An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(57)

She looked up at him and slowly shook her head.

“Did you have any indication that your uncle wanted you dead, or even in your wildest dreams, that he would do this to you?”

Again, she shook her head.

“Then none of this is your fault.” He shrugged. “This is often the way of life, the unexpected, the risks, the dangers. I have been confronted with many such dangers in mine, in my position of guarding those of the Duncan clan, and serving under the laird. But you have not. I would venture to say that this… situation, is one of the most daunting you have ever faced. Am I correct?”

She looked up at him and nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. “I am afraid.”

“And you have every right to be. Only a fool would not. be”

Her eyes widened. “You're afraid, Hugh?”

“Aye, I am afraid of something bad happening to you, or to my brother. For myself…?” He thought a moment. “For me, being afraid is a good thing. It prevents one from being headstrong and foolish, from allowing emotions to override common sense.”

She offered a half-smile. “It didn't seem to have quite the same effect on me, the couple of times I tried to escape you, and most especially when I fled into the bogs.”

Hugh shrugged. “Often, we act on instinct. Your instinct was to get away at any cost. And yes, it could have led to your death, but it didn't. And you learned from it, did you not?”

She nodded. “I—”

A shout from outside cause both of them to stiffen and turn toward the doorway.

Moments later, Derek appeared with Broc.

“Riders are coming into town,” he said, gesturing toward Dalla. “Broc has listened to the rumors that your presence is known. Now more strangers arrive, and I fear it may be her uncle. We must board and sail immediately.”





33





Heart pounding, Dalla stood at the threshold of the doorway, Hugh's arm wrapped around her waist.

Derek stood outside, halfway between the building and the small wooden dinghy rocking on the beach. He motioned for them to hurry, but she hesitated. She didn't want to go on that ship. She was afraid, more afraid than she had let on to Hugh.

Despite what he said, despite the fact that it made sense, she didn't quite believe it. That everything would be all right. She didn't want to see Hugh or his brother hurt. She couldn't imagine Derek or the other crew members not feeling some sort of resentment toward her for putting them into this predicament.

The moment she passed through the door, the wind, which had been nothing more than a breeze when they entered, now blew her hair and clothing wildly. The sky was dark, few stars to be seen, the moon barely a crescent to be seen before it skittered behind fast-moving clouds. In the distance, over the sea, lightning flashed. Moments later, a low rumble of thunder followed.

She thought about digging in her heels, yanking her grasp from Hugh's hand and running, but she didn't. She couldn't. These men were risking their lives for her, and she would not cause any more trouble than she already had, even if it meant climbing aboard that ship bobbing on the waves out in the harbor. Even if it meant having to stay down in the hold of the ship while on a stormy sea.

In the dinghy waiting at the shoreline, sat two roughly dressed sailors manning the oars, already struggling to keep the tiny bow facing toward shore. Derek and Broc hurried them along.

She glanced up at Hugh. “What about Agnarr?”

“He's already aboard,” Derek said, raising his voice above the gusting wind. “Hurry!”

He turned to Broc, who climbed into the dinghy first, grasped Dalla's hand, and with Hugh's help, lifted her aboard, and sat her down on the floor of the boat without her getting wet from the waves. Dalla’s heart in her throat now, she grasped the side of the rocking dinghy tightly, her pulse thundering, a sensation of nausea rising in her throat. The sea was so rough…

“Get aboard!” Derek shouted to Hugh.

Hugh quickly scrambled in, found a place to sit next to her, followed by Derek, who sat near the bow. In moments, the two seamen heaved the oars, pulling away from shore; the incoming waves wanted to keep pushing them back toward the beach.

“Come on, lads, put your backs into it!” Derek shouted. He turned to Dalla and Hugh. “Get down, as far down as you can get!”

Hugh wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and then pulled her against him as he half crouched, half lay in the bottom of the boat, on top of the boots of the rowing sailors. Above them, Derek’s gaze was riveted on the shoreline.

In the far distance, south of the building in which Derek plied his business, she saw a few lights glowing from the town.

She tried to swallow her fear, tried to ignore the roiling waves which to her, threatened to spill them into the ocean, to be tumbled back toward shore. She clamped her jaws tight to prevent herself from screaming out her fear.

“It's going to be all right.” Hugh's deep voice rumbled in her ear.

For several brief moments, she believed it, relished the fact that he was holding onto her, enveloping her with his warmth and strength. For the first time since she had been kidnapped, she felt fortunate that it was he who had bought her. She leaned into his warmth, seeking the solace her spirit desperately needed.

Soon, she heard a distinct sound over the cacophony of the increasing storm. She looked up to the sight of Derek's ship looming over them. Derek grabbed hold of a rope that had been lowered from the side, holding the dinghy next to the rocking ship. A rope ladder was tossed overboard. One of the seamen who had been manning the oars grabbed it and held on.