Page 35 of Abducted By the Highlander
She took a sip of wine, hating the way her face burned at being the center of such intense attention from both Hugh and Symon. But she couldn’t take her words back and even if she could, she wouldn’t.
No. She replaced the goblet on the table. She didn’t regret her outburst. It was something that had to be said. The memory of her men demanded nothing less.
“I know ’tis not yer fault they were slaughtered. But their deaths grieve me, and I will not apologize for it.”
“I only wish we’d arrived earlier, so we could have helped yer men fight off the bandits’ attack.” Hugh took her hand as he spoke, and his fierce blue gaze was spellbinding. “Then ye could have continued yer journey and never known—” He came to an abrupt halt before sucking in a ragged breath. “Any of this.”
She knew what he really meant. She would never have discovered he’d become an outlaw with the rebel MacGregors.
His callused fingers tightened around hers as though, once again, he had forgotten they weren’t alone. “But for all that, it’s true. When ye have nothing, a miracle can be found in tragedy.”
“’Tis a fearful way to live.” Her voice was hushed. Although she thought of Hugh, she could neither forget the bairns in the camp nor the women who hadn’t the means to grow essential herbs for their basic needs.
“Aye. Ye shouldn’t be exposed to it, and that’s a fact.”
Despite how dearly she cherished these moments with Hugh, she suddenly bristled at his comment. Did he truly think her so shallow that he believed all she thought about was her own comfort? When, sooner or later, at least she was assured of returning to her former life, when the MacGregor women had no such certainty?
“What of the women and bairns, though? They shouldn’t be exposed to this life either, just because the menfolk cannot keep their damn swords sheathed or their pride in check.”
Hugh looked taken aback by her outburst, but he didn’t release her hands. And she didn’t have the overwhelming urge to sink through the floor the way she usually did when her words caused anyone to stare at her so.
Except she’d never said anything like this before, not even to her sisters. Because not only had she never faced such injustice before, but she had never taken the time to think about it, either.
“Men must protect their clan and their kin from their enemies.” There was a tortured note in his voice and an eerie shiver chased through her. Was he speaking of the Earl of Argyll, who had banished the MacGregors from their land, or was he referring to the MacGregors, who had first raised their swords against their earl?
In the end, did it even matter? The result was the same.
“’Tis a steep price to pay, Hugh,” she whispered sorrowfully. Would those MacGregor bairns ever have a place to call home again? Her eyes stung at the question.
A dull clunk of a spoon against a bowl tore her back to the present and, as one, both she and Hugh looked across the table where Symon was slowly chewing, his eyes darting between her and Hugh. Shock stabbed through her. Yet again, she had forgotten about Symon’s presence, and heat gushed through her, aye, and mortification too. She might not mind what she said to Hugh, but Symon was a different matter.
A small, unfamiliar voice drilled into the back of her mind.
I wouldn’t take any of it back, even if I could.
With apparent reluctance, Hugh released her hand and for a heartbeat he appeared disconcerted. Then he drew in a deep breath and after a guarded glance in Symon’s direction, once again caught her gaze.
“Forgive me.” There was an oddly detached note in his voice and she shivered as though a draft had swept through the room. “This isn’t a fit discussion for a lady.” He picked up the platter with the food he’dordered from the innkeeper and placed it closer to her. “Eat. Ye must keep yer strength up.”
With as much dignity as she could muster, she picked up her goblet and took another sip. She was afraid if she didn’t, her newfound courage might entice her to retort something unforgivable. And while Hugh certainly deserved it, she had no wish to continue the discussion while Symon eavesdropped.
Alas, it appeared her courage had no intention of retreating into its previous deep cave. She eyed him over the rim of her goblet and the words simply poured out. “Do not order me about, Hugh Campbell. We are only pretending to be man and wife. And please do not tell me what is or isn’t fit for my discussion.”
With that, she replaced her goblet on the table and bit into a pasty, ignoring both Hugh’s wounded countenance and Symon’s muffled snort of laughter. She wasn’t sure if she was more irked by Hugh’s order that she eat or his apparent belief she was incapable of serious discussion by virtue of her birth.
“That isn’t what I meant.” Hugh picked up a pasty and glowered at it as though it had personally offended him.
She didn’t know if he was referring to their sham marital status or his presumption in deciding what topics of conversation were acceptable for her ears. Either way, it was disheartening to know her opinion scarcely mattered to him one way or another.
An uncomfortable silence fell. When Hugh finally sat back in his chair and tossed his napkin onto the table, Symon spoke. “We should buy our supplies now, Sergeant.”
“Aye.” He still sounded out of sorts, but she wasn’t going to look at him since he might take that as a sign of apology. Instead, she wrapped the remaining food in one of the napkins. Too bad if the innkeeper charged Hugh for it.
“Let me take that for ye.” He nodded at the napkin.
“Thank ye, but I’m quite capable of carrying it myself until I canstow it in the saddlebags.”
He didn’t argue with her, which was a relief, since it was such a foolish thing to disagree over, but nevertheless, it was simply a point of principle. Hugh Campbell might be her only hope of escaping the MacGregors and returning to her kin, but that didn’t mean he could order her around or treat her like a witless bairn.
