The Chattan men had done all they could now and would have to be content watching Bamborough's soldiers defending their home. Alysandir watched the field very closely. The war engines were a great success, the men were well trained, he could not have asked for a smoother battle, except that their commander was nowhere in sight. Gilbert was nowhere to be seen. At mid-day the scouts he sent returned to report that it was Gilbert's first that commanded the men in his absence.
"He's a coward," Edward concluded. "It is like him to let his men do the dirty work while he waits at home for word."
"It's not the battle he cares about," Thom spoke Alysandir's fear. "He knows you don't care about it either. He'll make his move to capture Lady Isabel and beat a hasty retreat. He can claim Bamborough whenever he returns with a debased and dejected woman or simply with their child."
Isabel had languished the morning away trying in vain to comprehend the knots that bound her. She would be damned before she would allow her husband to come back and untie her. She called in the guards in an attempt to trick them into releasing her, but they had strict orders.
"You are very young," she told them both. "You are probably guarding me because you are not trusted on the battlefield either. You see, you have small arms. They probably think that that means you are not strong enough to defend yourself or your homes. I say differently," she tried to connive.
"I'm sorry, Lady Isabel. We cannot untie you. We were told that it would be punishable by death," said the young blond soldier.
"I like my head where it is, Lady Isabel. Please don't ask us to disobey."
"He would never kill you for setting me free," she objected honestly.
The brown haired soldier shuffled his feet. "We heard about the girl who attacked you and left those scars on your hands. We don't want to end up like her."
"Safe in a tower, you mean?" she asked irritably.
"No. We heard she had a right painful death. The Laird took no mercy on her even though she belonged to him long before he was wed to you. If he won't take pity on his betrothed, I do not want to make him angry," the blond soldier nodded.
"We hate to leave you like this, Lady Isabel. It pains my eyes and my heart, but you are more merciful than Laird Alysandir so I'll not disobey."
"So if I were more ruthless, you would obey me?" she asked in surprise.
"More ruthless than the Laird? That would be impossible," the brown haired soldier shook his head.
"When I get out of my bonds, I will remember this. I may not decapitate you, but I will make you wish that I had," she threatened with her glare.
The two young soldiers made a hasty retreat out of the chambers and closed the door.
It was a while later that Isabel heard the footsteps of Annie coming down the hall. Perhaps it was not Annie, she thought listening to the length of the stride. But the hobble was there. Her nerves were tingling and she began to struggle harder to get out of the ropes. Her wrists were bleeding from the effort.
The soldiers greeted Annie in a pleasant voice, but forbid her entrance. The thud of two bodies quickly followed. The door swung open, and a cloaked and hunched Gilbert dragged the two young boys into the room and closed the door again. He ripped off his cloak and looked at the bound Isabel in complete surprise.
"This makes things easier," he commented. "I wondered what could possibly keep you from the battle today when I didn't see you." He walked around her slowly, checking all of the places she usually kept her knives stashed on her body. "No weapons? Damned husband, right? Tie you, disarm you, humiliate you." He laughed briefly. He enjoyed this thoroughly. "You don't look very afraid of me, Isabel."
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Chattan Bride
Historical FictionREADERS' FAVORITE FIVE STAR AWARD WINNER - As the daughter of a strong English baron, Isabel is compelled by peace negotiations to become the child-bride of the enemy, the powerful, handsome and fierce Scottish Laird of the Chattan clan, Alysandir...