by Aileen Adams
Chances were, however, that she would never be accepted, nor truly trusted, as long as her country and theirs remained at war. It boded a discouraging and disappointing future for her.
“Come, let us get some sleep. Tomorrow will be filled with its own dangers and worries. For tonight, we will sleep. Tomorrow, we will worry about tomorrow.”
29
Hugh bedded down and then gestured for Dalla to join him. He wasn't sure if she would, but much to his relief, she lay down next to him. He placed his arm under her head and then held her close. He felt her trembling against him, but she said nothing. Much to his surprise, she reached her left hand over his torso to grasp his right, and held it over his stomach.
A feeling of contentment surged through him. Despite the danger, and in spite of the uncertainty that tomorrow would bring, this was a start. He also knew, deep down in the depths of his being, that he would do whatever he could to keep her safe.
He tried not to display his deep concern over the fact that there was now a bounty on Dalla's head, and most likely, on his as well if he was captured with her.
The animosity between the Scots and the Norwegians was fierce. He would not betray her by claiming he didn't know who she was. Her accent would ultimately give her away. It was imperative that she understood how important it was that she not speak if they were seen together. Up until now, she had done well, but tomorrow would bring new dangers and new threats.
He knew where to find Derek, in a village about a day's ride up the coast. A moderately sized seaport on the northern outcropping between Moray Firth and Spey Bay. The village was unfamiliar to Hugh. Now all he had to do is convince his brother to help them. If possible, he wanted his brother to take them by ship around the northern tip of the country through Pentland Firth, then down along the western coastline into the Minch. From there, they could possibly venture into Loch Broom, making landfall at the southeastern point of the loch and then make their way overland from there through the mountains, and southeastward toward Ben Nevis and the Duncan lands.
Even if they did manage to get that far, the overland travel would be dangerous, as they would need to venture through the lands of enemy clans such as the Orkneys and the McGregor’s. It seemed impossible, but they had no other options. With so many looking for Dalla in this region as it was, he seriously doubted that they would get far before someone picked up on their trail. The bounty was huge. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that Dalla's uncle wanted her head and would be satisfied with nothing less.
For now, he wanted to appreciate the feeling of her lying next to him. He heard her breath, low and regular, convincing him she was fast asleep. For days, she had not complained about her situation or her fate. He couldn't imagine the thoughts and dreams swimming in her head.
One thing he did know, and that he had not lied about. Whether Derek helped them or not, he would find a way to get Dalla back to Duncan lands. After that, Laird Duncan, Jake, and the others could figure out what to do and how to keep Dalla safe. It wouldn't be the first time they had sheltered a woman in dire straits. If anyone understood his predicament, it would be Maccay. Though their situations have been entirely different, Alis had also been a marked woman, one who could have easily have been killed if not for the Duncans providing protection, to the point of breaking a truce with enemy clans.
And if that didn't work, Hugh would take Dalla somewhere far away from Duncan lands, away from the place where he had spent most of his years in the shadows of Ben Nevis. If he had to go to France, he would do so.
The conviction of his determination and his growing feelings for Dalla gave him strength. The strength of knowing he was doing the right thing.
She not only belonged to him, but she was his responsibility now.
He took that responsibility seriously.
30
The following morning dawned cold and chilly, with a thick fog rolling in off the sea, cutting visibility down to just over a stone's throw. While that was good for Hugh and Dalla because they could leave the area under cover of the fog, it also triggered new dangers. He didn't know the coastline, didn't know the hiding places, the potential for where an attack might come. And though he was sure that Dalla had not been spotted in this town, she had been with him in the few before. She had kept herself covered in the blanket as much as possible, but…
He knew that gossip would travel faster than they could, so they would have to push themselves and his horse to reach Kincarny before day's end. Then, if his luck held, his brother would be there and not out to sea somewhere.
Nevertheless, as Hugh saddled Agnarr, jumped on, and helped Dalla onto the horse’s back, he was already planning for a worst-case scenario. If he didn't find his brother in Kincarny, he would have to go inland again. Toward less populated areas where rumors wouldn't travel as fast. He could survive even the harshest that the wilderness had to offer, but with winter coming on, he just wasn't sure whether Dalla could.
For a while, maybe a few leagues, he kept his horse to the coastline, hugging sand dunes, keeping the sound of the ocean in earshot. As the fog began to burn off, he headed further into the rugged foothills.
It was rough going at times, to the point where Agnarr had to carefully pick out the route in the pebbles and rocky base of the cliffs rising above. He also knew that his horse was tired, bearing the weight of both of them. He'd stumbled more than once yesterday.
Another sobering thought. The thought of something happening to his beloved gelding prompted Hugh to slow his pace even though he wanted to push forward.
As the day wore on, the weather changed. Heavy cloud cover moved in from the sea, from the northeast, bringing with it a bitingly icy chill. He constantly found himself looking over his shoulder, watching for signs of anyone following them.
Soon, Dalla did the same. Her grip on his torso tightened. He felt her fear and occasional quiver. He could say nothing to ease it. By the time the dull glow of sun burning through the clouds reached its zenith, they were both on edge. They had barely spoken five words to each other since they left their hiding place near the beach.
Then, in the distance, he saw tendrils of smoke rising into the cloudy sky, now growing ever darker, another fog bank rolling in.
“Is that it? Is that Kincarny?” she asked.
He nodded.
The sight of the town provided a sense of relief, but at the same time, uncertainty. His heart began to pound at the thought of reuniting with his brother, and he grew tenser as they made their way closer to the town, which from here looked deserted. A light rain began to fall, cold, icy, and uncomfortable. The breeze kicked up, and soon, the rain came down harder. Not a downpour, not yet, but Hugh wouldn't have been all surprised if it started to snow.
By the time they reached the outskirts of the village, Dalla had done her best to cover herself and her hair with the blanket, once again wrapping her arms around his torso, clasping the edges of the blanket in front of him as well.
Inside the blanket, it was like he'd been enveloped in a warm cocoon. He felt the pressure of her forehead against his back. She obviously didn't even want to look around. Probably for the best.
The village wasn't as big as he had expected, but was larger than the past two through which they had traveled. A cluster of thatched-roof houses hugged the steep hillsides rising from the shoreline. Larger structures, some with thatched roofs, some with roughhewn planks, nestled along the shoreline.
In the distance, in a small harbor, several ships were anchored, rocking gently with the waves. Several small piers jutted out into the water, fishing boats and other small craft were tied to it, bobbing up and down on the waves.
Then Hugh spied a wooden building, outfitted with its own small pier behind it. On the wood was painted a sign.
McInnis Shipping.
Hugh’s heart gave a leap of excitement. He straightened in the saddle and urged Agnarr in the direction of the pier. The building lay horizontal to the shoreline, a
nd he spied a large door at the closer end, probably intended for loading shipments in and out of the structure.
Two men stood near the small pier, talking; one gesturing, the other pointing to one of the ships in the harbor. Then the taller of the two disappeared into the building.
Hugh guided his horse toward the man, who turned when he heard the horse approaching.
The man took one look at Hugh, and his mouth dropped open.
“I'm looking for Derek… Derek McInnis,” Hugh said. “Is he here?”
The man continued to stare open-mouthed and Dalla shifted her position, peeking over his shoulder.
The man looked from Hugh to Dalla, then back at Hugh, and then finally nodded. He had just turned to call into the building when the man Hugh had seen earlier stepped out into view.
Despite his fear, despite his hesitance and his uncertainty as to what would follow, Hugh stared as his brother emerged from the small warehouse.
“Derek.”
Dalla gasped when Derek turned toward them, staring at him with the same sense of bewilderment as he stared at his own brother.
She waited with bated breath for his brother to say something, to display some sign of acknowledgment. She wasn’t the only one.
“You're twins!” Dalla stammered, her breath warm against his ear.
“Well, look who's here,” Derek said, stepping closer, his eyes riveted on Hugh, then turned to what he could see of Dalla's face.
Dalla's grasp on Hugh’s torso tightened still more.
Derek strode closer, eyes narrowed, a frown marring his brow.
“From what I understand, brother, you are a wanted man. And so is your lovely Norwegian bride.” He turned abruptly and headed back into the warehouse, calling over his shoulder. “You two come inside where no one can see you. I don't need to borrow any more trouble than I already have.”
With that, Hugh quickly lowered Dalla to the ground, following close behind, his heart pounding, barely able to hide the grimace of pain as the damp air irritated the wound in his leg, prompting him to favor it.
Holding tightly onto Dalla's hand, just in case she decided to bolt, he limped toward the warehouse.
The moment they passed through the threshold, the door slammed shut, and he turned to face his brother.
31
Hugh stared at his twin, while Derek stared back. Dalla glanced at Hugh, his eyes were wide and dazed, and he wore an almost tentative smile.
What did he expect? To see his brother as he had been when they had last looked upon each other's faces? Did his twin brother look so much older than he remembered?
Other than Hugh's longer hair and Derek's sun-darkened skin, the two were indeed identical. The same faint lines at the corner of the eyes, the stubbled cheeks, the experience and of life lived shining behind those eyes. Their build was the same although Derek was perhaps a bit less muscular, his loose-fitting canvas pants tucked into high leather boots and his long-sleeved, flowing shirt disguised his actual build. Nevertheless, the width of the shoulders, the muscular hands, the narrow waistlines and long legs; they were indeed the same.
Dalla froze, waiting for one of them to say something, to express some emotion. Something.
Finally, it was Derek who lifted an eyebrow, slightly tilted his head, as if not quite believing what he saw. Then, very briefly, his gaze flicked toward her and then back to Hugh.
“I heard rumors about a highlander who came to the coast and bought himself a Norwegian slave,” he said, his voice thick and gravelly.
Dalla felt her stomach clench as his gaze turned to her, assessing, almost… accusing? She stiffened.
“A Norwegian lass who not only has a bounty on her head, but on the man who bought her.”
Hugh offered a small shrug. “You happen to be talking about my wife.”
A bark of laughter erupted from Derek, but an instant later the humor had faded, and he narrowed his eyes at his brother.
“I didn't even know if you were still alive, Hugh.”
Hugh nodded. “And I often wondered the same.” He looked around the interior of the warehouse, stacked with wooden crates and bulging canvas sacks. Hundreds of dried fish hung in bunches from leather thongs from the rafters. “You've done well for yourself.”
“Aye, I have,” Derek nodded.
Dalla felt confused. These two hadn't seen each other in years, and yet this was like no reunion she had ever witnessed. The two brothers seemed awkward with one another. Hesitant. Wary.
She stood to the side and slightly behind Hugh. Would Derek let loose with a shout and betray his brother, and her? What would—
“I was sorry to hear about Elyse,” Derek murmured, gesturing toward a cluster of boxes of stacked against a wall. “Sit.”
Hugh took her hand and guided her toward the boxes.
She sat, relieved to sit on something that wasn't moving for a change. She kept a wary gaze on Derek, who stared at her with curiosity, taking a spot across from his brother. The two couldn't stop staring at one another.
“Explain.” Derek said, knees spread, arms crossed over his chest, waiting, his gaze darting between the two of them.
Hugh glanced down at the floor, slowly shaking his head before looking up at his brother. “I came for two reasons…”
“The first then. What brings you to the coast, so far from the highlands of your heart?”
Hugh offered a slight frown but not of anger. “I came to find you… to tell you that…”
Derek lifted an eyebrow, waiting.
“Our mother passed away.”
Derek didn't blink, didn't move, didn't breathe. After several moments, he dipped his head and uttered a soft sigh, and whispered words that Dalla couldn't make out.
When he looked up at his brother, his face had lost some of its color and the pulse in his neck throbbed. He offered a nod. “You buried her well? In the lands she loved?”
“Aye,” Hugh said. “She is at peace on the land of the Duncans.”
“Good… good,” Derek said, his voice soft. He inhaled and then straightened. “And the second reason?”
“I was feeling a bit nostalgic,” Hugh began with a shrug. “Everyone's getting married, and I was feeling a bit… stifled,” he began.
“Who got married?” Derek frowned.
“The Laird—”
Again, Derek let loose a hoot, slapping a hand on his knee. “Phillip got married? To who?”
“Long story,” Hugh said. “And then Jake went and married her sister—”
“Jake married too?” Derek asked, eyes wide with dismay. “Whose sister?”
“Phillip married a healer from the lowlands named Sarah. Jake married her younger sister, Heather.”
Derek lifted a calloused hand to scratch at the stubble on his cheek, amusement on his face. “Will wonders never cease…” He returned his attention to Hugh. “Go on.”
Hugh sighed. “Just a couple of months ago, Maccay also married—”
“Maccay?” Derek laughed again. “You mean he actually found a lass who could put up with him?”
Hugh closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes. He did. And now the laird is expecting his firstborn, Heather and Jake are also due to become parents, and—”
“So many changes,” Derek mused, his gaze once again passing between the two. “And you? You never married after... after Elyse?” He looked at Dalla. “Until now?”
Dalla glanced at Hugh. Who was this Elyse? Obviously, she had meant a lot to Hugh, and even his brother, whom he hadn't seen in years, seemed surprised that he had not married. She did her best to maintain a calm expression, while inside, and quite unexpectedly, she felt a twinge of… of uncertainty. Hugh must've loved the woman very much. Would she ever experience love like that? With Hugh? One that was lasting and enduring over the years?
“No, I hadn't,” Hugh said, his tone impatient. “That's why I was feeling a bit—”
“Left out?” Derek asked, grinning.
“Annoyed
,” Hugh admitted, like his brother, crossing his arms over his chest. “I needed some… I just wanted to get away for a while, and I decided to come north, to see if I could find that meadow and the hut we built…”
Derek's expression changed, grew softer. “Is it still there?”
Hugh grinned. “Aye, it is. I fixed it up a little bit, and—”
“So how did you find her?”
Again, Hugh gave his brother a look. “I'm getting to that, Derek. I went into a seaside village to get some supplies. I stopped in a tavern to get a mug of ale and…” He glanced down at Dalla. “They paraded in half a dozen women, Norwegian captives.”
Derek nodded, apparently understanding. “And she caught your eye?”
Again, Hugh closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, then sighed.
Frustration?
What? What had caught Hugh's attention when it came to her?
His next words tightened the knot in her stomach.
“Her hair reminded me…”
Derek gave her an appraising gaze and slowly nodded. “I can see. Her hair is the same color.” He studied his brother, then turned to Dalla. “Why is there a bounty on your head? Are you a spy as people are saying?”
She was too stunned by the direct question to reply.
Derek glanced at Hugh.
“Let me guess, she doesn't speak English very well?”
Dalla stiffened. “I speak English,” she said simply. “And the bounty on my head, and now on Hugh's, is because—I believe—my uncle is the one who arranged my kidnapping. I am no spy, sir. He tried to kill me, he tried to kill us, and Hugh was wounded—”
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.”
