Chapter Twenty #3
“What?” He frowned, as though her question made no sense before his brow cleared, and he shook his head.
“Of course it wasn’t a fabrication. I sent several messages to—” He clamped his jaw shut and shot a furtive glance over her shoulder, as though ensuring no one could overhear them.
“Why would ye think I hadn’t taken action to reunite ye with yer kin? ”
Was he serious? “Why would I think ye had? Ye didn’t tell me the truth about my letter to Isolde. Ye’ve never told me anything about how ye intended to get me to Creagdoun. How can I know ye haven’t lied to me about everything?”
“I haven’t lied to ye.” He exhaled an impatient breath as though he considered she was being unreasonable and then he raked his fingers through his hair in a distracted manner that was entirely too endearing.
“Except in the matter of yer letter. But I’ve explained about that.
I did that to protect ye. Why can’t ye see that? ”
The irksome thing was, she could see it.
He had warned her before they had gone to the inn that sending the letter could be dangerous.
But he’d still let her go through with the farce of writing the cursed thing.
Her face burned as she recalled how hard it had been to find the right words and how Hugh had watched her from across the table.
At the time she’d been grateful for his patience, but now she knew all he had really been doing was indulging her.
The humiliating memory seared into her mind, and she wanted nothing more than to stalk back to the cave, so she didn’t have to face him any longer. But that was the easy way out and would only prove she couldn’t face a bitter truth.
She offered him a brittle smile as she recalled the guilt that had flashed across his face when Darragh had been berating him. He was still hiding something, and she was determined to know what it was. “What exactly were yer plans for me, Hugh?”
Except it was starkly obvious. He had made little attempt to hide his interest in her, and the women had gently teased her about it from the day after she’d arrived in their camp.
But Innis had seen the truth and tried to warn her, and instead of heeding the more experienced woman’s advice, she’d been offended by the slight against Hugh’s character.
His charm had got him what he’d wanted, and she had no one but herself to blame. How easily he had won her over, with his recollections of the time they’d spent together on Eigg and his assurances that he’d always intended to return to the Isle for her.
She doubted he’d spared her a second thought once he’d sailed away from her eighteen months ago.
“My plans?” He gave a hollow laugh that sent prickles along her arms. “I never had plans for ye, Roisin. How could I? But I’ll tell ye this. When I was in the town today, I came this close to doing all in my power to keep ye with me, whatever the cost to ye.”
She gave a soft gasp, transfixed by the savage gleam in his eyes.
A fierce, untamed tension swirled in the air between them, and heat suffused her, fiery tendrils that scorched her blood and caused sparks of lightning to collide between her thighs.
For countless moments, she was caught in his seductive web, as purple and orange shadows painted the sky and unfurled across the distant mountain peaks.
This was not the courteous Hugh she’d first known in Sgur Castle.
Nor yet the menacing outlaw who had saved her from the brigands.
This Hugh was a raw, contradictory enigma who radiated a primitive air of lethal authority and bewitching allure, and a chilling fear gripped her that if she didn’t retreat, his compelling intensity would consume her utterly.
She took a stumbling step backwards, fighting against the overwhelming compulsion to remain where she was and silently agree with whatever Hugh might command. Because if she allowed herself to fall completely under his spell, she would lose herself forever.
Swiftly, she spun about, but even as she hastened away, her mind was filled with his unforgiving blue eyes, and she could feel his unrelenting gaze boring into her as she made her way back to the far cave.
Since the day he had brought her into the camp, she’d placed her own, Grear’s, and Ecne’s wellbeing in him, so certain he was formulating a plan to get them safely to Creagdoun Castle.
She’d never questioned him. Never pointed out that with each passing day they traveled farther away from William and Isolde.
Because she had trusted him.
His confession hovered in her mind, like an angry wasp intent on retribution, and she shivered. Maybe Darragh’s veiled accusations were correct, and the truth was Hugh had never intended taking her to Creagdoun, not from the first moment he’d caught her fleeing in the forest.
She reached the cave and put Ecne on the ground before straightening and catching Grear’s anxious gaze. She could no longer rely on Hugh, Darragh couldn’t be trusted, and the prospect of arriving at Fergus’s camp sent cold dread through her very soul.
It was time she took control of her own destiny.