Chapter Thirteen
Roisin watched Hugh carefully place her letter into a pouch hanging from his belt, but the unease wouldn’t leave her.
She was certain her sisters would know the letter was from her, but she wasn’t certain that receiving it would ease their minds.
How could it, when she’d had no option but to leave out so many details that would explain her true situation?
And it wasn’t just the details she’d omitted that would cause them distress.
She hadn’t been able to bring herself not to mention the terrible fate that had befallen the brave warriors of Eigg.
They deserved to be found by those who had once known them, so they could be given a proper burial.
She only hoped her directions on where the brigands had attacked were straightforward enough to follow.
“I don’t like to leave ye, but will ye be all right in here for a few moments while I find a messenger?”
“Of course.” She smiled at him, so he didn’t guess anxiety knotted her stomach at the notion.
If only Grear and Ecne were here. It was most unconventional that she should be left unattended in a strange inn, miles from home, but then, it was just as irregular she was spending so much time alone with Hugh and she didn’t mind that, did she?
“I’ll leave the door open so ye can keep an eye on me.” He frowned. “Unless ye’d prefer the door shut? I know this isn’t what ye are used to, but I cannot think how else to send the message. ’Tis imperative Symon knows nothing of it.”
A new thread of anxiety attacked her at the thought of Symon catching Hugh in an act that, she was certain, Darragh would consider treachery. It hadn’t occurred to her until now just how much danger Hugh was putting himself in so that she could get word to her sisters.
“Leave the door open,” she said, even though a part of her wanted it shut, to hide her from any curious eyes. But the possibility of strangers casting a glance her way was a small consideration when it meant she would be able to keep Hugh in her line of sight.
He gave a brief nod and stood, and for a surreal heartbeat as she lost her senses in the blue of his eyes, she fancied he was about to kiss her. She tipped her head back, a blatant invitation, yet she couldn’t help herself, and her breath caught in her throat as anticipation sparked through her.
But instead of leaning across the table and kissing her until she lost all sense of time or propriety, he merely brushed his fingers across the back of her hand before swinging on his heel and leaving the room.
She expelled a shaky breath, her gaze fixed on his back as he strode across the hall towards the bar. Her skin tingled where his fingers had trailed across her knuckles and it was both intoxicating and utterly foolish that such a brief touch could affect her so.
Within moments, he was in an animated conversation with a woman who was serving drinks to her customers.
The innkeeper’s wife, perhaps? Then she lost sight of him as he weaved his way through a throng of men.
It didn’t matter how she told herself to stay calm.
Nerves spiked through her chest regardless.
This was madness. Hugh wasn’t about to abandon her.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to look out of the window, so it didn’t appear as though she was desperate for his return.
Not that the view of the stone wall of the stables was enticing, and she shook her head at her folly of being unable to get Hugh out of her mind and turned her attention to tidying away her ink and paper.
There was a sharp tap on the door, and she looked up, startled. The innkeeper Hugh had been talking with earlier stood there holding a tray with the food he’d ordered and an interested gleam in his eyes. Roisin’s stomach churned.
As the youngest sister, whenever she’d been outside Sgur Castle it had never fallen to her to assume responsibility in any given situation, since she’d always been accompanied by Amma, Isolde or Freyja.
Even though Hugh wasn’t here, but before panic had a chance to lock her tongue, it occurred to her the innkeeper wasn’t nearly as frightening as Darragh and she’d managed to speak to him, hadn’t she?
She forced a smile and inclined her head. “Thank ye.”
He entered the room and placed the platters and flagon of wine from the tray on the table. “I hope it’s to yer liking, mistress.”
“I’m sure it will be.” Should she mention that Hugh—her husband—would be back at any moment? But maybe that would draw too much attention to the fact he wasn’t here with her now. Before she could agonize on the wisdom of saying anything more, or not, Hugh returned, with Symon behind him.
Dismay streaked through her. Had Symon caught Hugh sending the message? Neither of them appeared to be spoiling for a fight, which was surely a good sign. As the innkeeper finally tore his attention from her to focus on Hugh, she slid her hands under the table before anyone noticed them shaking.
After a few inconsequential words between the three men, the innkeeper left. Hugh ignored his old seat and came to sit beside her. Before she could get too excited by that development, Symon kicked the door shut and then sat himself opposite them both.
“’Tis lucky ye saw me at the bar,” Symon said. Then he placed a tankard of ale and a hearty bowl of stew on the table and dug in as though he were starving. He swallowed before continuing. “It wouldn’t have occurred to me to start looking in private rooms for ye.”
Hugh poured wine into the goblets and handed one to her. “I was keeping an eye out for ye.”
Roisin kept her eyes on her goblet, but a shiver trickled over her arms at how easily Hugh had lied. But what else could he say? The truth?
The truth would put them both in danger. And since he was only doing this to help her, she’d tear out her tongue before she inadvertently gave him away.
Symon nodded, as though Hugh keeping an eye out for him was a commonplace thing. “Now we cannot be overheard, ye can ask me what ye want to know.”
“There’s no need. The satisfied look on yer face tells me ye got a good price.”
“Aye, better than Darragh hoped. We’ll be able to get all the supplies we need.
And that was by selling only two of the horses.
” He glanced at Roisin and had the grace to look a little abashed.
“With apologies, my lady, but ’tis no exaggeration to say finding ye was nothing short of a miracle for us. ”
She knew it wasn’t his fault they had been attacked by brigands, but it was hard to keep her feelings to herself when his miracle had only been made possible by the deaths of the MacDonald warriors of Eigg.
Irked with herself for not having the courage to respond, she picked up her goblet, and then it seemed her reticence fled.
“’Tis a pity yer miracle is drenched in the blood of my countrymen. ”
Her rebuke rang in her ears and echoed around the suddenly silent room. Usually, her unwary thoughts remained locked tightly inside her head. Had she really spoken them aloud this time? A swift glance at Hugh’s face assured her that she had. He looked mortified.
“Roisin, Symon didn’t mean to offend ye. He doesn’t always think things through.”
“Aye, Hugh is right. I shouldn’t wish to upset ye, and I’m sorry that I did. But when ye live life on the edge, ye must grab whatever advantage ye can.”
She took a sip of wine, hating the way her face burned at being the center of such intense attention from both Hugh and Symon. But she couldn’t take her words back and even if she could, she wouldn’t.
No. She replaced the goblet on the table. She didn’t regret her outburst. It was something that had to be said. The memory of her men demanded nothing less.
“I know ’tis not yer fault they were slaughtered. But their deaths grieve me, and I will not apologize for it.”
“I only wish we’d arrived earlier, so we could have helped yer men fight off the bandits’ attack.
” Hugh took her hand as he spoke, and his fierce blue gaze was spellbinding.
“Then ye could have continued yer journey and never known—” He came to an abrupt halt before sucking in a ragged breath. “Any of this.”
She knew what he really meant. She would never have discovered he’d become an outlaw with the rebel MacGregors.
His callused fingers tightened around hers as though, once again, he had forgotten they weren’t alone. “But for all that, it’s true. When ye have nothing, a miracle can be found in tragedy.”
“’Tis a fearful way to live.” Her voice was hushed. Although she thought of Hugh, she could neither forget the bairns in the camp nor the women who hadn’t the means to grow essential herbs for their basic needs.
“Aye. Ye shouldn’t be exposed to it, and that’s a fact.”
Despite how dearly she cherished these moments with Hugh, she suddenly bristled at his comment.
Did he truly think her so shallow that he believed all she thought about was her own comfort?
When, sooner or later, at least she was assured of returning to her former life, when the MacGregor women had no such certainty?
“What of the women and bairns, though? They shouldn’t be exposed to this life either, just because the menfolk cannot keep their damn swords sheathed or their pride in check.”
Hugh looked taken aback by her outburst, but he didn’t release her hands. And she didn’t have the overwhelming urge to sink through the floor the way she usually did when her words caused anyone to stare at her so.
Except she’d never said anything like this before, not even to her sisters. Because not only had she never faced such injustice before, but she had never taken the time to think about it, either.
“Men must protect their clan and their kin from their enemies.” There was a tortured note in his voice and an eerie shiver chased through her.
Was he speaking of the Earl of Argyll, who had banished the MacGregors from their land, or was he referring to the MacGregors, who had first raised their swords against their earl?
In the end, did it even matter? The result was the same.
“’Tis a steep price to pay, Hugh,” she whispered sorrowfully. Would those MacGregor bairns ever have a place to call home again? Her eyes stung at the question.
A dull clunk of a spoon against a bowl tore her back to the present and, as one, both she and Hugh looked across the table where Symon was slowly chewing, his eyes darting between her and Hugh.
Shock stabbed through her. Yet again, she had forgotten about Symon’s presence, and heat gushed through her, aye, and mortification too.
She might not mind what she said to Hugh, but Symon was a different matter.
A small, unfamiliar voice drilled into the back of her mind.
I wouldn’t take any of it back, even if I could.
With apparent reluctance, Hugh released her hand and for a heartbeat he appeared disconcerted. Then he drew in a deep breath and after a guarded glance in Symon’s direction, once again caught her gaze.
“Forgive me.” There was an oddly detached note in his voice and she shivered as though a draft had swept through the room.
“This isn’t a fit discussion for a lady.
” He picked up the platter with the food he’d ordered from the innkeeper and placed it closer to her. “Eat. Ye must keep yer strength up.”
With as much dignity as she could muster, she picked up her goblet and took another sip. She was afraid if she didn’t, her newfound courage might entice her to retort something unforgivable. And while Hugh certainly deserved it, she had no wish to continue the discussion while Symon eavesdropped.
Alas, it appeared her courage had no intention of retreating into its previous deep cave.
She eyed him over the rim of her goblet and the words simply poured out.
“Do not order me about, Hugh Campbell. We are only pretending to be man and wife. And please do not tell me what is or isn’t fit for my discussion. ”
With that, she replaced her goblet on the table and bit into a pasty, ignoring both Hugh’s wounded countenance and Symon’s muffled snort of laughter.
She wasn’t sure if she was more irked by Hugh’s order that she eat or his apparent belief she was incapable of serious discussion by virtue of her birth.
“That isn’t what I meant.” Hugh picked up a pasty and glowered at it as though it had personally offended him.
She didn’t know if he was referring to their sham marital status or his presumption in deciding what topics of conversation were acceptable for her ears. Either way, it was disheartening to know her opinion scarcely mattered to him one way or another.
An uncomfortable silence fell. When Hugh finally sat back in his chair and tossed his napkin onto the table, Symon spoke. “We should buy our supplies now, Sergeant.”
“Aye.” He still sounded out of sorts, but she wasn’t going to look at him since he might take that as a sign of apology. Instead, she wrapped the remaining food in one of the napkins. Too bad if the innkeeper charged Hugh for it.
“Let me take that for ye.” He nodded at the napkin.
“Thank ye, but I’m quite capable of carrying it myself until I can stow it in the saddlebags.”
He didn’t argue with her, which was a relief, since it was such a foolish thing to disagree over, but nevertheless, it was simply a point of principle.
Hugh Campbell might be her only hope of escaping the MacGregors and returning to her kin, but that didn’t mean he could order her around or treat her like a witless bairn.
Unfortunately, it was hard to remain annoyed with him when he was so solicitous and held her arm in a protective gesture as they left the inn.
And she certainly wasn’t oblivious to the admiring glances slanted his way from more than a few young women.
Indeed, by the time they’d collected their horses and were once again heading to the market so he and Symon could purchase the goods for the camp, she had all but forgotten why he had vexed her so.
Maybe she had forgiven him, but that didn’t mean he was in the right. And when they were next alone, she would be sure to let him know.