Taken Away (A Swept Away Saga Origins Story)

Thirteen

"What are ye thinking, Willy?"

Da spoke softly, watching as Will shoveled out the barn. It had been three days since Isobel had left, leaving no clue as to whether or not she had made it back home in the storm, or if she would ever be returning. Maw had convinced Will to give her some time instead of riding right after her, but Da now watched him to make sure he didn't slip off unannounced.

Fiona and her mother had come to speak with them the morning after the whole debacle had taken place. To Will's surprise and dismay, they still wanted the wedding to happen, despite the public humiliation he'd brought upon all of them. Even more upsetting, his parents had agreed that it was the right course of action to take.

"I'm trying to get used to feeling like a prisoner in my own home," he responded snottily. He'd never spoken to Da with such a tone before and winced, knowing he was crossing a line.

"Ye ken fine and well that ye made an agreement, Willy." He sounded annoyed, like he didn't want to be out here, dealing with his oldest son. "Ye can't back out without providing equal compensation to Fiona and her mother."

"How am I supposed to find equal compensation to my hand in marriage? Get them another groom? Pay for the wedding? There's no one else and we have no money for a ceremony as it is."

"That is my point, exactly." Sighing, Da rubbed his face, walking over to his son and putting a hand on his shoulder. "This is the right thing to do, Willy. Ye ken it, I ken it, and Fiona and her mother ken it. Ye canna go traipsing across the Highlands, disregarding everything ye've worked for here. I only want a good life for ye. Marriage to a witch is not that."

"She's not a witch," Will replied vehemently, tossing his shovel to the side. "If ye'd open yer damn eyes, ye'd see that as clearly as I do." Huffing, he closed his eyes, trying to rein in his emotions. As soon as he felt he could keep from shouting, he spoke again. "Dinna fash, Da. I'll marry Fiona like ye ask. Isobel doesn't want anything more to do with me anyway." Walking out of the barn, he headed down the muddy trail, toward the houses just down the road, muttering to himself angrily the whole way.

"Where do ye think ye're going?" Da yelled after him.

"To clear my head!" he shouted back.

The air was still cold, summer rains threatening to break loose again overhead. Everything about life felt dirty and useless to him now, like he was viewing it through a screen that dimmed the colors and joys of life he'd had before. The home that had felt so welcoming to him was a prison now, full of neighbors who looked at him with pity and disgust. Sometimes, they whispered as he passed by, concern on their faces. He could only imagine what they were saying.

There goes the lad under the witch's love spell. There goes William MacDonald, the liar and cheat. There goes the town disappointment. Everyone pity and judge him in his hour of despair. Pray for his soul.

Worst of all, his heart hurt for Isobel. Was she safe? Had she gotten sick in the storm? As furious as he was with his family for keeping him from going to her, he was more angry with himself for letting her go in the first place. He should have fought for her to stay. He could have easily carried her back to his home and demanded that she at least wait out the storm. Why had he simply let her go? There was no telling what had happened to her. She could be dead on the path, for all he knew.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Da following him at a distance and rolled his eyes. He wasn't a child who needed constant monitoring. As he focused on the path ahead of him, he saw a group of people forming, listening to James MacDonald, the cousin who most often brought news of the politics and other events from around the country. He was seated on the back of his horse, eagerly telling everyone a story. As Will came closer, he was able to pick up on what some of the tale was.