Page 13 of Abducted By the Highlander
Don’t say it.
Had he been anyone but Hugh, it wouldn’t even have occurred to her to contradict him. In fact, she’d likely be too terrified to utter a word. But while fear still clawed through her, there was anger, too. Anger that Hugh, who had once treated her with such respect, had now shown his true colors, and he thought so little of her he imagined he could confuse what she knew to be the truth.
She leaned over the saddle and maybe he saw the outrage in her eyes as a frown flashed across his face.
“We weren’t alone, Hugh Campbell, until ye and yer brigands slaughtered my men.”
His confusion vanished, and disbelief glowed in his eyes. She was disgusted with herself by how fascinating she found the phenomenon.
“God’s bones.” He sounded shaken. She told herself she hadn’t noticed. It was merely another trick to make her doubt her own mind. “Lady Roisin, I swear on my honor I had nothing to do with that. Ye must believe me. The bandits were attacking yer party when we saw ye, and we came to yer aid.”
Despite her best intentions, her conviction wavered. He appeared genuinely horrified by her accusation. Yet who was to say he wasn’t lying? It was very likely he was lying. So why did she believe he spoke the truth?
Her head pounded and it was hard to straighten her muddled thoughts. If it was anyone but Hugh telling her this, would she take their word for it above the evidence of her own eyes?
That was an easy question to answer. She knew what she’d witnessed and Hugh, like the others, had hidden his face with a kerchief. But although it was clear she didn’t know Hugh Campbell at all, she couldn’t convince herself he was lying in this matter. After all, she hadn’t seen him personally murder any of her men. And now she took a moment to think about it, neither he nor his compatriot had the savage, unkempt appearance of the others.
It was no small relief that he wasn’t responsible for the death of her brave men, but it didn’t explain why he now felt the need to spirit her away to this camp of his, instead of accompanying her to Creagdoun.
And if he wasn’t associated with the brigands, why had he demanded she couldn’t let anyone know who he was or tell anyone she had seen him?
Did his accomplice not know who he really was?
Once again, she glanced over her shoulder. Hugh’s compatriot appeared to be attempting to engage Grear in conversation, but her maid gazed at her clasped hands in mute misery.
She returned her attention to Hugh, wishing she could somehow comfort poor Grear. “Ye speak of honor, so why delay my journey by taking me to this camp of yers? We can’t be far from Creagdoun.”
In truth, she wasn’t at all sure how far they were from Isolde and William’s castle, but she wasn’t going to let Hugh know that.
He scanned the countryside, and she followed his glance, relieved the rain was finally easing. Not that she recognized any landmarks from the previous times she’d visited her sister.
Or from her dreams, either.
Finally, Hugh looked at her. “I can’t take ye to Creagdoun yet. And Lady Roisin,” he hesitated as though he weren’t sure whether to continue, before he heaved a great sigh. “It might be wiser not to mention yer connection with William Campbell. Campbells aren’t welcome where we’re heading.”
Speechless, she gazed at him. Where in the name of God was he taking her? “But we’re in the heart of Campbell territory.” She kept her voice low, although there was little chance of his compatriot overhearing them. “What are ye saying, Hugh? Have ye forsaken yer name?”
“No.” He sounded reluctant to admit it. “But I’m trusting ye to keep yer promise to me. We’ve never met before today.”
She shifted on the saddle, and Ecne gave a mournful whine at his enforced captivity. She didn’t understand why Hugh had made her promise such a thing, but if it ensured her and Grear’s safety, she was willing to go along with it.
“I’ll keep my word, if ye keep yers.”
He exhaled a harsh sigh and for a while they rode in silence. She tried to keep her eyes on the overgrown path, which although fine for riders was a challenge for a wagon, but she couldn’t help surreptitious glances to the man by her side.
Now the rain had stopped, the sun broke through the clouds, dispersing them, and the surrounding forest looked less sinister. If only she could say the same about Hugh.
But astride the dark stallion, with his white shirt clinging to his broad shoulders like a second skin and his midnight hair plastered to his aristocratic cheekbones, Hugh emanated a nebulous menace that she’d never noticed when he’d been in Eigg. How easily she could imagine he was a mythical shapeshifting warrior from the mist-shrouded past when the fantastical Tuatha De Dannan had ruled Eire.
She shook her head and tore her gaze from his mesmeric profile. She had to stop thinking how different he’d been when they’d first met. This was the real Hugh, and the one who had captivated her in Eigg had been nothing more than an illusion.
It didn’t stop the foolish pang of wishing what might have been.
“My lady.”
His respectful tone and the way he used her title, when he was in the process of diverting her from seeing Isolde, was so surreal she had the alarming urge to laugh. She sucked in a deep breath to steady her nerves. It wouldn’t do to lose her composure, and not just because it would upset Grear. “What?”
He shot her a glance as if her sharp tone surprised him. She was certain he’d be a lot more than merely surprised if she lost her tenuous grip on sanity and told him exactly what she thought of him.
