You’ve mesmerized me, Lady Adelaine. I am bold to say this in polite company but I want you.”

A shiver of repulsion ran over her skin. “You can’t have me.”

He pulled away, that devilish gleam in his eye, “Yet. You deserve everything, My Lady and since you have given me a chance to court you, I vow here and now that I'll do my utmost to give it to you. Trips to Paris every season, sailing to the far East and jewels from Africa. You’ll be more resplendent than the Queen of France.”

He fingered a lock of her hair and smiled. “I’ll have the best maid attend to you day and night with the best dresses. You will not wear the same dress twice.”

Adelaine finally found her voice, and gently took his hand from her hair. “Any other woman would love your promises, My Lord, but I am a simple woman. I find more pleasure in books and puzzles than hosting parties and chasing the emerging trends from around the world.”

“Nevertheless,” Islington kissed the back of her hand. “You will have them.” He stood and bowed. “I must take my leave, My Lady. I’ll call on you again. I do believe His Majesty is hosting a ball at Windsor Castle, in the next month. I’d be delighted if you would accompany me.”

“I will certainly apprise you of my decision when the time comes.” She was relieved that she was soon to be free of him; Adelaine stood and curtsied. “Thank you for seeing me today and accepting my apologies.”

Seeing him to the door, Adelaine held her smile for as long as he took to get into his carriage and be driven away. She then sagged. “Good lord, he is tedious.”

At that moment she would have given anything and everything to spin back time and run away with Caelan. She might have had a rough time in Scotland but anything would be better feeling the Scotsman’s rough, but gentle touch, feeling warm and safe in her love’s arms. Now, her life was doomed to be one extended prolonged pretense with Islington.

“Martha…” she said wearily.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Now that I’ve lost my one chance at love, please find me an actor so I can be taught how to put on the performance of a lifetime,” Adelaine said as she turned away.

Chapter 28

The air around them was getting colder as they rode north. They had passed the borderland and were in the middle marshes. The escape from the attack in Ettrick and Yarrow Valley still lingered in Caelan’s mind. The Earl was a smart one, that was known—and he knew the bruises on his body were an indication of that. Caelan was being forced to realize that they were not playing with an inexperienced man when it came to warfare.

The Earl might not have been on the battlefield but he knew the tactics as well as any military commander. He had to think in the same way. If the Earl had sent messages by falcon to the borderland, what could stop him from doing the same with the other towns they would pass through?

He was mentally prepared for another ambush but his physical ability to deal with such ambush was left to be decided. He was still weak and unless God suddenly gave him the gift of Samson, his strength would continue to waver until he got some healing herbs and good food into his body.

He hated the weakness he could feel in his limbs. He despised how his back ached after a few hours on horseback and how he needed help mounting and dismounting his horse. His body felt strange and alien to him. Sometimes when he felt his stomach heaving and his mind swimming in exhaustion, he wondered where the real him was and how to summon him back.

They had a hard time skirting the towns in the middle marches to get to the Highlands, but he did not regret the longer time it took. They were in Scot territory, and they knew the clan that ruled a vast section of the middle marches. As far as he remembered, the family was not that sympathetic to the English and were in a rift with the Clan Kerr. They had better things to do than come after him and would turn a blind eye to a wanted man running through their lands.

“There,” Artur said, while pointing to a past of the forest. “There’s a river there where we can rest and the horses can water.”

Nodding in the moonlight, Caelan followed his direction and came upon the same pool. “Ye went this way when ye came to fine me, dinnae ye?”

“Aye,” Artur replied as they came to the pool. “We did.”

He managed to get down from the horse himself and with Donnan’s help, got the saddle off the steed and led him to the water to drink. He took the blanket to rest upon and settled near a thick shrub. Laying his wearied body down, he dully watched his comrades set their horses to rights and then set up a small fire.

His gaze drifted up to the star-studded sky. If only Adelaine was there with him. His vow to come back and get her away from her father stood strong inside his heart because hell would go cold before he let her marry another man.

Adelaine was it for him. No one would ever command his mind and loyalty like she did. One day soon she would have his ring on her finger, his clan’s tartan on her body, and her horrible father a long-lost memory.

He drifted off to a deep sleep but was jolted awake when an enraged roar had him scrambling to his feet. In the dimness his men were battling with strangers and he had barely got to his sword when one of them fell to the ground, dead, at his feet.

He had his blade up as another sword stuck his. Caelan battled like one on a battlefield, reacting mostly on the instinct honed into him over the years. He made a few fall, but the hilt of a sword connected with the back of his head, making him swoon. He grabbed his head and pulled his hand away to expecting to see blood but saw nothing. His head was ringing and his vision was blacking out at times.

Someone tackled him and he went down, struggling to get freedom. The man above him had his hands around Caelan’s neck but the drive to stay alive had him punching the man’s middle until he doubled over and fell off him.

Artur grabbed him and shoved him toward the horses. “Run upstream, we’ll find ye there.”

Caelan was about to refuse when he realized that if he did stay, he would be a hindrance to the men. He did not like it, but he obeyed and ran to the nearest horse and vaulted on its back. Kicking the steed into action, he sped away, hating his cowardice.