Chapter Four #2
“It occurs to me that ye were some distance from the road when I found ye.” He eyed the wagon before looking back at her. “’Tis a straightforward journey from Oban to Creagdoun, even with a wagon. Did one of yer men suggest leaving the road?”
Was he implying one of her loyal men had ties to the brigands? It was a disgusting accusation. Besides, if there had been a traitor amongst them, surely he would have made provisions so he wasn’t murdered along with everyone else?
“The road was blocked by a fallen tree.” Her voice was icy, but she couldn’t help it. “The choice was either to spend hours moving it or find an alternative route.”
In hindsight, maybe it would have been better to clear the road before continuing, but then, hindsight was a marvelous thing. The expression on Hugh’s face suggested he was thinking the same thing. Fortunately, he chose not to voice it.
“That road is frequently used. Seems odd a tree would fall across it, when there hasn’t been a recent storm.”
His implication was plain. And considering the treacherous route they’d needed to take to bypass the tree before they’d eventually arrive back on the road, she feared he could be right.
“Ye think we were targeted?”
It was bad enough to be attacked. But to suspect it might not have been random was infinitely worse.
“I don’t wish to alarm ye, Lady Roisin.”
This time she couldn’t help an incredulous laugh from escaping. “Are ye serious, Hugh Campbell? I believe I have every right to be alarmed, and I don’t need ye to tell me whether I should be or not, either.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He shifted on his saddle, as if her retort had made him uncomfortable. Well, good. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
For some reason, that remark stung far more than it should.
“Why not? Because ye think I shouldn’t know of the dangers I might be facing?” And then she couldn’t stop herself. “’Tis a little late for that, don’t ye think?”
He heaved a great sigh. How irritating that she found it charming.
“I didn’t plan this, Lady Roisin. But if I hadn’t found ye, God only knows where ye might be by now.”
A chilling shiver raced through her. She knew exactly what fate she and Grear would have suffered at the hands of the brigands. At least she had, when she’d tried to escape. But if the attack had been targeted, who knew what had really been on the outlaws’ minds?
It was galling, but she had to concede that in this, at least, Hugh was right.
“I’m grateful for it.” Especially since it appeared he and his compatriot had killed the remaining brigands. At least in that small way her brave warriors had been avenged. “Don’t think I’m not. But ye cannot expect me to be happy ye’re not taking me to Creagdoun.”
“I will arrange for ye safe return to yer kin. I just cannot do it right this moment.”
It was obvious he didn’t intend to tell her why.
For a reason she couldn’t fathom, after leaving Eigg, he’d abandoned his old life and, it appeared, his former friends. But what had happened to make him choose such a precarious path?
Whatever it was, neither of her sisters knew. Were their husbands also in the dark? Or had they just kept the truth from them?
They rode on in silence, for what seemed like hours, along nonexistent paths and keeping to the shadows of forests as they traveled higher into the mountains, and despite the rough terrain, the wagon didn’t get stuck.
The edges of the basket dug into her thighs and Ecne grew heavier by the moment, but she’d sooner cut out her tongue than admit it. But how she hoped there wasn’t much farther to go.
The sun was dipping low in the sky when Hugh came to her side and after an apologetic glance, once again grasped her reins.
It could mean only one thing. They had arrived, and her stomach pitched with nerves at what that might mean. Hugh might be the leader of the camp he’d mentioned, but did he truly possess the power to keep her and Grear safe from his men?
They emerged from the cover of the forest onto a mountainside. To their left, the impenetrable mountain descended into a steep glen, but Hugh led them along a secure path, wide enough for the wagon, before rounding a corner onto a small, secluded plateau.
Roisin sucked in a shocked breath. When Hugh had spoken of his camp, she’d had a vague idea of a small band of outlaws sleeping rough.
But nestled against the rocky cliffs that surrounded the plateau on three sides, and undoubtedly gave protection from the elements, were a dozen or more tents in varying states of deterioration.
It wasn’t the tents that unsettled her so. It was the bairns who ran over to them, before standing in a silent huddle, and the women who stood and stared at her with sullen, suspicious eyes.
This wasn’t a camp of lawless men banding together to take what they could from unfortunate travelers. These were displaced families, barely scratching out an existence on the side of a mountain.
The knot of dread in the pit of her stomach that had temporarily eased while riding beside Hugh tightened, spreading tentacles of alarm throughout her blood.
As Hugh dismounted, several men appeared from hidden crannies in the surrounding cliffs, where they’d doubtless been keeping a lookout, and one of them, an older man with a patch over one eye and a badly scarred face, came over to them.
“A good day’s hunting.” He cast his good eye over her, and she tried to suppress a shiver of fear, before his gaze fixed on the wagon behind her and the horses they’d brought with them. “Unexpected.”
Hugh handed a couple of bulging sacks to a nearby woman, who pulled open the ties and peered inside. Apparently satisfied by the contents she gave a sharp nod before handing the sacks to a younger woman.
“Aye,” Hugh responded to the other man’s remark. “As we were returning, we crossed paths with bandits attacking this lady’s escort. There was no choice but to bring her with us.”
Hugh’s compatriot—Symon—appeared, with Grear by his side, and Roisin grasped her hand as Symon, also, handed a couple of sacks to the woman. Belatedly, it occurred to her what the bulges in all those sacks were.
Hugh had been poaching.
The older man smiled, and it was a chilling thing to witness. “Ye didn’t strike me as the type, Hugh, but then we never really know our fellow man, do we.”
Her grip tightened around Grear’s fingers, who was shaking so badly Roisin feared she might collapse. But then, she wasn’t feeling so fine herself, either, although she was certain Hugh hadn’t brought her here for the purpose the other man was slyly implying.
“The lady and her maid are under my protection, Darragh.” Hugh didn’t raise his voice but there was a note of pure steel in his it, and Darragh inclined his head, although a mocking smile remained on his face.
“Selling the horses will bring in much needed supplies, and the goods in her wagon will cover any inconvenience until I can arrange to return her to her people.”
She shot him a startled glance. Had she misunderstood? Was Hugh going to give these people everything she’d brought with her?
“A fair enough exchange.” Darragh turned his attention to her, and she wanted to sink through the saddle and disappear from the malevolent gleam in his eye. “And who might ye be, then?”
Her voice locked in her throat and her heart thundered so loudly she feared everyone could hear it. Why couldn’t she respond the way Isolde or Freyja would have when questioned by a fearsome stranger?
When it came to courage, no matter how hard she tried to be brave, her resolve always faltered.
“Too good to speak to the likes of us, then.” There was more than a thread of contempt in Darragh’s voice now. As though he could sense her terror, Ecne licked her gloved fingers through the gaps in his basket.
“No, Darragh, the lady is just recovering from her ordeal. Her name is Lady Roisin MacDonald of the Western Isles.”
She didn’t dare glance at Hugh. While she was falling apart, he was keeping his word to ensure her safety, by concealing her connection to William Campbell who, for whatever reason, these people despised.
“A MacDonald from the Isles, are ye?” Darragh’s palpable distrust faded, and he gave a sharp nod. “I thought Hugh had picked up a damn Campbell. And where were ye heading, my lady?”
To visit my sister. But the words merely hammered inside her head, while she remained as mute as ever. Would this interrogation never end? Everyone was staring at her, as though she were a pitiable halfwit.
“Lady Roisin was on her way to Oban, to catch a ship back to the isles.” Hugh offered her a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes, a silent warning not to contradict him.
As if she would.
“Can the lass not speak for herself?” Darragh hadn’t taken his gaze from her, and she screwed up her nonexistent courage, and managed to force out a few words.
“I can speak for myself.” Dear God, if only she’d never left Eigg, she wouldn’t be here, needing to respond to a man who looked as if he’d not think twice about tossing her off the side of the mountain if the mood took him.
But if she hadn’t traveled to the mainland, she wouldn’t have met Hugh again and discovered the truth about his disappearance.
It didn’t make her feel better. At least if she’d stayed at home, she’d be able to remember him the way he’d been on Eigg, instead of having all those rose-hued memories shattered by this surreal reality.
“Good,” Darragh said, “There’s little in the way of hospitality we can offer ye, since the damn Campbells took everything we own, but ye’ll be safe enough here for now. Maybe we’ll even ransom ye. Are yer relatives rich, Lady Roisin?”
Appalled, she stared at him and after a heartbeat he laughed, as though he found it all a great jest. “I’ll leave that to Hugh. He has a good head on his shoulders for such things. But for now, welcome to what remains of the grand bloodline of the MacGregors of Argyll.”
The MacGregors? Hugh had brought her to a rebel outpost of the MacGregors?
But they were deadly enemies of Clan Campbell.
And although the MacGregors hadn’t personally offended the MacDonalds of the Isles, there was a tacit understanding between her clan and the Earl of Argyll.
When it came to the feud between the Campbells and MacGregors, the MacDonalds were firmly behind the earl.
A new kind of terror clutched deep inside as the truth hit her.
She’d been wrong to think Hugh had forsaken his name. It was so much worse than that.
He had forsaken his clan.