Page 10 of Abducted By the Highlander
They drew their swords and galloped over to the fray. Bodies were strewn across the ground and as the last defender fell, the two remaining bandits turned their attention to the fleeing women.
Their mistake. They hadn’t noticed either him or Symon, andHugh had no compunction in using their negligence against them.
The element of surprise that they’d clearly used to slaughter their victims worked just as efficiently, and with brutal economy, Hugh dispatched his opponent to hell. Since Symon needed no help, he pulled his horse about and galloped in the direction he’d seen the women fleeing. God, he hoped they hadn’t changed direction, or he might never find them in this forest.
A dark flash ahead alerted him and he charged forward, gaining on the riders with every passing moment. One lagged behind the other, and he focused on the one ahead. When he rescued her, the second rider would undoubtedly halt too.
He swerved into her, inching closer. A shawl covered her head, hiding her face, but it was the ungainly basket in front of her that momentarily distracted him. Whatever she’d salvaged from the wagon surely wasn’t worth the inconvenience, when for all she knew she was fleeing for her life from the bandits.
In the end it didn’t matter, since the bandits were dead. He lunged and grasped the reins. “Ye’re safe,” he yelled above the sound of the relentless rain and thudding hooves. “Slow down. ’Tis all right.”
She ignored him, bending low over the basket, and with a muffled oath he tugged sharply on the reins, bringing both of their horses to a halt. Before he could regain his breath to reassure her once again there was no cause for alarm, she turned to him, and he saw her face.
The words lodged in his throat as the world plunged sideways and all he could hear was the sound of his heart thundering inside his head.
God’s bones, she was Lady Roisin. Stupefied, he stared into her dark green eyes. Eyes that were filled with terror, and belatedly he realized the kerchief still hid his face.
Without releasing his grip on her mare’s reins, he pushed the kerchief down and only when shock froze her features did it occur to him that he’d just made a fatal error.
Lady Roisin knew who he was. If she said anything to Symonabout him being a Balfour Castle Campbell, his cover was blown.
“Hugh.” He scarcely heard her whisper, but his gaze fixed on her lips as though they were his only salvation. “What are ye doing?”
A section of his mind was aware that Symon had caught up with her companion and they were but a couple of horse lengths from him and Lady Roisin. He had to make her see it was safer for them both if she pretended not to know him and there was no time to lose.
“My lady.” His voice was urgent. “Ye cannot know who I am, do ye understand? I cannot guarantee yer safety otherwise.” Or his own, but that was of minor concern when Roisin gazed at him as though he were a demon from hell.
His grip on the reins tightened until his knuckles ached. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and reassure her she was in no danger, but that was the last thing he could risk with Symon so nearby.
He leaned in close until their breath mingled. God help him, but her elusive scent of crushed rose petals swirled about him like a tortured promise, and it was a struggle to recall that he needed her word.
“Promise me on yer honor.” His whisper was harsh, and she flinched. She couldn’t have wounded him more had she plunged a dagger through his heart.
“I promise.”
He should be relieved, but only a dull sense of gloom-laden inevitability wrapped around him. He still needed to elicit another promise from her, and he had the certainty it would destroy any lingering fragment of tenderness she’d ever held for him.
“Ye can tell no one ye saw me. Do ye understand?”
She glared at him as though she’d like nothing better than to slap his face. Instead, her arm tightened around the basket before she drew in a ragged breath. “Ye have my word.”
Goddamn it.In all the many wretched dreams he’d had of seeing her again, none had come close to this bitter nightmare. But no matterhow dire the circumstances, he couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Her dark auburn hair was drenched, and he had to fight the urge to push errant tendrils from her cheeks with his finger.
Symon came to his side, gripping the reins of the second horse. “Sergeant, we should retrieve the wagon. ’Tis sure to be loaded with goods we can use.”
For a moment, Hugh stared at the other man, his words making no sense. The wagon belonged to Lady Roisin. And then a flicker of anger stirred as Symon’s remark penetrated the fog clouding his mind.
They weren’t going to damn well steal her goods. They needed to escort her to wherever she’d been heading, to ensure she arrived safely.
He glanced at her. She still glared at him, condemnation burning in her eyes. Only then did the harsh truth hit him.
If he escorted her—doubtless to her sister, Lady Isolde, who was wed to his cousin, William—there was no chance of keeping his identity hidden. Until he got word to the earl, explaining the situation and devising a safe way for Roisin to continue her journey, she needed to remain with him.
How many times had he wished they could be together? His wish had been granted, and it promised nothing but despair.
He tore his gaze from her and gave Symon a brusque nod. “We’ll hitch the spare horses to the wagon.” Horses were valuable and the MacGregors would find good use for them. He only hoped one day Roisin would understand. “Ye’ll need to drive it, and have the lass sit beside ye.”
As Symon rode off with Lady Roisin’s companion to do his bidding, he once again turned to her. It wasn’t right that he was about to take her into a rebel outpost, but he didn’t have a choice. He exhaled a weary breath before attempting to smile.
