The Parchment Scroll (16 page)

“Ye have a point.”

Fear rippled over her as Jules imagination ran wild with everything Bree could do if she popped up again. She bit her bottom lip.

“Lass.” Hugh’s voice yanked her from her inner turmoil. “Worry no’. The MacLeods shall find her.”

“But I want to help, Hugh.” At least he had the decency to hide whatever skepticism he might feel. “I’m a cop. A detective actually. I investigate crimes for a living.” Jules gestured to herself and explained what her job was. The respect she saw shining in his dark eyes made her heart pound.

Her barbarian respected, not scorned, her very un-seventeenth-century-like role at home?

She resisted the urge to kiss him.

“What can I do?” His whisper was thick and made her even more of an emotional wreck over him. He was
sincere
.

“Tell me what you remember about what happened.
Everything
you can remember.”

When he was done relaying what he’s seen, disappointment roiled her gut. Bree had used magic to get away from him, and he could only remember the direction she’d come from with Lachlan, but there’d been no tracks when he’d searched after she’d
poofed
—either direction.

Perhaps Jules had been foolish to assume her modern-day knowledge could help against something she’d considered unreal most of her life. “Dammit,” she mumbled.

Hugh cupped her cheeks and forced her to look at him. “Lass, doona’ fret.”

“How can I not?”

He slipped his hand to the back of her neck and tugged. Their lips met and Jules overheated immediately, even before she opened for him. Hugh’s hands slid over her shoulders and down her back. He gripped her waist, tugging her on top of his body.

She told herself not to get lost in him, but failed when his tongue coaxed hers and his fingers kneaded her ass. He lifted his head, pushing harder, kissing her deeper, and she was helpless to do anything but let him.

Jules moaned and straddled him, leaning down to get closer as their kiss went on. She wrapped her arms around his neck and flattened her breasts to his chest.

She needed him. Needed
more.

“Ye arena’ frettin’ now, are ye lass?” Hugh panted as he pulled away, his dark gaze almost black with desire as he searched her face. His erection seared her pelvis, and her sex bloomed, pulsing because he wasn’t in the right place.

Jules shook her head. “More,” she demanded, pressing the word into his mouth as she kissed him again.

Hugh flipped them and growled, shoving inside her with a hard thrust.

She held on tight as he proceeded to give her what she wanted.

“Colin!” Hugh strode across the bailey, barely throwing a nod to those of his men-at-arms who greeted him. It was early. The sun barely crested the horizon. He’d left his bed and dressed before his foundling had woken.

His
Juliette.

She’d been fantastic. The night had been too short. He’d taken her four times, but a dozen wouldn’t have been enough.

His cousin hopped off the wall and dashed to him. “My laird?”

“Gather a dozen men and mount up. Make sure Dubh is ready as well.”

His cousin shouted orders to their kinsmen, and grabbed a lad to send to the stables for their horses without question. “Where are we goin’?”

“To find a bairn thief.”

Colin’s blue eyes widened. “A bairn thief?”

“Aye, I’ll explain when we’re gathered.”

He didn’t have to wait long for his kinsmen to assemble, and thanked the lad that’d brought Dubh to him. Hugh mounted and looked at the faces of the men Colin has selected. They were all his cousins, some more distant than others. All MacDonalds by blood.

Squaring his shoulders, he met each of them in the eye. Some were born at Armadale like him, and some had come and sworn him fealty. “Lads, we need to find an Irish lass who stole a MacLeod bairn yesterday.”

As Hugh launched into the story of the day before, he skirted as much of the magic part as he could. Mab had raised him to believe in legend, but not all his clansmen believed Fae and magic were real. And he’d not want any of them to be afraid to join him on the search.

He’d tell Colin all the details, but the others had no need to know.

“The lass is hiding. The MacLeods couldna find her on their own lands. I’ve reason ta believe she’s stowed away on our lands.”

That roused a few angry yells.

“Do ye think a MacDonald holding is harboring her, my laird?” one asked.

“Nay. I doona’ think they’re aware, if she’s on one of our farms.”

“Let us find her, then!” Colin’s declaration had his men rallying, shoving fists into the air and hollering battle cries in Gaelic.

Hugh smiled. “Thank ye, lads! Let us ride!”

Another round of assent rippled through his men.

He gestured for his cousin to lead, and turned Dubh to the gates. Hugh glanced over his shoulder and looked up at his home. Even from the bailey he knew which window was his, and his eyes rested there.

Heavy drapes were still drawn tight, though now the sun was up, greeting a clear, cool morning. Wind shifted his hair against his shoulders and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the windows. His lass slept in his bed, and he had every intention of keeping her there.

Hugh hadn’t liked the desperation in those green eyes the night before when she’d been talking about the seer witch.

So he’d find the Irish bairn thief. Take her to Dunvegan.

He could do that for Juliette.

He
would
do it, so she’d smile as he held her in the circle of his arms.

“Come, laddie, now we’ve to catch up!”

Dubh whinnied as he obliged, shooting out the gates and down the wide road.

Juliette’s face danced into his mind as he rode hard to catch his party.

Before the sun set, he’d have the Irish lass, and his founding would have no worries.

Waking up alone had never been her favorite way to greet the morning after sex, especially the best sex of her life.

“Best sex of your life?” Her voice was a sarcastic croak, and Jules scowled.

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.

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.”