Highlander Enchanted

Chapter Eleven

Cade did not know what to think of his night. He had gone into the forest as he did often, to seek solace and guidance from the magic of nature. The forest should not have allowed Isabel to follow him let alone created a path leading her directly to him. His magic should not be visible to her, either.

For reasons he did not at all understand, his magic rebelled against his wishes and joined nature to conspire against him. Was it, too, drawn to Isabel, as he had been since they first met? What was it about her? Her beauty and strength and the soft lilt of her voice? Her claim to the MacCosse land, her influence with two kings, her father's gold?

Or was this his guilt over leaving her brother to die in the Holy Lands?

When he thought of Saxony, he all but swore Isabel should not return with Richard, especially after she witnessed his magic in the forest. Neither did he know what he should do with her once Richard left. Danger followed her, and allowing her to stay would become a daily reminder of what had happened to her brother.

Was it guilt that made him offer to marry her, when her chances to claim the MacCosse lands were not guaranteed? He had no army to back her claim against other clan chiefs certain to attack once the king lifted his edict governing the land. His people, the seillie, were not warriors. They had not fought those who stole their ancestral home. They could not be forced to fight for the land of another. He and his cousins were the clan's protectors. He took pride in knowing no clan in the tumultuous Highlands considered the MacLachlainn's their enemies.

If he were to help her claim the MacCosse lands, this would change. Marrying Isabel was too great of a risk. Cade's kinsmen were guaranteed a home if he married the MacDonald lass and strife if he wed the English lass.

He was decided, until he recalled how Isabel's touch stilled the unseillie in him. No one else had ever been able to quell the dark magic, not even Marie, and the memory of Isabel's cool touch crippled his rationale.

Too much compelled him towards the troubled English noble. However wrong it was, he innately understood he could not oppose his magic. He trusted it as he did his instincts in battle despite how wrong it seemed to allow her into his life.

Deep in thought, he glanced towards the sky. The Englishman had been anxious to leave this day and only remained because Isabel had been placed in a deep sleep by Marie. Tomorrow, Cade doubted there would be any such delay.

Confused by what to do with the English noblewoman, he came to one conclusion. He needed more time to decide for certain.

Whispering a short, quiet enchantment, he paused midway to the hold and bowed his head, praying for a storm large enough to keep the English visitors in his hold. Before his prayer was over, the sky grew cloudy once more, as it often did when he was angry.

He strode into his keep and started towards his bedchamber before recalling he had lent it to a certain Englishwoman who claimed to want him dead. The mere thought left him smiling, despite knowing her anger towards him was sincere. He had lied about not remembering her brother, even if the circumstances she assumed true were in fact not.

Cade had not killed Saxony, but he had left him to rot in a prison. Would she care about the distinction?

If what she said of her father's madness was true, her brother's descent into a similar state was not brought on by war or the dungeon. He began to wonder how much more the woman with the large, blue eyes was going to handle before she, too, succumbed to the madness that ran in her family.

He stilled the urge to ask Father Adam what else he had learned from her documents. When Father Adam was finished translating them, he would not hesitate to approach Cade. The two missives, addressed to neighboring kings rarely on good terms, disturbed him. How had one woman managed to wrangle such promises from powerful men such as these? What was her story, and more importantly, were her secrets dangerous to his desire to claim her lands?