Page 52 of Abducted By the Highlander
Innis looked at her. “My husband has a cousin in Eire. He’s only followed Darragh this far to please me. I know, in his heart, he wants to leave. It wouldn’t be an easy life, but at least it would be better than this.”
“Darragh wants us all to stay together.” There was sad resignation in Elspeth’s voice as though she knew a fork in the road was inevitable.
“Then he should make plans to lead us to Eire.” Innis glanced around the group of women before once again focusing on Elspeth. “We’ve followed him for five years, Elspeth. ’Tis long enough to see the cursed Earl of Argyll has no plans to stop hunting us. I want more for my bairns. We all do.”
Roisin looked at Rhona, who was sitting beside her, engrossed in copying the sketch she’d done of her the other day. Yesterday, she had given Rhona one of her spare quills and a small inkpot and the young girl had spent every spare moment since then practicing her art.
Back on Eigg, when she’d accompanied her sisters to the village, she’d enjoyed spending time with the bairns, spinning tales and sharing the history of their isles, as well as teaching them their letters and how to write their names. ’Twas only a small thing, to be sure, and it had never been enough, and she had often wished there was a way where she could impart her love of reading to them.
But the children of the village had their lives preordained, just as she and her sisters’ lives had been determined before they had been born. Yet even though the village bairns might not be destined to learn all the things she so wanted to share with them, at least they knew where they belonged. On the isle of their birth, where their forebears had lived for generations without number.
Her chest grew tight and her eyes stung. Innis was right. This was no life for a bairn, continually on the run. Not when there was a chance of a stable life, even if it was far from their homeland.
A shiver trickled over her arms. Would she give up everything she had ever known and flee to Eire with Hugh?
*
After Fergus leftthe tavern, Hugh bided his time until he and Darragh reached the town gates, and then he drew to a halt. “Goddamn it. I forgot to purchase ribbons for Lady Roisin. I’ll catch up with ye, Darragh.”
Darragh grunted and set off, and Hugh swung his horse around and reentered the town. Quickly dismounting, he made his way back to the blacksmith’s. He hoped to God the earl’s messenger hadn’t left yet and would collect his missive before the gates shut for the night.
It didn’t take long to write a cryptic note. Once decoded, the earl would know Hugh intended to ensure Roisin arrived safely at his manor the following day, by traveling through a particular glen with a distinctive double waterfall. He’d also understand that Alan MacGregor’s half-brother was still alive and posed a deadly threat not only to William, but also to his lady wife’s kin.
Hugh knew he wouldn’t receive any confirmation from the earl. There wasn’t enough time. He had less than one day left with Roisin, and then he would take her to the earl’s manor.
Their final goodbye.
And then what? Darragh would surely guess he’d helped her escape. He’d think of something. He couldn’t worry about that now.
Grimly, he once again left the town and after following the road for a while, headed to the nearby woods where he’d be less likely to meet any fellow traveler. But as he approached, a shadow emerged from the trees.
Fergus MacGregor.
Hugh pulled up, senses on alert. Was this where he was to be ambushed? Although he kept his gaze on Fergus, he couldn’t detect any movement in his peripheral vision that suggested Darragh was waiting to pounce.
But that didn’t mean the chieftain wasn’t lurking behind a tree.
“Fergus.” He kept his voice neutral. “I thought ye would be well on yer way by now.”
“I wanted a word.” Fergus folded his forearms across the pommel, his gaze never leaving Hugh’s. “Darragh trusts ye, but I have my doubts.”
He had severe doubts that Darragh trusted him as far as he could throw him, but he wasn’t about to tell Fergus that. Although it was strange Fergus had that impression of the chieftain, since Darragh had only ever tolerated Hugh’s presence in the camp, and nothing more.
He wasn’t going to dignify Fergus’s remark with a response, and so he waited. After a tense silence, the other man continued. “I ask myself, how far will a man like ye go to keep a noblewoman such as Lady Roisin safe and by yer side?”
It always came back to Roisin’s safety. And he didn’t need Fergus to tell him that once they reached his camp, her safety would be a precarious thing, subject to the vindictive will of Fergus himself.
Maybe it was foolhardy to show his hand, but he wouldn’t let the other man be under any illusion that Hugh would stand idly by and allow Roisin to be mistreated. “I’ll go as far as I need to. Always.”
“Aye.” There was no surprise in Fergus’s tone. “That’s what I thought. Darragh thinks ye acted out of a sense of loyalty, but I don’t believe that. Ye did what ye did because ye don’t want to give up a warm body in yer bed.”
Fergus’s odd comment was swept to the wayside as rage washed through him at the other man’s disrespect regarding Roisin. “Watch yer mouth. Lady Roisin does not share my bed.”
That was true enough, but the accusation bit deep. Aye, he desperately wanted Roisin to share his bed every night and the knowledge she never would was a stark reality he couldn’t deny. But it was more than that.
It didn’t matter how willing she had been in his arms. He had taken her maidenhead when he’d had no right. And while he wouldlive with that bittersweet knowledge for the rest of his life, he couldn’t stomach the thought that anyone might speculate and denigrate her honor.
“Sure, she doesn’t.” Fergus sounded sardonic. “Not through lack of trying on yer part, I’m certain. But ’tis irrelevant. Ye didn’t send her letter to her kin for yer own purposes, not because ye have any sense of loyalty to Darragh.”
