Page 60 of Abducted By the Highlander
“It wasn’t a suggestion.”
There was no menace in his words. He sounded simply weary, and her anger at his high-handedness faded.
No. She couldn’t afford to let down her guard for even an instant. For all she knew, this could just be another one of his tactics to make her fall in with his plans. Wildly, she scrabbled through her mind for something that would show him she wasn’t to be so callously trifled with.
She couldn’t think of a thing.
Ecne, who had been sitting patiently at her feet throughout the exchange, gave a small whine and pawed Hugh’s boot. He crouched and scratched her lad behind his ears, and Ecne all but wrappedhimself around Hugh’s hand in undisguised bliss. It was an act of mutual affection between them she’d witnessed many times, both on Eigg and since she’d been forced into this camp, but this was the first time it caused her stomach to clench with anguish.
Was this show of fondness even real on Hugh’s part? It made everything so much worse if he had stooped so low as to deceiving her sweet lad that he cared for him.
As he straightened, she had the wretched conviction that if he left the cave after having had the last word, it would put her at a disadvantage. She had the fleeting notion of returning the inkwell to him with a cutting remark, but it was buried deep in one of the saddlebags, and the thought of having to dig through her possessions to find it was a humiliating prospect. It certainly had nothing to do with the pitiful truth that she simply didn’t want to give it back.
And then it came to her. Perfect in its simplicity and heartbreaking because of the hours of misplaced devotion she had spent upon it.
“Before ye go, I will have the portrait back.”
Shock flashed over his face. At least, she told herself it was shock, for why would he be devastated by such a request? The portrait would only mean something to him if he truly cared about her.
“Certainly.” His voice was devoid of any warmth and a shiver coursed over her arms. That dashed any lingering hope she may have harbored that he really cared. For if he had, surely he would have asked to keep it?
In silence, she watched him pull the folded paper from one of his leather pouches and as he handed it to her, something dropped to the ground. Ecne instantly pounced on it and Hugh cursed before he gingerly freed it from Ecne’s enthusiastic possession and hastily stuffed it back into the pouch.
Stunned, she watched him bow his head in farewell, refusing to meet her eye, before he smartly turned and left the cave.
It was obvious he hoped she hadn’t seen what he’d picked up. Butshe had. She would have recognized it anywhere. It was the embroidered handkerchief she had given to him, with so many dreams and hopes woven through every stitch, the day he had sailed away from Eigg.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hugh didn’t botherpitching his tent. Grimly, he built a small fire near the entrance of Roisin’s cave, concentrating on the familiar actions so his mind didn’t replay the final moments he’d spent with her.
When the fire burned to his satisfaction, he sat back on his heels and released a heavy sigh, and inevitably, Roisin invaded his thoughts. It was too late to send a message to the earl to let him know of the change of plans, but he wasn’t concerned about that. It would be easy enough to send one on their way back to Oban and more to the point, he wouldn’t need to send it through the spy network.
Hell, since neither of them would no longer be in the camp, Roisin herself could send a letter to Isolde to let her know what was happening.
He was certain she’d find that irony satisfying.
But there was a darker side to this turn of events, one he didn’t want to face since it was entirely selfish, yet it crawled across his mind, regardless. For if they journeyed back to Oban, he wouldn’t be saying farewell to her on the morrow.
He retreated from the fire and sat with his back against the limestone wall, and finally he could no longer hide from the humiliating spectacle he’d made of himself. As if it weren’t bad enough that Roisin had demanded her portrait back, but far worse than that, her handkerchief had dropped to the ground.
He wasn’t certain she had seen it, and he hoped to God she hadn’t,but it didn’t ease the relentless gnaw consuming his chest. Her handkerchief was all he’d had of her for this last year and a half, and it was all he would have in his future. If she had demanded its return, he wasn’t sure he would have complied.
He propped his elbows on his knees and dug his fingers through his hair, gripping his scalp, as though that might somehow alleviate the throb that tormented his brain. During daylight hours, it was easier to keep the demons that lived in the darkest corners of his mind at bay. To ignore the uncertainty of his future and the growing inevitability that he would never see his sisters or father again.
And above all, the searing knowledge that he had long ago lost any possibility of securing Roisin as his bride.
He yanked his hair, and he welcomed the pain as his bitter thoughts turned to his brother. What the devil had Douglas done to the earl, to warrant having Hugh’s entire future ripped away without a second thought? He had obeyed without question, for the sake of his sisters’ futures, and he would never regret that. But God knew, he regretted being put in the position where he needed to restore his kin’s tattered reputation.
A shadow emerged and hunkered down next to him, and he forced his fingers to relax before he tore out great chunks of his own hair. His hands fell to his knees as Symon sat beside him and after several heartbeats of silence, the other man spoke.
“Do ye want to be alone?”
What he wanted was as impossible to capture as a star itself and being alone or not would never alter that. And so he shrugged, and Symon took that as a sign to lean back against the rockface. A part of him wanted to tell the other man of the change of plans. Symon had, after all, already said he would follow Hugh whichever path he took. But there was also a chance he’d tell Darragh, and Hugh didn’t want the chieftain to be made aware of it until the last moment.
On balance, leaving with Innis was a better idea. He and Roisinwouldn’t need to steal away. This way, they could do it openly and considering how few men were remaining by the chieftain’s side, it was unlikely he’d be willing to shed blood over the matter.
“Sergeant.”
