Page 45 of When a Highlander Vows (Enemies to Lovers #1)

1650

Jack Lyons dismounted his stallion when he reached the main market of the small village settlement, Glencoe. As his boots hit the ground, he marched toward the crowd of villagers gathered and tried to make his way to the front.

“My Laird,” a guard greeted as soon he saw him. Jack nodded once then looked from the guard to the crowd of villagers chanting praises in native Gaelic. He enjoyed riding out to the villages to watch his people whenever they held celebrations in the market square. His Clan was small, but the people enjoyed their feasts and gatherings.

“What is goin’ on?” Jack asked as he rubbed a hand over his jaw.

“The people are celebratin’ their champion in the joustin’ competitions. Sir Cristian Meade won the final rounds, and the people sing his praises.”

“Cristian Meade?” Jack asked, not knowing who his guard was referring to.

“Aye, My Laird… he’s of House Meade, and he is a knight. A new Knight added to our guards.”

Jack nodded, then turned away from the scene. Another of his guards had taken his horse to tie it in a corner, and as he strolled around the market in silence, he inspected his surroundings.

Glencoe was one of the small settlements of Clan Humphreys and Jack was Laird of the people here and in the other two settlements, Birlet Shallows and Onich. He liked to keep himself informed on the happenings among his people. Even though Birlet Shallows and Onich were far off, he still had a tight grip on the happenings there and got his reports from the village head and guards.

“The rains last night destroyed the vineyards in the Castle,” his guard reported. Jack glanced at him before the man added, “The council wants a meeting. They want to decide what happens next. As soon as winter comes, Clan Humphreys might not have enough to sustain itself and it is predicted to be a long winter this year.”

“Cancel the council meetin’,” Jack answered. “I will call one when it pleases me.”

“My Laird—”

“I have only just returned from the great market of Birlet Shallows, and I willnae have the council tell me what to do with the proceedin’s of the sales this time. I ken how to rule my people, and I will do just that,” he contended before he combed his fingers through his hair. “I will ride back to the Castle, stay with the men and continue inspections.”

Jack did not miss the stiff set line on the guards’ lips as he bowed his head in agreement. “Aye, My Laird.”

He watched the guard walk away from him and sighed. What was the point of all this? He did his best to make sure his people were safe most times, but his councilmen still bothered more about calling meetings to discuss his love life.

Jack’s muscles strained because he knew it was all they wanted to talk about in their small meeting.

Everything he had done in the past eight years was for his people, and yet the small council always found a way to either thwart or frustrate his plans simply because it did not suit their needs.

While Jack was more concerned about the well-being of the Clan and making sure he could provide protection for every man, his council was more concerned with matters of his life and heirs. They wanted him to take a lady wife, bed her and make sons.

That will not help the Clan survive.

Jack was lost in his thoughts and didn’t realize he had walked far off from the market toward the vast expanse of lands covered in lush grass. As he admired the lush fields, he remembered the dream he had the previous night. The images were vivid in his head. Jack recalled the scent of roses that invaded his senses as he moved close to the woman standing with her back to him in his Castle’s dungeons, and the shiver that raced through him when he had put a hand on her shoulder to stir her in his direction.

He woke up before he saw the woman’s face, but that little scene was etched into his memory like it was one of importance.

Time to get back to the Castle, he thought, dragging his thoughts back to reality before turning and walking back toward the market. He didn’t make it far before he heard a loud, horrifying scream that cut through his hearing and pierced at his heart.

Jack raced toward the direction of the scream. When he rounded the corner around a cottage closest to the village, saw a woman struggling to push the men who held her away.

She was small compared to their larger frames and nothing she did could ever make her break free from them.

His first instinct whenever he saw anyone in trouble was to jump in and save the day, but Jack froze in his steps when the woman’s head whipped in his direction and his gaze landed on hers.

She had the deepest shade of green eyes he had ever seen. Her short wavy, black hair tumbled down to her shoulder blades, and he didn’t need to get too close to see the creamy white shade of her skin, and the hue of crimson on her cheeks.

An instant tingle raced through his body, his muscles tightened a bit, but the woman yelled again, and this time her words sounded like curses.

“Let me go,” she continued as the man holding her arm laughed loud and then sneered.

She’s English, Jack realized when he heard her clear intonation and language. She was also spirited as she struggled even in the face of danger.

“What do ye think ye’re doin’?” Jack roared in a loud voice to get her attacker’s attention. Once the three men turned in his direction fully, he marched toward them and took out his sword sheathed to his side. “Let the lass go.”

“She isnae a Scottish lass,” one of them replied. “She’s nae from here, and we arenae either so we dinnae answer to ye.”

The woman whimpered as the man suddenly grabbed her tight against his body and put the dirk he held to her neck.

Jack’s blood surged forth in a rush that filled him with anger.

His gaze narrowed on the woman again. Jack had never seen a color like the one she was wearing. He didn’t know what to call it, but the shade made her skin look even more appealing.

Her lips trembled as they parted slightly. The full-skirt dress she wore clung tight to her body and the bodice pushed her feminine parts up, exposing lovely, creamy skin at her chest.

“We will take the lass into one of these caves and we will do as we please with her,” one of the men said to Jack. His voice was barely audible as Jack stared at the mesmerizing woman.

What is this pool of heat settling inside me? He had never felt anything like it, and it was instant. He couldn’t tear his eyes off her but when he saw her attacker press his blade deeper into her neck, his already tense muscles strained.

“Let her go now,” Jack threatened as he tightened his grip on the head of his sword. “If ye want to live ye will do as I say.”

“What will ye do otherwise?” another man of the three asked, then they all laughed and started to chatter in an ancient Gaelic dialect he didn’t fully understand.

Jack took one menacing step toward the men, then he raised his sword. “Release her,” he ordered again.

He saw a tear slide down the woman’s cheek, and that surprisingly made his heart ache. He couldn’t understand the feeling, but he pushed it aside. What mattered first was that he free her from these men.

“Sheath yer sword, my man,” the man holding her captive said. “We will fight ye either way.”

Jack got his opportunity when the first two men approached him with their swords drawn for battle. He moved quickly and all his skill came into play. In minutes, he had put them down, and he was faced with only one opponent left.

The woman he was trying to save had squeezed her eyes shut and she was crying harder now. Jack motioned for the man to come at him, and he lunged forward when the man pushed her to the ground and attacked him.

Jack cut him down too, then sheathed his sword, hurried toward the woman, and lifted her to her feet with both hands. It was then he caught the scent of roses that clung to her. His insides quivered because of it instantly, and a craving stirred up inside him as his gaze dropped to her lips.

“Ye are safe now,” he said to her, then gathered her close before he could stop himself. “Ye are safe.”

She leaned closer to him and sobbed for a while. Jack lifted his hand and patted her back gently, hoping to ease her fear and panic so he could speak to her and find out if she was lost.

He had never met a woman in all the Highlands who would dress so provocatively, or one who would look so refined as she.

“Are ye all right now?” he asked her in a soft voice; she hiccupped as she pulled back from him. The woman wiped her hands over her cheeks and pressed her lips together.

Her left brow arched softly, before she shook her head. Jack did not think she heard him, so he tried again. “Are ye all right? Are ye hurt anywhere?”

“No, I am not,” she answered. “Thank you for saving my life.” Their gazes merged for a moment, and she blew out air from her lips before she continued. “I am Isla… Isla Lambert,” she introduced and extended a hand like Jack was supposed to somehow know who she was.

When Jack did not move to place his hand in hers, she spoke again.

“I need to find Birlet Shallows,” she said in response to his question. Jack’s forehead squeezed into numerous deep lines, and he stared at her confusion as she repeated the statement in a clearer accent.

“I need to find Birlet Shallows. I need to go back to the fair happening there… I don’t know how I got lost.”

“What fair?” he asked her.

“The Great Fair of Birlet Shallows,” she answered. “The one that happens right before Lammas, the Scottish tradition.”

“The fair doesnae happen for three months, and Birlet Shallows is miles from here,” he answered her while maintaining his frown. “Have ye hurt yer head, Lass? I can help ye if ye are lost.”

Jack saw her blink twice as her face paled further. “I don’t understand what you mean,” she said. “There’s a fair… in the Birlet Shallows village. I was right there with my friends and then there was this fortune teller, and a medallion and—” she was ranting.

He gave the woman one long hard look and contemplated leaving her there again, but her gaze met and pinned his again, and the same tingle dashed through his heart and softened it.

“Ye should come with me,” he suggested, “else ye might get attacked by the highwaymen again. They are ken to roam the streets of this village.”

“Come with ye where?” she asked as she eyed him warily.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and answered. “To my Castle in Onich. Humphreys Castle. I am Laird Humphreys, and I will help ye.”