Page 21 of Abducted By the Highlander
Elspeth dished up the remainder of the food between the women and Roisin’s mouth watered. She had never been so famished in her life. Finally, after the bairns had been served, the older woman handed plates to her and Grear, and Roisin’s thanks stuck in her throat at the collection of small bones and the wee amount of meat without even a sliver of a vegetable.
But even she had been given more than poor Grear.
Face burning, she sat down, before pulling out her knife to cut the meat in half. She gave it to Ecne, who swallowed it in one gulp before gazing at her with sad brown eyes. But she couldn’t give him thecooked bones and she needed a little sustenance for herself.
There was no help for it. She would have to speak to Elspeth. She waited until there was a lull in the conversation when the other woman caught her eye and she took a deep breath for courage. “Might I have a couple of raw bones for my dog?”
All the women and their menfolk who sat beside them for the meal stared at her as though she’d just committed an unspeakable act. Instead of wishing the ground would open and swallow her, a flicker of anger stirred. She’d seen with her own eyes that Hugh had brought back a sackful of game that now hung on the rope behind them, and considering it was Hugh who had brought her here against her will, she was certain they could spare her a couple of bones for Ecne.
She straightened her shoulders and stared right back at Elspeth. After a few moments, the older woman gave a slight nod in the direction of the carcasses. “Help yerself.”
Chapter Seven
As usual, Hughdidn’t join the others when they gathered for the meal but instead sat some distance from the fire pit, with Symon. But it was hard to keep his gaze from straying to Roisin. It wounded him deep inside to see her mending clothes for Clan MacGregor men, when she was noble born and should spend her time on her exquisite embroidery or illuminated manuscripts.
He had to get her away from this life and back to her own as soon as possible.
After he had left her in his tent, he’d joined the men who’d taken the horses to the other side of the camp where they were examining them and discussing which ones to keep and which ones to sell. It was decided that the following day they’d take a couple of horses to a town some distance from the camp which, although they’d surveyed it when they first arrived five weeks ago, they’d yet to visit.
He planned on accompanying them. It was the best opportunity he’d have to find a messenger. It was always a risky undertaking whenever he sent dispatches to the earl, but he never took chances, and he wasn’t going to start now. For should a MacGregor discover the truth about him, it would put Roisin in danger.
Since he had no intention of leaving her unprotected in the camp while he was gone, he planned on speaking with Darragh in the morning about taking Roisin and her maid—not to mention her wee dog—with him. He’d already worked out his strategy and was confident the chieftain would see the benefits of having two youngwomen accompanying him and Symon.
He had half finished his meal when Roisin stood, her plate in her hand and dog at her heels and made her way around the fire pit towards him. His heart jackknifed and he forgot how to eat, but before he made a complete arse of himself, he realized she wasn’t coming over to him at all. She avoided even glancing his way before crouching by the pile of carcasses and gingerly poking through them with her knife.
Something akin to horror assailed him that Lady Roisin was scavenging among discarded bones and without a thought as to what Symon might make of it, he shuffled closer to her.
“What are ye doing?” He kept his voice low, although nobody would hear above the murmur of conversation from the MacGregors.
She still didn’t look at him. “Ecne needs to eat.”
His gaze strayed to the plate she’d placed on the ground, the plate she’d been given just moments ago, and which now had only a few bones picked clean of whatever small amount of meat had once clung to them. His furtive glances her way, as he’d shoveled his own food into his mouth, gave him proof enough she’d scarcely eaten a morsel before coming over to pick at the few bones that hadn’t been used, and a wave of anger burned through his chest.
He wasn’t a MacGregor, and he wasn’t on their side, but he’d never slacked when it came to ensuring the clan had enough to eat. It was, after all, the main reason why Darragh tolerated his presence. He knew damn well that until he and Symon had arrived, the clan had often gone without meat, relying on lichens to stave off hunger. And it wasn’t conjecture on his part. He’d heard the whispered remarks between the women and, again, his ability to hunt was why the women welcomed him as readily as they did.
Aye, there had been unexpected extra mouths to feed, but the meal could have been stretched so as not to starve two young women, and he’d be damned if he’d let Roisin go hungry. Before he could stophimself, he flung an unwary glare in the direction of the clan, before scraping the remains of his meal onto Roisin’s plate.
She gasped and glanced at her plate as though he’d just filled it with worms.
“I don’t want yer food.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper, and she sounded mortified. That made two of them, although likely for different reasons, since he was mortified he’d dragged her into this mess in the first place. But what choice did he have?
“I’m full,” he lied. “Share it with Grear and yer wee dog. I cannot have ye fainting from hunger, can I?”
His attempt at a jest fell flat as she didn’t so much as give a glimmer of a smile, unlike when they’d been in Eigg, and her smile had lit up her whole face whenever he’d made a lighthearted comment. But then, in Eigg she hadn’t been attacked or spirited away to an enemy campsite.
“I won’t faint.” There was a trace of affront in her voice, and she gripped her knife as though it were a weapon rather than an implement to eat with. “I’m not that fragile.”
But she was fragile. From the first moment he’d caught sight of her after arriving on the Isle of Eigg last winter, her elusive air of ethereality had captivated him in ways he didn’t even recognize. She wasn’t fearless like her eldest sister, Lady Isolde, or straight-talking with whoever crossed her path like Lady Freyja. He found Roisin’s gentle manner enchanting and when she had shared her art with him, her talent had stolen his breath.
As they had stood in a shadowed corner of Sgur Castle, on the morning of her sister and William’s wedding, she had shyly offered him her beautifully embroidered handkerchief as a keepsake. And he had known, deep in his bones, that if she were ever in danger, he would protect her with his very life.
It was a noble thought, and it had kept him warm inside, like a glowing ember, on the journey back to Balfour Castle. An insubstantialpledge to himself that had little prospect of ever being discharged since Roisin wasn’t in danger nor was she likely to be, on the isle where her foremothers had ruled for untold generations.
Yet here they were, in Argyll, the land of his birth, and the only way he could protect her was by ensuring he remained alive. Which meant not drawing any more unwanted attention to himself and Roisin, in case Darragh decided to look more deeply into her background.
He gazed into her emerald-green eyes that no longer glowed with warmth, the way they had on Eigg and in his countless dreams of her. The safest thing to do was to back away and return to Symon, but he couldn’t do it. Not until he’d assured her that she would never again be overlooked when it came to dishing out the food he’d provided the clan.
“This oversight won’t happen again, ye have my word. But ye must keep yer strength up, my lady. I vowed to look after ye, and I will, if it’s the last thing I do.”
