Page 48 of Abducted By the Highlander
And he would. All he wanted was the chance of a few more weeks with her. As for Darragh, whatever trick he might be planning, Hugh would be ready for him.
“We’ll take one of the horses to sell.” Darragh strode over to where the horses they’d claimed from Roisin’s men were being led from one of the larger caves ahead. “Fergus, are ye ready?”
Fergus MacGregor appeared in the mouth of the cave. “Aye.”
The chances that he was being led into a trap magnified. But why now? What had changed Darragh’s mind about him? Christ, did Fergus recognize him from before he had become a redshank?
It was a possibility he’d always known might happen, from the day he’d set foot in Eire. The Campbells and MacGregors had engaged in several skirmishes during the last five years, and he’d fought alongside both William and Alasdair in a few of them for the earl.
But he didn’t recognize Fergus. He could only hope he was wrong and Darragh had no ulterior purpose for the invitation to accompany him to the town.
They set off, Fergus leading since he apparently knew the way. They skirted woodlands, where birdsong filled the air, and despite Hugh keeping a sharp eye on the two men, he didn’t notice anystealthy glances between them. Maybe he was being overcautious but that was better than being ambushed.
They’d been riding for a good two hours when Fergus pulled to a halt. “Not far now,” he said. “I’ll go first.”
Darragh gave a sharp nod and Fergus rode ahead, disappearing around a bend in the path. Hugh and Darragh followed, and the town spread across the glen before them. As they approached the gates, the older man threw him a glance.
“I’ll go sell the horse and get the provisions. Fergus says there’s a tavern by the mercat cross. We’ll meet there when our business is done.”
This was verging on the surreal. Why the hell had Darragh brought him along when it seemed the chieftain had no use for him?
“What do ye want me to do?”
Darragh shrugged. “Go buy yer lass some pretty ribbons for her hair.”
What?
Heat scorched through him. God’s bones, surely Darragh hadn’t guessed what had occurred between Roisin and himself in the cave? To be sure, it had been reckless. But no one would have ventured out of their shelter during that downpour merely to spy on him.
No. It was true Roisin’s reputation may have been harmed by the fact they’d been alone in the cave, but no one could prove anything had happened. He’d cut out his tongue, aye, and anyone else’s before allowing a slanderous word against her to be uttered.
“Lady Roisin is not my lass.” His tone was barely civil, but he couldn’t help that. It was taking all his willpower not to punch the smug look from the older man’s face.
“’Tis nothing to me if she is or if she isn’t. But a lass likes to know she’s appreciated. Buy her something bonny and mark my words, she’ll make yer life far easier.”
The suspicion that, somehow, Darragh knew Hugh had takenadvantage of Roisin hammered through his head. It was one thing for the entire camp to guess how he felt about her. It was something else entirely for anyone to even obliquely denigrate her honor.
“Lady Roisin is under my protection. That’s all. There’s no need to buy her trinkets. She knows it’s my intention to return her to her kin as soon as possible.”
“Oh, aye, and I can see how hard ye’re working on that, Hugh. Do whatever ye want with her, but we’ll still be demanding a ransom for her return. Unless ye decide to keep her indefinitely in which case on yer head be it.”
With that, Darragh urged his horse forward and Hugh was left glaring at his back. He’d promised Roisin she wouldn’t be used as a hostage, but Darragh appeared intent on doing so.Well, let him.In the end it made no difference. Roisin would return to her kin and that would be the end of it.
But he wasn’t going to think about that. Not until he had no choice. He waited until Darragh had disappeared through the town gates before he made his own way there and dismounted. Even though he wasn’t sending the earl an update, he still needed to check if the earl’s network had delivered anything to this town.
He strolled around the busy market, keeping a sharp lookout for both Darragh and Fergus, although it was unlikely they’d try to assassinate him in the town, when they could have attacked him at any time during the journey here. He still couldn’t work out why Darragh had invited him. They hadn’t even interrogated him during the ride. What game was the other man playing?
After exploring the town and going into a few likely places where a message might have been waiting for him, he hitched his horse outside the blacksmith’s and stepped inside. The heat from the forge filled the workshop and he cast a glance over the range of tools for sale as the blacksmith eyed him from the other side of his anvil.
“Ye looking for something?” The blacksmith wiped his brow withthe back of his wrist.
“Browsing.” Then he shared one of the many coded phrases used in the earl’s extensive network. “’Tis a grand anvil ye have there, and no mistake.”
It was a banal remark, meant to be forgettable if overheard by a passerby, or directed at anyone not in the know. A comment that was both justifiable in context but also something that no one would, in fact, actually utter.
The blacksmith glanced at his anvil. Clearly, he considered Hugh to be a half-wit, and he prepared to leave. But then the blacksmith responded.
“Aye. They don’t make anvils like this anymore, and that’s a fact.”
