Chapter Nineteen
Arm-in-arm with Grear, Roisin watched Hugh ride away with Darragh and Fergus and a thread of unease twisted through her.
Be careful.
The warning reverberated around her mind like a distant heartbeat, and she could only hope that, somehow, Hugh would understand the need to be on his guard. Ecne whined and nudged her ankle, and she crouched to give him another hug, as she silently berated herself.
Hugh was a warrior. He knew how to take care of himself without her fretting over his safety. But it didn’t stop the knot of unease from tightening in her chest. She didn’t trust either Darragh or Fergus. Why had they wanted Hugh to accompany them into town?
Grear crouched next to her. “Ye must get out of these wet things, milady.” Anxiety threaded through her voice and Roisin took her hand.
To be sure, her clothes were wet through, and even Hugh’s spare shirt, that he had insisted she wear beneath her gown, was now damp as it clung to her skin, but Grear was just as soaked as she.
“And so must ye.” They stood and she glanced around. The men were unloading the wagons, preparing to set up camp inside the caves. They didn’t appear to be interested in the small cave where she and Hugh had sheltered.
Delicious shivers raced through her, pooling between her thighs, as she recalled what they had done. It was scandalous, but she didn’t regret it. Not for a moment. Although if she did harbor one regret, it was not knowing when she and Hugh might ever have the chance to be alone like that again.
She shook her head, as though that might help to force such negative notions aside.
They might not have the opportunity again while they remained in Darragh’s camp, but Hugh was working tirelessly to ensure her safe return to her kin, and there was nothing in Christendom that would stop her from persuading him to join her.
Or, if she was truthful, nothing from the mythical land of the fae, either. Not now when she was sure beyond all doubt that he felt as deeply for her as she did him.
“Come,” she said to Grear. “Let’s get our chest from the wagon and take it to the last cave.”
They made their way to the wagon where her chest was stowed, and between them carried it and Ecne’s basket back to the smallest cave, the reins of her and Grear’s mares looped around her arm.
She brought the mares inside, before pulling off the shawl that had covered her tangled hair and pretended not to notice the startled glance Grear sent her.
Alas, she feared Grear would be further shocked in a few moments when she saw Hugh’s shirt.
The fire Hugh had set still glowed, and she quickly fed it with more sticks and leaves that covered the floor of the cave while Grear opened the chest and found their spare clothes.
She shook out the blue gown that always reminded Roisin of Hugh’s incomparable blue eyes, and Roisin quickly undressed as she kept a wary eye on the low mouth of the cave.
Not that she really expected anyone to enter, but one never knew.
Grear carefully placed their dry clothes by the fire, before hastily pulling off her own drenched clothes. And then she stopped dead and gazed at Roisin as though she’d seen a wraith.
“’Tis all right,” Roisin whispered, although no one could overhear her. “Hugh gave me his shirt in the kind, but misguided, assumption it would keep me dry.”
It wasn’t a complete fabrication, but that didn’t stop the blood from rushing to her cheeks, and she sighed.
She had never been able to hide her feelings and Grear, who knew her almost as well as her own sisters, certainly wasn’t fooled.
“Do not look so stricken, Grear. Hugh was perfectly honorable and there is no need for any concern.”
“Aye, milady.” Grear hesitated, and then clearly couldn’t help herself. “But are ye certain?”
“I am.” Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t stop a dreamy smile from escaping. “We are destined to be together, just as Isolde and William, and Freyja and Alasdair. All will be well, ye’ll see.”
“If ye say so. But do ye truly think we’ll ever escape this camp?”
She pushed her daydreams aside. “Of course we will. Very soon, I have no doubt.” She cast a glance at the cave entrance, but no shadows lurked of anyone who might be eavesdropping. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice. “Once Isolde receives my letter, she will ensure the earl knows of it.”
Grear nodded and without another word, helped pull Hugh’s shirt over her head. For a foolish moment, Roisin had the urge to cling onto his shirt, as though it were a talisman against anything going wrong.
But nothing was going to go wrong. She and Hugh were destined to be together, and that was all there was to it. Which meant he wasn’t walking into a trap set by Darragh and Fergus. Sometimes her imagination was such a trial.
She dried herself as best she could before she pulled on her dry clothes and then helped Grear deal with their wet garments. Alas, it would take forever for them to dry this way.
Grear had just finished braiding her hair when Innis appeared at the entrance. The other woman bent low and came inside, before she cast a shrewd glance around.
Roisin could feel her cheeks burning. Had Innis guessed what she and Hugh had done during the downpour?
Not that it mattered. It was none of the other woman’s business.
And yet still she found herself hoping Innis had no idea.
She was certain the older woman didn’t believe in such things as soulmates or the fact that Roisin had known Hugh was the only one for her from the first day they’d met.
And what was more, she didn’t want to feel as though she needed to justify her actions.
“Bring out yer wet things,” Innis said. Roisin sighed with relief that she wasn’t about to be subjected to probing questions. “They’ll never dry in here. We’ve a grand fire outside, and poles where ye can drape yer clothes.”
They followed Innis outside and while Grear hung up the clothes, Roisin busied herself with preparing vegetables for the evening meal alongside several of the other women.
As they worked, the conversation turned to Fergus and his clan and unlike the previous night, when no one had said a word about him, it seemed the fact he was no longer in the camp had loosened their tongues.
“There was always a dark madness in him,” Elspeth remarked. “Even as a lad with Darragh he was not one to cross. But he got worse after his half-brother’s murder.”
Roisin glanced at the older woman, but it seemed everyone knew what she was talking about, and she didn’t elaborate. But it proved one thing. Her unease about Fergus was justified.
Please beware, Hugh.
“I’ve the greatest respect for Darragh, as ye well know.” Innis wagged her knife in Elspeth’s direction. “But I’m not happy about joining Fergus’s clan.”
“There’s safety in numbers,” another woman said.
“Aye, but ’tis harder to hide, too.” Bitterness threaded through Innis’s words and Roisin’s heart squeezed in sympathy. How she wished there was something she could do to return to these women all they had lost. “I fear it will be a long time before the Highlands are safe for MacGregors.”
Roisin couldn’t help herself. “Where else can ye go?”
Innis looked at her. “My husband has a cousin in Eire. He’s only followed Darragh this far to please me. I know, in his heart, he wants to leave. It wouldn’t be an easy life, but at least it would be better than this.”
“Darragh wants us all to stay together.” There was sad resignation in Elspeth’s voice as though she knew a fork in the road was inevitable.
“Then he should make plans to lead us to Eire.” Innis glanced around the group of women before once again focusing on Elspeth. “We’ve followed him for five years, Elspeth. ’Tis long enough to see the cursed Earl of Argyll has no plans to stop hunting us. I want more for my bairns. We all do.”
Roisin looked at Rhona, who was sitting beside her, engrossed in copying the sketch she’d done of her the other day. Yesterday, she had given Rhona one of her spare quills and a small inkpot and the young girl had spent every spare moment since then practicing her art.
Back on Eigg, when she’d accompanied her sisters to the village, she’d enjoyed spending time with the bairns, spinning tales and sharing the history of their isles, as well as teaching them their letters and how to write their names.
’Twas only a small thing, to be sure, and it had never been enough, and she had often wished there was a way where she could impart her love of reading to them.
But the children of the village had their lives preordained, just as she and her sisters’ lives had been determined before they had been born.
Yet even though the village bairns might not be destined to learn all the things she so wanted to share with them, at least they knew where they belonged.
On the isle of their birth, where their forebears had lived for generations without number.
Her chest grew tight and her eyes stung. Innis was right. This was no life for a bairn, continually on the run. Not when there was a chance of a stable life, even if it was far from their homeland.
A shiver trickled over her arms. Would she give up everything she had ever known and flee to Eire with Hugh?
*
After Fergus left the tavern, Hugh bided his time until he and Darragh reached the town gates, and then he drew to a halt. “Goddamn it. I forgot to purchase ribbons for Lady Roisin. I’ll catch up with ye, Darragh.”
Darragh grunted and set off, and Hugh swung his horse around and reentered the town. Quickly dismounting, he made his way back to the blacksmith’s. He hoped to God the earl’s messenger hadn’t left yet and would collect his missive before the gates shut for the night.