Page 13 of Enchanted

Chapter Five

“What do you mean she is still alive?” Lieutenant James Long released a throaty growl as anger surged through him.

“I ran her through with my sword, but then a man who was tall and burly and as savage as any man we’ve come across yet in this godforsaken country appeared out of nowhere, attacking us like a wild beast rising from the forest floor. He struck down two men with one swipe of his sword and another three after that. Alan and I could see our cause was lost and managed to escape before the beast came after us.”

“Damn stupid louts—that’s what the lot of you are.” The lieutenant drew his sword and brought it to rest beneath George’s chin, allowing it to cut through the delicate skin of his neck. “You should have stayed to finish him off.”

“We would have died,” Alan said as George swallowed roughly and took a half-step back. Blood dripped from the cut to trail down his neck. “It was inhuman the way the man fought. We thought it best to come back here and report what we saw.”

“And what did you see?” the lieutenant asked, keeping his sword raised and shifting it between Alan and George’s chests, trying to decide which man would pay for such incompetence. He wanted Rosalyn de Clare dead. How difficult a task was it to kill a woman? Only when she was dead would he be free of the commitment her brother had forced upon him. He had no time for marriage or women, not when his regiment was about to lead an attack on the Scots of the Isle.

“The man was travelling alone,” Alan said with a quiver in his voice.

“He wore a MacLeod tartan,” George added, taking yet another step back.

At their fear, a smile tugged at the corner of the lieutenant’s mouth. It was about time someone saw him the way he saw himself—powerful, commanding, and superior to them all. “The MacLeods, you say.” Lieutenant Long again brought his sword to Alan’s chest. The man’s face turned ashen. “If you two want to stay alive, then I suggest you go find out if the MacLeods have Rosalyn in their possession.”

Alan nodded. “If we find her, we shall put an end to her life as you requested.”

“No!” His voice was hard, filled with the power that ran through his veins. “I want her alive.” The MacLeods taking what was his gave him a moral advantage he did not possess before. His cause now had a purpose: to reclaim his bride.

The lieutenant looked at the ashen faces of his men. What were they afraid of now? “What are you waiting for? Go and find the girl then report back to me. Once we have confirmed that the MacLeods indeed possess her, we will strike, and the battle for the Highlands will begin.”

In the meanwhile, he would placate the English command. They had sent orders to watch and wait only. An order he intended to disobey as soon as he knew where to strike. The MacLeods would only be the first clan to fall beneath his sword. It was time to put an end to those who were trying to bring a Stuart back to the throne.

*

Rosalyn watched withfascination as the healer examined her abdomen. Where she could swear there had been a ragged red scar not an hour ago, only a fine sliver of pink remained.

“You are certain you were stabbed with a sword?” the healer asked with a befuddled expression.

Rosalyn pointed to the hole in her discarded dress. “The evidence lies there. Yet I am, as you say, unharmed.”

Lottie straightened and shrugged. Her features cleared. “Perhaps we should stop trying to understand and just accept. You are very fortunate Keiran came upon you when he did. Too many times I have seen men after battles like the one you were in. They are never the same again.”

Rosalyn nodded. She wasn’t certain she would ever be the same again either, even though she had now been spared from permanent injury. “Thank you.” She managed to force the words from a throat that had suddenly gone tight. Her whole world had been turned upside down in a matter of days. Had her situation gone from bad to worse, or had she ended up in a place and with a family who were as kind as they seemed?

Rosalyn’s gaze shifted to Gwendolyn who had stood quietly at the end of the bed all through Lottie’s examination. When the healer departed, she came to sit beside Rosalyn on the bed. “I cannot imagine what you must be feeling right now. Attacked by your own people and whisked back to a fortress where you do not know a thing about the residents who live here.” She offered up a sympathetic smile. “Would it help if I assured you that we only want to help you? That you are truly safe here?”

The odd thing was, Rosalyn did feel safe, probably safer than she had ever felt living in London after the death of her parents. Even so, she raised her head and met Gwendolyn’s gaze with strength. “I am grateful to have a temporary safe harbour, but I will not be staying long.”

Gwendolyn frowned. “Have you somewhere else to go?”

“I am your enemy. Why would you want me to stay?”

“It matters not which side of Hadrian’s Wall you were born on. You are human and in need of a bath, a meal, and some sleep, I am certain.”

“You do not care that I am English?”

“If you do not care that I am Scottish.” Gwendolyn opened her hand to reveal a key. “Here, take this. You will have the only key to your chamber. I am certain it will help you to sleep better knowing no one else can enter your chamber unless you allow it.”

As if disproving that very point, a soft rap sounded before the door opened and a red-haired woman stepped inside, carrying an armful of gowns and other various garments. “Good evening, Rosalyn. I am Fiona. I gathered up everything you might need,” she said, setting the pile of clothing on the bed. There were three gowns, two shifts, and two night rails, stays, hose, and so much more. “Our chatelaine is still rounding up a few more items as well as shoes and a cloak. And Isolde is right behind me.”

She had barely finished speaking when a tall, thin blond entered the chamber, followed by three men who carried a hip bath and several buckets of steaming water. “We brought water for a bath,” Isolde said, joining the others near the bed. “Mrs Honey will be along any moment with a tray for your dinner.”

As if on cue, Mrs Honey entered with a tray containing a meat pie, fruit compote, a hearty slice of cheese and bread, and a mug of ale, which she set on a table near the fire. She offered Rosalyn a smile and a quick curtsy before heading from the chamber. Taking charge of those who had entered, Gwendolyn motioned for the men to set the hip bath near the fire. They filled it with their buckets of steaming water and departed.

Reading Rosalyn’s puzzled expression, Isolde replied, “We thought you might be tired and would rather eat in your chamber tonight instead of facing the entire family while you are still recovering from today’s trauma.”