Page 44 of Abducted By the Highlander
Unease prickled along the back of Hugh’s neck. Was the man from the MacGregor brothers in the east that Darragh had referred to? If so, what was he doing here?
Inevitably, his thoughts—and glance—returned to Roisin, where she was sitting with the women. It had only been a week since he’dfound her on the road but now he could barely recall what his existence had been like before she’d joined the camp. He often rode beside her during the day while they traveled and Grear would ride ahead with one of the lasses she’d become friendly with, leaving them with the illusion of privacy. During those times it was too easy to forget Roisin wasn’t here by choice. And that, once he heard from the earl, their time together would end.
In the dead of night, when lust plagued his body and impossible dreams haunted his mind, the despicable hope clawed through him that he might never hear back from the earl.
When supper was ready, he sat beside Roisin, as he had done for the last few nights. There had been no need to share his food with her since the first night, and Ecne had become a firm favorite with the bairns, who plied the wee thing with so many treats it was a wonder his belly didn’t touch the ground.
“Who is the visitor?” Roisin’s voice was low. “No one speaks of him.”
That was interesting. He’d assumed Elspeth and, by extension, Innis would know. But then, maybe they did and simply hadn’t passed on the information. Which didn’t ease the undertow of apprehension in the pit of his gut that had refused to settle since first seeing the stranger arrive.
“I’ll find out.” He had to, in case Roisin’s safety was impacted. In all the weeks he’d been with the MacGregors, this was the first time a man had strolled into the camp, and as though he had every right to do so, too. But what if he was connected to the bandits who had attacked Roisin a week ago? His suspicion that a group of MacGregors could be behind the ambush had never left him, and if he was right, and this stranger was involved, Hugh doubted things would go well for him once the man learned a Campbell had killed some of his compatriots.
It was imperative he discover the man’s identity and whether heposed any threat. For if Hugh was executed in retaliation for foiling the ambush, there would be no one to protect Roisin.
After supper, as Roisin helped the other women to clear away, he sought out Symon, who was sitting on a rock by the river’s edge inspecting his sword. “Who is he?”
The other man swept his gaze across the camp and then addressed his sword. “His name is Fergus MacGregor, but I’ve never met him before. As far as I can tell, Darragh and Fergus grew up together.”
Hugh sat on a neighboring rock and proceeded to examine his dagger. “He just so happened to be in the area?”
“He’s on his way to the MacGregors in the east, where we’re heading. Sheer luck he crossed our path.”
Hugh wasn’t sure he believed in sheer luck. Although, he had to concede it had certainly been fortuitous when he’d come across Roisin last week. “He’ll be traveling with us?”
Symon sheathed his sword and caught Hugh’s gaze. “I don’t know. But I’ll tell ye one thing. There’s something about him that makes me uneasy.”
It wasn’t a welcome admission. Because it meant his own impression that Fergus MacGregor was a threat couldn’t be dismissed as purely the fact Hugh was here under false pretenses and needed to be suspicious of everyone.
He could only hope the man had no connection to the attack on Roisin and went his own way at first light.
*
Before the firststreaks of dawn splashed across the sky, Hugh stealthily made his way to the river and after ensuring no one was yet stirring, except for the two men on the last shift of the night watch, he stripped and plunged into the fast-flowing water.
Even though it was the middle of summer the water was frigid.But at least it managed to dampen his erection, and he sucked in a sharp breath before completely submerging.
He stayed under, welcoming the biting chill that permeated into his very bones and whipped away the lingering remnants of sleep. When his lungs burned and he had no more breath left to hold, he burst to the surface, sucking in great gulps of air, as he swiped the water from his eyes.
And then he froze as an eldritch shiver scuttled along his spine and he spun about, senses on alert.
No one stood on the riverbank, but his heart still pounded, and he strode from the water as the uncomfortable certainty gnawed through him that just moments before someone had been watching him.
Watching him? Or worse? His gaze dropped to his clothes piled on the ground and something akin to panic gripped him. Had his belt been moved? He crouched and hastily untied one of the pouches attached to his belt and pulled out its contents.
Relief flooded through him. The handkerchief Roisin had given him in Sgur Castle, and the portrait she’d drawn of him the other day, were still safe. Only when he’d replaced them did it occur to him to check that his stash of coins was still intact.
Nothing appeared to be missing. If anyone had rifled through his belongings, they would surely have taken this small fortune. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that while he had been utterly exposed, danger had lurked.
Goddamn it.He raked his fingers through his wet hair and silently cursed at his carelessness. From the moment the earl had sent him into exile, he’d kept his wits about him. It was the only way to survive. But this wasn’t the first time his judgment had failed him since he’d brought Roisin to the camp. What had he been thinking, to stay underwater for so long? It was an indulgence he couldn’t afford. He was only thankful his suspicions appeared to be unfounded.
By the time he had dressed, the camp was stirring, preparing foranother day of travel. But as he made his way to his tent, from which Roisin and Grear had already emerged, a shred of unease that he hadn’t imagined the sensation of being watched wouldn’t leave him.
And it didn’t take much to assume the surveiller was Fergus MacGregor.
Chapter Seventeen
Once all thetents had been packed and loaded onto the wagons, Roisin put Ecne in his basket and placed it on the wagon Darragh had commandeered from her the day she’d arrived. Her sweet lad wasn’t happy about it, but it was a better way to travel than balancing the basket on her lap for hours. Besides, she rode right behind him so he could keep an eye on her and not fret that she’d abandoned him. As if she ever would.
