Page 11 of Abducted By the Highlander
“Lady Roisin, I’m sorry about this.”
“I don’t wish to hear yer apologies.” Her voice wasn’t gentle, theway he recalled when he dreamed of her. She sounded brittle, and he damned whatever cursed fate had led her to this road and into the clutches of those bandits. She didn’t deserve to see this grim side of life, let alone be forced to endure it for who knew how many days before he managed to engineer her safe passage. “I demand ye take me to Creagdoun Castle this instant.”
He’d been right. She had been on her way to visit her sister and William.
Sharp regret pierced his chest. For all he knew, his kin and friends might think he was dead. And then another thought struck him. Where was Lady Roisin’s other sister, Lady Freyja? Surely Roisin hadn’t made this journey from the Isle of Eigg on her own.
“I can’t do that yet. It’s not safe. But I swear on my life ye’ll come to no harm.”
She pressed her lips together and it couldn’t be clearer that she didn’t believe a word. He smothered a sigh and turned their horses around so he could return to the wagon and assist Symon. “Let me pack yer basket on the wagon, Lady Roisin. Ye’ll be more comfortable.”
“Certainly not.” She clutched the basket harder and for the first time he realized exactly what she held.
“Is that yer wee dog?” He bent his head to get a closer look. The terrier had never left her side when he’d been in Sgur eighteen months ago. It seemed fitting the creature was here with her now.
“Leave him alone.” A thread of panic edged her voice, and he hastily straightened. Christ, what did she imagine he was going to do to her dog?
Since there was no palatable answer to that, he refused to dwell on it. But the sting remained.
By the time they reached the wagon, Symon had rounded up the dead men’s horses and hitched them to the wagon. Lady Roisin’s companion sat on the wagon’s seat, clutching her hands together onher lap, and he recognized her now as the young maid who had shadowed Lady Roisin on the Isle of Eigg.
She looked petrified.
He had no idea how to ease her fears, since his attempt to do so with Lady Roisin had been an abject failure, but he had to try. “Ye and yer mistress are under my protection. There’s no need to fear.”
She cast him a wide-eyed glance. It was obvious that, like Lady Roisin, she didn’t believe a word.
Symon interrupted the excruciating silence that followed by striding to his side. “Ready, Sergeant?”
Lady Roisin drew in a shocked gasp. “Ye cannot mean to leave my men here like this.”
He scanned the dozen or so bodies that lay scattered in the mud. It was impossible to tell who her men were and who were the bandits, but anger scorched through him. Why had she been so poorly protected that the ambush had put her in such danger?
Regardless, he understood her distress. It was an unspoken rule that, after a battle or skirmish, the victors ensured the vanquished were returned to their people for burial, and they never left their own dead behind.
But he’d never been in this situation before. There was nowhere to take the bandits, and they weren’t equipped to take Lady Roisin’s men with them to the camp. And even if there was room on the heavily laden wagon for the bodies, he could imagine the reception they’d receive if he and Symon returned with them.
It didn’t sit right with him, but he had no choice but to leave them behind. And besides, he needed to get Lady Roisin and her maid back to the camp where at least they’d be safer than they were here.
“We must go, my lady. There’s no telling if other bandits are lurking and my first priority must be ye.”
Her bottom lip trembled as she cast her gaze over the fallen, and self-disgust ate into him. If they had time, the least he could do wasbury the bodies beneath a cairn, but they didn’t have that luxury. If, God forbid, they were attacked, the chances he and Symon could fight off half a dozen or more outlaws were slender.
He couldn’t risk Lady Roisin being captured. The very thought of it turned his guts.
“Sergeant.” There was a warning note in the other man’s voice.
“Aye.” He gave a sharp nod, and Symon took his place beside Lady Roisin’s maid on the wagon, and they set off.
He eyed Lady Roisin, who sat stiff-backed on her mare beside him, clutching her terrier’s basket as though it were her lifeline. They’d make better time if he released her reins, but first he had to elicit yet another pledge from her.
It burned his throat, but he pushed the words out, regardless. “Do ye promise not to escape if I release yer mare?”
The look she slung at him was so filled with contempt he all but reeled. “And leave Grear behind? What do ye take me for?”
He snatched his hand back and grimly glared ahead. He didn’t dare glance at her again in case she saw something in his eyes he wasn’t certain he could hide.
What did he take her for?
