Chapter Eleven
Roisin tightened her grip on her mare’s reins before she did something ridiculous, such as trace her fingertips along Hugh’s jaw.
When he had kissed her, her good sense had fled and all the foolish dreams she’d woven around him had once again flooded her mind.
Then he’d informed her it was nothing but a strategy, yet instead of wanting to sink through the ground with mortification…
She hadn’t believed him.
She still didn’t.
There was no logical reason for her certainty.
She wasn’t so sheltered that she believed a man’s kiss meant anything deeper than a fleeting desire, however much she’d love to think so.
Hugh had likely kissed many lasses in the past and there was no reason to think the one they had shared was anything special to him, even if it was to her.
But this certainty that shifted within her, like the fragile flicker of a candle’s flame, would not be extinguished by rationality.
It was the same way she’d felt, deep inside, that when William Campbell had washed up on Sgur beach he was Isolde’s soulmate, and how, from the moment she’d met Alasdair, she’d known it was Freyja’s destiny to wed him.
Whether he admitted it or not, Hugh had kissed her because he’d wanted to. Not because it would distract passersby into believing they were a married couple. And maybe he didn’t want Symon to know, either, although she wasn’t sure what difference that would make.
For an eternal moment, he simply gazed upon her with eyes as blue as the finest summer day. She had the surreal notion that if she didn’t break this spell, she might lose her soul forevermore in those sapphire depths.
Would that truly be such a terrible thing?
Before she had time to berate herself for such a foolish thought, he spoke.
“We can wait for Symon in the inn. There’s sure to be a private room I can hire and ye can have something hearty to eat.”
She tore her besotted gaze from him and glanced at the market stalls that overflowed the square like unwrapped treasures. “I’d rather explore the market.”
There was no mistaking the surprise on his face. “Ye would?”
“Ye mustn’t laugh, but I so rarely have the chance to visit such a grand market. I should like to browse.” Even though the coin she had brought with her, and secured in her trunk, had vanished along with most of her possessions, it would still be an intriguing expedition.
“Then we shall explore the market.” He offered her a smile and the warmth in his eyes tugged at her heart, as though no time had passed since they’d first met at Sgur Castle.
It wasn’t that she ever forgot she had been spirited away to a rebel MacGregor camp, but the truth was whenever she was in Hugh’s company, the danger she was in simply faded.
“It didn’t occur to me that ye’d enjoy such a thing. ”
“I went with Isolde and Freyja to a large market the last time Amma and I visited the Highlands.” She didn’t want him thinking she had never been to such an impressive market before, although admitting she had only visited one was likely quite tragic.
Ah well, it was too late to regret that now.
“’Twas rather thrilling to see so many different things for sale. ”
She’d certainly spent a good amount on beautiful new goose quills and had been unable to resist purchasing an elegant swan quill and a vibrant peacock quill, as well as colored inks and a new bronze inkwell, all of which she had left behind in the solar at Sgur.
“Then I’m glad ye have the chance to browse another.”
“’Tis certainly more exciting than entertaining visiting merchants at the castle.”
He laughed, as though she were jesting although she’d been serious. She had never enjoyed the enforced proximity that receiving merchants had entailed, despite whatever luxuries they had brought with them from across the sea.
“I doubt ye’ll find the silks or fine jewelry here that a merchant could acquire.”
“Then ’tis lucky I have little interest in silks and fine jewelry. And what would I do with such things here, anyway?”
He had the grace to wince. “Ye’re right. Here, let me carry yer satchel for ye.”
“Oh.” Instinctively, she clutched the strap that was slung across her breasts, and the images that she had drawn of him flashed across her mind.
Of course, he wouldn’t see them if he carried her satchel, but inside she shuddered at the notion of having those portraits she’d sketched with so much tenderness merely inches from discovery by him. “Thank ye, but I can manage.”
“Are ye certain? It looks mighty heavy.” He gave her satchel a dubious glance and she couldn’t blame him. It bulged in a most ungainly manner with everything she had stuffed into it yesterday afternoon. And now that he had drawn attention to it, the weight upon her shoulder magnified excessively.
She forced her fingers from the strap and rubbed her mare’s neck to give her hand something useful to do so she wasn’t tempted to reach out to Hugh instead. “’Tis fine. I’m simply glad I have it.”
“So am I,” he said, and he smiled at her again before offering her his arm.
After a moment’s hesitation, she looped her arm under his and rested her fingers just above his wrist. It was an intimate gesture and illicit thrills coursed through her, even though she was wearing gloves.
“I shouldn’t wish to lose ye in the crowd. ”
“I shouldn’t wish to lose ye, either. I’m not certain how far from either of my sisters I am.”
He sighed and as they headed further into the heart of the market, he moved closer to her side and, combined with his evocative scent of leather and wild Highland grasses, it was a struggle to breathe normally.
She hoped he wouldn’t notice. “We’re a fair way from either of them.
” He sounded reluctant to admit it. “But don’t worry, I’ll find a messenger in town, I promise ye. ”
That reminded her. “Maybe we can stop at the inn after we’ve looked around the market so I can write a note to my sisters.”
He didn’t answer but he gave her a contemplative, sideways glance as though he wanted to say something but had thought better of it.
She certainly hoped he’d thought better of it if he had intended to tell her he had changed his mind about sending a message from her to her sisters.
Did he think she’d break her promise and tell them she was being held by rebel MacGregors?
To be sure, it would be a tricky message to write, and she hadn’t yet worked out what she was going to say. But the most important thing was her sisters knew she was alive and well and would return to them as soon as she could. She could explain everything to them once they were together again.
Perhaps she wouldn’t tell them everything.
She was still trying to come to terms with that kiss and Hugh’s reaction to it.
But more than that, she harbored the hope that when she left the MacGregors, Hugh would accompany her.
Surely the earl would look favorably upon him, if he realized Hugh was the reason she had escaped a fate involving the brigands?
They passed by several stalls selling grains, fruit and vegetables.
On Eigg, they grew most of their own produce in the castle’s kitchen gardens, and their meat was hunted on the Small Isles.
There was a weekly market in the local village, of course, but it was a far cry from the wonders displayed here.
She lingered at a stall that displayed a vast array of dried herbs and spices, and while Sgur imported a great variety of exotic spices from foreign lands, they cultivated most of their own herbs.
The castle’s gardens had always provided these necessities, but ever since she was a child, she’d grown up with Freyja’s passion for exploring every possible medicinal use for everything the gardens yielded and her sister’s enthusiasm for ensuring whatever she used was exactly as she believed it to be, and it had inevitably affected her.
She picked up a glass jar and scrutinized the contents. Unless one grew the plants oneself, how was it possible to tell whether the herbs had been cut with a cheaper alternative to enhance profits? And if the product was compromised, how could anyone judge its effectiveness?
“Do ye want that?” Hugh glanced at the jar she held, and she heard the concern in his voice. Hastily, she returned it to the stall.
“No, I’m just looking.”
He leaned closer so there was no chance of them being overheard, and she held her breath, so she wouldn’t inadvertently succumb to the faint, tantalizing aroma that would forever remind her of him. Not that she succeeded, and her head spun as though she’d overindulged in the finest French wine.
“If there’s anything ye need, let me know.”
She tore her bewitched senses from his mesmeric gaze and cast another glance at the goods on display.
If Innis had come to the market, would she have bought any of these offerings?
Maybe she was being overcautious, but she couldn’t risk giving the women anything if she wasn’t absolutely certain of its origins.
Besides, she had no coin on her and the last thing she was going to do was ask Hugh to buy things for her. “I’ve everything I need in my satchel.”
He glanced at a neighboring stall. “Then I’ll get some apples for ye and yer maid. Be sure to keep them out of sight of the women.” He flashed her a grin. “And don’t worry, once Symon has sold the horses, we plan on taking back plenty of fresh fare for the bairns.”
That was good news, and it made her feel better about accepting the gift of apples from Hugh. “Thank ye. Sweet Ecne has missed his daily treat of apple slices.”
“Aye, well, I should be grieved if Ecne went without.” His smile caused the breath to lodge in her chest. “And his mistress, too.”
“The difference is I know we shall soon return home, but there’s no way to make Ecne understand that.”