Page 16 of Under the Spell of a Highland Healer (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #6)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A bigail wiped the sweat off her forehead and pushed her hair back from her face as she opened the door to find Hugo there, bound to a chair. He had been beaten bloody and bruised, his face painted crimson and purple, his left eye already swollen shut and his lips full of cuts. Blood was caked around his nose and his mouth, and though the sight gave her pause, she was also flooded with relief at finding him.

“Abigail?” Hugo asked, as if he could hardly believe she was there. Abigail herself had difficulty believing it. When she had first set out to find Hugo, she had been quite convinced that she, too, would be captured.

And yet there she was, holding the door handle in one hand and a fire poker in the other. On the floor next to her, right outside the room, lay the guard, unconscious.

With a sigh, Abigail tossed the poker aside and pawed at the guard until she found his knife. Then, she walked over to Hugo and started sawing at his bonds, keeping an eye on the door in case someone returned.

What will I dae if someone comes? I cannae fight Niall or Finnian. I cannae fight all his men.

The only reason why she had managed to stun the guard outside was because she had caught him by surprise. In the chaos that she and Hugo had created, many of the guards had received their orders but had little idea of what was truly going on. It seemed that he was one of them, too, as the moment he had laid his eyes upon Abigail, he had smirked and given her a long, lustful look, taking in every detail of her body.

He thought of her as a courtesan and so he hadn’t been suspicious when she approached. He had never seen the poker coming.

“How did you find me?” Hugo asked, twisting and turning every possible way, impatient as Abigail tried to free him. All the movement only made it harder for her to cut the rope, though, and she gave him a gentle smack on the arm.

“Stop movin’,” she demanded. Hugo froze at once, and Abigail did quick work of the rest of the rope, finally freeing his wrists. He rubbed them gently, and she couldn’t help but wince in sympathy, knowing that all those burns from the rope had to be terribly painful. It would be alright now that she had found him, she had several pastes for such wounds.

“After I saw that ye werenae where ye were supposed tae be, I asked some maids what was happenin’,” Abigail said. Maids, she had come to know from personal experience, always knew much more than guards did. “They said they were keepin’ ye here, so I made a mess in Niall’s study an’ alerted a few guards. An’ then I came here.”

“And you hit that guard with a poker.”

“An’ I hit that guard with a poker.”

Hugo laughed, the sound high and almost hysterical. Abigail could only hope that he would pull himself together long enough for them to escape, but she could see that he was far from well. He looked like he had been beaten half to death.

“Come,” she said, wrapping an arm around him to try and support him. His weight was no match for her, of course, and she suspected that she was hardly helping him at all, but they managed to flee down the hallway without meeting any guards.

The difficult task would be to get out of there without being spotted at all, or at least without being caught. Hugo was slow, swaying as he walked alongside her, and they were both tired, quickly losing their strength. Abigail chose to lead him towards the kitchens this time, knowing they couldn’t escape through the secret corridor, where there would surely be guards there.

There was a back door in the kitchens, she knew. She had seen some maids walk out while she had been searching for Hugo, and she knew that if they could only get there, then they would be very close to their escape.

When she heard footsteps as they walked down the length of a hallway, Abigail swiftly pulled Hugo into the nearest room, closing the door soundlessly behind them. It turned out to be something that resembled a storage space, dark and filled with items covered with sheets, illuminated only by the first light of dawn.

They had spent far too long in there. Hugo had spent far too long in Niall’s and Finnian’s hands.

The only good thing out of this was that the obvious injuries they had left would help convince everyone that they were cruel men who were only after the Robertson Clan. Once their loved ones saw Hugo’s face, they would know that something was terribly wrong about the Chattans.

Abigail pressed a hand over Hugo’s mouth as the footsteps came closer and closer, and then faded out down the hallway. His breath was coming in harsh pants, loud and fast, and though she could hardly blame him for it, she wished there was a way he could be quiet.

Before leaving the room, Abigail made sure to check the hallway for any signs of activity, only stepping out when she was certain they were alone. With her help, Hugo followed her to the kitchens, the two of them ducking into alcoves and rooms whenever they heard someone get too close, and after what seemed like an eternity, they finally made it into the back of the castle, the part that was mostly frequented by servants.

It was impossible to avoid them. Several of them were in the kitchens, speaking amongst themselves when Abigail and Hugo entered. For a moment, the two of them froze, and so did all the servants, each side watching the other wearily. But when they didn’t shout for their laird right away, Abigail simply tightened her grip on Hugo and dragged him out, the two of them disappearing past the castle gates from a small, unguarded backdoor.

They ran. It was far from an easy task, what with Hugo being so injured and Abigail trying to hold much of his weight, but they ran regardless, their feet taking them through the thickest parts of the forest, to where they had left their horse. Abigail helped Hugo up onto the saddle as best she could, pushing while he groaned in pain, and then got up as well Under the protection of the trees, they could remain hidden for a while, even if they were followed.

The walked along quietly in the forest, so as not to make too much noise and give their position away. The first rays of sun barely made it through the canopy that stretched above them, creating a false, green sky. Abigail could hardly see where she was going, the thick roots tripping the animal every now and then. The natural sounds of the forest suddenly began to sound like humans, like people chasing them and getting closer and closer, but no one attacked them. If they were being followed, their peruses were too far behind.

We’re out o’ there. We will make it back.

Abigail refused to give up now. They were so close that she could practically taste her victory on her lips and nothing, not even an encounter with Niall’s men, could stop her now.

She would make it back home. She and Hugo would return in one piece, safe and, for the most part, sound.

Their energy was abandoning them, and Hugo’s condition was worsening. The moment she stopped, he collapsed onto her, drawing in quick, ragged breaths.

The sudden light that poured into her eyes blinded her. They had reached a lake in a small clearing, and without the shade of the trees, she could now see that the sun was high up in the sky, streaming in through the clouds. When Abigail looked around, blinking against the light as she tried to locate the castle, she couldn’t see it.

They had no choice but to stop for a while. Their bodies couldn’t carry them any farther.

“Come,” she said gently, grabbing Hugo and pulling him down and walking him toward a large oak. Hugo stumbled, half-crawling over to the tree before he collapsed again, only this time with his back against the trunk. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, and in the light of the morning, Abigail could see just how bad all his injuries were.

She didn’t have any of her items with her, so she couldn’t dress his wounds, but she could at least clean them. Leaving him there, leaning against the tree, she walked over to the bank of the lake and gripped her dress, ripping a strip of fabric—the cleanest part of it she could find. She dipped it in the water and then returned to Hugo, crouching next to him as she gently began to dab at the blood on his face, wiping it away slowly.

Hugo winced in pain every time she rubbed over a wound, but he made no sound as Abigail took care of him. The more she cleaned, the better he looked, much to her relief. He must have taken several punches, she thought, but those had left only bruises. There were few cuts on his face that would need her attention and that reassured her a little. At least he ran little risk of infection.

“How much does it hurt?” Abigail asked. “I dinnae have anythin’ tae give ye fer the pain but when we go back tae the room, I have me bag and I can give ye somethin’ fer it.”

“I don’t think we should go back to the room,” Hugo said. It was the first thing he had said to her after they had left the castle. “It’s too dangerous. We should head back to Castle Robertson immediately.”

Abigail could hardly argue with that, though she didn’t know if Hugo could make it that far without taking anything for his pain. She didn’t miss the fact that he didn’t answer her question or that he had been gritting his teeth the entire time she was cleaning his wounds.

“Alright,” she said, and then she took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes threatening to fill with tears. “I’m sorry, Hugo. I put ye in all this danger. Ye dinnae ken how scared I was fer ye, how much I feared fer yer life. I dinnae ken what I would have done if somethin’ had happened tae ye.”

Hesitantly, Hugo reached for her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m alright,” he assured her. “Nothing happened to me. Nothing that won’t heal in a few days, at least. Don’t worry.”

“Still, I wish I had never put ye in this danger,” Abigail admitted. It was one thing, rushing headfirst into danger herself, and another bringing someone else into it. She should have gone alone, just as she had planned in the first place.

Then again, there was no guarantee that she would have succeeded.

“Did you get what we needed?” Hugo asked, sitting up a little straighter as though that would convince her he was alright. “Documents? Letters?”

“Aye,” said Abigail. “I brought as much as I could. At least some o’ it should be useful.”

“Then I’m glad I came,” Hugo said. “It was all worth it.”

Abigail mustered a weak smile. If she was honest with herself, she would admit that she was glad Hugo had come with her. She didn’t know what she would have achieved without him. He had helped her every step of the way, and though he liked to protest and put up a fight, in the end, he knew when to trust her judgement and follow her decisions.

Once she was done cleaning his face, she took a better look at his torso and the rest of his body. His clothes had been completely ruined, covered in blood and dirt, and Abigail couldn’t think of a way to salvage them.

Once Hugo was in better condition, he was bound to complain about it.

“We should clean the rest o’ ye,” she said. She didn’t know how much of that blood had trickled down to his clothes from his face and how much of it was from other wounds, ones that she couldn’t see. “Remove yer clothes.”

Instantly, Abigail regretted her choice of words when she saw the pleased smirk that spread over Hugo’s lips. It was beyond her, how he could still be thinking about such things, teasing her like this, when he was hurt and they were on the run, though she, too, couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking her head.

Belatedly, she realized she was still wearing that ridiculous dress. It was even more indecent now, with the struggle and the running leaving her bodice askew. The strips she had torn from it left her legs bare under the knee, and in her rush, she had left her cloak behind.

How will we ever make it back like this? We look terrible!

No one would give them a room. She doubted the man who was meant to be taking care of Lachlan’s horse would even believe Hugo was the same man he had met if they showed up like this. They could bathe in the lake, but then they would need to find something else to wear, anything that wouldn’t make them look like a courtesan and a beggar dressed in oddly expensive yet ruined fabrics.

It was a problem to be dealt with later, though. For now, Abigail only helped Hugo remove his shirt, her hands poking and prodding at all the spots where she saw blood to make sure he wasn’t injured anywhere. Just as she had predicted, there were a few cuts on his torso and his arms, but nothing that was too concerning. They must have happened as Niall’s men had dragged him over to the room, she thought, as none of them seemed to be the result of a blade.

What concerned her the most were his wrists, burned as they were by the rope. She took them gingerly and held them in her hands, trying to be as gentle as she could to examine the wounds. They were already weeping fluid and for the first time, Hugo hissed in pain when she touched them.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “They seem very bad.”

They had drifted closer, Abigail realized when she looked up at Hugo’s face. Even battered and bruised as he was, he was still one of the most handsome men Abigail had ever seen. His golden hair, though sticking up in all directions, shone under the morning sun, and his dark eyes sparkled with a mischief that never seemed to leave his gaze.

Suddenly, her dress was too tight, too contracting. Her breath turned shallow and rapid, tumbling past her lips. A jolt of desire ran through her, a tingle down her spine that she recognized well. She and Hugo had managed to escape Niall and Finnian. They had survived and they had outsmarted them. That alone was enough of a thrill, and it had her blood thrumming in her veins, all that energy seeking an outlet.

When their lips crashed, it seemed inevitable.