15. Neighbors

     To my dismay, Michael Davies was only a passable rider at best, and I quickly grew impatient with the slow pace we were forced to keep. “I’ll just ride a bit ahead... See how the next patch is, and then we’ll come right back,” I said, taking my small party of guards forward to mark out the next tentative path for the roadway.
     Ian barked out a few orders to my guards before turning to me. “Mind yourself, my lady,” the lieutenant commander said with a meaningful look at the bow. 
     “Yes, Lieutenant Commander,” I replied, meekly nocking an arrow, and he gave me a very skeptical look. Like, almost insultingly so. “What? I am capable of compliance, you know,” I tossed over my shoulder before riding off. Dormer rode out in front, followed by me, with Avery and Ross bringing up the rear.
   We made several trips, each time looping back to the rest of our party until I grew bored of the snail’s pace and dragged my guards off again, picking their brains about this and that. Davies would perform a double check of our markings from behind. It would slow down that half of the party a bit, but it hardly seemed to make much difference at the pace he was riding anyway. 
   This place was gorgeous. It was all greenery and cedar forest, with sporadic, breathtaking glimpses of the ocean and shore. And I’d decided on a name: West Beach. We would start with the West Beach Shipbuilding Company. And maybe West Beach Pub and Grill right next door - after all, the employees would need someplace to drink after a long day of... shipbuilding. And they would need a place to live. West Beach Cabins and Condos? I’d work on some names--
    The sound of the nearby ocean was loud, but there was a rhythmic noise getting louder and louder. What the hell was that? “Do you hear that?” 
   “What is that?” Dormer said. He pressed his heels into the mare’s sides and moved ahead of me.
   “Wait...” I slowed Clover. “Is that chopping?” I was suddenly covered in goosebumps. Run. “Guys,” I whispered, “something’s wrong.” Run, Pele. Run!
     But it was too late.
     Ahead of us, a large tree came crashing to the ground blocking our trail and suddenly it was chaos. A shot rang out and Dormer’s horse startled, rearing up and throwing him to the ground as she took off. Clover shuffled nervously, but remained steady. Behind me, I heard a cry of alarm and the sounds of struggle. 
     I didn’t dare turn around. 
    A group of filthy, threatening men brimming with nefarious intent had burst forth from the brush in front of us, quickly disarming the cadet officer; from the look in Dormer’s eyes, the same thing awaited behind me. We had been ambushed.

     “Avery? Ross?” My hands were steady, I noticed, thinking in a very detached, out-of-body sort of way that Ian had been wise in compelling me to stay armed and ready...
     “Still behind you, my lady,” Dormer replied, falling silent as one of the ambushers brandished a blade near his face.     

     “What do you want?” I asked, searching their faces as I fought to remain composed. I didn’t see anything approaching reason, or calm, or interest in a conversation. I only saw unsettling hunger.     

     Suddenly, I was back at Tavern Rock.
     Don’t panic, I counseled myself. Breathe.
     I found myself aiming my arrow, my legs steadying the mare beneath me. “What do you want?” I repeated. My voice was extra high. Those fuckers laughed at me, inching closer. The only thing they were worried about was the horse; they barely glanced at my bow. 
     One of them spat into the brush. “We were coming out to look for you.” The laughter that accompanied that statement was not the assuring type.
     “Stay back,” I warned them. “I will defend myself--”
     A particularly burly, vicious looking creature lunged at me, and instinct took over. My arrow flew true, piercing him in the torso. “Oh, shit,” I breathed, horrified. And yet, I had already nocked another arrow without even thinking about it, giving the others pause. I kneed Clover, turning her carefully. “Leave us alone!” There were far too many of them for me to fight alone, and all three of my guards had been incapacitated in a blink.
     The bearded man scowled at me hatefully. Their leader. “Charge her!” He screamed, and they did.
     I fired two more arrows into the group before they got to the horse’s reins and yanked me from her back, screaming bloody murder. I reached for my dagger, but it was gone. I kicked and punched, bit and scratched, finally breaking free from their clutches. I screamed as I ran, making it only a few yards before one of them tackled me, knocking me down. I cursed my layers of clothing and their hampering weight. I grunted as I hit the ground, grasping desperately for anything I could use as a weapon.
     My hand closed around a rock, and I thanked the universe for the gift.
     I swung hard, cracking him in the head then scrambling backwards as he released me, his hands flying to his face as he screamed in pain. I only made it a few more yards before another one caught me. “Let me go!” I screamed as he grabbed me, hauling me up by the arm.
     “You bitch,” he growled, yanking me forward by my jacket. He slapped me, hard, and I cried out as I staggered in his grasp, my head ringing. From the corner of my eye, the man I had hit with the rock was barrelling towards me, a terrifying look of rage on his face. I twisted, trying to get away, but the man holding me had a firm grasp and I couldn’t get free from my jacket. I heard Dormer yell out something in my defense before someone knocked him down, and tensed for the blows I knew were coming.

     Wham! He punched me in the stomach and I doubled over, gasping for air. Who would’ve thought? I could have used a corset right now. No one was holding me, I realized. I couldn’t breathe, but I could try to run, even if adrenaline was the only thing keeping me going. I staggered away and coughed, fumbling to unbutton my jacket. The next man caught the outer layer, yanking me back and grabbing my arm before I could shrug my way free of the garment. I gasped again, finally managing to get a breath. Sort of. 
     He moved to slap me and I shrank away, which he liked. He didn’t like that I raised my forearm to block my face and head, and balled his hand up into a fist instead. 
     “Bring her over here!” Screamed out the guy with the thick beard. 
     My captor paused, then shook me violently. Coughing, I twisted against his thumb but his reflexes were quick, and he caught me before I could get farther than a step away from him.
     “That’s enough of that,” he growled, picking me up and tossing me over his shoulder. He spanked, then squeezed, my upturned rear through my skirt to the uproarious laughter of the others. I screamed in outrage and drove my elbow into his spine, hard enough to make him stagger but not hard enough to get free.
     Someone screamed “Hold her down!”
     My blood went cold. I screamed again. This time I screamed for Ian.
     I was unceremoniously tossed onto the ground in the center of the group, landing on my ass with a thud. Detachedly, I saw that Dormer, Ross and Avery had been bound and gagged, bloodied and disarmed, and were being held at bladepoint. By their own blades.
     We were all going to die. 
     “MacFaddon!” Someone whooped, and the leader sauntered up to me, rubbing his crotch and grinning. 
     “No,” I whispered, scrambling backwards on my hands and back. One of the bystanders on the outside of the circle stopped me with his boot, shoving me back towards the center with a cruel laugh. Musn’t let the entertainment escape.
     The leader cackled. “Keep her still,” he ordered. One of his foul-smelling lackeys rushed forward to oblige, throwing himself over to pin me by the shoulders and arms, pressing me roughly onto my back with a move that also restricted my ability to fight back. 
     I was exhausted, and it was all surreal. The bandits were cheering. My guards were struggling against their restraints. They might get free; their sentries were very engrossed in my impending abuse. Clover was distraught, I noticed idly. Poor girl.
     The leader knelt down at my feet, giving me an evil grin that revealed a mouth full of rotting teeth. He pushed up my skirts, and his cronies crowed in glee, screaming out encouragement. “Open your legs,” he said, and I shook my head, giving him a silent, defiant glare. They were clamped shut and would stay that way, fuck you very much. He slapped me. In a last, panicked burst of energy, I kicked out at him, and he leaned over me, wrapping a hand around my throat. “Goddamn cunt,” he growled, as he started to squeeze. A choked sob escaped me. I hadn’t even realized I was crying, but now I could feel the tears running into my ears. Ross was yelling something at me. It was meant to be supportive, I gathered. I closed my eyes. I didn’t need to see any of their faces for what would come next. At least maybe I would be unconscious before he managed to rape me.

     Small mercies.

     The weight on my shoulders shifted hastily, and then was gone; the pressure on my throat and legs quickly followed. I took a ragged breath. The sound of gunfire, first one shot, and then another, jerked my eyes open. I was just in time to see my would-be rapist deftly disemboweled with a rapier, spraying me with blood. I gasped out, clapping a hand over my mouth. Then Lieutenant Commander Coventry strode into my eyeline, backlit by sunlight as he delivered another fatal stroke to the already dead man. He aimed his pistol next, grim and focused as he fired at a foe then quickly reloaded.
     The cavalry had arrived.

​

     Most of what happened during that time I’ve gotten from the others; to my memory, it’s mostly a jumbled mess of screaming and running and blood.

     The first two shots were fired by Graham Andrews and Yvonne. Yvonne I had seen once before, on the wagon with Mr. Andrews outside that night at the Wallingtons’ dinner party.  
     Out of fourteen attackers, only five were left alive. The rest had been foolish enough to fight back or attempt to run.

     “Isabelle?” 
     I didn’t know how long Ian had been saying my name. “I fought.” I nodded. Anne would be proud of me. “I think I killed someone,” I confessed to him. “Am I going to be in trouble?” My face was wet again. 

​

     Ian holding me securely in front of him on the dark stallion was the next thing I remembered. That, and the shame of needing help to mount. I leaned into him and closed my eyes.   
     Nine dead. Two were unmistakably mine.
     Arrow wound to the gut.
     Arrow to the leg.
     The five survivors marched ahead of us, tightly bound together and herded. 
     Ross had been wounded the most severely, bleeding from a cut to his side. It had been easy enough for me to help him - at least, once Ian was sufficiently satisfied that I wasn’t about to faint or die on the spot. I had a first aid kit on Clover, or the closest approximation to one I could make in this time: clean water and cloth, needle and thread, soap and rum.

     “Pour the rum on my hands first,” I heard myself instructing the soldier who had brought over the kit. I already had them staunching the bleeding and I thought clean hands would serve him better than rushing over to add more dirt to his wounds. I leaned forward to look Ross over, ignoring the tenderness in my torso. “This is going to hurt.” He gritted his teeth, nodding at me. I pressed down on his wound with a wad of linen, hard. After a few minutes, I took a look, quickly flushing the area with clean water. I sighed with relief as I got a clear view of his wound; it was a clean slice, and the blade hadn’t pierced the muscle. He wouldn’t have had a chance if they had gotten his gut. Rum, linen. Yeah, I know, and if we were in a time period with antibiotics I would have done it the proper way. The alcohol seemed like a safer bet than the bacteria. Linen. Pressure. Ross groaned as I pressed down on his wound, counting in my head while I waited to see if the bleeding would slow. “Okay. Good.”

     Linen strips. Tight, but not too tight. I couldn’t remember whether or not stitches were advisable in this case but I knew the pressure dressing was important. If the bleeding stopped....he shouldn’t need stitches. I hoped. “You shouldn’t move. You need liquids. No alcohol,” I stopped his fellow soldier from handing him a flask, then reconsidered. “Just a little. For the pain. But you need broth, juice....” I had the other soldier apply pressure, then gave Ross water to drink before checking him again. He was still bleeding, a lot, and it would be nearly impossible for him to move without reopening the wound. Shit. I added more dressing, pressing down on him with all of my weight. Finally, the outer dressings stopped soaking through. “I think you’re going to need stitches.” I turned to Ian. “Do you have a medic or a doctor? I could do them, but...”  I lowered my voice. “My hands are still shaking.” And I’d never done it with 1649 tools. “Plus, I’d hate to throw up on him.” 

     “I have a great deal of practical experience,” Ian said somberly. Wordlessly, I cleaned his hands and handed over my kit. He inspected the needle and other supplies, nodding with approval before going to Ross. 

     “Help me,” one of the criminals demanded.

     Oh. I wondered where the third arrow I had fired had ended up. I sneered at him, admiring my handiwork. “You put an arrow in my shoulder, you bitch!” He screeched, lunging at me despite his bonds.

    Adrenaline shot through me analgesically. “Fucker!” I shrieked back at him, twisting the shaft and grinding it into his wound as hard as I could. 

     He sank to his knees screaming in pain. “I am not afraid of you!” I punctuated my statement with a swift kick to the ribs as he went down.
     With the exceptions of Graham, Yvonne, and Ian, my decidedly unladylike behavior left most of our party astounded, including the highwaymen. I’ll let you guess how many fucks I had to give about that - or about the fact that during the scuffle the shaft of the arrow broke, meaning that it would be even more difficult to extract the head.

 

     As I was riding with Ian, Clover was free, and it was decided that Ross would ride her to give him something of a break. For once, I didn’t have the energy to argue. I just leaned back against Ian in the saddle, shielded in his embrace.
     We rode back to our camp. The criminals would be sent from there to Fort St. Catherine’s. “They will be imprisoned and flogged while awaiting punishment,” the lieutenant commander said. 
     “And then what’s going to happen to them?” Ian was silent for a long moment before answering. Though his response involved bureaucratic phrasing like ‘weighing of their histories’, his voice belied his true feelings: he would much prefer to dump them in a shallow grave someplace.
     It was hard to focus on his words anyway. My attackers were leering at me and laughing amongst themselves, only feet away from the cooling corpses of their brethren. Despite their bondage and the uncertainty of their fates, the survivors didn’t look at all worried or afraid. 
     They were laughing at me. 
     “Excuse me,” I snarled, sweeping past Ian, whose eyes widened with alarm at my expression. Heads turned at the sound of my voice, and my breath caught. I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t bold and open belligerence. One of them spat at me, and one of the soldiers moved to strike him. I got there first. It was the one who had slapped me and then helped hold me down.
     I backhanded him. With my left hand. Huge, hard rings make great weapons. “You fucking piece of shit!” I kicked him as hard as I could in the ribs. When he fell over on his side, gasping for air, I kicked him in his now exposed balls. “How do you like that you worthless bastard!” He made a loud whining, wheezing sound. 
     Since I’d first put on that corset before Tavern Rock I’d been restraint incarnate. Well. Fuck. That. I’d been patient and understanding and yanked about since my sister had kidnapped me! I stomped on his fingers, twisting and grinding my heel into his hand. He screamed and I felt better. 

     “Lady Isabelle!” Cadet Officer Dormer gasped, horrified. From the corner of my eye, Ian motioned for his silence, willing to allow me to vent my rage despite how unladylike it might be.
     “You know what they did? On my own fucking land?” I punctuated that with another testicular blow, this one for the guy who had punched me in the stomach. He screamed to wake the dead. “Shut up, or I’ll kick you again.” He didn’t shut up. I know what I did. I did what I did. I’d do it every time. How could she! I punched him in the face. It hurt. “You made me hurt my hand!” I screamed at him, then kicked him in the stomach. “Fucker!”
     The next thing I knew, Ian had scooped me up into his arms and was carrying me away. My hands were covered in blood. Mr. Andrews and his friend Yvonne were speaking nearby. 
     “What happened?” Why was I cold?
     Josefa-Maria was cleaning my hands. Ian shook his head silently, looking disturbed. Neither of them would look at me. 
     “Your cat-like impression continues to impress, Lady Isabelle.” Andrews told me as he swiped with claws. 
     Ian threw him a dirty look. “You must rest,” he told me kindly. “You have suffered a great assault.” 
     “My face is wet,” I told them.
     “You were crying, my lady,” Josefa-Maria said quietly after a pause.
     “Oh.” I was starting to shake, and the various injuries I had collected were beginning to make themselves known. The adrenaline was finally wearing off. Oh god, it had been hours by now.
     Yvonne approached, carrying a basket of items. First, a fresh comfrey compress for my face. Next, she brought out a spoon and a small glass bottle. Laudanum. It was another one of those things from my historical romance novels. Opium and alcohol, and there was a reason they didn’t sell it in the 21st century. But when in Rome and in need of some numbing... I let her give me a dose. “Blugh!” It was all I could do not to spit it out.

   “Drink this wine, Lady Isabelle,” Josefa-Maria urged me. “It will help.” Yes, it would definitely help to chase opium and alcohol with more alcohol. I swallowed some anyway.
   “I need to speak to Lady Isabelle,” the lieutenant commander announced to everyone after Yvonne and Josefa-Maria had finished with me. It was the sort of voice that invited no reply, and they all cleared the space in a few short moments. “I will have you back to town on this very day.”
     I struggled to my feet in protest. “What? No!”

     “Isabelle,” he began in a stern tone.

     “No! I have a lot of things to finish here, and I will not be run off my land by a bunch of lawless, filthy, ill-bred, perverted, stupid vagrants!” I finished. I made sure to really belt it from my diaphragm to ensure my words reached the ears of those outside, even if it did ache a bit. “Mr. Davies and I still need go to over the budgets, and seed money, and--”

     The lieutenant commander’s eyes flashed angrily. “I am not of a mind to argue. Had you spoken to me before planning this misguided trip, I could have advised you of the dangers.” I opened my mouth to interrupt and he shut me down, holding up his hand in warning. Geez. “You will be returned to the Sea Wind this day, from where you may conduct all of your business. It is your choice entirely as to whether or not this happens of your own accord or if you are bound and carried onto the boat like livestock.” He all but snarled the last at me.

     I stared at him. “Are you serious?”

     “Do you sense that I am making merry with my words?” He stepped closer to me. “I will not see you harmed or attacked again. Do you understand me?” God. He sounded like Anne. “My lady?” He gritted through his teeth.

     I knew that returning to town was the pragmatic choice, but that didn’t make it any easier to capitulate. “Fine! I surrender to your overbearing and overprotective terms.” I crossed my arms, then glared at him, just in case he wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

     The lieutenant commander gaped back at me, then shook his head, jaw clenched. “I see the resemblance now. I really do not understand how your parents managed,” he whipped at me before turning on his heel.

​

     My second massacre in a month. Yvonne and Josefa-Maria wanted to get me into some clean clothing, but I was resistant. The idea of removing my clothing was abhorrent right now. The blood would soak out of the riding habit...I hoped. At least it was all dark-colored wool.

     “Lieutenant Commander, a word?” I heard Mr. Andrews speaking. “Yvonne would like to accompany your intended back to the town and remain in her company.  She has much she would like to discuss with Lady Isabelle regarding a partnership between our respective lands.  I’d be happy to pay for a room at the lady’s inn along with any expenses she incurs.”

     “Yvonne?” Ian gave the woman a deeply distrustful look, shaking his head. “I do not believe that Lady Isabelle is in a fit state at the moment to discuss the rigors of business.”   

     Mr. Andrews looked between Yvonne and myself several times. “One moment, Lieutenant Commander.” He moved to have a quick conversation with Yvonne, who looked...annoyed? He spoke to Ian again when he returned. “She has agreed to speak mainly with Davies until the lady is fit enough to make her own decisions.” I felt vaguely as though I ought to be offended, but I didn’t have the energy. Andrews glanced back at Yvonne again.  “How long do you figure that might be?”

     Ian looked like he wanted to throttle him for even asking. 

     “Right. I’ll speak with her again.” Andrews went back to Yvonne and had a further exchange. “I have advised her to be mindful,” Andrews said upon his return, rubbing his temples. He looked like he was getting a serious headache. I considered offering him the laudanum, then hiccuped and giggled.

     The drugs were hitting me.

     “Lady Isabelle?” Ian was sitting beside me, his pretty face wreathed in concern. 

     “Mmmm. Can I sleep on your shoulder?” I wrapped my arm around him and closed my eyes before he could respond.

​

     “Stick to her side, Davies,” Ian was saying quietly. “That woman Yvonne is a known wolf. Lady Isabelle is a lamb, despite her worldliness in some regards. You will very much need to serve as her representative, I believe.” 

     “Your lamb shall be safe with me, Coventry. I will not fail you.” Davies replied in a hushed tone. 

We were on a boat, I realized. Ian had carried me onboard and was holding me in his lap; someone had put a blanket over me. I snuggled into his chest and fell back asleep.