Duncan's own daughters heeded him just fine; what was it about Bryant's daughter that made her so impossible to rule over? His brother had been the very same way; proud, outgoing, and always had something to say on every subject. Isla had turned out much the same, no matter how he had tried to break her spirit throughout the years.
And now it has come tae this.
He spat onto the grass; the moon was still high in the air. He heard one of the men stifle a yawn that he was sure the soldier didn't want him to hear. Duncan knew that his men were tired, but it was impertinent that they reached the village by morning. The longer it took to find Isla, the less likely it would be that they discovered where she had hidden herself away.
"Fingal, how close are we tae the first village in the area?" Duncan asked. The man was at his side in a moment.
"Not far, m'Laird," he said. "I've sent men there before, tae visit the markets there or tae sell game. We cannae be far now, per'aps a few hours longer; I'd wager."
"Then we ride through the rest o' the night," Duncan said. "No time tae stop and make camp. Tell the men tae rouse themselves; if they have complaints, they can come tae me straight away."
"Aye, m'Laird," his General said. "I'll let them know tae eat from their rucksacks on the way."
Duncan whirled around on his horse to glare at the man, who stopped his own horse in his tracks.
"Did I sayeat, Fingal?" he asked. "I said weridethrough the night. That means at a quick pace. No time for a slow plod through the woods with my daughter in the clutches of that brute, Iain MacThomas!"
He watched Fingal flinch, but then the man's expression hardened once more into that stony frown that Duncan had become accustomed to seeing.
"Aye, m'Laird," Fingal said again, lower this time. "Yer right, as always. I'll tell the men tae be ready tae make haste towards the village. Per'aps we shall be there before the mornin's light."
Duncan brushed his leather-gloved hand through his blazing red hair, his face burning with rage. He had not felt a calm moment since he'd realized how the enemy Laird had transgressed against him and would only feel better once he'd run the MacThomas bastard through with his sword.
He smirked at the thought.
The healer will meet his end tonight as well if he had not already in the days since Isla had gone missing.
Duncan hoped that he had the honor of ending the old man's life; that traitor had crossed him one too many times, and it was high time that he paid for his treason against his Laird. Aiden had been warned of the consequences years ago; the old man would not get another chance at disobeying him.
"Through the trees, men," Fingal shouted. "We stop for nothin' and no one, so mind ye keep up! The Laird wants Isla found before noon tomorrow! Do ye understand?"
The men all muttered their agreement until Fingal raised his voice, spittle flying from his mouth. "Tha' doesnae sound like the voices o' the men of Robertson Castle," he shouted. "Again! What do ye say tae yer Laird here before ye?"
"Aye, m'Laird!" they cried in unison, much heartier than they had previously. Each one had their eyes on Duncan, trying their best to look stoic and unbothered by the Laird's declaration.
Fingal led the way; he had apparently visited the village more than once himself as well as sending parties with game, fruits, and vegetables there on occasion. He had professed to never seeing the healer, but Duncan had not been so sure. Aiden was apparently craftier than he had once thought him if he'd managed to get a letter all the way to the castle without Duncan realizing.
Duncan followed Fingal's horse at a close distance, a sinister smile in his heart. The sun would be coming up in a matter of hours; if they hurried, perhaps he could catch the bastard while he lay sleeping somewhere in the belly of the village.
* * *
When Isla awoke the next morning, she was still in the arms of the Laird.
He had coiled himself around her, curling along her back with his arms tucking her into the fold of his body. She breathed out a sigh of contentment; the sun still had not risen in the sky. They would have a few hours more of solitude before having to rouse themselves and the men. Her heart smiled in contentment as she sunk further into his protective embrace.
Iain stirred sleepily behind her; she felt him lift his head up from the quilts and breathe in her scent. His sigh as he let out his breath sounded comforted, full of relief and quiet joy. A small sound, quiet in his drowsiness, exited his lips, and Isla felt herself nearly melt in his arms. If she could do anything about it, she would shelter him from the world. He had already suffered more than any man should in a lifetime, and he was young yet still.
Her hands curled around his own, and he tightened his grip on them, protective even in his slumber. Though she knew that he would do anything to shield her from harm, Isla felt much the same way about him. The anxiety was flooding back to her the more she let the haze of sleep fall away.
How can I protect him from havin' tae battle my uncle? It seems as though it isnae possible unless I turn back tae Robertson Castle without him... an' even then, it isnae guaranteed. Duncan might just attack MacThomas Castle regardless o' what I say.
Her head dropped, and she felt herself beginning to tremble. Her blood had run cold, and chills had broken out everywhere. She shivered once, hard, and afterward fell softly into frightened quivering as she pictured how angry Duncan would be when he saw her. He had always been a violent father but knowing now how murderous and treacherous he truly was struck a new level of terror inside her heart. She feared for her sisters; had he taken his rage out on them when he could not find Isla to punish her?
Her eyes closed, and she felt another wave of tears building up that she swiped aside with the back of her hand. She steeled her expression, promising herself that the man she had called her father would never hurt her loved ones ever again. There had to be a way to free her sisters from the man's clutches; if he married them off to a castle nearby, he had already said he would keep an eye on them for as long as he lived. He was controlling and tyrannical; it was only now that Isla saw just how dangerous he was.
Iain sat up when he felt her body shifting in the darkness.
"Isla?" he asked. "Is it already mornin'?"
