Page 17 of Abducted By the Highlander
The men had now turned their attention to the horses, leaving a smaller chest on the wagon and he went over and opened it. It was filled with what he presumed were feminine items, hidden in pouches, and small, dark bottles, along with rolls of ribbons and a comb and brush. Relieved he’d found something useful, he tucked the chest under his arm but as he passed by the now almost empty trunk, something caught his eye.
At the bottom of the trunk was a worn, black writing case. He knew that writing case. Roisin had carried it everywhere when he’d been at Sgur Castle. Swiftly, he crouched and grabbed it, avoiding the angry glare of a woman who’d obviously had her eye on it.
He returned to the tent and then hesitated. It felt wrong to simply enter, and so he cleared his throat and kicked the bottom of the flap a couple of times to let her know he was there. After a moment, Grear pulled open the flap and after a smile of thanks, he ducked his head and went inside.
Roisin turned to face him, and he caught his breath. She’d released her hair from its braids and the dark auburn tresses cascaded to her waist, and in the muted light her emerald eyes glittered.
For one paralyzing moment, he feared he’d fallen into one of his nighttime fantasies, except those despairing dreams had never come close to the vision who stood before him.
“Hugh?” There was a questioning note in her voice, and he brutally tore his besotted gaze from her and made much of placing the casket on the ground. Her wee dog came up to him and licked his hand, and he scratched the terrier’s throat in greeting before once again catching her perplexed gaze.
“I managed to salvage a few things.” He glanced around, but there was nowhere to put the gowns, so he continued to clutch them until Grear approached and tentatively took them from him. He thrust thewriting case at Roisin. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get more.”
Her air of anxiety fled, and for a fleeting moment it seemed she’d forgotten where she was as she took the case from him and hugged it to her breast.
“Thank ye,” she whispered, as though he’d handed her a precious gem. But then, he supposed he had. Her face had lit up as she’d shown him her manuscripts in the solar at Sgur and he could still recall, in fine detail, the wondrous illuminations she had shared with him. Illuminations she’d crafted herself to accompany the texts she’d written about ancient myths and folktales.
A shred of unease ate at him. The writing case was a good size, but it couldn’t possibly have held even a fraction of the works she’d shared with him. “Did ye bring all yer manuscripts, my lady? I promise I’ll find them, if so.”
Even if he had to go tent to tent and barter what little he possessed in the process.
“No, I only brought my writing case. I fear I’d need an entire trunk to hold all my manuscripts. But thank ye for the thought.”
He sighed, his unease sinking deeper into his chest by the notion she felt the need to thank him for acquiring something that was already hers. “Darragh considers anything brought into the camp his by rights. I didn’t offer yer possessions lightly.”
She shook her head. “I’m certain the brigands would have taken everything and not thought twice about it. At least ye’ve brought us dry clothes to change into.”
Aye, and if he retained a scrap of honor, he’d leave instantly and let her tend to her needs. Yet the gnawing suspicion that Darragh had planted wouldn’t rest and before he could stop himself, the words were out.
“Lady Roisin, are ye meeting yer husband at Creagdoun?”
She gazed at him as though he’d lost his mind, and then she blushed, the rosy hue highlighting her fine cheekbones and his worstfears were confirmed.
And then she spoke. “No. I’m not wed, Hugh. I told ye, I’m visiting my sister.”
Relief washed through him, although God knew why. Her marital status changed nothing, when he had nothing to offer her, and his family’s honor still hung in the balance.
The facts didn’t change the way he felt.
“I trust Lady Isolde is well.” It was as close as he could get to asking if her sister was with child.
“Her letters assure us she is very well and thriving in the foreign climes.” Roisin gave a faint smile, and he grinned at her as he recalled how against the marriage with William Lady Isolde had initially been.
“I’m glad to hear it. William is a lucky man.”
“Indeed.” She hesitated. “Do ye know they are expecting their first bairn in two months?”
A pang assailed him, even though he’d guessed. Once, not so long ago, he would’ve learned of such news directly from his cousin.
“That’s good news. William always wanted bairns.” Even during the years before he’d met the elusive Lady Isolde, when he hadn’t wanted to wed her, he’d always envisaged having a family to fill Creagdoun Castle.
Roisin gave him a curious look. “’Tis just as well Isolde wanted them too, then.”
It was a cryptic remark. Bairns followed marriage the same way night followed day. But he wasn’t about to argue with her, not when she appeared willing to forgive him for not immediately taking her to Creagdoun.
“I promise ye’ll be with Lady Isolde for her confinement.”
Once again, anxiety filled her beautiful emerald eyes. “Do ye think Darragh will let me go? Was he serious about holding me for ransom?”
