“Aye, it is!” She tried to tug her arm away from him, but he just increased the pressure of his hold. “Ow, ye’re hurtin’ me, ye brute,” she hissed, grimacing with pain.
Ewan let her go at once. Though he was infuriated by her betrayal of his trust, it went against the grain to hurt a woman, however many lies she had spun him. “What if I dinnae believe yer story?” he shot back through gritted teeth, his desire to believe her warring with all the old doubts that had rushed back in.
“Ach, I dinnae care if ye dae or nae,” she retorted, rubbing her arm where he had gripped her. “I didnae mean any harm tae ye or yer men. Now. I mean, I was only gonnae take two measly sacks of flour!”
She appeared so aggrieved, he started to think it might be the truth. Maybe she really was Annie Dean from the nearby village. Maybe she really did need money. It seemed plausible. He did not know what to believe, for she did not look to him like a humble village girl. He certainly did not want her to think he trusted her, because he did not.
“Just shut yer mouth, eh? Dinnae dig the hole ye’re already in any deeper with more lies. Just get back tae the tent. And be quick about it,” he instructed her brusquely, picking up the sacks of flour and replacing them in the wagon before closing it up.
She remained silent as he marched her briskly back to the tent. When they lay down on the cot, he thought he would give her another warning. “Dinnae bother thinkin’ of tryin’ tae sneak off again like that because I’ll ken. And if ye dae try anythin’, I’ll just tie ye again.” The threat seemed to work, for she lay quietly, the picture of despondency.
Ewan stayed awake until he thought he could tell by her breathing that she was really asleep and not faking it. He chastised himself for being so lax, he should not have trusted her. He was more shaken than he liked to admit by her underhand attempt to steal food. Yet at the same time, part of him was deeply disappointed, almost hurt by her behavior, which he knew was ridiculous.
But being unable to find any other reason for the hurt he was feeling, he tried to be honest with himself and admit that it was likely due to the painful realization that the growing connection he had started to feel with her—their lighthearted talk, the smiles, the laughter, but most of all the trust—had all been an illusion.
She’s been makin’ a fool of me all this time, lullin’ me intae a false sense of security as the days have passed, makin’ me start tae trust her, makin’ me doubts about her intentions start taefade. How could I have I forgotten so soon that she tried tae kill me only a short while ago?
He listened to her breathing softly next to him, all his doubts about her trustworthiness resurfacing with a vengeance, with two questions constantly revolving in his mind.Who the hell is she really? And what are her true motives for comin’ here?
Isla startled, awoken by loud, urgent shouting coming from outside the tent. She sat up, half expecting to find her hands and wrists tied to the cot, figuring that the chafing ropes on her still healing skin could not burn half so much as the failure resulting from her ill-fated venture the night before. It was a pleasant surprise, therefore, to find herself able to move about as freely as she had come to expect.
She looked around the tent and frowned in puzzlement. Ewan was not there. Where was he? He never usually let her out of his sight, she thought, slipping from the cot and quickly pulling on her clothes, boots and her trusty woolen cap to complete the persona of Harris.
Her thoughts about Ewan’s whereabouts were interrupted by a volleyof urgent shouts and the sound of armed men moving about in numbers that was coming from outside. What the hell is goin’ on out there? She hurried to the entrance and opened the tent flap to look.
The sight that met her eyes had her heart beating like a drum. Ewan and Colin were barking rapid orders to a cohort of about thirty heavily armed warriors. She watched as the men obeyed the laird’s commands and rushed en masse to leap into their saddles as their mounts were brought to them by running grooms. Once mounted, with a sergeant riding at their head, the group kicked up their horses and thundered at a gallop out of the camp, heading for the castle.
Alarmed about what it could mean, Isla ran over to Ewan and Colin. She pulled at Ewan’s sleeve to attract his attention. His hard expression frightened her. “What’s happenin’? “Where are they goin’? Are ye attackin’ the castle?”
He regarded her stonily for a few moments before looking away, disdaining to reply. Growing frantic now, she tried Colin. “Colin, what’s goin’ on? Where are the men goin’?”
He did not even look at her as he said, “They opened the castle gates long enough for a band of warriors tae leave. They’re headin’ for the forest in what seems tae be a desperate attempt tae escape. The men are gonnae intercept them and stop them from gettin’ away.”
Isla’s stomach dropped to her boots. Without thinking, she took off, running as fast as she could towards the front of the camp, finding a spot where she could watch what happened. There she halted, praying silently, fervently, that the Galbraith warriors would be fast enough to get away from Ewan’s pursuing men.
But her prayer was thrown back in her face, for she was forced to watch in horror as the enemy cohort easily intercepted the fleeing group and began the bloody work of mercilessly dealing out death. Though Gregory’s men fought bravely, they were outnumbered and were swiftly cut down. Screams of agony from men and horses rang in her ears, and the smell of blood and spilled entrails filled her nostrils as the slaughter continued.
With bile rising in her throat from sheer horror and revulsion, Isla fell to her knees, her hands to her mouth to prevent herself from screaming. She could only watch the carnage in stunned silence. It seemed like an eternity before the victors finally ceased their efforts and began the brutal work of slowly picking their way between the fallen, ruthlessly finishing any still living off with thrusts of their swords.
When they were done, all that was left were the lifeless, broken bodies of Gregory’s men, which lay strewn across the ground around them, staining the grass bright red with their lifeblood.
She could not stop the tears that came, which wracked her entire being. Painful memories from the past washed over her as she experienced the agony of loss with fresh intensity. A vivid picture of the last time she had seen dead bodies appeared behind her eyes, and she clearly saw her parents lying next to each other in their bed, drowned in what seemed a welter of their own blood.
The horror that had just played out before her had brought it all rushing back. Now, she found herself weeping uncontrollably, floundering in a flood of sorrow that was shaking her to her core.
Suddenly, a large warm hand came down on her shoulder. “Harris, are ye all right?” Ewan asked, his deep voice low.
“I-I,” she stuttered through her tears, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve, not wishing any of the men to see her so upset.
“Ye’ve never seen real battle before, I’m guessin’,” he said, his voice laced with sympathy. “’Tis always a shock the first time. But ye get used tae it after a while. Come on, I can see ye’re upset. Come back tae the tent with me. Ye can hide yer tears from pryin’ eyes there.” Numb with shock, Isla allowed him to pull her gently to her feet and lead her away.
CHAPTER TEN
Once inside the tent, when a bout of fresh sobbing overtook her, she was surprised to find herself folded into Ewan’s strong arms and pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, wetting his waistcoat with her tears. At that moment, she forgot he was the enemy, the man who had given the order for the slaughter she had just witnessed. She trusted him and clung to him, grateful for the comfort his strong, warm body offered.
“There, there, let the tears come,” he told her soothingly, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Once they’re all out, then ye’ll feel better about it all.”
After she had stopped weeping, he made her sit at the table and took off her boots for her. Then he gave her a dram of whisky and stood over her while she drank it. The golden liquor crept through her veins, warming her and giving her enough strength to compose herself somewhat.
