An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(47)

He tried not to think about it, the growing attraction and respect that he felt for her and her courage. She could've left him to die, but she hadn't. Then again, he could've left her in the bog to die, and he didn't do that either. When he looked at her now, he no longer saw images of Elyse, but he did see Dalla Jorstad McInnis, a woman whom he respected and, if he was to admit it to himself, one he admired for her often stubborn, brash, and even haughty attitude.

He sighed and turned his face toward hers, then lowered his head and kissed her, his lips meeting hers, gently, ever so tenderly at first, unsure how she would react.

To his surprise, she met the pressure of his lips equally. Almost shyly, she broke off the kiss and then rested her head against his chest. He let go of her arm and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and she did the same with her arms around his waist. The moment lasted only briefly, but it was enough.

It was enough.

They stood that way for several moments while his thoughts raced. This changed everything. She was not his slave, not his captive, not his wife in name only.

He liked the feeling of her head resting against his chest, the way her shoulders pressed into him, seeking whatever it was she sought. It had been a long, very long time since he had ever felt this way. So long since he had held a woman in his arms like this. He of all people knew how very short and uncertain life could be.

He understood now.

She didn't want to be left alone because she worried about him, felt a connection to him and truth be told, since the injury, he had begun to feel much the same.

Two stubborn people, both refusing to express themselves until absolutely necessary. He lifted his head, looking off into the distance, imagining how Maccay would chuckle over his stubbornness to recognize what he had; what he'd had since the moment he had pulled out his pouch of coins in that tavern only days ago.

“All right, you may come with me. But you must not utter a word. Understood?”

The smile she gave him warmed his heart.

“I understand.”





27





Dalla had been wrong. With Hugh's arms wrapped tenderly around her shoulders, she realized that she had been wrong. Not all Scotsman were animals. Not all highlanders were barbarians.

Of course, she'd only known Hugh, so she had very little to go by, but at the same time she realized that she had allowed her prejudices to grow against any reference to Scots in Scotland, much and as it was likely that the Scots did the same toward the Norwegians.

She sighed, listening to Hugh's heartbeat, enjoying the warmth of his torso, sensing every minuscule movement of his musculature as they stood, wrapped in one another's embrace. Was this the beginnings of love? She didn't know. She'd never been in love before. Affection? Maybe. Likely. Maybe even stronger than affection. She'd never felt this way before toward any man. All she knew was she didn't want to be left behind again, and then as Hugh's wife, willing or not, she felt that her place now was by his side, not hiding.

Abruptly, he released his grasp and gently nudged her away from him, hands on her shoulders, gazing down at her face.

“We have changed,” he said simply.

She nodded.

“This is good, but it does not remove the dangers. Your uncle wants you dead. For what reason, I do not know, but it will be dangerous for you to be seen with me. You have an unforgettable face.”

As though to emphasize, he stroked his fingers along the side of her face, tracing her jawline, then nudging her chin upward to maintain eye contact.

Her heart skipped a beat, and once again, feelings for him burgeoned, but she couldn't define them. Not specifically. It was all so confusing, but at the same time thrilling. And yet… and yet behind it all lay the aura of danger. This was no game.

“I am not sure which is riskier… leaving you out here somewhere, or taking you into a town with me.”

“Let's go find your brother,” she said simply.

After all, either they managed to escape their pursuers, or they did not. Either way, she decided that it would be best for them to meet the dangers together.

He offered a nod, then once again mounted his horse, pulling her up after him.



Finding Hugh's brother was not as easy as it originally sounded. By mid-afternoon, Hugh and Dalla rode into the third seaside village, garnering curiosity with her appearance, a woman dressed in man's clothes, riding double as they were, strangers to the area.

She returned gazes coolly, without hesitance, not arrogantly, but showing no sense of intimidation either. Acting like a Scot.

In every village, Hugh guided Agnarr down to the seaside, their buildings, and short docks, asking for Derek McGinnis. Sometimes, when he needed to go inside a tavern, she waited outside with the horse. He would always return moments later, his frown growing ever deeper with each one. In the last town they'd passed through, a little larger than the one they now entered, he had been directed to a structure close down by the beach where waves rhythmically slapped the shoreline, gently rolling in. The structure served as a shipping company of sorts. There, he inquired once again for any information about Captain Derek McInnis or his ships.

This time, Hugh had been fortunate. He was directed up the coast, and now they approached yet another small village whose name she couldn't pronounce let alone understand. It nestled along the shoreline of a small inlet or harbor, its shores dotted with rocks. An unlikely location for any shipping business, as the water here certainly didn't look deep enough to accept the draft of a goods-laden ship.