Chapter Nine #2
“’Tis a miracle ye wrought, make no mistake. After I arrived at camp it took Innis a fortnight before she’d even look at me without murder in her eyes.”
Curious, she caught his warm blue gaze and despite her best intentions to remain calm and collected, a swarm of butterflies collided deep inside her chest as she returned his smile. But she wasn’t going to be distracted. His confession was intriguing.
“How long have ye been staying with them?”
“About six weeks.”
“Only six weeks?” she repeated before she could stop herself.
She’d assumed he had been with the rebel MacGregors far longer.
After all, Freyja had been wed for a year, and neither she nor Isolde had heard a whisper about him which was odd, considering William and Hugh were cousins, and they and Alasdair had, by all accounts, grown up together as close-knit as blood brothers.
“Aye.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but it seemed that was all he had to say about the matter. And then she recalled he’d told her he had fought in Eire before accompanying Symon to the camp. “Why did ye go to Eire? I’m thinking that’s where ye met Symon before he invited ye back to his camp.”
He shrugged and narrowed his eyes, as though searching for something within the cover of the forest, but she recognized a diversionary tactic when she saw one.
Since she was a small child, she’d witnessed how Amma used every strategy at her disposal when dealing with fellow clan chieftains.
And before she’d wed William, Isolde had spent untold hours teaching her and Freyja of common attack strategies and how to recognize and deflect them.
Obviously, Hugh wasn’t about to attack her, but he was certainly trying to divert her attention. But if there truly was danger lurking among the trees, she was certain he wouldn’t be taking so long to do anything about it.
“Hugh?”
Finally, he caught her gaze. “I was a redshank.” He sounded reluctant to admit it. “I had nowhere to go when we returned to the Highlands, so I took Symon up on his offer.”
“But why didn’t ye go back to yer own kin?”
He sucked in a shuddering breath. “I cannot share my reasons with ye. My only home is wherever I pitch my tent.”
She contemplated that as they continued through the forest, her mind swirling with possibilities both practical and fantastical as to why he’d abandoned his former life for one, essentially, on the run.
The most likely reason was he had done something terrible, and the Earl of Argyll had banished him from his lands, except she couldn’t imagine Hugh capable of doing anything so bad as to merit such a harsh fate.
“Do ye think ye will ever return home?” Her voice was hushed, and her heart ached at how dreadful it would be to be banished from loved ones and friends.
She had been torn from her kin for barely a day and felt as though her world had turned upside down, but at least she knew sooner or later she’d see them again.
“I don’t know.” His smile this time was sad, and the ache dug deeper into her heart at the sight. If only she had the nerve to reach over to him and take his hand, just to show him she understood.
She clutched the reins tighter, in reaction against her absurd thoughts.
The truth was, she didn’t understand. How could she, if he didn’t confide in her?
And she was only guessing the earl had banished him for something minor.
Suppose the truth was he’d done something unforgivable?
Did she really want to know the truth, if that was so?
Since it appeared unlikely Hugh would ever confide in her, it wasn’t something she needed to fret about. But regardless, she would never believe he had done anything to merit exile from his clan.
“Maybe ye will, in time.” When she next saw Freyja, she’d ask her to see if Alasdair could speak to the earl on Hugh’s behalf. In fact, why hadn’t Alasdair already done so? They were supposed to be great friends. Or didn’t Hugh’s blood brothers know what he had been accused of?
It was a mystery, for sure. And since her sisters’ husbands seemed to share everything with them, she was certain either Isolde or Freyja would have told her had they been aware of Hugh’s fall from grace.
Up ahead, Symon came to a halt, before he looked over his shoulder at Hugh. “We’re leaving the forest now, Sergeant. The town is another hour eastwards, but there’s not much cover.”
He’d called Hugh Sergeant before. And while she knew redshanks were savage mercenaries who went wherever there was coin to be had, it hadn’t occurred to her they used military rankings until now.
A small pain pierced through her breast at the realization Hugh had been so successful as a mercenary that he’d been promoted.
It was almost as though it was proof that he’d embraced this fugitive life and had no illusions he’d ever return to his former one.
But if only he would.
As they left the shelter of the forest and joined a well-worn path that presumably led to the town, she shook her head to disperse the foolish wish. Even if the earl issued a pardon and Hugh returned to Balfour Castle, he wouldn’t necessarily want her to join him.
Why couldn’t she stop imagining a future with him? Only yesterday she’d wanted to hate him. And now she was back to weaving romantic notions about him, as though they had never left Eigg.
She couldn’t help the way her imagination always ran away with her. But at least she could control what she said and did when they were together. He’d never guess how she really felt about him.
It was a wise plan. She hoped he’d never see through it.