Highlander Enchanted (31 page)

Ocean water was retreating as well, running up the ridge back towards the sea. The unnatural sight of water flowing up hill, of Cade’s magic reversing the damage it had done, assured her he had truly returned from the madness.

“You did it,” she said, focusing on Cade once more. “You saved us!”

He cupped her cheeks in his roughened palms. “You saved us, Lady Cade,” he whispered. “You saved me.” The shadow receded with the clouds, until not one tendril of darkness lingered across his features.

“Forgive me, Cade,” she said, fighting more tears. “I have wronged you from the day we met.”

“Isabel –”

“I must speak my mind,” she interjected. “You cannot know how painful the thought of losing you was, how my heart ached for you to know how blessed I am to be your wife. You stole my brother’s madness and suffered beneath the burden so that he might live without it, and I wished you dead.”

“Ye owe me no apology, Lady Cade.” His features glowed with mirth, and he regarded her with tenderness. He ran his thumb over her lips. “I forgave ye when we met. Yer English.”

“I am not,” she replied. “I am Lady Isabel de Clare of Saxony, daughter of a Highland noble and Scottish king and wed to a MacLachlainn. I am more Scottish than you.”

He chuckled. “Verra well, lass.” He rested his forehead against hers once more, and they stayed in the peaceful quiet, listening to one another breath. “Ye doona wish to return to yer uncle in England?”

“No, Cade. I belong here. With you,” she murmured. “I swear to you I will keep no secrets or lie to you again. We will do as you spoke of on our wedding night and trust one another.”

He pulled away, studying her. Light glowed in his eyes, and his smile was warm. “My wife,” he said, touching her face gently.

“My husband,” she replied.

They gazed at each other in silence, and emotion stronger than any she had experienced welled within her. Needing to feel his strength, to reassure herself the storm was over, Isabel flung her arms around him and hugged him hard.

Cade held her, sighing once more. “’Tis true? Your brother is alive?” he asked.

“He is.”

“How can it be?”

“You took his madness, and a Saracen woman rescued him,” she explained. “He is not himself, and he has forsaken Saxony, but he lives.”

“My madness was worth it, if I saved him.”

Her heart swelled, and more tears stung her eyes. “You are a good man, Cade. Forgive me for being too blinded by my anger to see it.”

“I will ne’er let ye go again, Isabel.”

The sky was clear, the sun bright. Surprised by how quickly its warmth and light drove away her fear, she allowed herself to sigh in relief. “The sun shines because of you?”

Cade chuckled then grimaced, holding his stomach with one hand. “Yea. I feel … hope. ‘Tis not natural for me,” he admitted, gazing down at her. “I doona wish t’be apart from ye again, Lady Cade,” he said firmly.

Joy and relief bubbled within her. “’Tis wise, if this is what happens when we are not together,” she retorted.

“My brave, foolish wife. How can I no’ love ye?”

He held her. On the verge of collapsing into a weeping heap, she gripped his tunic. The heat filling her was of a different nature than the lust she recognized from each time they touched. This was deeper, a sense of belonging, of profound affection and gratitude.

“Cade!”

She released him. The disheveled, drenched Father Adam was hurrying towards them, a sheathed dagger in his hand.

“Yer late, Father,” Cade told him.

Breathless, the priest crouched beside them. He tossed the weapon down. “I canna do it,” he puffed.

Cade picked up the dagger and tucked it into the back of his trews. “You willna have to so long as Lady Cade is near me.”

Isabel smiled at the priest, who appeared distraught. Neither of them explained the weapon. Before she could ask, Father Adam turned hopeful features towards her.

“Did ye bring me wine from court?” he asked.

“Niall did,” she replied.

“Ye went t’court?” Cade asked, eyeing her.

“I did,” she replied. “John signed our contract in place of my uncle, and I presented it to the king along with a demand for him to assist me.”

“A demand,” Cade repeated. “Ye commanded the king t’help ye.”

“Your life, my brother’s life, and the lives of every member of your clan were in danger. Of course I commanded him to help,” she replied.

“My sweet lass.” Cade’s gaze misted over. “I doona ken if I can love ye as much as ye deserve but I will try.”

“Build me a keep overlooking the ocean and never leave my side,” she ordered him and then smiled. “’Tis all I ask.”

“And five children?”

She flushed, not expecting him to recall all she had said when he was in his madness.

“Och, ye need a healer before ye can sire children,” Father Adam said. “Lass, ye must fetch Marie’s daughter.”

Isabel started to correct him, to remind him he could not order around the Lady he served. But one look at the exhausted priest’s face, and she rose with what grace she could muster. Her ankle blazed with pain, and she gritted her teeth, unwilling to let her weakness show.

“Remain here,” she directed her husband. “I will fetch her. Do not think to fight or move.”

Cade studied her, as if he, too, were about to remind her who the laird was. “Verra well, Lady Cade,” he said with a crooked smile. “But if ye weren’t leading my men, what lass did I see?”

“Fianna.” Father Adam’s gasp was accompanied by his rising with alacrity Isabel had never seen from the priest. He hurried towards a scarlet cloak dropped amidst debris from the storm.

“’Twas her I saw not Isabel,” Cade said and grunted, climbing to his feet.

Isabel limped to his side to support him. “Is she well?” she asked quickly.

“Richard beheaded her,” Cade replied in a tight voice.

Isabel gasped.

“We dressed her as ye, Lady Cade, in hopes of causing sedition among the English knights fighting with Lord Richard,” the priest explained. “And to take the place of Cade leading our warriors.”

Isabel’s mood saddened. “Fianna was a sweet girl,” she said. “It pains me to hear this. Had I known sooner what kind of man Richard was, I would have acted.”

“Doona think this way,” Cade said gently. “Ye canna see a man’s heart when ye meet him.”

She was quiet, thoughts on Fianna.

“Lord Richard was abandoned by many of his men in this battle. Including his master-at-arms.”

Recalling the knight who had helped her, Isabel twisted to see the battlefield behind her. She was unable to recognize the faces of any of the disheveled, muddy warriors slowly recovering from the tempest. “We must find him and the others,” she said, a spurt of worry pushing away her fatigue. “I journeyed with the king’s stewart and personal guard. I can –”

“Quiet, lass. Ye’ve done enough,” Cade growled and pulled her into his body. “Yer trembling and by yer limp, ye broke yer leg again. Ye need rest.”

She leaned against him, unaware of how taxed her body was until she allowed herself to begin to relax. Her ankle hurt too much to put her full weight on, and she shook from a lack of sleep and food over the past several days.

“I wonder how many more have perished,” she whispered, thoughts on the loyal handmaiden who had trailed her everywhere she went in Cade’s keep.

“Too many,” Cade said, an edge in his voice. “’Tis my fault.”

“You did not start this war, Cade,” she replied.

He shook his head, jaw clenched. “Father Adam, fetch Marie’s lass,” Cade ordered. “We have much to do.”

Father Adam bobbed his head and started away.

“Cade, I can help,” she said and looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest.

“I ken,” he said with a tight smile. “We will do this together.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead.

There is so much to do,
she thought with some despair as she surveyed the valley. Laird Duncan’s men had begun gathering on one side of the valley, rounded up and surrounded by the Scottish knights granted her to win her lands. Too few had survived from either side of the battle.

Her eyes fell to three familiar forms approaching them, one of whom was limping. John’s mask had been torn away by the storm, but he walked with purpose, his green eyes on her. He was flanked by Niall, who appeared drenched in mud from head to toe, and Brian, who appeared little better off.

Relief flooded her. “John!” she cried. Unable to walk let alone run to him, she remained where she was, supported by Cade.

“Saxony.” Cade’s tone was hushed.

John stopped a short distance away, a storm in his eyes.

Sensing the depth of emotion between the two, Isabel gently pried herself free of Cade’s arms and hobbled to the side. Neither John nor Cade appeared to know what to say, but her heart was singing with happiness at the sight of the two people she loved most together again.

“Speak to him,” she said softly to Cade and nudged him.

He squeezed her arm lightly and limped towards the scarred man who appeared ready to turn and leave.

Isabel remained where she was, hands clutched together and eyes riveted to the two warriors as they met again for the first time in years.

Niall and Brian joined her.

“I believe we ‘ave ye t’thank for the sea not swallowing us,” Brian said.

“Yea,” Niall agreed. “I havena seen the sun in too long.”

She smiled to herself. “Are the seillie and MacDonald’s safe?” she asked.

“Yea. Too far for the tempest to reach them,” Brian confirmed. “We lost most our warriors.”

“They were good deaths,” Niall said quietly. “Honorable.”

“Many more were spared,” Brian agreed.

Isabel’s gaze swept across the valley. So many were lost. “We will honor their memories and families with gold and land. No seillie shall ever want for nothing,” she vowed. “So long as I draw breath, no one else will ever threaten us again.”

“Ne’er cross an English lass,” Niall said with a snort.

She said nothing, recalling all she had been through to bring her to this point. Gone were the days when she was helpless and afraid, when her heart had felt shattered and her hope was gone. Gone was the woman she had been, who had not known herself and who feared she would never have a true home again, once her brother died.

There was much to rebuild of her life, but she no longer feared her fate, not when she had found her purpose and place in the world.

“Speaking of English, Lord Richard and his knights are gone,” Brian said. “Cowards.”

“I would not concern myself with them if I were you,” Isabel replied. “If my brother does not serve Richard justice, my uncle will. He will not know peace.”

“’Tis very un-Christian of ye to think ill of another, is it not?” Brian teased.

“Then I will pray oftener,” she said in a hard tone. “But I will see to it he never harms another.”

“Good lass,” Niall murmured.

Cade and John were speaking quietly, and she saw Cade smile first, and then John. Isabel’s thoughts warmed, and she drew a deep, shaky breath. Her ankle was pulsing with pain. Combined with fatigue, she began to feel ill.

Dizziness caused her to stagger. Niall caught her, and Cade rushed to her side, accompanied by an alarmed John.

“I am well,” she assured them with a tight smile. She reached out for Cade with one hand and John with the other. “I have you both back. I have never felt happier.” She pinned her brother with a sharp look. “You
will
stay with us, John, if you do not choose to return to Saxony.”

His scarred face grew determined. “I have business with Lord Richard. I return to Saxony, if only to handle him.”

For once, Isabel did not feel the need to remind someone violence was a sin.

Cade knelt beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She melted into his embrace.

“You will care for my sister, Cade,” John growled. “Or I will return for you when I am finished with Richard.”

“She is my heart. I will no’ allow any harm to befall her,” Cade replied with quiet resolve.

She closed her eyes, contented to be in his arms with her brother’s hand clutched in hers.

If, when she began her journey, she were to be told her fate involved seillie sorcery, a Highlander husband and seeing her brother again, she would never have believed it. God’s plan was so much more beautiful than what she imagined. Bowing her head, Isabel offered a prayer of gratitude and swore to cherish every day she spent with her enchanted Highlander.

Exhaustion and pain washed over her, but it was the flicker of joy in her heart, the thought of a fate filled with the Highland mores and Cade’s love, that accompanied her as she slid unconscious.

Epilogue

Six months later

“’Tis a dream,” Isabel breathed. Her face glowed as she gazed at the stone keep, newly finished. It perched on a bluff in full view of the sea on one side and the hills and grasses of the mores on the other. The walls and bailey were not yet started, but she had never seen anything more beautiful than what stood before her.

The early spring breeze was cold, and she shivered.

“As ye described, my wife,” Cade said and wrapped his arms around her.

She rested back against his warm chest, supported by his warrior frame, and breathed in the scent of man and dew. “Niall has been here.” She almost laughed at the amount of flowers surrounding the keep, a wedding gift from his cousin. As soon as one of the children plucked one, another sprouted in its place.

“Fer a day. He ‘as many matters t’attend to at the MacDonald’s,” Cade said. “I am assured our home will be finished before my first son is born.”

“Daughter,” she corrected him under her breath.

“Son,” he said and squeezed her closer before sliding his hands down to rest on her swollen stomach. “The next MacLachlainn chieftain and seillie protector must come first.”

“And if ‘tis a girl?”

“Then I will teach her t’carry a sword,” he said with a sigh.

Isabel laughed.

They stood in silence, gazing at their new home.

“English gold is not so bad, is it?” she teased.