Highlander Enchanted

Chapter Five

Isabel let the horse guide her through the forest. With no sense of where she was, her goal was to escape the men pursuing first and then find her way to the keep where Black Cade was said to reside. The beast appeared to know the path, and she bent over its neck to avoid the slap of low hanging branches. Its muscles bunched and released smoothly between her legs, its gait steady and appearance one of great beauty for an animal. As an avid horsewoman, she understood the price of such an animal was such that the man she took it from was likely to do what he must to recover the destrier.

Despite all she had been through, she had paid her way fairly, selling off her possessions one by one until all but the medallion was gone. She hoped that God would forgive her for the sin of theft and doubted she would live long enough to confess, if she were caught by either of her pursuers.

She focused on the dirt trail through the woods. The sun had peeked from the clouds shortly after rising and had since disappeared behind billowing storm clouds visible through the brown branches and green leaves of the forest canopy overhead. Breaking from the forest onto a wider road, Isabel twisted to look over her shoulder and ensure the path was clear. She saw no one and faced forward, trusting the horse to take her somewhere far away.

The horse slowed as it rounded a bend, and she nudged it to continue the quick pace before looking up to see what made it hesitate.

If there had been a bridge across the swollen creek, there was no piece of it left. Isabel drew the destrier to a walk and approached the bank. It was nowhere near as wide as the Thames, but it was impossible to guess how deep the creek was. Debris from upstream whipped by her, and she gauged the speed of the waters, her sense of urgency and doubt growing at her conclusion.

"We cannot cross here," she whispered as much to the horse as to herself. She scoured the banks in each direction.

The frequent rains of early autumn had helped trap her.

The destrier shifted feet, nickering quietly.

Isabel twisted once more, and her heart felt as if it stopped.

A party of men, one of whom she knew from the distance by the brilliance of his banner, appeared down the road. If they saw her, they did not yet realize who she was, for their pace was a slow walk.

Isabel dismounted and leaned against the horse. Hot pain spiked through her injured leg. Gritting her teeth against it, she approached the stream at a hobble. No part of her considered crossing the fast moving water to be a good idea, but an even worse plan was being caught by the man she had fled across England to the Highlands. She patted the satchel across her chest and stepped away, returning to the horse. A quick search through the saddlebags yielded what she sought: an oiled cloak, resistant to the constant rain of the Highlands. Wrapping her precious cargo in it securely, she replaced it in the saddlebag and took the horse's reins.

It nudged her with its long face, as if to second her instinct about this being a bad choice.

"My life is full of thus lately, horse," she responded to it aloud. "You will fare better than I." She slung one arm over its neck to balance her and limped towards the stream.

Trained to trust its warrior over its nature, the horse went with her.

Isabel walked into the thick muck beside the stream. She waited for the horse to do the same before she stepped into the swirling waters. Her foot sank two feet into the shallowest part of the small river, and she hesitated, eyes following a tree being swept swiftly downstream. Cold dampness sank into her clothing and chilled her to the bone.