Page 8 of Under the Spell of a Highland Healer (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #6)

CHAPTER SEVEN

“ U nder the table, quickly!”

Hugo helped Abigail slide under the table, his heart racing as he looked at the two men. He didn’t have a sword on him, but he had his knife, and he reached for it, hand curling tightly over the handle.

It was far from ideal, trying to kill two men in the middle of a crowded inn, but perhaps it would prove to be unavoidable. If they found out that Abigail was there, what other choice would Hugo have?

Her madness must have infected me. I can’t kill them because they came to find her!

It wasn’t a good enough reason, and yet something told him that he shouldn’t let those two men get their hands on them, no matter the cost. They had a menacing air about them, moving around the room as if they were looking for a fight, and they weren’t anyone Hugo recognized, which could only mean they were Niall’s men.

As they walked through the tables, asking the people there if they had seen Abigail, Hugo watched them carefully. No one seemed to recognize the picture they were showing, which could only mean that it didn’t quite look like her, but Hugo wasn’t immediately relieved. There were still plenty of tables left. Someone could have taken a better look at Abigail. Someone could recognize her and point them to the right direction.

When the men reached his table, Hugo smiled up at them politely. “How can I help ye?” he asked, doing his best attempt at an accent. Surely, even if the men weren’t looking for him, they could suspect his identity if they heard him speak with his own accent.

“Have ye seen this lass?” the man asked, thankfully making no comment on his accent. Perhaps it only sounded strange to him, Hugo thought, as he wasn’t used to speaking like this.

“I cannae say that I have,” Hugo said. “She isnae very bonnie, is she?”

Under the table, Abigail punched him in the groin so hard that Hugo turned a bright shade of red as he tried to swallow a pained groan, agony travelling up his spine. His eyes watered and his smile wavered, but the men were too busy looking for Abigail to pay him any real mind.

I should kill her myself for this.

She could have exposed them both, but then again, Hugo supposed he deserved it. He should have been the one to keep his mouth shut instead of teasing in the first place.

He tried his best to hold it together until the men were finally gone and he could let his head fall onto the table with a thud. His groin still throbbed with pain, but at least it wasn’t the unbearable suffering he had experienced at first.

“You can come out,” Hugo told Abigail, who crawled out from under the table, dusting herself.

“ She’s nae very bonnie ?” she hissed and Hugo laughed at her irritation, shoulders shaking with mirth.

“It wasn’t a very good picture of you,” he said, straightening up to look at her. “Not very flattering.”

With a huff, Abigail smoothed her hands over her dress and fixed her hair, before gesturing at him to follow her. “We should head back tae the room. It’s nae safe tae be around people.”

Hugo could hardly argue with that. He stood and followed Abigail back up the stairs, making sure to lock the door behind them. They were lucky to have remained hidden. If they had another such close call, perhaps their luck would run out.

Abigail perched herself on the edge of the mattress and Hugo took the chair. Abigail’s shoulders stood up by her ears, tension holding her entire body taught. The brush with those men had scared her, he could tell, and he tried to think of something to do to distract her.

“So, you don’t wish to wed?” he asked, bringing up the first topic that came to mind. Perhaps it wasn’t the best thing to say, considering what they had just gone through, but it was better than nothing.

“I wish tae wed,” Abigail said. “I always did, ever since I was a bairn. It all always looked so… so romantic. I wanted tae have that too. It’s me biggest dream tae wed an’ have a happy family.”

It wasn’t surprising, Hugo supposed.

“I haven’t given it much thought,” Hugo admitted. He never had any real reason to consider marriage. He was in no need of an heir and no woman had ever caught his attention in such a way that made him want to marry her. “I suppose I may wed eventually if I find a good woman. Do you want to have a big family, then? Many children?”

“Nay,” Abigail said, much to Hugo’s surprise. “Nay, I dinnae wish tae be a maither. That is the good thing about bein’ the youngest daughter in the family. I didnae think I would be obligated tae have any bairns, since I didnae think a laird would wed me, but then…”

Abigail didn’t need to finish her sentence for Hugo to know what she meant. Even if Finnian wasn’t the laird of his clan, she would still be expected to carry his heir, just in case anything happened to Niall and any offspring he would have. Besides, Finnian didn’t seem like the kind of man who would allow his wife to remain childless. He would force it upon Abigail and for all Hugo knew, she would be miserable for it.

“How come you don’t want children?” he asked, out of curiosity. “I would think that if you want a family, you would want children, too.”

“I have me sisters, I’d have their bairns,” Abigail said with a small shrug. “I am content bein’ an aunt. I… it isnae easy, fer me. Me sisters, they all wanted tae be maithers but I dinnae think I can dae it. Our maither, she died while birthin’ me.”

Hugo knew about that, but he hadn’t known just how much it had affected Abigail. He supposed it made sense. She had never known her mother, and naturally, she was afraid that her children wouldn’t know her, either.

“I’m sorry, Abigail,” Hugo said sincerely. “It must be very difficult for you.”

“Sometimes,” Abigail admitted. “It’s strange, is it nae? How ye can miss a person ye’ve never even met.”

With a sigh, Hugo stood and then sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Abigail leaned against him, melting into the embrace as the tension finally left her body.

“It’s not so strange,” Hugo said. “She was your mother. It’s only natural that you miss her, even if you didn’t come to know her.”

Abigail nodded against his shoulder, but said nothing and neither did Hugo. They simply sat there in silence for a while, until she pulled back from him, her emotions once again under control.

When their eyes met, she smiled, leaning closer again to bump her shoulder against his.

Hugo laughed, and he couldn’t stop the next words that tumbled out of his mouth. “What did you mean when you said the kiss wasn’t so bad? Do you think I’m not good at it?”

Laughing, Abigail playfully shoved him back, her mood brightening. “Are ye?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as if in a silent challenge.

“Of course, I am,” he said, puffing out his chest a little.

In a split second, Abigail’s entire demeanor changed, her gaze darkening as she looked at him. “Prove it then.”

Perhaps it was foolish, challenging Hugo like that, but he didn’t immediately reject the request, so Abigail held some hope. Ever since that kiss earlier, she couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him again, like a woman possessed.

He did hesitate, though, pulling back a little from her.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Hugo said, but his heart wasn’t in it, Abigail could tell. His gaze was fixed to her lips and she let her tongue slip out to wet them, just to entice him. “I am supposed to be protecting you, not… not ravishing you.”

Abigail couldn’t help but laugh at the choice of word, as though he was the one preying on her and she wasn’t clearly asking him for it. “I’ll keep it a secret,” she said, leaning a little closer to whisper in his ear. “An’ perhaps ye’ll see that I’ll be the one ravishin’ ye.”

That broke the dam. Hugo surged forward, finally claiming Abigail’s lips in a heated kiss, one that instantly tore a moan out of her. His mouth was hot and slick against hers, his tongue prodding gently inside, and Abigail parted her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

She wanted his lips, his hands, everywhere on her body. Her own hand found its way to Hugo’s neck, curling possessively around it to pull him even closer, pressing their bodies flush together. It was his turn to moan then, the sound reverberating through Abigail and sending a tingle of pleasure down her spine.

There had been men in her life whom she had kissed; that much was true. None of them had been like this, though, sending wave after wave of pleasure and need through her body. Perhaps it was the fact that, until very recently, at least, they didn’t even really like each other. Perhaps it was that despite their mutual dislike, Hugo had helped her, he hadn’t left her alone.

Desire coiled in her core, heat travelling through her body. She was already feeling her wetness gathering between her thighs and she was desperate for Hugo to touch her, but his hands didn’t stray from her shoulders.

At least not until she grabbed them and placed them on her breasts, making both herself and Hugo moan. He squeezed the ample flesh, thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples over the fabric of her dress, and she wished that he would tear it all off her and take her right then and there.

Though she had never done much more than kiss with another man before, she couldn’t resist Hugo and she didn’t think there was any reason for her to. The only problem with boys like Lachlan and the guards was that it would be terribly scandalous of her to be caught with one of them. As the youngest of the four sisters, the shame of it wouldn’t be as condemning, but it was still wiser for her to keep her relationships with them brief and mostly chaste.

It was different with Hugo. For one, no one would find out. They were all alone in that room and no one in the inn knew who they were. There was also the matter of his pedigree; he wasn’t a servant or a mere soldier. He was Domnhall’s closest advisor, and he would have made a suitable match for Abigail anyway.

“Touch me,” she whispered against his lips as she lay on the bed, pulling him along with her. Hugo went down easily, lust-drunk and pliant, but once again, his hands never strayed too far, only petting her waist and her back, sometimes brushing over her breasts again. They never reached below her hips.

His soft touches and the kisses he peppered on her jaw and neck were maddening, not nearly enough. At first, Hugo had thought of her as easy, imagining that she had been with many men, only to now think of her as a blushing maiden, when she was neither of those things. She had never been taken by a man, but it didn’t mean that she knew nothing about what could happen between them.

The maids often talked, after all, as did her sisters, and Abigail listened.

Frustrated, she began to wiggle and tug at her dress until her breasts spilled out of it. Hugo panted hotly against her neck, groaning at the sight of her, and he drew one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking gently at the hardened nub. Abigail arched up into his mouth with a moan, legs falling apart and hips shifting until the hand that was on her hip finally brushed against her mound.

It was then that Hugo came to a halt, lips parted around her nipple as he looked up at her in doubt. Abigail only whined softly, tilting her hips to get more of that touch she craved so much. Their gazes locked, Hugo slowly dragged his knuckles over her, the touch too soft and hesitant to do anything but tease her.

“Please,” she gasped, relishing the way the fabric of her dress pulled against her, rough on her sensitive skin but at the same time irresistibly arousing.

Hugo was still hesitant, though the hunger in his eyes was evident—and even if it wasn’t, his hardened length pressing against Abigail’s thigh was proof enough that he wanted her. She wished he would simply let go of any inhibitions he had and take her properly, finally showing her how it felt when she had another’s hands on her instead of her own.

With a soft growl, Hugo slotted his thigh between Abigail’s legs, pressing into her. It wasn’t quite what she wanted, but it was something, and she was glad to have the relief of that friction, grinding down against him as he continued to tease her breasts. He tongued and sucked at them, teeth clamping down gently over her nipple just to hear her cry out with lust, her hips faltering in their rhythm.

With their legs slotted together like that, Abigail could feel Hugo’s manhood brushing against her thigh every now and then, though he didn’t seem particularly concerned with his own pleasure. He panted softly against her, eyes glazed over with want whenever he looked at her, and Abigail couldn’t help but thread her fingers through his golden hair, tugging back to keep the eye contact unbroken as she writhed against him.

Hugo let out a broken sound at that, one that went straight to Abigail’s core. She was soaked with arousal, mindlessly chasing her pleasure as she looked into Hugo’s eyes, and when he grabbed her rear to drag her up the length of his thigh, his lips capturing hers once more, her climax crashed over her suddenly, her core pulsing with pleasure and sending wave after wave of it through her.

Never before in her life had Abigail experienced such all-encompassing pleasure, the aftershocks lasting for what seemed to her like an eternity. As all the excitement slowly left her body, though, she was left with the embarrassment of what they had just done.

At first, she couldn’t even face Hugo, her shame too strong to meet his gaze. She cleared her throat and smoothed her dress, and though she couldn’t see Hugo’s face as she was facing away from him, his silence made her suspect that he, too, was embarrassed about their actions.

“We… we should sleep,” said Abigail, trying to ignore the discomfort of her furious blush as she settled under the covers, her back turned towards Hugo. With the blankets between them acting as a fortress, she could calm her breathing just enough to stop herself from sounding panicked in the quiet of the room.

“Yes,” said Hugo after a moment of hesitation. “We should leave early on the morrow.”

It was all they said before they both fell silent once more, neither of them speaking another word. Though Hugo lay next to her, he scooted over right to the edge of the mattress so that their bodies were not touching at all, leaving as much of a gap between them as he could.

Time passed slowly as Abigail tried to will herself to sleep with no success. Her heart hadn’t ceased its erratic beating ever since her lips had first met Hugo’s and she doubted she would find any peace that night. Next to her, Hugo’s breaths were slow but measured, the kind that betrayed that he, too, was awake.

The ghost of his touch still lingered on her skin, the memory of his lips so vivid that it was as though he was still kissing her. As much as she wanted to forget all about it, to leave it in the past, her mind had latched onto it and refused to let it go.

It was going to be a long night, it seemed, and an even longer journey to Castle Chattan.