Chapter Twenty-Three
Speechless, Hugh watched Roisin hurry back to the cave as his mind reeled. He had half expected an inquisition after his confession, not have the air taken from his lungs by her sudden decision to change her plans.
Once, he had thought her so easy to understand. A genteel lady, soft-spoken and one who cast light wherever she went. A noblewoman who would, God willing and if luck were on his side, make him the perfect, agreeable wife.
That he would protect and cherish her had gone without saying. And when he’d rescued her from the bandits, his pledge to protect her had consumed him, for how could she hope to survive a brutal life like this, no matter how brief it might be, without him?
But she wasn’t easy to understand. Looking back, he realized she never had been.
He had simply never seen it. Even on Eigg she hadn’t been the conventional lady for while she loved her embroidery, she had also pursued her love of writing and illuminating stories of the fae.
And while royal courts were likely full of noblewomen who spent their time with their quills, he imagined their writings were somewhat more religious in nature.
She did not wield a sword, the way her sister, Lady Isolde did, nor share forthright views with strangers, like her other sister, Lady Freyja, had when he had met her at Sgur Castle.
But in her quiet way, Roisin stood up for what she believed in and forged her own path as surely as anyone he had met.
Yesterday, he had reluctantly understood why she refused to believe a word he said and why she’d insisted on traveling with Innis. He didn’t have to like it. All he had to do was ensure she reached Eigg without incident.
But now, she had changed her mind. And unless he’d completely lost his own mind, which was certainly a possibility, it appeared she changed it because he’d been cornered into admitting that he’d kept her precious handkerchief.
The one thing he’d been determined to keep from her at all costs, because it would expose a part of him he couldn’t afford to lay bare, had been the catalyst in restoring her trust in him.
He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Once, it would have given him hope. But while hope had been the one glimmer of light during those dark months in Eire, the reality was once he left Roisin with the earl, it was doubtful he would ever see her again.
Grimly, he set to saddling Fhortan as around him the camp prepared to split.
It appeared Innis was taking possession of the wagons, and he paused as he sized up the situation.
Symon had said half the camp was leaving, but by the looks of things only a couple of men, besides himself and Symon, were remaining with Darragh.
Without a wagon, Roisin wouldn’t be able to take her casket.
Then again, they wouldn’t be able to take a wagon with them even if one had been available when they broke away from Darragh later this morning since speed and dexterity would be paramount.
He’d need to speak with her about transferring as many of her possessions as she could into their saddlebags.
Roisin emerged from the cave, carrying her casket.
Hugh watched, fascinated, as she walked over to Innis and Elspeth.
He could tell by the way Innis shook her head and gesticulated that she clearly disapproved of Roisin’s decision to stay with him, and his suspicion was confirmed when Innis shot him a dark glance.
He didn’t worry that Roisin would let slip that he was secretly taking her to the Earl of Argyll.
She hadn’t betrayed him by telling Darragh yesterday who he really was after she’d overheard that conversation between them, and truth be told, he’d had a terrible moment when he feared she might. And he wouldn’t even have blamed her.
But she’d kept her word, even when she thought he had broken his.
He’d never break his word to her. And yet an uneasy thorn dug into his mind. For sure, he hadn’t broken his word, but Roisin hadn’t known about his connection with the earl. All she knew was he hadn’t sent her letter to her sister when he had told her he would.
Goddamn it. His grip tightened on Fhortan’s reins. He’d explained his reasoning. But had he told her he regretted not being clear with her from the start?
He wasn’t sure he had.
She handed over her casket to Innis, who passed it to Elspeth, and then did a very un-Innis-like thing. She hugged Roisin, a quick, hard-looking hug, before swiftly pushing her back and taking back the casket from Elspeth.
Frowning, he watched Roisin return to the cave where she led out her mare. Had she just given Innis all her possessions that were in the casket? Or had she already packed them into her saddlebags? Considering how they bulged, he was inclined to believe the latter.
It seemed she had already planned ahead for a streamlined escape.
It wasn’t long before those who were heading for Eire were ready, and Hugh eyed the farewells with Darragh, who only showed a crack in his stoic facade when Elspeth gave him a hug.
He had to admit he was surprised about Elspeth.
She was so staunchly loyal to her brother he’d expected her to remain behind.
But she was equally devoted to the bairns, and he guessed she couldn’t bear to be parted from them.
Innis gave him a nod of farewell. “Be sure ye keep yer word to Roisin,” she said, her voice low. “Get her back to her kin before ye reach Fergus’s camp, ye hear me?”
“I hear ye.”
She sighed as she hitched her bairn more securely on her hip. “’Tis is a pity there are not more Campbells like yerself, Hugh. Maybe then we MacGregors would not need to flee our land simply to find peace.”
There was nothing he could say to that. Because the truth was, he was one of the Campbells who had fought against the MacGregors from the first day the earl had called for arms against the other clan. He had done it without hesitation for that was what one did when one’s earl commanded it.
It didn’t mean he had to like how so many of the women and bairns had lost everything.
“God go with ye,” he said. “I hope ye find what ye’re searching for.”
As Innis and her group left, he went over to Roisin. Ecne was in his basket at her feet and the wee dog let out a mournful whimper at his imprisonment as Hugh approached. “I’ll carry his basket with me, if ye like.”
As he made the offer, he recalled how horror-struck she had been when he’d tried to help her with Ecne on the day she’d been attacked by the bandits. This time, she didn’t gaze at him as if he were a demon from hell. She gave him a small smile.
“Thank ye, but maybe I should carry it. In case ye need to be… vigilant.”
He instantly understood what she meant and silently berated himself that he hadn’t thought of the possible consequences of being hampered by the ungainly basket should he need to defend Roisin.
Not that he believed Darragh would order his men to attack him, should he realize Hugh’s plans to take her to safety, but ’twas best to be prepared.
Within moments, they were on their way with Darragh up front with one of his men, while a second man rode ahead to scout the area, then Symon, and he and Roisin with Grear on her other side bringing up the rear.
It was still early as they left the glen behind them and if they kept on their current course, Hugh calculated they were four hours out from the earl’s manor.
They had been riding for some time, and he had resigned himself to the fact that it seemed Roisin never wanted to speak with him again when she gave a shuddering breath.
“Hugh.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he leaned closer and tried not to breathe in her scent of crushed rose petals. An impossible task. How did she always smell so fresh, as though she had just emerged from a steamy bathtub?
“Aye.” Unobtrusively, he attempted to shift position on the saddle, but it didn’t ease his discomfort, and he silently acknowledged nothing but Roisin herself could achieve that end.
“What is yer plan?”
He forced his mind back to the current situation.
No good would come from wishing for the impossible.
“If we stay on this path, in an hour or so we should reach a waterfall in a wooded glen, with an ancient cairn. Darragh’s bearing east, but we’ll turn west. Another two hours ride, and the earl will have men waiting for ye. ”
She was silent for a moment, before she gave him a sideways glance. “I’m finding it hard to fathom that ye didn’t tell me any of this, Hugh. I thought ye were planning on taking me to Creagdoun.”
“We were too far from Creagdoun and after the bandits’ attack, I couldn’t risk taking ye without adequate protection in case our suspicions were right, and it had been a targeted attack.” He sighed. “Which it was, as it turned out.”
“But I still don’t understand how ye could be in contact with the earl.”
She had put her faith in him, and he didn’t want to keep anything from her, but he couldn’t share his connection with the earl without revealing he was a part of the underground spy network. Although, God help him, it was hard to hold back.
“I sent him a message.” It wasn’t a lie, but he still felt bad that it wasn’t the whole truth.
She gave him another sideways glance, and it was obvious she knew he was hiding something. He could only hope she wouldn’t press him for further details.
They continued in silence for a while before she turned to him once again.
“What did ye mean when ye said Fergus knew exactly who William was? Did he have something to do with the ambush that killed my men?”
“He did. When we were in the town, he all but bragged about it.” Anger surged at how despicably Fergus had intended to use Roisin and he took a harsh breath.
That danger, at least, was over. “Fergus was the half-brother of Alan MacGregor, who tried to bring down William last year. I doubt he would ever have released ye, once ye were in his clutches.”
At least, not alive. His stomach clenched at what torture Fergus would have inflicted on Roisin, given half a chance.
“And Darragh agreed with this?” There was a quiver in Roisin’s voice, but she seemed more sad than terrified at the prospect.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. They were friends from long ago and I feel Darragh followed wherever Fergus led. Darragh may have decided to exchange ye for a ransom, but he wouldn’t have used ye to inflict retribution on William or the earl. He’s not a fundamentally cruel man.”
It was only as he spoke the words that he realized the truth of them. To be sure, Darragh had never fully trusted him, but when Symon had brought him into the camp, the chieftain had allowed him to stay because he had saved Symon’s life in Eire. He could just as easily have killed Hugh on the spot.
“So, we must be on guard against Fergus in case he tries to exact vengeance again on one of us.” Roisin shivered and before he could stop himself he reached for her and gently squeezed her hand where she held onto Ecne’s basket.
“Ye do not need to worry about Fergus. He’ll never harm another soul.”
She bit her lip before her gaze caught his. It was clear she understood his meaning. “Did he attack ye in the town?”
“Outside the town. After Darragh had already left.” He could leave it at that.
But she deserved to know the full truth.
“But whether he attacked me or not, there wasn’t any way on God’s earth he was leaving that place.
Ye’d never be safe so long as he was alive and that was something I couldn’t allow. ”
“I understand.” Her voice was hushed. “I’m grieved I put ye in that position, Hugh.”
“Don’t be. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I know what men of his ilk are like. There’s no reasoning with them.” And it had nothing to do with Fergus being a MacGregor. There had simply been something rotten in his core.
He realized he still held her hand, and she hadn’t pushed him away. Their gazes meshed, and he had the insane notion to kiss her and, that somehow by doing so, he could wipe out the last year and once more be worthy of seeking her hand.
“Hugh.” Her whisper was as soft as a summer breeze, and he imagined he saw the promise of something more than an imminent farewell in her eyes.
He forgot where they were, forgot everything he had done, and only knew if he didn’t tell her how desperately he needed her in his life he would regret it forever.
“Roisin.” Her name was like sunlight, filling his dark existence with hope. “I—”
A commotion up ahead as the scout returned whipped the words from him, and Symon wheeled his horse around and came to his side. “Ambush ahead.”
What the hell? He narrowed his eyes as Darragh swiftly led them farther into the forest, in the opposite direction from where they’d been heading to the glen with the waterfall.
Goddamn it. He couldn’t afford to take whatever detour Darragh had in mind. At some point between the glen and the manor the earl’s men would be waiting, and he needed to get Roisin and Grear there without delay.
“Symon.” His voice was urgent, and Symon gave him a shrewd glance. “Will ye cover for me? I must ensure Lady Roisin and her maid find safety.”
“Aye, Sergeant. Ye have my word.”
Hugh gripped the other man’s arm. “I’ll return and find ye.”
Symon gave a sharp nod before turning to follow the other men, and Hugh caught Roisin’s gaze. “This way.”
They swung around, and he led them away from Darragh, skirting the path they had previously been following, but heading in the direction where the waterfall was. From that glen, it was a straightforward journey to the manor. But first they had to reach the glen.
As he led them deeper into the forest, the notion of the ambush played on his mind. Was it the earl’s men? Or bandits?
He couldn’t worry about that now. The chances were high that if the scout had been spotted, those engaged in the ambush would follow Darragh and his small band of men.
Certainly, he hadn’t seen or heard anything that suggested they were being followed, but he wasn’t taking any chances, and he continuously scanned the forest for a sign of movement.
They forged onwards as the forest gradually descended into another glen. Even Ecne remained silent, as though he understood the need for stealth. And finally, beyond the birdsong and snuffle of the horses, he heard the sound of cascading water.
The trees thinned, and he caught sight of a double waterfall tumbling into a rock-strewn river. And on the far bank was the earl and two dozen of his men.