Amanda Scott (14 page)

Then he put his hands on his hips, blatantly imitating her posture and making her feel smaller, which only increased her fury.

“Well?” she demanded. “Art mute, sir?”

His voice surprisingly quiet, since his expression warned her that an explosion must be imminent, he said, “I think you will prefer to have this conversation privately… my lady.”

The last words being clearly an afterthought, his tone just short of taunting, she felt her temper straining to rip free. “I see no cause for privacy,” she said.

“I think you will shortly change your mind about that.”

She raised her chin. “Will I? Why should I?”

“Because you will not like being soundly thrashed in front of my men and the inhabitants of this clachan. By now, all of them are watching us.”

A thrill of fear swept through her, because she believed he would do it, but that belief just fueled her temper. Still glowering, hoping he would believe that his threat did not intimidate her, she said with forced lightness, “Is that how you deal with adversity? You beat it into submission?”

“I do when the ‘adversity’ in question deserves beating,” he replied.

“Well, you have no right to correct me or to beat me, so if you lay a hand on me, it will be naught but assault. That is still a crime in Scotland, I believe.”

“Aye, it is, but only if your father agrees to call it a crime. Do you doubt that he gave me leave to punish you for what you have done?”

Unfortunately, she had no doubt that Macleod had told him to make her smart. But she held her head high, daring him to do it.

He met her angry gaze, and suddenly, to her even greater vexation, she thought she detected a twinkle in his eyes. Then, when they continued to twinkle, she felt her fury ease. She had forgotten what an unusual color his eyes were, that extraordinary cerulean blue that no mere male should possess. His lashes, too, were longer and darker than any man’s had a right to be.

The twinkle faded, but his gaze continued to hold hers so intensely that when he spoke, the harsh sound of his voice startled her. “If you prefer, we can walk in yon
woods to have our talk,” he said. “I’d suggest, though, that you restrain your inclination to defy me, because I rarely react tolerantly to defiance.”

Thinking it best to ignore that suggestion, since she had no intention of obeying it, she said, “My sister will return soon.”

“When she does, my men will tell her that we’ll be back shortly.”

“I’d prefer to wait for her.”

“Nay then, we’re going to talk.”

“She’ll be frightened if she does not—”

Her words ended in a screech when he scooped her up, tossed her over his right shoulder, and began striding toward the woods with her. Raising her head, she saw his men watching, their expressions carefully blank. The villagers were not so tactful. She saw grins and realized ruefully that had not everyone already guessed she was female, her screeching had made them a gift of that fact.

Being so abruptly plopped facedown over Sir Hugo’s shoulder had knocked most of the wind out of her, so it was a minute before she recovered wits and voice enough to order him to put her down.

When he ignored her, she pounded his back with both fists.

His answer was a hard smack on her backside that made her yelp again.

“Put me down, you beast,” she cried. “By heaven, if you don’t I’ll—”

She broke off, grinding her teeth, unable to think of anything terrible enough that she could do to him. No one, man or woman, had ever treated her so—not since
childhood, at all events—and she had no intention of allowing him to continue to think he could. On the other hand, she had no idea how to stop him.

Deciding she could not gain the upper hand or regain her breath as long as he loped along with her bouncing painfully on his shoulder, she held her tongue, hoping he would put her down when they were out of sight of the others.

When he did, setting her on her feet in the middle of the path, she drew a deep breath and said hastily, “Before you read me a lecture or do whatever you mean to do, you should know that those villains are just a day ahead of us. They camped near here night before last. Moreover, there are more than a score of them now. You’ll need more men to defeat them.”

“So now you are going to command me, are you?” His voice had acquired an edge that she had not heard before, one that raised the hair on her neck and made her want to put distance between them.

Before she could, his hands clamped tight to her shoulders, hands powerful enough to do with her as he would.

“I didn’t mean to give orders,” she said curtly to his chest. “I just meant…”

Again, words failed her. Feeling at a distinct disadvantage with her nose almost touching that broad chest, she looked up and discovered that, that close, to look him in the eye, she had to look up a good distance.

“What did you mean?” he asked, those blue eyes locking with hers again, their expression intense. Her emotions shifted suddenly from anger and undeniable trepidation to something else, something she had never felt before.

Giving himself a mental shake, Hugo silently cursed himself. To be standing thus with a lass—nay, with a lady born, despite the disreputable outfit—was as mad as her own behavior in dashing off to pursue her sister’s abductors. If she deserved skelping for that, then by heaven, so did he for what he was feeling now.

She looked so small in her boy’s clothing. Worse, the clothing did nothing to disguise her shapely legs and slender but well-rounded figure.

Nevertheless, he could not let her think she had bested him. Her misbehavior had been dangerous, his own merely thoughtless. He had a duty to see her safe, and that duty demanded that he show her the error of her ways at once.

When she tried again to step away from him, he allowed it but kept his expression stern. “I should put you over my knee,” he told her. “But you need to ride a considerable distance yet, and for that, you must be able to sit.”

“Aye, and we must go straightaway if we are to catch them.”

“You are going back to your father,” he said.

“If he wanted me, why did he not come after me himself?”

“Because he promised to join his grace’s flotilla, and he must keep his word. Moreover, I told him I would come. I warrant he’ll be pleased to see you, though, if only to punish you as you should be punished for what you have done.”

“Well, you cannot send me anywhere,” she snapped.
“Not only do you bear no authority to order my coming and going, but I have no intention of leaving Adela’s safety in the hands of a man whose
duty
may demand that he abandon the search before he can rescue her. Moreover,” she added, stepping back hastily when he reached for her again, “you need me and Sidony
both
if you are to preserve any appearance of decorum whilst we travel together.”

“Decorum!” He burst into laughter. “
You
dare preach decorum to me? I should think the word would turn to ashes in your mouth. You should be soundly punished, my lass, not only for disobeying your father—Oh, aye, he told me he forbade you to follow your sister. Did you think he would not?”

“I paid that no heed,” she declared rashly. “When no one else would go after her, I had to go. And if you are here because my father discovered I had gone, then I’m glad I did it. At least, now someone besides me is trying to find her.”

“By heaven,” he said, seizing her shoulders again and giving her a shake, “I don’t care if you do have to ride all the way to Oban with a sore backside. I’m going to teach you respect for those with authority over you.”

“But, you have no knowledge of Adela’s condition!” she cried. “Even if those men have not harmed her—which I doubt—she will be terrified and hysterical after such an ordeal. You will need me and Sidony both to look after her!”

He hesitated, appalled at the image she had forced into his mind.

“Indeed, sir,” she went on quickly, “if you and your men rescue her without us, and take her all the way home,
you will just exacerbate the position that her abductors have put her in. She will certainly have to travel with you for more than a day. Sakes, your own honor, if you have any, would bind you to marry her.”

“Don’t impugn my honor,” he said curtly. “I’d not be here had you not made me realize that I bear nearly as much responsibility for this mess as you do.”

“I don’t!”

“Aye, sure, you do. You know you had no right to involve yourself in your sister’s affairs, let alone mine. And if her abductors did not learn of her wedding by intercepting one of your messages to me, I shall be very much surprised.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened, so either she had not considered that possibility or had hoped it would not occur to him.

“Moreover,” he went on relentlessly, “you bear sole responsibility for the fact that no one pursued them. Had you not told all of Glenelg that you expected me to stop the wedding, and that Adela hoped I would, every man who was there would have begged, borrowed, or stolen a horse to ride to her rescue.”

She was silent before she said with a sigh, “You are right, sir. That was my fault. Do you really think my message is how they learned of the wedding?”

“Aye, and what’s more, I think it suggested the plan they used.”

After another thoughtful silence, she said, “If you accept responsibility for what happened, does that mean you will marry Adela when she is safe again?”

“My intention is to rescue her if she requires rescuing and return her to Chalamine, if necessary, or to your
father at Edinburgh—where he should be by Monday next—if that course proves more practical, as I expect it will.”

“But Ardelve’s failure to search for her proves he has no intention now of marrying her. And after she has spent such a long time with so many men, one cannot blame him. If you will not marry her either, what is to become of her?”

“I have not said I will not,” he said more gently. “I know that by having assumed any responsibility for the lady Adela, honor will demand that I offer her the protection of my name unless she refuses it. But she does retain that right, and I will not force myself upon her or allow your father, or you, to force her to accept me. That decision must be hers alone.”

Clearly relieved, she said, “Adela is not a fool.”

Hugo agreed. No sensible woman would be foolish enough to spurn such an offer, and the lady Adela was a sensible woman.

After another silence, which Sorcha showed no inclination to break, he said, “Since we are agreed that I am honor bound to offer her my protection, you must also agree now that it would be better and safer for you to return home.”

She stiffened. “I will agree to no such thing, and I do not know how you think you can make me go. I slipped away from two boatloads of my father’s men, after all. Do you imagine I cannot outwit the few you would spare to go with us? And how foolish is it to deplete your force to provide us an escort? Not to mention that whether honor binds you to Adela or not, you have said it must be for her to decide if she will accept you. Until she does, to be
alone with you and your men will just add to the destruction of her reputation, will it not?”

He realized that further argument would be a waste of breath. Not only had she made several persuasive arguments, but he knew that if Waldron was collecting men as he went, he would need to acquire more himself before they met.

Another point occurred to him. Since following the abductors had proven easy enough for the two young ladies to manage it, he suspected their leader of using Adela to bait a trap. If that was the case, he did not want to ride into it, especially if Sorcha and Sidony insisted on going along, as Sorcha clearly would.

His mind leaped to another possibility. If the villain was Waldron and he was laying a trap, might he not seize any opportunity to snatch two more Macleod sisters to supplement his bait? Hugo knew the likelihood was strong.

He knew, too, that his cousin wanted to catch Michael and himself more than he wanted to hold the Macleods. He might seek revenge against Isobel for pushing him off the wall-walk, of course, but she was beyond his reach.

Perhaps he also sought revenge against Henry, but that was less likely. Henry’s power was too great. As Prince of Orkney, he could draw on the Norse King to support him, as well as on the King of Scots. But perhaps Waldron was confident enough to believe that with enough bait he could entice even Henry.

It required but a moment’s further thought for Hugo to decide that he could not send Sorcha and Sidony home with an escort of only two or three men. He would
therefore have to keep them, but he needed a way to divest himself of them as quickly as possible. He also needed reinforcements and sound advice. He could think of only one place where he could fulfill all three necessities.

If Waldron
was
heading for Edgelaw, he would not risk a confrontation on unknown terrain if he could avoid it. Although the temptation to attack Hugo’s small force with his greater one might be strong, Waldron—or whatever villain had taken Adela—would wisely assume that Hugo had an alternative plan of defense. If the leader of the abductors had studied his opponents, he would also assume that Lachlan Lubanach’s spies were at work and that Hector Reaganach was raising an army to rescue Adela. The one thing Waldron himself was unlikely to imagine was that Hugo and Michael already suspected that he had abducted Adela.