The Parchment Scroll

by C. A. Szarek

  Consummation had been quick and awkward, and he’d been afraid to kiss her, though he had when she’d asked it of him.

  She gotten with child that very night, and he’d barely touched her afterward. His da had been overjoyed that he’d done his duty so well, and an heir was already on the way.

  Then…

  Labor had come early. It had been too rough on Brenna.

  Hugh closed his eyes as a shudder racked his frame. He never thought of her, as a rule.

  The bairn in his arms stirred, blinking large innocent eyes up at him.

  He screamed at himself to get it together and brushed the lad’s dark hair from his forehead. “Let’s hie to Dunvegan, laddie.” Hugh was rewarded with a shy smile, as if the wee one had understood what he’d said.

  “Halt!” The voice was a shout, and Hugh was greeted by two MacLeods, claymores drawn.

  A man equal his height and breadth strode forward. His dark hair was slicked back, and gathered at the back of his neck in a long pony tail. He stopped in front Dubh, sword poised to run them through. “What business have ye at Dunvegan, MacDonald?” he demanded.

  “Laird MacDonald,” Hugh barked.

  “What do ye want?” the guard growled, paying no notice—or respect—to Hugh’s title.

  “I’ve found a lad wrapped in MacLeod plaid.”

  Immediately the man’s demeanor changed. He sheathed his sword and came closer, inspecting the bairn pinned to Hugh’s chest. “Where did ye find him?” His voice and expression were filled with relief.

  “I’ll speak ta yer laird.”

  The guard nodded without another word, motioning for his counterparts to open the gates.

  Hugh inclined his head and nudged his stallion forward.

  A fair-haired lass raised her skirts and hollered as Hugh rode into the MacLeod bailey. She ran right to Dubh’s side, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Lachlan!”

  The lad turned as his name was called, looking down on the woman who had to be his mother. He reached for her, leaning away from Hugh’s chest.

  Duncan and Alex MacLeod dashed from the doors of Dunvegan, on her heels.

  “Thank you, thank you!” the lass chanted. Green eyes locked onto his, and Hugh couldn’t look away from their familiarity. This lass had to be Juliette’s sister, Claire.

  Hugh nodded and handed the bairn down.

  MacLeods surrounded him and his stallion. Horses and riders littered the bailey. They’d been mounting a party—probably to search for the missing bairn.

  So he hasn’t been gone for very long. Good.

  He spotted the old laird, Iain, as well as a tall, silver-haired man amongst the sea of MacLeod plaid. Many swords were drawn, but the looks on most faces were relief. They all knew Hugh meant them no harm.

  He squared his shoulders and met Duncan MacLeod’s gaze. “Looks like ye lost somethin’.”

  Duncan strode forward and embraced his wife. Kissed his son’s head, before looking back at Hugh. “Thank ye for bringin’ my son home.” His voice cracked.

  Whatever Hugh’s retort, seeing his enemy’s humble sincerity made it dissolve. He accepted the man’s gesture when Duncan reached out and squeezed his forearm.

  Alex, the current laird, inclined his head. “I echo my brother. Thank ye for returnin’ the bairn.”

  “Where did you find him? Did you get Bridei?”

  “Ah, so ye know who snatched him?” Hugh asked, ignoring the child’s mother and meeting his father’s eyes.

  “Aye, the seer witch disguised herself with magic and stole my lad from his nursery.” Duncan’s mouth was set in a hard line.

  “She used magic to get away from me,” Hugh confessed. “Threw somethin’ ta the ground, then disappeared in a puff of black smoke.” His eyes swept the area before him. He told himself he wasn’t looking for Juliette, but he was.

  The MacLeods asked a few more questions he forced answers to, but he was distracted. Wanted to see his foundling. His heart skipped when he saw her cross the bailey to them.

  She was wearing trews that fit—dark in color and hugging those shapely thighs. She wore a black corset over a flowing ivory leine. It propped her breasts high and made his cock tingle. Light colored, fur topped deerskin boots went up to her calves.

  Feminine. Gorgeous. Mine.

  Although she was dressed as a lad, no one would mistake her for one with all those curves. Hugh swallowed a growl. He wished for skirts so no one could see her body.

  Juliette was his.

  “Hugh.” She inclined her head when she reached her sister’s side, but didn’t smile.

  For some reason, it bothered him.

  She kissed the bairn’s head, and whispered to Duncan’s wife. There was nodding and low feminine voices that didn’t carry. Another female joined them.

  This one had white-blonde, almost silver locks. Long and flowing freely down her back. Her beauty was ethereal. He’d never seen a Fae before, but this woman had to be Fae. The laird’s princess wife, no doubt, as rumor had it. However, Hugh only had eyes for his foundling.

  “Juliette.” Her name was out of his mouth before he could help himself.

  Hugh swallowed hard when those green eyes settled on him. She came to his side as if beckoned, his heart beating in time with her every step. He couldn’t speak. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.

  “What?” Annoyance flashed across her beautiful face, and she propped both hands on her perfectly rounded hips.

  He tightened his thighs around Dubh’s middle and leaned down as far as he could manage. Hugh grabbed her by the waist and plucked her off the ground.

  As soon as he was sure Juliette wouldn’t fall off the horse, he kicked his stallion as hard as he could, urging Dubh around.

  Hugh plastered his lass to his chest and leaned forward, hollering at Dubh to move even faster. They sailed through the gates, ignoring the shouting MacLeods.

  He prayed the laird didn’t call for archers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Seriously?” Jules struggled against Hugh’s chest, but he held her tighter and nudged his horse even faster. “You have some nerve, Hugh MacDonald.” His chest rumbled with a laugh she felt, more than heard. The wind ripped it away as they rode over the hills.

  “I had to take ye. I have to have ye.”

  She stilled in his grip. “What?”

  “I’ve missed ye, lass.”

  Her stomach flipped and her mouth went dry. She’d missed him, too.

  Wow. Just wow.

  He kidnaps you again and you like the fact he missed you?

  Jules growled and punched at his chest with tight fists. “Take me back. Duncan and Alex will come after you, even though you saved Lachlan.” She would’ve thanked him for returning her nephew, had he not kidnapped her.

  “I know it.”

  “You’re not scared?”

  “They willna hurt ye.”

  “Right, but I can’t say the same for you.”

  “Ye will tell them I mean ye no harm.”

  She laughed. “Wow. You’ve got some balls. Why the hell would I tell them that? You kidnapped me. Again.”

  “We will speak at Armadale. Hold on ta me.”

  Jules wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she tingled. His heat seeped into her clothing. Her traitorous body remembered his muscles and wanted more. The rough ride had her ass bouncing against his thighs, but she was facing him this time. Could easily wrap her body around his.

  She wasn’t afraid in the least—which should have pissed her off. Excitement and arousal rode beneath the surface. Jules wanted to kiss him again.

  Hugh panted in her ear, as if he could read her mind—or body. “Lass—”

  Jules bit her tongue to keep from answering, or blurting that she’d missed him. She’d rather taste blood than see satisfaction on his face that she was actually glad to see him.

  Sorta.

  She’d never admit she’d thought of little else the whole time she’d b
een at Dunvegan—especially since she’d been surrounded by three happy couples.

  His huge stallion leapt over a small burn and she screamed; she couldn’t help it, even though hooves soon connected with hard ground and their pace increased.

  “I’ll no’ let ye fall, hold on ta me, Juliette.”

  Her heart rebounded against her ribs, but Jules nodded and slipped her arms around Hugh. She had no choice. If she fell from his horse at this speed she’d get hurt. Or worse.

  He held her tightly with one arm, the other working the reins. Hugh whispered something in what she now recognized as Gaelic, but the language was lost on her, despite Claire trying to teach her a few phrases. It had an almost lyrical quality, but Jules’ tongue couldn’t form the words with the right twist.

  Her sister could now speak it fluently, but she’d told her it’d taken almost two years to learn, and sometimes she still stumbled over words.

  Armadale loomed, but they were coming in at top speed, so it was growing larger and larger with every second. Hugh shouted orders as soon as the gate came into view, and kicked the horse even faster.

  Jules crushed her eyes shut as the stallion made another jump. She buried her face against Hugh’s shoulder. She’d never been an amusement park kind of girl, and this was worse than any roller coaster Claire had managed to talk her onto.

  The gates opened slowly, but Hugh didn’t slow their pace. At. All.

  She sucked in her breath and held it as they soared through what looked like a sliver in the parted wood. They made it though, coming to a halt so fast her body pitched backwards. Hugh’s, too, but he held onto her, and neither of them fell.

  “Close the gates!” He said another phrase in Gaelic, gesturing with his free hand.

  A shout went up on top of the wall closest to the oversized gates and Jules froze in Hugh’s grip.

  “Ye were pursued, my laird.” Colin’s chest heaved as he dashed toward them.

  “Aye, as expected.” He handed her down to his cousin, and Jules didn’t fight either man. The last thing she needed was to land on her face in the dirt.

  “Hello, my lady.”

  She forced a polite greeting to Colin—after all, he’d never been anything but kind to her.

  “Expected, my laird?” Another MacDonald asked, dark eyebrow arched, his sword in hand.

  “MacLeods!” someone shouted from the wall.

  “Get ready!” Hugh returned.

  “My lady?” Colin asked, his blue eyes confused.

  “Hugh didn’t ask me to come back, Colin.”

  The dark-haired MacDonald tensed but nodded. He drew his claymore.

  “Up on the wall, now!” Hugh shouted. “Archers at tha ready! Doona’ shoot until I say!”

  Fear skittered down her spine. “Hugh, no. Please.” She’d spent three days with the MacLeods. They were all good people. Family.

  Her barbarian spared her a glance and grabbed her hand. “Up ta the wall fer us, too.”

  Jules shook her head. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt—”

  “Come wit’ me, Juliette.”

  As if I have a choice.

  Men dashed up a narrow stairwell that made her stomach flip. Swords were drawn, as well as arrows knocked.

  Hugh all but pushed her forward.

  Jules shivered as she stumbled up the first, then tripped up the second step. He slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her to keep her from falling. Her head spun, and she let him do most of the work to get them to the top of the embattlement.

  He didn’t release her as they arrived, and Jules could already hear angry shouts from below. A glance over the side told her Duncan, Alex, Xander, and a dozen MacLeods circled the closed gates of the MacDonald stronghold. Her sister, too, was there, sitting in front of her husband on his large horse.

  “Scoundrel!”

  “Wretch!”

  “Release my sister-by-marriage! Now!”

  “I told you they would come after me.” Jules regained a little composure and tried to yank away from Hugh.

  He turned her to face him and grabbed her wrists. His dark gaze burned, but she wasn’t afraid as she glared up at him.

  “Juliette McGowan is mine!” Hugh hollered, but he didn’t look away from her.

  His gaze devoured her and she stood frozen in place, wishing he would touch her. Kiss her.

  Jules cursed when her heart sped up. She couldn’t even muster a retort, or tell him to go to hell for claiming her like a piece of property.

  She wanted him.

  Why?

  Anger roiled her gut, but she couldn’t gather the muscles or brain power to yank her wrists out of his big hands, either.

  He wasn’t hurting her.

  Against her will, Jules remembered the last time he’d kissed her. In his rooms on her one night at Armadale. Tremors chased each other down her spine.

  “Jules!” This time it was Claire.

  She jolted—and so did Hugh, if his expression was any indication.

  “Hugh, let me go.”

  He hesitated.

  “Please, Hugh. Let me talk to them. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  Her barbarian’s nod was barely perceptible, but his hands opened and she slipped from his grip.

  Jules went to the edge of the wall and leaned down. Hugh stayed close, she could feel his body heat at her back. “Claire! I’m fine!”

  Her sister sat with Duncan on his huge white destrier, probably even bigger than Hugh’s Dubh. Alex was beside him, and Xander beside the laird, both on dark stallions. All three men wore glares Jules could make out even from the height.

  “Claire-bear, I promise! I’m good.”

  Claire shook her head.

  Jules leaned over a little more, so she could see her sister better.

  Hugh’s thick arm shot around her waist. “Careful, lass.” His words were right above her ear, and his warm breath caressed her cheek, making her shiver.

  “I’m not gonna jump.” She tried to snap, but her statement shook, which had everything to do with his proximity. His chest at her back, warmth sinking through her corset and tunic. Even his thighs cradling her ass made Jules want him more—and pissed her off. But she couldn’t jerk away, or they both could fall over the wall.

  “Unhand her, Hugh MacDonald,” Alex shouted.

  “He’s not hurting me.” Jules rolled her eyes at herself.

  Really?

  Why did you say that?

  Scream, yell, stomp on his foot.

  But she didn’t. Couldn’t.

  “Ye heard tha lass! I mean her no harm! Hie back to Dunvegan. Leave us be!” Hugh’s words rumbled against her.

  “Bollocks! Ye’ll force yerself upon her,” Alex called.

  He won’t have to.

  Jules cringed and crushed her eyes shut. “I won’t let him!” she threw the words out, because she had to answer for herself.

  She didn’t want to hear what Hugh’s retort to the MacLeod laird might be.

  “Let the lass go, MacDonald.” Duncan’s order was hard.

  “We’ll give ye time ta do so with no harm. We willna storm yer gates,” Alex promised.

  “I willna let ye go, Juliette.” Hugh pressed the words into her ear.

  Jules shuddered and his embrace tightened. He slipped his other arm around her, pinning her back to his chest, lifting her boots from the stone beneath.

  “If ye refuse ta release her, we will attack!” Duncan yelled.

  “I’ve men and weapons, MacLeod,” Hugh called. “Ye willna win! Armadale is strong. Archers at the ready!”

  A chill racked her frame, despite Hugh’s body heat surrounding her. People—her sister’s family—could get hurt.

  Or killed.

  Because of me.

  No.

  Jules couldn’t allow it. She cleared her throat. “I want to stay here!”

  Everyone froze, including Hugh.

  What just came out of my mouth?

  Are you cr
azy?

  “Jules.” Her sister was the first to speak. Claire’s voice was calm and clear. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I am.”

  I. Have. Seriously. Absolutely. Lost. It.

  She couldn’t be the cause of a war. A voice chided that it had nothing to do with Mab’s concerns, or even the MacLeod threats, and had everything to do with the man holding her, but Jules ignored it.

  Banished it.

  I’m just buying some time—and peace—until I can escape.

  Besides, her brother-in-law had bigger things to worry about. They had to find Bree. Even though Lachlan was home safe, the culprit was still out there.

  Jules could find her way back to her sister’s castle no problem now. When Colin had taken her, she’d paid attention to the route. It would take her time on foot, unless she could steal a horse, but she’d get there.

  “Laird MacDonald.” This time, Claire called to Hugh.

  “Aye, my lady?” Hugh answered, his deep voice loud and thick against Jules’ back.

  She was half-surprised he had the manners.

  “You won’t hurt my sister?”

  “Nay, my lady.”

  “I have your word?” Claire’s voice was just as hard as her husband’s had been.

  “Aye.”

  “Ye canna’ trust him!” Duncan protested.

  “Duncan, he brought Lachlan home. He didn’t hurt him. He won’t hurt Jules, either.” Claire’s voice was low and insistent, but the wind carried her statement up to the battlement.

  Her sister’s husband snapped his mouth shut, but his glare didn’t lessen.

  “I’ll be fine, guys! I’ll see you soon. Find Bree!”

  Hugh growled in her ear but didn’t disagree verbally.

  Even from the distance, Claire’s green gaze bored into Jules. She couldn’t look away. “Jules…”

  “I’ll be fine Claire-bear. You know I won’t let him hurt me.”

  “I know. I’m not worried about that.”

  Jules couldn’t ask what her sister was worried about. “Kiss Lachlan for me!”

  “Leave, MacLeods! Ye heard tha lass, she stays wit’ me!”

  She wanted to glare at Hugh for the triumph in his voice.

  “Lay one hand on her and I’ll run ye through,” Duncan growled, his arm extended toward them.