by C. A. Szarek
Only truth rebounded in her brain, which made her feel worse.
Hugh was fantastic.
She scoffed and shook her head. Her hair tickled her bare neck and back. Jules gathered up her natural waves, trying to make some sort of order of the mess. Running her fingers through tangles only resulted in pain biting back when she pulled.
“He’s gone.”
What the hell does that mean?
“It doesn’t mean anything.” Jules screamed at herself to chill the hell out.
She took a breath and looked around the big room. Her clothes rested where they’d been tossed the day before. Corset on the floor near the window, pants—trews, they were called here—and the shirt not far from each other. One of her boots was visible, the other wasn’t.
That’d be fun to find, huh?
Jules sighed and pushed to her feet. Her body ached, especially between her legs, but she regretted nothing. That should give her pause, but she didn’t give a damn.
She stretched her arms and spine. Sore muscles stood up and said hello. But it was a good ache, like she’d worked out.
Her bladder roared to be relieved, and so far she wasn’t a fan of the seventeen century requirements for such things, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
Hugh was a pretty private person, and since he was the laird, he had his own bathroom off one side of his room. A garderobe, Claire had told her it was called.
In some cases, it was a larger room also doubling as a closet but Hugh’s was small, containing only what passed as a toilet.
She made a face as she finished. Jules wanted to bathe. A night of sex made it undesirable to put her clothes on without clean skin. Not to mention tangled hair. She needed to wash it.
The door to Hugh’s room flew open without a knock and Jules screamed.
“Lass, it’s jus’ me.” Mab’s voice didn’t make her feel any better.
She was in her birthday suit in the middle of the room. Jules made a dash to the bed and wrapped herself in MacDonald plaid, but Hugh’s aunt had seen it all. Heat crept up her neck when she met the dark eyes that were so like her lover’s.
If Mab had any doubt Jules had had sex with him, it was now gone.
“Ye’ve got nothin’ I doona’ have, though mine doesna look as good as yers anamore.”
Jules bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She wasn’t about to comment. Besides, Mab had just given her a compliment.
“I’m glad ta see ya, lass. My lad has been mopin’ abou’ since ye went. Are ye well?”
Moping about?
Hugh?
No way.
She cleared her throat. “I’m good. Thanks. I’d like a bath, though.”
“A’course. I’ll have tha lads light a fire and bring water fer the tub. Then we’ll get ye fed and dressed.” Mab went to hobble out.
“Mab?”
“Aye, lass?”
“Uh…where’s Hugh?”
“Gone.”
“Gone?”
“Aye, mounted up at dawn and left Armadale.”
“Where did he go?” Jules tried not to slump as she leaned into the side of the bed. He’d left her…again? Mixed emotions churned in her gut.
“He didna say, lass.”
“So you don’t know when he’ll be back, either?”
“Nay, lass. I am sorry. But I dare say he willna stray far from yer side now tha’ he has ye back. I expect him a ’fore nightfall.” The old woman smiled. “I’ll get yer bath ordered.”
She was gone before Jules could assure her Hugh didn’t have her back—whatever the hell that meant.
“I still need to go home.” But she was talking to herself.
Dammit.
Why had he left without a word?
Jules growled.
As turned out, her day consisted of nail biting—which was not a normal habit of hers—and a shit load of pacing. She’d stayed in his room, had her bath, which she was too knotted up to enjoy—and then gone down to get some food.
Pacing continued in the great hall by the large hearth, then out in the bailey. She was too bothered by Hugh’s disappearance, she didn’t even take the day to explore Armadale like she’d done at Dunvegan her second morning there.
Of course, Claire had shown her around. Her sister’s years’ long love of historical Scotland had shown in her green eyes as she talked about the castle that had become her home.
Jules kept having to swallow yawns, too. The night had consisted of Hugh inside her more than it had sleep. She could have gone up and crawled in that big bed for a nap, but her mind was spinning a hundred miles an hour.
She was full of chaos—everything Bree—everything Hugh—and the helpless of being left home like the kid too young to ride the coasters at the amusement park.
“Ugh!” She made a fist with her shout, which only resulted in odd looks from the girls tidying the great hall, so Jules slipped outside. She should’ve offered to help them like she’d helped Claire, but she couldn’t find the words.
Damn man had her twisted up.
Which just pissed her off.
Jules wandered around inside the gates, finally settling on watching the blacksmith work. He was a quiet man named Niall, and said he didn’t mind. He was making some household things, a new kettle for Mab among other kitchen utensils, and even answered a few questions she’d asked.
He had a kind smile to go with his blue eyes and graying hair, and he was a big guy like the rest of the Highlanders, though his years had filled out his middle.
When Niall spoke of Hugh, Jules heard the adoration in his thick brogue. The man had told her what a good leader Hugh was. As a matter of fact, all the MacDonalds she’d interacted with loved their laird. It was more than clan fealty. They loved her barbarian.
Hugh’s a good man.
The idea was even easier to swallow than the night before.
A shout went up and she jumped.
“The men are comin’ back, now, lass. The laird should be leadin’.” Niall flashed a knowing smile that should have irritated her.
Jules hated being transparent. She mustered a nod for him, returned his smile, and dashed for the gate.
Chapter Seventeen
His sense of defeat melted away when he saw the honey-haired lass rushing to his side. They hadn’t found the bairn thief, nor any sign of anyone making camp on MacDonald lands. They’d questioned all his clansmen who held outer farms, and even stopped on MacInnes lands to speak to herders that were out with their flocks.
Nothing.
Of course, it wasn’t a shocker that the lass was probably hiding, concealing herself with magic. They’d even scoured the many caves on the section of Skye beach that belonged to his clan. He’d stopped short of MacLeod lands, but he was kicking himself now, since it’d been a force of habit.
Duncan and Alex MacLeod wouldn’t have begrudged him for being in their territory if he’d found the seer wench they also sought.
Juliette stopped a few feet from Hugh and Dubh. When he dismounted, he couldn’t keep his eyes from her face. Anger dominated her expression and his foundling perched her hands on her hips. Her shoulders were as tight as the glare she was wearing.
Memories of her naked in his arms darted into his thoughts and he swallowed when his cock twitched. If the look on her face was any indication, Juliette wouldn’t be falling bare at his feet any time soon.
“Where the hell do you get off? You. Left. Me.”
His clansmen shifted on their feet, and there were several cleared throats. Hugh was keenly aware the wretches didn’t scatter or head to the stables with their horses.
No, they wanted to watch.
Damn them.
Hugh didn’t look at his kin. He didn’t tear his eyes from his foundling. He’d gone out for her. Why was she so cross with him?
“Leavin’ ye?”
“Yes. All day. Without a word, like I’m an errant child.”
He laughed, he couldn’t
help it. “Yer wrong, lass.”
“I’m wrong? How? Have I not been here alone all day?”
Hugh tilted his head to one side. “Alone? Did Mab no’ take care of ye properly? Do I need ta have words wit’ my aunt?”
Juliette narrowed her eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”
“I doona’ what ye mean, lass.”
“A jest,” she snapped. “Are you making a jest out of me?”
Hugh shook his head and closed the distance between them, but he didn’t touch her. Not yet.
“Hugh, why did you leave me?” Juliette’s tone was a mixture of anger and something else.
Is she hurt?
“I didna leave ye, lass. I left to search for the bairn thief.”
“What?”
“I wanted to find her fer ye, lass.”
Juliette’s irritated expression faded and she threw herself into his arms. Hugh caught her up and kissed her. He couldn’t help himself, despite being surrounded by his clansmen. A few of them chuckled, but none left. Still. At the moment he couldn’t bring himself to mind.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
He was hard and aching by the time their mouths parted and she slid down the front of his body. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and sprint for his rooms, throw her on his bed and take her like he had the night before. His heart skipped when he saw her misty green eyes.
“You…you…did that for me?”
“Anythin’ fer ye, lass.” He meant every word. Truth washed over him, and should have alarmed him, but it didn’t.
She swallowed and he wanted to kiss her throat.
“Thank you, Hugh.” Juliette put her palms on his chest.
“It yielded nothin’.” Regret coated his words. He gripped her hands and kissed her knuckles. “I wish we’d have found the lass.”
“It’s okay. If we work together, we’ll find her.”
“I am sorry I failed ye.”
“You didn’t fail me. I just wish you would’ve said something. I want to help. I told you that last night.” The last part of her statement was a censure.
“I wanted ta surprise ye, lass. Ease yer mind. But I hear yer plea.”
Hope flared in those emerald eyes and his heart galloped. “Can we try again tomorrow?”
“Aye, lass.”
“And I can come, too?” Her question came with narrowed eyes.
A dare.
Hugh couldn’t refuse her. “Aye, Juliette. Ye may accompany tha search party.”
* * * *
As Jules looked up into his face, her resolve to stay angry at him for the rest of the night melted away.
Hugh hadn’t run from her.
He’d been doing something for her, but he really should’ve included her.
Hadn’t they made headway last night?
Never in a million years would she have fathomed he be out searching for Bree.
Hugh was supposed to respect her now. She’d explained in detail what she’d made her career. He’d asked questions. Said he’d understood. The respect she’d seen in those dark eyes wasn’t her imagination, was it?
Ugh.
Men.
No…barbarians.
Just her luck she’d snagged one.
Right now, she wanted to throw him in the moat.
And why the hell had she rushed into his arms like a damsel in distress the moment he’d told her why he’d been gone all day?
Jules had kissed him back for good measure, too.
She rolled her eyes at herself.
He held her loosely even now, his heat sinking in to her body, making her remember last night and how it’d felt to be skin to skin with her barbarian. Her sex throbbed as desire spread down her limbs, settling low in her belly and wobbling her legs.
Hugh was interested, too, his erection against her pelvis.
How could she want to kiss him and kill him at the same time?
“You promise?” Jules made herself demand, glaring into that handsome face. There was appealing stubble highlighting his strong planes, but she told the urge to run her fingers over his skin to go to hell.
“Aye, lass. Ye’ve my word.”
She nodded, but didn’t pull away when he cupped her face and his dark eyes compelled her, pinning her where she stood. Jules’ heart kicked up a notch as she waited for him to dip down and take her mouth.
He didn’t. “I doona’ give my word, lightly, lass.”
Jules’ breath caught and she swallowed. “I…I…know. Thank you. I appreciate you listening to me.”
“Always, lass.” The truth of his words rolled over her form and she shivered.
She couldn’t relax, even as Hugh smiled. Butterflies started a cyclone in her stomach and she screamed at herself to get it together.
Spending the day without him had, in a way, shown her what a good man her barbarian could be. Showing was always better than telling, and his people adored him.
What could be a better example than that?
She’d always been a sucker for a good, strong leader.
Of course, her barbarian tipped the pushy bastard scales too much for her liking, but she hadn’t minded the take-charge in bed, despite her internal control freak.
His eyes hadn’t moved from her face, and they stood glued to each other, chest to breasts, hips to hips.
Jules was aware of all the eyes on them, but as Hugh finally lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers, she couldn’t bring herself to give a shit. She opened for him and kissed him back with all her might, squeezing her arms around his neck and shimmying as close as she could get.
Warning sirens went off in the back of her head.
One night in this man’s arms, now she was being a PDA queen—which she’d always hated. She didn’t need verbal confirmation that she’d fall into his bed and take him back into her body again tonight. As many times as she could.
It’s just sex.
But was it?
As conscious thought lost to the desire clouding her brain, Jules could only settle on one thing.
Hugh MacDonald was dangerous.
And she was in serious trouble now.
Oh, shit.
Chapter Eighteen
Jules slipped one leg into her trews as silently as she could manage, cursing when she lost her balance and her bare foot hit the stone floor with a slap. She righted herself and glanced at the bed, but Hugh hadn’t moved.
She chided herself for her lingering gaze.
He was naked and delicious, and they’d had sex twice. The MacDonald tartan was slung low on his body, woven between his legs, baring one thigh and half of his perfect ass.
A tremor shot down her spine as her body tingled from the memories.
I need to go.
If she had any chance it was now, before the sun was up. Jules remembered the way to Dunvegan. She couldn’t make it there on foot, but if she had a horse—
“No. He’d kill me.”
Of course, there were horses other than Dubh in the stables, but if she took Hugh’s stallion, it’d be a personal insult. Something she needed.
Maybe he’d be so angry it could banish the way he’d looked at her the past few days. Make him push her away; make her forget the tenderness in his dark eyes. Make Jules forget what it was like to touch him, kiss him. Have him hold her.
She crushed her eyes shut and cursed the tears that threatened.
Damn Hugh MacDonald for making her question her mission.
She had to get home even without Claire.
Why on earth had she told Claire and Duncan she wanted to stay at Armadale that day? She’d called off her rescue party, after all.
Because I wanted to keep them from going to war.
Liar.
Because I want to stay with Hugh.
Jules shoved her feet into her boots, ignoring how her chest ached. She didn’t want to walk away from him, but she had to.
Then she’d have to walk away from he
r sister, the only family she had. She’d written letters to Claire a few times in the week and a half she’d been at Armadale, and her sister had written back every time, never once asking when she was coming back to Dunvegan—or if she was still planning on going home.
Claire only asked if she was okay, and if Hugh was treating her well. She’d even demanded to be told if she needed to come and kick his ass. That’d made Jules snicker—then and now.
She finished dressing and stood at the end of the bed she’d shared with him every night since she’d arrived.
Jules had to go. Now.
She was already in too deep with Hugh MacDonald.
The longer she stayed, the harder it’d be to walk away.
She wanted to kiss him goodbye, or at least touch him again, but she couldn’t. Hugh had this uncanny ability to wake up right before she’d reach his skin. He’d done it a few times. Then they’d talk, kiss, and make love again.
Jules fought the tremors inching down her spine. Remembering what it was like with him wouldn’t do anything except make her lose her clothes and climb back in that big bed. She crept to the door, wincing every time her boots creaked. Her hand shook as she pushed the rough wood open and slipped into the corridor.
One tear slid down her cheek but she ignored it and kept moving.
Paranoia ate at her all the way down the stairs and across the bailey. Torches perched every few feet along the wall of the embattlement caught her attention and made her curse.
How was she going to get outside the gates?
Jules sucked in a breath and jogged to the stables. She’d worry about it when she had a horse.
No one was around. Soft snoring greeted her ears and she glanced up. The stable boy—or boys—must be asleep in the loft, and she didn’t have much time. Waking someone wasn’t going to go over well, and she still had the MacDonalds at the gate to contend with. They would be awake, on night watch.
“Dammit.” She inched forward, cringing when her boots crunched over discarded hay on the stable’s dirt floor. “Dubh.” Her whisper made her cringe, too. But a soft neigh greeted her ears. She called him again. Jules didn’t know what stall he was in and it was dark.
Reallllllllly dark.
