The Parchment Scroll (17 page)

“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.

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 her 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.

Feeling around the place, somehow she managed not to fall on her ass. Every horse she walked by shifted or neighed.

Finally she found him—or rather, he found her. Jules called his name a third time, and Dubh bumped her outstretched hand with his muzzle.

“I gotta go, boy. Can you take me?” She rested her forehead against his wider one, and the stallion lipped her palm. She rubbed his baby-soft nose and sighed.

I don’t want to go.

Jules opened the stall, holding her breath when the wood protested with a loud creak.

Dubh followed her out of the stable and across the bailey with no more than her hand on his neck. She glanced up at his tall back. She was going to have to haul her ass up there, but she’d wait until she assessed the gate sitch. If she couldn’t convince the guard to let her leave—and she hadn’t even contemplated the
how—
it was
game over
anyways.

Maybe the horse route was foolish. She could have snuck out on foot much easier.

“Who goes there?” A deep voice demanded.

Jules swallowed and straightened her shoulders. She bit back a cry of relief when she made out Colin MacDonald in the darkness.

He stepped toward her, a lit torch in hand. Fire illuminated the handsome planes of his face. His dark brows were drawn tight, but his blue eyes were kind, like always. “My lady?”

“Colin. I-I-I need to go.”

Silence.

Her stomach somersaulted.

“The laird doesna know.” It was statement, not question.

“No, he’s sleeping.”

“I shouldna let ye leave, my lady.”

Shouldn’t is better than can’t.

“I…can’t stay anymore, Colin. I have to go home.”

His mouth set in a hard line, and Jules’ heart sank. He wasn’t going to let her out.

“He’ll come after ye, my lady.”

“Probably. But I’ll be gone by then.”

Colin held a torch higher. “Ye’ve Dubh, my lady.”

“Yeah.”

Shock rolled over her when Hugh’s cousin grinned. “He’ll be angry. Verra angry.” His statement was wrapped in amusement.

“I don’t want you to be in trouble with him. This is all on me. Can you tell him I knocked you out, or something?”

Colin chuckled. “’Tis certainly tha safest thing fer me.”

Jules relaxed a tad. “So you’re gonna let me go?”

“Aye.”

She blew out a breath and swallowed. “Thank you, Colin.”

Hugh’s cousin nodded and helped hoist her to Dubh’s back.

Jules thanked him again.

“Ye are verra good fer my cousin, my lady. I am sad ta see ye go.”

She wove her hands in Dubh’s think mane and swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to, believe me.” Emotion made her words shake and Jules frowned.

That’s not true, is it?

Colin opened the gates and Dubh darted out, cantering down the long road without much urging. She didn’t give in to the desire to look over her shoulder.

Jules
couldn’t
look back.

If she did, she’d lose her nerve and turn around.

Hugh awoke alone, but her scent lingered all around him. His pillows, his plaid and the other blankets on his bed, it was all Juliette. He inhaled and closed his eyes. He could drown in her. Happily.

He stretched and reached. Hugh frowned when the linens he encountered were cold. She’d left his bed some time ago.

Sitting up, he swallowed a yawn and looked around the room. “Juliette?”

The lack of an answer had his frown slipping to a scowl. Hugh threw his legs over the side of his bed and shoved to his feet so fast his head reeled.

Where is she?

His clothing was strewn all over the floor, but
hers
wasn’t in sight.

“Juliette?” He made his voice louder, but his gut said she was gone. Hugh cursed and whipped his trews off the floor.

Shoving his legs in probably took more time than if he would’ve just taken a breath and dressed at a normal pace—because he’d missed twice and almost tripped.

He tugged a fresh tunic overhead and strapped his sword on with jerky hands. His heart was thundering, but he ignored that—and what it could mean.