An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(25)

At the moment, she was not tied up.

He'd stepped into the trees only moments ago, ordering her to stay put. He had his bow and quiver of arrows with him, and his ax, tucked into his waistband on one side, his knife on the other. He had all the weapons, and she had nothing.

The land was wild and intimidating, but oddly beautiful at the same time. The rich scent of pine, spruce, and shrubs filled her senses. Birds chattered high above in the trees. A squirrel scampered down a nearby tree trunk, nearly upside down, its tail flicking as it looked at her. It edged a little closer and then began to chatter.

Despite her worries, despite her uncertainties of the future, she smiled at the squirrel, making a short chattering noise with her tongue in reply.

The squirrel froze, then flicked its tail, turned its head slightly, its eye watching her carefully as it chattered again.

She offered another soft clicking of her tongue in response.

Ever so slowly, she turned her head and glanced at the ground, saw some type of a nut nestled into the pine needles at her feet. She reached down at with agonizing slowness to pick it up, and then slowly extended her hand, palm upward.

She leaned down slightly so that her hand hovered a short distance from the ground.

In idle curiosity, she waited, unmoving, to see what the squirrel would do.

They chattered softly with one another for several moments.

Finally, the squirrel edged downward toward the base of the tree, and ever so slowly, pausing every few steps to sit up, look at her and twitch its tail, approached. Much to her delight, the squirrel neared her hand, placing one of its small paws on her fingers. In a flash, the squirrel plucked the nut from her palm, tucked it between its teeth, flicked its tail once, then raced back up the tree.

Dalla laughed softly, watching as it climbed ever higher into the branches until it found a suitable one beyond her reach upon which it could sit back, then began nibbling on the nut, tail flicking.

Smiling, she turned from the tree, startled to find Hugh on the opposite side of the small clearing, watching her.

They stared at one another for several moments.

He was an enigma to her, this strange highlander, showing kindness one moment and harsh annoyance the next. Yet not once, not since the moment he had purchased her, had he raised his hand against her. She still wasn't sure what to make of that, and truth be told, was waiting for something to happen. He appeared to not have any interest in her, other than watching. He had not made any advances toward her. Yet. What she had expected when she'd been sold was quite a bit different than she was experiencing now, but how long would the reprieve last? Sooner or later, like all men, he would do as he wanted, and she would have nothing to say about it. She had no doubt of it.

Like her father.

While they had never had a particularly close relationship, Dalla had gotten an increasing feeling over the years that her father wanted nothing to do with her. Her obstinacy and refusal to marry his choices had only worsened their tenuous relationship. It was for that reason that he had told her she would be going to the convent, not that she particularly minded. Men were all the same, doing what they pleased, when they pleased, and as they pleased. Women had very little say in what happened to them.

She was married now, to a Scottish highlander, with little say in the matter. Men had always controlled her life, but only to the point where her existence served their ends. Her father's insistence that she marry a man of his choice—and it seemed any man would do—was not for her sake, but for his and the dowry he would receive. The connections. The power. She mattered naught to him, nor it seemed, to other members of the family, not one of whom had stepped in to provide her with options.

She watched as Hugh turned and once again disappeared into the woods. This Scottish highlander... would he be different than other men? A noise escaped her throat. All men were the same. All of them taking and rarely giving. At least in her experience.

She sighed, continued to sit on her log, the sun rising ever so slowly, occasionally disappearing behind clouds gathering once again from the northwest.

She shivered.

It seemed as if rain, thunder, and lightning were a constant presence up here in these wild lands.

She missed the fjords of her homeland.

Would she ever see them again?





16





Hugh had retreated into the woods, but still kept his eye on Dalla. The way she sat there, her serene expression hiding her true thoughts, reminded him so much of Elyse.

He scowled. She wasn't Elyse, and she never would be. He had watched with interest as she seemed to have communicated with the squirrel that crept ever closer.

And then, much to his amazement, a young red deer emerged into the small clearing a short distance away. It was a young male, the barest of antler nubs jutting up from his skull. This one was young indeed, not nearly the size of a full adult, which could grow as large as a young pony. It must've come down to graze because of the recent bad weather.

He watched as the young buck twitched its ears toward Dalla, frozen in place. He moved only his eyes, standing in the shadows of a spruce pine, watching her. She and the deer stared at each other for several moments.

Hugh remained frozen. It would have been the perfect opportunity for him to notch an arrow into his bow. That deer could feed them for several days. But he would not do that. Not after watching her with that squirrel first, and now that deer. Not only would doing so likely trigger animosity, but knowing her stubbornness, she would probably refuse to eat any of the meat.