Highland Island (Book 6)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Carrick!"

Isla spun to her right, her sight blinded by the flash of a torch. The dancing flames danced across her vision, meaning she could see nothing of the male whose voice was whip sharp in the darkness behind the torch. Her hand reflexively coming up shield her face, the sharpness of the man's tone sending a chill through her. For the first time she felt unsafe in the presence of this stranger, the newcomer showing her just how vulnerable she had actually made herself in this situation.

Moving to stand behind, the man she assumed was called Carrick, hoping that for whatever reasons he had he would save her. As edged slowly behind her saviour, he didn't seem to realise what she was doing, as he moved. With a speed she had never thought possible. And this was the man who had saved her after she misplaced a step. She watched as Carrick charged at the newcomer, blinking against the darkness as the torch dropped to the ground. Rolling in the leaves as Carrick stomped on the flames until they died. As she tried to see the shadowed figures before her, she heard a fist hit flesh, a loud grunt of pain, some foul language staining the air.

"Fool!" The ice in Carrick's tone sent a shiver down her spine. He had never spoken to her like that. He had not spoken with much, but every time he had the rough timbre mixed with the lilting accent in a melody she heard in her dreams. This was a male she did not recognise. Again the dread filtered into her stomach. Her foot inching backwards over the dry earth, the rattle of the underbrush making her flinch against the sound.

"Carrick, seriously, what in the Lord's name are you doing?" The gasping voice had the similar lilt to Carrick. But it was smoother, almost a gentle stream in summer contrasted to the raging river swollen after the melting snow. As the two men tousled a little in the darkness, she once again edged backwards. She had to get away, Carrick had been warned, her clan's men were out in force and for some reason she thought this was a good idea. Fool. Carrick may have called this new male a fool, but she should have it carved into her forehead at the actions she had pulled to be here at this moment.

"Carrick, the forest is swarming with her clan's men. Yet you are here, trying to play hero once more, like some tragedy play. Little woman lures the foolish man out to the slaughter." Another grunt came seconds later. The smaller shadow hunching over as Carrick loomed over him. Isla took another step. But the voices froze her to the spot.

Gordon's irritating tone filtered through, "...light...this direction..."

"You really want to fight over her? Shouldn't we be out trying to make sure her Clansmen do not find our camp? You're supposed to be the laying false trails." The newcomer's voice was raising, showing her clansmen just where they were.

"Carrick?" Her tentative voice did not shatter the silence as she hoped it would. A whisper of sound which barley carried. Though his name rolled through her as if she had always been saying it, always known it.

"Was she worth it? Worth the safety of our home? Worth the safety of the men?" He was getting louder. And the louder he got, the closer Gordon came. The closer Gordon came, the less chance she had of escaping without notice.

"...hear them...this way...unawares..."

"Carrick!" Her whisper shout was at least heard this time. Though the reaction was from the wrong man.

"How does she know your name?" This new comer really was the 'Fool' Carrick believed him to be.

Carrick really could not believe his brother at this moment. "From you." His brother may be shrouded in darkness, but he could almost hear him think through his words. "Com, you showed the enemy where we are. And gave Isla my name."