Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
T he first rays of dawn barely filtered through the room as Catherine stirred from her restless sleep. Her dreams had been a tangled mess of emotions, a reflection of the turmoil that had unfolded in her waking hours. She blinked away the sleep from her eyes, her mind slowly clearing.
A soft but persistent knock echoed through the room, drawing her attention. Catherine's heart leaped, thinking it might be Eamon returning. Clutching the blanket around her, she crossed the room and opened the door, her lips parting in anticipation.
However, it wasn't Eamon standing on the threshold. It was Peadar and Marc, two of Eamon's men who had accompanied them on their journey. Their faces were solemn, their eyes avoiding hers.
Peadar's rough voice broke the silence. "Good morrow, lass. Get dressed. Eamon asked us to take you back to the fort."
Catherine's brow furrowed in confusion, a mixture of emotions swirling within her. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her, her heart pounding. "Where's Eamon?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of accusation.
Marc scratched his head, his gaze shifting uncomfortably. "He left early, lass. We're to make sure you return safely."
Catherine's frustration began to boil over. She had so many questions, so many feelings left unsaid. "I need to speak to him," she asserted, her tone growing firm. She was tired from her fitful night sleep after he’d left her in anger over something she had no control over.
Peadar exchanged a glance with Marc before responding. "He's already on his way, lass. Gone more than an hour now."
Catherine's heart sank, as hurt and disbelief washed over her. She turned away from the door, her thoughts a jumble of anger and confusion. How could Eamon just leave without even saying goodbye? Did she mean nothing to him?
"Leave. I'll get dressed," she muttered, defeat and frustration filling her voice. She closed the door with a sharp click, the weight of the situation settling heavily on her shoulders. As she began to change, the room seemed colder, emptier, as if it held the echoes of what was lost between her and Eamon.
The tavern was alive with the bustling of travelers and villagers, the clinking of mugs and the hearty laughter of men sharing tales. Catherine sat at a corner table with Peadar and Marc, the aroma of a hearty breakfast filling the air around them. There were eggs, freshly baked bread, sizzling bacon, and a steaming bowl of porridge that emanated warmth and comfort.
As she ate, Catherine's thoughts swirled in a tempest of emotions. The food was rich and satisfying, yet her appetite was dampened by the weight of her thoughts. She glanced up from her plate, observing the people around her as they went about their morning routines.
In the midst of the tavern's energy, Catherine found a moment of quiet reflection. Her heart ached with the memory of Eamon's departure, his anger still fresh in her mind. She knew she had hurt him deeply, even though it hadn’t been her fault, and that weighed heavily on her conscience. It was a bittersweet irony that the man she cared for deeply was the one she had managed to hurt the most.
As she chewed on a piece of bacon, Catherine's thoughts turned to Sir Kellan. She had been charmed by his gestures and flattery at first, but it hadn’t taken her long to see through the facade. She’d felt a much deeper connection with Eamon from the moment she’d met him and had thought he’d felt the same.
With each bite of her breakfast, Catherine's resolve grew stronger. She needed to make Eamon realize that he was always the one she’d wanted to be with. Not Sir Kellan. She wasn’t going to lose him now. Not ever.
Finishing her meal, Catherine pushed her plate away and glanced at Peadar and Marc, who were engaged in a conversation of their own. The tavern's atmosphere buzzed around them, a mixture of voices and clatter that felt oddly comforting. She knew that the journey back to the fort wouldn't be easy, it had been a long trip to get this inn and it would be a long trip back.
The morning sun cast a golden hue over the landscape as Catherine mounted her horse, flanked by Peadar and Marc on their own horses. The rhythmic sound of hooves against the earth echoed in the stillness of the morning. They rode in silence, the vastness of the island stretching out before them.
As the miles passed beneath the horses’ hooves, Catherine's thoughts consumed her. She was acutely aware of the weight of her actions and the consequences they had brought. A sense of regret gnawed at her. She shouldn’t have given up on Eamon and turned to Sir Kellan. She knew that now, but she couldn’t take it back. She couldn’t undo what had happened. She could only move forward.
The landscape around them was breathtaking, the rolling hills and open fields seemingly untouched by time. But Catherine's mind was far from the beauty around her; instead, it was consumed by her own inner turmoil.
Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered as a group of men emerged from the cover of the trees, blocking their path. Bandits, their faces masked by dirt and determination, surrounded Catherine, Peadar, and Marc. The air grew tense, and the horses whinnied nervously in response to the threat.
Catherine's heart raced as she grasped the hilt of the dagger at her side, her instincts kicking in. The bandits demanded their belongings, their eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint. Peadar and Marc exchanged wary glances, their hands moving subtly toward their weapons.
Tension hung in the air, thick and palpable. Catherine's mind raced as she assessed the situation, her fingers gripping the hilt of her dagger tighter. She exchanged a quick glance with Peadar and Marc, a silent understanding passing between them. It was clear that their only option was to stand their ground and fight or die at the hands of these criminals.
With a sudden surge of adrenaline, the situation escalated into chaos. The bandits who were on foot lunged forward, and Catherine reacted instinctively, her body moving on pure reflex as she kicked out at the one coming toward her. Around her the clash of steel against steel rang out, punctuated by shouts and grunts as Peadar and Marc jumped from their horses to engage in battle with the bandits. Catherine fought fiercely from her saddle, her heart pounding as she defended herself.
Catherine's determination to protect herself and her companions was unyielding as she slashed the dirk at her opponent.
The clash continued, but the bandits gained the upper hand. Catherine's heart pounded in her chest as she found herself yanked from her horse, disarmed, and overpowered by the assailants.
Among the bandits, one figure stood out as the leader, a man with a fierce glint in his eye and an air of authority. This man was Ian MacCowan, the brother of William who they had encountered before. His voice carried a harsh edge as he issued orders to his men.
Before they could attempt an escape, Catherine, Peadar, and Marc found themselves bound and immobilized. Ropes dug into their skin as their hands were secured tightly behind their backs. The realization that they were now captives sent a surge of anxiety through Catherine's veins, her heart pounding in her chest.
Ian's cold gaze swept over the three of them, his expression devoid of any compassion. He spoke with a commanding tone, his voice laced with authority as he detailed his plan. It became clear that they were to become pawns in a dangerous game, a pawn that Ian intended to use to his advantage.
Amid the tension, Catherine exchanged a desperate glance with Peadar and Marc. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon them as they struggled against their restraints. The uncertainty of their fate loomed large, a stark reminder of the perilous world they inhabited.
Ian continued his orders, "Go! You tell Eamon MacDonald I want him to be the one to bring my brother to me. He shall meet us at the burned-out farmstead. Now!"
Peadar gave one last look at Catherine and Marc as he and one of Ian’s men rode out to carry the message to Fort Donald.
Fear and frustration surged within Catherine as she watched Peadar's departure with the masked man, her heart heavy with the knowledge that their lives now hung in the balance. The tension in the air was palpable, the threat of danger ever present as they awaited the outcome of this dangerous gamble.
Bound and vulnerable, Catherine's thoughts raced as she grappled with their dire predicament. The events had taken a drastic turn, their journey overshadowed by the shadow of impending danger. As they waited for their fate, Catherine's mind whirled with the desperate hope that Eamon wouldn’t abandon her now. That he loved her as much as she loved him and he come to her rescue.
Catherine's fiery spirit blazed as Ian tightened the ropes that bound her, she let loose a torrent of protest and harsh words. Her voice rang out, echoing with defiance as she hurled insults at Ian, her anger palpable in every word.
"You fucking bastard!" Catherine spat, her voice laced with venom. "You think you can just truss us up like animals and get away with it? Eamon is going to kill you, you fucker!" She could only hope that was true and that Eamon actually would come and get her out of this predicament.
Ian's response was a cold, humorless smile that only fueled Catherine's anger further. Despite the danger she was in, she refused to cower before him. Her spirit remained unbroken, her determination to resist shining through.
As Ian slung her over the back of the horse, Catherine's body tensed with the effort to stay on it. The rough motion only fueled her anger, but she refused to let it break her resolve. She cast a defiant glare at Ian as he tied Goldy’s lead to his saddle, her eyes burning with determination even as the situation grew more dire.
The journey that followed was uncomfortable and jarring, the rhythm of the horse's hooves creating a monotonous backdrop to Catherine's racing thoughts. Her mind churned with a mix of frustration, fear, and an unyielding determination to find a way out of this predicament.
The burned ruins where they eventually arrived cast an eerie shadow over their surroundings. Catherine's heart sank at the sight, the devastation serving as a stark reminder of the ruthless actions of the bandits. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the desolation, her thoughts turning to the perilous situation they now found themselves in.
As she was pulled from the horse and led to a makeshift resting place, Catherine's mind raced with possibilities. She knew that time was of the essence, that their only chance lay in the actions of their allies. The ropes that bound her felt like a tangible reminder of her vulnerability, but they also fueled her determination to fight for her freedom.
Despite the circumstances, Catherine's spirit remained unyielding. Her eyes flashed with defiance as she met Ian's gaze, her voice steady as she spoke her mind. "You may have us for now, but you won’t for long, I can assure you. And when we’re free, we’re going to kill you."
Ian's response was a chilling smile that sent shivers down Catherine's spine. She knew that the hours ahead would be fraught with uncertainty and danger, but she also knew that the flame of hope still burned within her. As she awaited her fate in the burned ruins, Catherine's thoughts turned to Eamon, the man whose presence had ignited her heart and whose absence now weighed heavily on her mind. With his memory as her anchor, she steeled herself for the trials that lay ahead, determined to weather the storm, and emerge stronger on the other side.