An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(2)

With each match, Hugh had felt increasingly alone. Not that they ignored him, which they didn't. But as he'd watch the newlyweds whispering and smiling and kissing, sharing their lives with one another, he wished…

He didn't want to recall what he'd lost. It was too painful. He didn't begrudge his friends their new lives, but he did envy them. Would he ever feel that kind of love again? The whisper of a kiss, the joy of companionship that needed no words to flourish? It felt odd to be away from Duncan manor and from the friends that he considered as close as any family could be. Still, he had to get away, if just for a little while. He had some thinking to do.

His horse shifted beneath him. He frowned in contemplation. Had this been a good idea, or would it only lead to greater dissatisfaction? It wasn't that he wasn't happy on Duncan lands or in his position. It was home. It would continue to be. Still, after everything that had transpired over the past year, he'd grown increasingly unsettled, not dissatisfied, but left with a sense of wanderlust. He hadn't felt that way since he and his brother had ventured to these parts so many years ago.

When he needed to clear his head, it was usually enough for him to wander off into the foothills north of the manor, to spend a night or two away up in the mountains.

This time, however, he knew that he needed to return to his roots. What compelled him, he wasn't sure, but he was a man who understood instinct, and his instincts had told him that he needed to get away, if just for a little while.

Hugh was certainly happy for his friends, and he treasured Sarah, Heather, and Maccay's new wife, Alis. But their happiness, their loves, their marriages, and their love-besotted eyes only reminded Hugh of everything he had lost.

Thoughts of Elyse had crept ever increasingly into his thoughts, reminding him of happier times. His Elyse, with her silvery-white blond hair, fair skin, and bright blue eyes… he had been the first of them to fall in love.

Unfortunately, just when he was working up the courage to ask for her hand in marriage, she had been taken from him. By a wild boar. A savage and painful death. And he hadn't been there to save her. The guilt tore at him. He would never get the image of her ravaged body out of his mind.

So, while he didn't begrudge Phillip, Jake, or Maccay for finding love and beginning new lives, it only left him feeling more alone, triggering the rise of memories best left buried. Not only memories of his beloved Elyse, but memories of his brother.

Wasn't it time to let bygones be bygones? To forgive and move on? Or was it too late—for both? Was Derek even alive? Hugh had come north to find out, and if possible, to bridge the gap that had left the two of them estranged for so many years.

As he thought about it, those feelings had grown stronger by the day. When he saw the bonds between his friends, their wives, and their relationships growing stronger day by day, their love deeper, their loyalty steadfast, he had reflected on what he himself lacked in life. He felt alone.

So, he had told Phillip that he needed to go off by himself, just for a little while. Phillip had not asked why. The four of them were so close he probably didn't need to. He had simply nodded and told him to transfer his duties to Maccay.

It was midsummer now, and Hugh had told Phillip that he would return by the time the leaves fell to the ground. Why he had ventured so far north, nearly to the northeastern coastline, he wasn't sure, but it was the only place he knew where he would find the solitude he was looking for.

Maybe he wanted to touch his past, relive the memories he had of better times, when he and his brother had been inseparable.

Of course, he could've gone somewhere closer to Duncan lands, but he had felt the tug of the coast.

To the west of Duncan lands lay the lands and domains of several enemy clams, and he had no desire to venture toward the lowlands. So, to the north it had been.

Heaving a sigh, Hugh nudged his horse forward, his body swaying lightly with the movement of the horse’s as his mount carefully navigated the downward slope, hooves digging into soft loam, or striking rock buried just beneath the surface of the soil.

He continually swept his gaze through the forest of trees, cautious for any indications of danger. This area was isolated, but the passage of more than a decade could have changed things considerably. Just over that rise beyond the grove of trees could be a house or even a village for all he knew. Then again, he saw no sign of rising smoke from evening campfires, cooking fires from a village, nor sounds of life.

As he neared the hut, he studied it with dismay. Though weatherworn, and with one section of a wall sagging slightly, the structure was in relatively good condition. It had weathered the northern Scottish climes well. He smiled, thinking of happier times with his brother as they'd built the place, constructed of rocks stacked one atop the other to about waist high, the spaces in between chinked with mud.

The hut was constructed in the shape of a broch, or roundhouse typically constructed of stone, although on a smaller scale. The broch dated back centuries in the highlands, and were typically huge round fortifications much like a keep or tower of a castle. Of course, theirs had not been nearly so large nor magnificent, perhaps twelve paces wide in diameter.

He dismounted, tied the reins to a close-growing alder, and cautiously walked toward the structure. It wouldn't surprise him if some wild animals had made the place their own over the years and the last thing he needed was to surprise a bear or a boar, let alone a skunk or two. He listened, but heard nothing from inside that indicated the presence of any animals.