An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(48)

Nevertheless, Hugh paused his horse on a hill looking down into the village, dotted with thatch-roofed huts, and down closer to shore, bustling activity. As they headed downslope toward the activity on the beach, they rounded a small hill, and it was then that she saw two ships anchored out to sea, beyond the breakwater. That made sense, but if the ship was loading or unloading goods, its location and the need for smaller boats to transport those goods to shore seemed foolish. Why not just have the goods transported to a better port city?

At any rate, she shrugged off her curiosity and her questions, not really concerned about how these coastal Scots did their business. What she did feel was a nearly overwhelming sensation of loss and homesickness as she inhaled the sea air, felt the salt against her skin, the breeze coming off of the sea wafting through her hair. The sudden pain that caught in her chest was so overwhelming she nearly gasped.

As they had ridden from village to village, Hugh had clearly grown more discouraged with each failure to find his brother.

She attempted to break the ever longer growing silences by asking him about his brother. At first, he seemed extremely reluctant to talk about him, but as they rode, and he spoke more of their early years, she saw an occasional smile. He carried regrets, she was sure of that, but who didn't?

And then she asked the question that had cornered the bulk of her curiosity. “Why has it been so long since you've seen him? He still lives in Scotland, isn't that right?”

“I believe so,” he sighed. “Although I'm not sure anymore. I'm just going by what Jake told me. He saw my brother a few years ago. Derek told him that his contract with the King of the Scots had expired and he was starting a shipping business along the coast. I would've assumed that meant Scotland.”

“So you two went your separate ways. You stayed with the Duncan clan and he ventured to the sea.”

He shook his head. “When he left Duncan lands, he fought with the Scots against your countrymen,” he shrugged. “That's when Jake saw him. Jake was a soldier, wounded at the Battle of Largs, then taken to a small town after he was wounded. It was there that he saw Derek. At the time, and Derek was running supplies to the coastline, breaking through barricades set by Norse ships in the sea.”

Dalla knew little about battles and conscriptions, soldier's obligations, and so forth. She did know that the Norwegians and the Scots had been at war since she was little, and so she declined to comment on the continued warfare between them. What she did know was that running a blockade was a very dangerous and risky endeavor. Then again, if Hugh's brother was anything like him, she supposed it wasn't surprising.

“You haven't seen him at all in the intervening years?”

Hugh shook his head. “There was a letter or two in the beginning. But then those too stopped.” He offered a shrug. “Until Jake saw him, I didn't even know he was still alive.”

Dalla instinctively knew that Hugh was probably struggling with doubts. Could they find his brother? And even if he did, would the man help them? He could be out to sea. He could be dead now for all Hugh knew.

Their fourth visit to a coastal village proved as fruitless as the first three. By this time, dusk had begun to settle over the land.

“It's growing late. We should find shelter.” He turned the horse away from the coast and into low rolling, brush-covered hillsides until he found a likely spot sheltered from the ever-present sea breezes.

She felt exhausted and was happy for the rest. To her surprise and discomfort, he handed her down from Agnarr but remained mounted. She looked up at him in question.

“Stay here. I'm going to ride back to the village and buy some food. I saw a tavern back there. I'll go ask about Derek and return shortly.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but then decided she would rather stay where she was. Her legs and back ached from riding the horse for hours on end. The place Hugh had chosen was sheltered and secluded, hidden by brush, the combination of sand and soft dirt beneath her feet providing a warm cushion upon which she could lay and rest her aching bones.

With a sigh, she sank down to the ground, grateful for the brief respite. “You'll be back before dark?”

He nodded. “I'll be back before dark.”

And with that, he turned his horse and rode away.

Dalla watched him go, trying to ignore her worries, thinking only to take advantage of this time to rest. How far they had yet to go, how far they would have to follow the coastline before they found his brother, was uncertain. She also worried about her uncle. Had he found traces of them back at the cave in the wall of rocks? Had they found their trail and followed them to the coast?

She was not na?ve. What she still didn't know—and perhaps didn't want to know—was whether her father or anyone else in the extended royal family was involved in her kidnapping. She knew one thing. Her uncle couldn't take the chance of anyone finding out. Therefore, she knew without a doubt that he would not cease looking for her until her body lay cold and dead at his feet.





28





Darkness had nearly fallen over the land when, finally, Dalla heard the sound of a horse approaching. A short-lived grunt followed by a tired whinny prefaced Agnarr's appearance as he wound his way among the bushes toward her resting place, where she had remained for the past couple of hours, growing increasingly worried about what was keeping Hugh.