An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(53)

Derek's gaze darted to Hugh’s leg, where the old bloodstain on the fabric was still obvious. “How long ago was this?”

“A little over a week ago,” Hugh replied. “We were staying at the hut in the meadow… a foreigner with several highlanders attacked us.”

Derek frowned. “From which clan?”

“I don't know,” Hugh answered simply. “I didn't recognize any of them, and we're certainly too far from Duncan lands for it to be—”

“The Orkneys or the McGregors,” Derek interjected. “But you can be sure that word travels fast. You're trying to return to Duncan lands, aren't you?”

Hugh nodded.

“And you can't travel overland because every clan between here and there will be looking for your head, and hers,” he said, glancing once again at Dalla. Derek leaned forward, hands resting on his knees. “And so now you've come looking for me. Now you have found three reasons to seek me out.” He paused. “Let me guess, you want me to take you on one of my ships around the coast rather than traveling overland.”

“Yes.”

Hugh waited several long, endless moments, though Derek said nothing.

Dalla watched his expressions, but he gave nothing away of what he was thinking.

Would he help them? Or would he send them away? Hugh sat silently beside her, on the outside appearing relaxed, but she could imagine that he was asking himself the same questions as she asked herself.

Suddenly, she realized that Derek was again staring at her, hard.

“Why does someone want you dead? Is it your uncle?” Before she could answer, he glanced at Hugh and then back at her. “You have put my brother's life in danger, even if inadvertently. If I am to help you, and I haven't decided that yet, I need to know everything.”

And so, after glancing at Hugh and receiving a nod, she told Derek everything. She also told him that she was related to the Royal Norwegian family. He rolled his eyes at that and uttered a disgusted grunt. She ignored it and continued. Her father didn't seem to care for her much, and if her suspicions proved correct, her uncle was behind the kidnapping. She admitted that she had seen her uncle with the highlanders, ensured that he was behind the attack, the bounty, and spreading the word of her presence in northern Scotland.

Without a word, Derek rose, and with his back to them, paced the interior of the warehouse.

She watched him, hardly daring to glance up at Hugh. His hands lay loosely open on his arms, still crossed over his chest, but he looked almost… relaxed. He watched his brother closely, but not with anger, nor impatience.

She couldn't quite define the look on his face. Glad to see his brother alive and well after all these years, despite the circumstances? Despite the trouble that she had brought on them all, but through no fault of her own?

Not a loving or affectionate word passed between them. Indeed, they reacted as if not a day had separated them. Was this normal? She didn't know. She had no siblings with which to compare. But twins? She had heard that twins were somehow connected, if not in body, then in spirit. She had heard that they could think each other's thoughts, respond without words being spoken. That obviously wasn't true, but perhaps there was some link, some connection that bound them together, even though miles or even years separated them.

Finally, Derek ceased pacing and strode back to the two of them, his steps sure, his expression still blank although she did see the tightening of his jaw. He stopped a few paces away, gazing at Hugh.

“Tell me of your plan.”

Hugh offered a shrug. “Through the northern channels, down along the western coastline among the Orkney Islands, then through the North Minch. We can make land at any point, as far as you can take us, and then we will make our way overland to Duncan lands from the west.”

Derek turned to pace again, muttering softly under his breath. He paused by the large open doorway and shouted to someone outside.

“Broc! Bring that horse in here!”

Dalla watched as the man she had seen earlier dart through the doorway and begin a soft conversation with Derek. He wore heavy cloth breeches wrapped tightly around his thighs with leather thongs tucked into soft leather boots. A large dyed green tunic draped from his shoulders to his thighs, snugged to his waist with a thick leather belt into which was tucked a wicked looking dirk. Beneath the tunic, he wore a roughly spun dingy white linen shirt. He led Agnarr into the warehouse, snorting and pulling impatiently, finally letting out a soft whinny when he recognized Hugh.

“Go to the tavern and tell Malvern that I wish a small keg of ale. Learn what you can of any talk or rumors involving these two,” he said, gesturing toward Hugh and Dalla.

Broc gazed curiously at Hugh, then back at Derek, and nodded, retreating from the warehouse and closing the door behind him.

Hugh rose and moved toward his horse, stroking his neck as he turned to Derek. His brother said nothing.

She watched in growing trepidation, as for the first time, Derek displayed emotion. A dark frown appeared on his face as he approached his brother, slightly shaking his head.

“You've got yourself into quite some trouble, brother,” he said. “And you have managed to drag me into it.”

Hugh said nothing, but again nodded.

Suddenly, Derek chuckled, placed his hands on Hugh’s shoulders, and gave him a slight shake. “Just like old times, eh?”