by Aileen Adams
“The Orkneys or the McGregors,” Derek interjected. “But you can be sure that word travels fast. You're trying to return to Duncan lands, aren't you?”
Hugh nodded.
“And you can't travel overland because every clan between here and there will be looking for your head, and hers,” he said, glancing once again at Dalla. Derek leaned forward, hands resting on his knees. “And so now you've come looking for me. Now you have found three reasons to seek me out.” He paused. “Let me guess, you want me to take you on one of my ships around the coast rather than traveling overland.”
“Yes.”
Hugh waited several long, endless moments, though Derek said nothing.
Dalla watched his expressions, but he gave nothing away of what he was thinking.
Would he help them? Or would he send them away? Hugh sat silently beside her, on the outside appearing relaxed, but she could imagine that he was asking himself the same questions as she asked herself.
Suddenly, she realized that Derek was again staring at her, hard.
“Why does someone want you dead? Is it your uncle?” Before she could answer, he glanced at Hugh and then back at her. “You have put my brother's life in danger, even if inadvertently. If I am to help you, and I haven't decided that yet, I need to know everything.”
And so, after glancing at Hugh and receiving a nod, she told Derek everything. She also told him that she was related to the Royal Norwegian family. He rolled his eyes at that and uttered a disgusted grunt. She ignored it and continued. Her father didn't seem to care for her much, and if her suspicions proved correct, her uncle was behind the kidnapping. She admitted that she had seen her uncle with the highlanders, ensured that he was behind the attack, the bounty, and spreading the word of her presence in northern Scotland.
Without a word, Derek rose, and with his back to them, paced the interior of the warehouse.
She watched him, hardly daring to glance up at Hugh. His hands lay loosely open on his arms, still crossed over his chest, but he looked almost… relaxed. He watched his brother closely, but not with anger, nor impatience.
She couldn't quite define the look on his face. Glad to see his brother alive and well after all these years, despite the circumstances? Despite the trouble that she had brought on them all, but through no fault of her own?
Not a loving or affectionate word passed between them. Indeed, they reacted as if not a day had separated them. Was this normal? She didn't know. She had no siblings with which to compare. But twins? She had heard that twins were somehow connected, if not in body, then in spirit. She had heard that they could think each other's thoughts, respond without words being spoken. That obviously wasn't true, but perhaps there was some link, some connection that bound them together, even though miles or even years separated them.
Finally, Derek ceased pacing and strode back to the two of them, his steps sure, his expression still blank although she did see the tightening of his jaw. He stopped a few paces away, gazing at Hugh.
“Tell me of your plan.”
Hugh offered a shrug. “Through the northern channels, down along the western coastline among the Orkney Islands, then through the North Minch. We can make land at any point, as far as you can take us, and then we will make our way overland to Duncan lands from the west.”
Derek turned to pace again, muttering softly under his breath. He paused by the large open doorway and shouted to someone outside.
“Broc! Bring that horse in here!”
Dalla watched as the man she had seen earlier dart through the doorway and begin a soft conversation with Derek. He wore heavy cloth breeches wrapped tightly around his thighs with leather thongs tucked into soft leather boots. A large dyed green tunic draped from his shoulders to his thighs, snugged to his waist with a thick leather belt into which was tucked a wicked looking dirk. Beneath the tunic, he wore a roughly spun dingy white linen shirt. He led Agnarr into the warehouse, snorting and pulling impatiently, finally letting out a soft whinny when he recognized Hugh.
“Go to the tavern and tell Malvern that I wish a small keg of ale. Learn what you can of any talk or rumors involving these two,” he said, gesturing toward Hugh and Dalla.
Broc gazed curiously at Hugh, then back at Derek, and nodded, retreating from the warehouse and closing the door behind him.
Hugh rose and moved toward his horse, stroking his neck as he turned to Derek. His brother said nothing.
She watched in growing trepidation, as for the first time, Derek displayed emotion. A dark frown appeared on his face as he approached his brother, slightly shaking his head.
“You've got yourself into quite some trouble, brother,” he said. “And you have managed to drag me into it.”
Hugh said nothing, but again nodded.
Suddenly, Derek chuckled, placed his hands on Hugh’s shoulders, and gave him a slight shake. “Just like old times, eh?”
With that, Hugh smiled, and the two broke into soft laughter. Hugh wrapped his brother in a tight hug, which Derek returned. “If it's a fight they want, we'll give those bastards a fight, but on our terms, not theirs.”
Dalla gathered that the interaction implied Derek's agreement to help them. And yet, despite her relief, she felt another layer of guilt lay upon her shoulders. Now she was putting both brothers into danger. Risking their lives to help her.
She didn't want this. Had not asked for it, and yet, these two Scottish brothers, whom just a few weeks ago, she would have thought of with distaste and abhorrence, were now helping her.
She was nothing more than a Norwegian captive and yet—no, she realized the truth of the matter. She was no longer a Norwegian captive. She was the bride of Hugh McInnis of the Duncan clan of the highlands.
For the first time in her life, she was beginning to understand these Scottish people and their fierce loyalty to their clans.
This was more than brother helping brother.
Even though Derek had left Duncan lands long ago, she realized, without it having to be said, that he would always and forever belong to the Duncan clan.
32
Hugh watched his brother speaking quietly to Broc— his partner or his first mate, or whatever he was—after he returned from the village. So far, neither he nor Derek had broached the topic of their estrangement so many years ago.
One of them had to do it. Especially since Derek was risking his life to help him.
Derek frowned and glanced occasionally over his shoulder where Dalla waited. She fidgeted, as if trying to make herself comfortable. He knew that Derek would help them, and was in the midst of preparing his ship for a short journey, but he didn't underestimate the trouble that he could be bringing down on his brother in doing so. Hugh wished there was another way, but he couldn't think of one.
He glanced at Dalla, now sleeping fitfully, half-sitting, half-slouching on top of the grain sacks. He had to admit it. He had to admit the reason for this mad scramble to the coast, rather than risking a chance of traveling overland. He was growing more attached to Dalla by the day, but he struggled with conflicting emotions and not a little bit of guilt when he thought of Elyse. He had given his heart to Elyse and never imagined that he would ever feel that way about anyone ever again, but the more time he spent with Dalla, the deeper his feelings grew.
They were both strong in different ways. Both had overcome life's hardships, and both, despite those hardships, did the best they could. While he certainly didn't know Dalla as deeply as he had known Elyse, he knew that the feelings he experienced now were true, and gave him hope for a future. And yet that future was dulled by the thought that in the next hour, the next day even, she or he could be dead.
And now, for helping him, Derek might also pay a hefty price. Hugh had so many questions for his brother, so much catching up to do, but there was no time.
Derek had said that they would leave after nightfall, in secrecy, but he still had to prepare the ship for travel. That would garner attention, no matter how care
ful he tried to be. That's what worried Hugh. He wanted to help, although he couldn't. To show his face in daylight would be to invite disaster.
They had already disagreed about his horse. At first, Derek had balked at taking his horse aboard.
“Do you know how difficult it is to get a horse on board a ship and into the hold, let alone keep the animal calm in rough seas?” Derek grumbled, shaking his head.
“But you can't leave Agnarr behind!” Dalla had said, eyes wide with concern.
Derek frowned, glancing between the two. “Who's Agnarr?”
“The horse,” Hugh and Dalla answered at the same time.
Derek gave him an odd look. “You named your horse Agnarr?”
Hugh sighed, and glanced at Dalla. “She did.”
Derek said nothing after that, merely shook his head and gestured toward one of the grain sacks. “Will he eat oats, or does he have more discerning tastes?”
Hugh grinned, although Dalla, not familiar with his brother’s humor, had frowned with misunderstanding. He'd had to assure her that Derek was merely joking. Then again, noting Derek’s present expression, Hugh wasn't sure that he was.
“He will be no trouble,” Hugh assured him.
Derek finished talking to Broc, stood for a moment, staring outside, then turned to look at Hugh before gesturing him over. Hugh glanced down at Dalla, now asleep, and approached his brother.
He appeared agitated, rubbing the back of his neck. Agitated about his sudden appearance in his life? Dragging a woman along with him, both now with bounties on their heads? It appeared that Derek wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how. Hugh decided to get it out in the open.
“Change your mind, brother?” he asked simply. “If you have, just say so. No hard feelings.”
Derek glanced at him with surprise? “Change my mind, no… it isn't that.”
Hugh waited, but Derek seemed reluctant to say what was on his mind. Hugh asked the question that was on his. “Why did you leave like that? In the middle of the night, without a word?”
Derek tensed, his eyes narrowed as he frowned. “What? What are you talking about?”
“You left Duncan lands… in the middle of the night.”
Derek shook his head. Impatient. “No, brother, I did not leave in the middle of the night, sneaking away like a thief,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Hugh. “I talked about my leaving plenty of times before I did. You only had eyes and thoughts of Elyse on your mind.”
“But why did you leave?” Hugh asked. “At the time, at least as far as I can recall, you didn't say why.” He paused. “Was it something I did, Derek? Was it because I fell in love with Elyse and didn't… we didn't… did she come between us?”
Derek shook his head with a gentle smile. “She did not come between us, brother.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing but my own burgeoning desire for adventure.” He shook his head. “You seemed—and still do—so perfectly content to live with the Duncans, to serve them, to live among them. But I wanted more than that. I told you I wanted to become a soldier, a sea captain, something, anything that was different from the life we led with the Duncans.”
Hugh tried to remember, to recognize that moment in time when his brother was not nearly as content as he had been. He could recall no defining moment, no specific circumstance or incident that triggered Derek’s departure.
“Don't look so worried, brother,” Derek said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It was nothing that passed between us, no words, no argument that compelled me to leave. We may be much the same, but in other ways, we are very different. I asked you to come with me, remember? You chose to stay.”
Did he? Hugh didn't remember that. Perhaps there were plenty of things that he did not remember. Over the years, and especially after the traumatic death of Elyse, he had filled in those blank areas, the lack of memories, with what he assumed was true. So there had been no estrangement? No wedge driven between the two of them other than his brother's lust for adventure? He looked into his brother's face, his expression somber and still.
“You've had a good life, Derek? Here by the sea? With your shipping business and your seafaring? You've found everything you're looking for?”
Derek smiled again. “Not everything, brother,” he said. “But I am not yet ready to be tethered down with the yoke of marriage. You, on the other hand? I think that marriage will suit you well.” He glanced meaningfully toward the sacks of grain where Dalla slept. Then, he straightened and shrugged, as if he'd had enough of introspection. “We'll leave as soon as it's dark,” Derek said softly. “We only have a crescent moon tonight, so we'll have to venture farther from shore. With the approaching storm, I want to be out far enough to make sure that we don't hit the shoals to the west.” He said nothing for a moment, watching Hugh, as if trying to read his mind. “Are you sure this is the way you want to do it?”
“No,” Hugh answered honestly. “But I can't think of another way that will keep us out of arm's reach of her uncle and those with him.”
“Take no offense, brother, but are you sure you can trust her? Are you sure she is not a spy as the rumors say?”
“She isn't a spy, Derek. I was in the tavern when she was brought in, bound and blindfolded, directly from a room where the women had been taken after leaving the ship.”
“She speaks English well,” he said, still doubtful.
Hugh nodded. “She has been well educated.”
Derek stated the obvious. “As a member of the royal family, she is bound to garner attention sooner or later when the truth is told. Even if… even after you arrive on Duncan lands, what are you proposing?”
Hugh sighed, struggling with a sense of impatience. It was understandable that Derek had questions, but he didn't have the answers to such questions. “I haven't even gotten to the point where I can plan that far ahead,” he admitted. “First, I want to put some distance between us and her pursuers. If what she says is true, that her uncle and perhaps even her father is behind this attempt on her life, well, she may just have to permanently disappear, if you get my meaning.”
“Aye, I do,” Derek nodded. “It is unfortunate, brother, that our reunion has to be under such difficult circumstances. I have many questions for you.”
“And I as well,” Hugh said. “But it is good to see you. You are doing well for yourself.”
Derek grinned, tilting his chin in the direction where Dalla slept. “And I hope I can say the same for you after all this is over.”
After all this was over. When would that be? Would the trouble and the danger and the threat against Dalla's life be over once they got on the ship and away from the coastline? Would it be over if they made it to Duncan lands? He wasn't sure.
“I will ask one more time, Hugh. Is she worth it?”
He turned to his brother and gave him a solemn nod. “She saved my life. She is worth it.”
Derek nodded. “Then wake her and bring her to me. I have questions for her.”
At first, Hugh hesitated, wanting to ask his brother what he wanted with Dalla, but then he nodded. His brother was risking a lot to help them. He had shown no outward animosity toward his somewhat unwilling bride. It made sense for his brother to want to talk to her, perhaps learn more about her uncle and her father.
He strode toward Dalla, his gaze sweeping over her slumbering figure. She looked so young, so innocent to have to endure what she had. Then, he stiffened. He would not feel sorry for her. Life was hard for all of them, filled with challenges. This was hers. He couldn't do anything about her past, nor his. What they had to do now was focus on the here and the now, escape her uncle and reach a modicum of safety on Duncan lands. If safety was not to be found there, they would find it somewhere else. He shook his head just before he reached down to nudge her awake. If he hadn't gone into that tavern when he did, what would he be doing at this moment?
He sighed and realized Dalla looked up at him in startled dis
may before calming. No, he didn't regret going into the tavern for that mug of ale. He was glad that he had. She was his now.
“Come,” he told her. “Derek wishes to have a word with you.”
“About what?” she asked, swiping at her eyes, casting a wary glance toward Derek.
“He did not say, but he is helping us, so the least you and I can do in return is to cooperate with him, don't you think?”
She nodded, rose, swept her fingers briefly through the hair that had fallen from her braid and framed her face, glanced down and brushed straw from her clothing. Then, with only a little hesitance, she strode toward Derek.
Hugh watched, ready to jump in if it appeared that Derek said or did anything that he didn't like, but his brother, clasping his wrists behind its back, simply looked down at Dalla, and spoke softly to her, with an occasional nod or shake of the head from Dalla.
He couldn't get over the fact that he was once again reunited with Derek. They had so much catching up to do, and he had so many questions for him, but they couldn't take the time, not now.
Preparations for the sail were being completed in haste, and as Hugh watched Derek and Dalla, he hoped their escape from the region would go as planned, without difficulty. Then again, he wasn't naïve. They were in a dangerous predicament; one that he had involved his brother, albeit reluctantly.
By the time Dalla returned to him, Derek had disappeared outside.
Hugh heard him shouting to his crew, preparing his ship for sail.
“What did he want to talk to you about?” Hugh asked her quietly as she neared his side.
“He wanted to know what kind of man my uncle was, and my father.” She paused, frowned in thought, turning to glance between Hugh and the half-closed door of the building. “I still can't believe this is happening. I don't think your brother believed me when I said I wasn't sure of the reason why my uncle would stoop to such drastic means, or why he wants to get rid of me.”
Hugh could understand that. It was a difficult scenario to imagine, but then again, he and Derek didn't belong to a royal family. “Anything else?”