Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
T he siege wore on, the days passing by slowly, until Isla realized that she and Ballentine’s army had been camped outside her front door for a week. For much of that week, she had been free of the ropes which had confined her and caused her such discomfort. Her wounds were already starting to heal, and she had even gotten used to sharing the cot with Ewan.
In fact, she had gotten used to being in his company all the time, watching his face from across the table while they ate together, touring the camp with him, scouting on horseback, always at his side as she listened to him speak to his men. Even against her will, he continued to impress her with his natural warmth, his capabilities, and his firm but fair approach to leadership. Not to mention the small matter of his incredible good looks, which despite herself, grew on her daily.
However, throughout everything, she felt she was living a double life. It was a terrible strain on her nerves, for she could never relax, never be herself. On the one hand, she was embedded in camp life, and apart from Colin, the men seemed to have accepted the story explaining her presence.
On the other, her mission to destroy Ewan before he could destroy Gregory and everything she held dear was always near the forefront of her mind. How could it not be with her own brother and their entire clan under siege in her home only a few hundred yards away?
In quiet moments, she worried about Gregory and the toll the siege must be having on him, and Kelvin and Domhnall and Connor too, lifelong friends and protectors to a man. She also wondered what he made of her disappearance and how that might be affecting him. She prayed for two things: for Gregory to change his mind and sue for peace with Ewan, or for Laird Allen and his troops to arrive and save the day.
But she had no intention of simply sitting back and waiting for either of those things to occur. She had her self-imposed mission, and so she spent a lot of time trying to figure out a way to assassinate Ewan, successfully this time. But since he had taken all lethal weapons out of her reach and was much stronger than her, she could see no way of besting him, certainly not if it came to a fight—she had no wish to die at his hands. If that happened, she would no longer be able to protect Gregory. No, she had to find another way.
There was another problem too, one she could never have foreseen, which had come upon her slowly and took a lot of swallowing. It put her under pressure to act quickly because it threatened to undermine her resolve to carry out her mission. She had already admitted to herself from day one that Ewan was powerfully attractive, purely on the basis of his rugged, masculine good looks. It affected her, especially while lying next to him in the narrow cot at night or watching him wash in the mornings. Watching him do anything really.
However, by constantly reasoning that his braw looks were skin deep, that character was what counted, and however attractive he was, he was still the enemy and deserved to die, she had been able to manage that aspect so far. Or so she told herself.
And even though she thought his offer of peace far more reasonable than Gregory’s refusal of it, and she respected his wisdom and abilities as leader. And although she was grateful he had protected her and spared her life, Gregory’s safety came first, even if Ballentine had to die to ensure it. Or so she told herself.
But there lay the crux of this new problem—she was starting to like Ewan. If she were being totally honest with herself, she already liked him. A lot. Certainly more than she should, and she felt very guilty about it. She tried not to like him, she tried her hardest to continue hating him. But in her secret heart, living night and day in such intimate circumstance with the man was getting to her. She was starting to fear that if the siege went on much longer, she would be unable to bring herself to kill him, and all would be lost.
Then, a few days later, something happened that seriously brought the threat home to her in way that could not be ignored. They had just entered the second week of the siege, and as she toured the camp at Ewan’s side one morning, she noticed the men seemed to be in unusually high spirits. It soon became clear why.
It tuned out that over the days of the siege, carts loaded with various supplies bound for delivery to the castle had been periodically turning up, only to be intercepted by Ewan’s men, who had been confiscating and stockpiling the contents. Among these deliveries were quantities of wine, ale, whisky, preserved meats, imported fruits, and many other expensive delicacies.
“I think we should put all this to good use and have a wee feast tonight,” Ewan told Isla as they inspected the booty. It was being stored in a large wagon, which had also been confiscated. “The lads need some distraction, and they deserve some fun,” he added with a grin, looking happier than she had seen him.
“I wouldnae be averse tae havin’ some fun mesel’,” Isla confessed truthfully. “I never realized how boring sieges were fer those on the outside.” In admitting this, she felt a terrible pang of guilt for looking forward to enjoying what had been taken from her brother and her clan.
“Me neither,” Ewan agreed as they covered the piles of goods back up and walked away from the wagon. “’Tis a first fer me too. Aye, a wee celebration would be just the thing tae break the monotony and cheer everybody up.”
Isla’s hopes rose that she might find a chance to sneak back to the castle under cover of the party. She decided she had to play it by ear. As they continued on their way, Ballentine gave orders for the celebration to go ahead, although supplies of alcohol were to be severely limited.
“Why is that?” Isla asked him, confused. “I always thought soldiers drank like fish.”
“I never allow drunkenness in me camp. It creates a lack of discipline, and if there’s an emergency, I need every man tae be alert, includin’ ye,” he told her.
She nodded, understanding the wisdom behind his insistence, and finding herself admiring the way he always seemed to put his men and his duty first. “I dinnae hardly drink,” she replied, forgetting she was supposed to have met the man who hired her to kill him in inn. “But I’m sure I’ll enjoy the party anyway.”
That evening, instead of eating supper in the tent, they went with everyone else to the rallying point. Isla was amazed to see how the cooks had laid out trestles loaded with all the confiscated supplies. In addition, someone had killed a boar, and it was turning on a spit, filling the air with the mouthwatering aromas of roasting meat.
“That’s quite a feast!” she exclaimed in wonder before her thoughts turned to those inside the castle. There would be no such feasting for them, and she could not help wondering how long the supplies she had so recently inventoried would last. With so many people needing to be fed, even with the supplies the farmers had brought with them, she was sure it could only be a few weeks.
But when the boar was carved and the meat piled onto plates and passed around, she gave herself over to savoring the juicy meat, enjoying the brief respite from the strain she was under. As she was eating, she noticed that Ewan was almost like another person. He transformed into a jovial host, joking, laughing, full of bonhomie for his men, the life and soul of the party. However, she also noticed he drank only a little ale. She watched him, wondering if this was what he was like when he was not commanding his army.
He kept her close to his side at all times, and though she was essentially his captive and under his control, she realized she felt safe being with him, able to share in the carefree celebration. Thus, when he came to her and said, “I think we should leave the men tae enjoy themselves now. We should go back tae the tent,” she was a little disappointed. However, she knew there was no point arguing with him.
“All right, but can we take some of the food back with us? I’m still hungry, and there are still a few things I havenae tried yet.”
“Good idea,” he agreed. They selected the food they wanted and, after bidding the cheery company a good night, strolled back to the tent in good spirits.
Once back inside, they took off their boots and made themselves comfortable, setting out the little feast on the table and eating whatever they fancied with their fingers.
“I must say I was glad of that roasted boar,” Isla remarked after a while, savoring the sweet taste of juicy preserved cherries on her lips.
“Oh, why’s that?” Ewan asked, popping salted almonds into his mouth and crushing them loudly between his teeth.
“The smell of it cookin’ almost wiped out the stink of a hundred-odd men who’ve been stuck in a confined space fer far too long without a proper wash,” she said, grinning.
He laughed. “Ah, aye, that stink! I ken it well, unfortunately.”
“Mmm, ’tis a very distinctive aroma. I think I prefer the smell of a stable.”
“Are ye sayin’ horse dung daesnae stink as bad as me brave lads?”
“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’. Tae be fair, I’ve nae personal experience, but I’m sure it must apply to all soldiers stuck in military camps like this, nae just yer men.”
“That makes me feel a whole lot better.” He chuckled. “I havetae admit ye’re right. But ’tis nae always easy tae keep clean when ye’re out in the field. There’s nay nice bathhouse, nay laundry, and the enemy usually stinks just as bad, so he daesnae mind.”
“Och, please dinnae tease me with such words as “bathhouse.” It makes me think of hot water and laying in a lovely steamin’ hot bath in front of the fire. I cannae tell ye how much I crave that.” Ewan looked at her curiously as she popped another preserved cherry into her mouth and regarded her rumpled, grubby outfit. She wrinkled her nose. “Come tae think of it, I’ve been wearing these same clothes fer days and days. I cannae smell too good mesel’.”
“Aye, I was wonderin’ when ye’d notice. We’ll make a proper soldier of ye yet!” he joked, and they both laughed, sharing a momentary reprieve from their situation.
“Maybe I could go down and bathe in the loch,” she suddenly said. “Honestly, I’ve never felt so filthy in me life. I’m nae sure I can stand being like this much longer without goin’ mad. It would be wonderful tae be clean again.”
“Hmm, that wouldnae be such a good idea,” he replied, shaking his head before throwing some more nuts into his mouth. “It would be very risky tae leave the camp just now, and especially nae durin’ the day. And there’d be hell tae pay if any of the men saw ye without yer clothes on.”
“Ach, I suppose ye’re right,” she had to agree, bitterly disappointed. But then an idea came to her. “Hold on, I think someone mentioned a pond, over there in the trees.” She knew very well where the pond was. She had swum in it many times, just as she had the loch. But she could not tell him that, of course. “Could we go there perhaps? There’d nae be anyone there at this time of night. We’d have it all tae ourselves.”
Ewan was examining a small lemon tart. Apparently satisfied with it, he ate it with obvious relish.
“Could we?” Isla asked again, loathe to give up on the idea of bathing.
He chewed the tart, his eyes on hers. He swallowed and said, “I dinnae ken. It may be dangerous.”
“How? There’s nae one around tae see us. Please, m’laird.”
He snorted with laughter. “Stop yer wheedlin’, I’m thinkin’ about it. And stop callin’ me “m’laird. It sounds like ye’re bein’ sarcastic. Me name’s Ewan, as well ye ken, so ye might as well use it, Annie Dean .” He spoke the name mockingly, telling her he did not believe it was hers.
She ignored the barb and gazed at him, doing her best to persuade him with her eyes. “Very well, pretty please, Ewan .”
They laughed together. “Och, all right,” he said eventually. “I suppose if I’m with ye, ye can come tae nae harm. I quite fancy a dip mesel’.”
Isla jumped from her seat and clapped her hands, full of excitement. “Och, thank ye, thank ye, Ewan. If ye’ll lend me a clean shirt and stockings, I’ll be forever grateful.”
“Aye, ye ken where they are. I suppose ye might as well bring some fer me as well.”
She hurried to his storage chest, extracted two sets of clean things, and bundled them under her arm. She was thrilled she had managed to get him to agree to her plan. She was even more excited at the prospect of bathing than she had been about the party.
“Come on then,” he told her, heading for the exit. “Keep yer head low and stick by me.”
“But I’m the one who kens the way,” she pointed out as they slipped out into the night.
“Well, in that case, I’ll stick by ye,” he said.
They stifled their giggles as they set off for the perimeter of the camp. “Sounds like the party’s still in full swing,” Ewan added as the sound of a fiddle and men singing along to a jaunty tune floated to them on the otherwise still air.
“It’ll keep them distracted while we’re at the pond,” Isla said as they left the camp, her feet moving surely along the path even in the moonlit darkness.