Page 62 of Abducted By the Highlander
’Twas no good. She could scarcely think straight with all the tangled threads and conflicting notions that filled her mind, and she sat up, careful not to disturb Grear, who still slept soundly. Stealthily, she pulled on her boots and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders before she ventured outside.
No one was stirring yet, but it wouldn’t be long before they broke camp, and she wanted to get this confrontation out of the way before there was any chance of an audience. Hugh sat next to the cave entrance, leaning against the rockface, and her heart stuttered in her chest as she caught his unblinking gaze.
“Hugh.” Her whisper sounded unnaturally loud in the still morning air. She glanced at Symon, but he appeared to be fast asleep next to Hugh, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. “May I have a word?”
If he was surprised by her request, he didn’t show it. He stood,rolling his shoulders and straightening his spine, and her mouth dried as she watched the magnificent play of his muscles beneath his white shirt.
Somehow she managed to drag her mesmerized gaze away before he noticed and moved to the other side of the cave entrance. He followed her and stood before her, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he sent every sense she possessed into freefall.
She gripped the ends of her shawl in the vain hope that that might focus her unruly thoughts. She could speculate all she liked, but there was only one way to know for sure.
“Hugh, why did ye keep my handkerchief all this time?”
An expression of unfettered alarm flashed over his face, as though she had trapped him in a field of giant thistles with no way out. For a surreal moment, she even had the certainty he was about to swing on his heel and march back to Symon, but then he suddenly sucked in a deep breath and squared his shoulders as if he were about to enter a battle without a weapon.
“Ye know why. Because ye gave it to me.”
He said it almost like an accusation. But the intense glow in his eyes told another tale, one she knew so well from the stories she cherished of the fae and ancient gods, where hearts and souls entwined, and where she had always rewritten the bittersweet endings so love prevailed.
Suppose I’m wrong?
She had been wrong about so many things since Hugh had caught her in the forest. Or had she? It was so hard to fathom her own thoughts when he gazed at her so. Everything she believed she knew about him tumbled in her mind like uprooted saplings in a winter’s storm.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the camp begin to stir. Grear emerged from the cave; Symon stood and stretched. Her heart thundered and her pulse raced, but there was no longer any time toponder and contemplate all the possible reasons as to why Hugh had done all that he had since the day they had met.
She needed to make a choice right now. Keeping her voice low, she put her trust in Hugh. “I’ll come with ye and rendezvous with the earl today.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Speechless, Hugh watchedRoisin hurry back to the cave as his mind reeled. He had half expected an inquisition after his confession, not have the air taken from his lungs by her sudden decision to change her plans.
Once, he had thought her so easy to understand. A genteel lady, soft-spoken and one who cast light wherever she went. A noblewoman who would, God willing and if luck were on his side, make him the perfect, agreeable wife.
That he would protect and cherish her had gone without saying. And when he’d rescued her from the bandits, his pledge to protect her had consumed him, for how could she hope to survive a brutal life like this, no matter how brief it might be, without him?
But she wasn’t easy to understand. Looking back, he realized she never had been. He had simply never seen it. Even on Eigg she hadn’t been the conventional lady for while she loved her embroidery, she had also pursued her love of writing and illuminating stories of the fae. And while royal courts were likely full of noblewomen who spent their time with their quills, he imagined their writings were somewhat more religious in nature.
She did not wield a sword, the way her sister, Lady Isolde did, nor share forthright views with strangers, like her other sister, Lady Freyja, had when he had met her at Sgur Castle. But in her quiet way, Roisin stood up for what she believed in and forged her own path as surely as anyone he had met.
Yesterday, he had reluctantly understood why she refused to believe a word he said and why she’d insisted on traveling with Innis. He didn’t have to like it. All he had to do was ensure she reached Eigg without incident.
But now, she had changed her mind. And unless he’d completely lost his own mind, which was certainly a possibility, it appeared she changed it because he’d been cornered into admitting that he’d kept her precious handkerchief. The one thing he’d been determined to keep from her at all costs, because it would expose a part of him he couldn’t afford to lay bare, had been the catalyst in restoring her trust in him.
He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Once, it would have given him hope. But while hope had been the one glimmer of light during those dark months in Eire, the reality was once he left Roisin with the earl, it was doubtful he would ever see her again.
Grimly, he set to saddling Fhortan as around him the camp prepared to split. It appeared Innis was taking possession of the wagons, and he paused as he sized up the situation. Symon had said half the camp was leaving, but by the looks of things only a couple of men, besides himself and Symon, were remaining with Darragh.
Without a wagon, Roisin wouldn’t be able to take her casket. Then again, they wouldn’t be able to take a wagon with them even if one had been available when they broke away from Darragh later this morning since speed and dexterity would be paramount. He’d need to speak with her about transferring as many of her possessions as she could into their saddlebags.
Roisin emerged from the cave, carrying her casket. Hugh watched, fascinated, as she walked over to Innis and Elspeth. He could tell by the way Innis shook her head and gesticulated that she clearly disapproved of Roisin’s decision to stay with him, and his suspicion was confirmed when Innis shot him a dark glance.
He didn’t worry that Roisin would let slip that he was secretlytaking her to the Earl of Argyll. She hadn’t betrayed him by telling Darragh yesterday who he really was after she’d overheard that conversation between them, and truth be told, he’d had a terrible moment when he feared she might. And he wouldn’t even have blamed her.
But she’d kept her word, even when she thought he had broken his.
He’d never break his word to her. And yet an uneasy thorn dug into his mind. For sure, he hadn’t broken his word, but Roisin hadn’t known about his connection with the earl. All she knew was he hadn’t sent her letter to her sister when he had told her he would.
Goddamn it.His grip tightened on Fhortan’s reins. He’d explained his reasoning. But had he told her he regretted not being clear with her from the start?
