Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

H ugo didn’t fail to notice how Abigail was furiously gesturing at him to stop as he headed up to the courtesan’s room. In fact, he feared that everyone else in the tavern had noticed, as well, but they were all too drunk by then to pay any attention to either of them, thankfully.

All he could really do was gesture behind his back, as well, trying to tell her to stay put and hope that she would listen. The last thing he needed was for her to march up to the room and demand an explanation from him right in front of Caitriona, thus ruining her own plan.

Or perhaps that was preferable to sneaking into the castle, Hugo thought. Perhaps it was better to be caught now than to be caught once she was inside by Niall himself.

Still, if Abigail was going to be so stubborn as to not listen to him at all when he warned her about the dangers of her plan, the least he could do was make sure that she had the best chances of succeeding. The only way to keep Abigail safe was to make sure she looked the part of the courtesan and that no one who knew her saw her in the castle—and the clothes she was wearing simply would not do. She didn’t look like a courtesan at all; she only looked like a noble girl in a commoner’s dress, too obvious for anyone with eyes.

There was only one way for Hugo to fix that: he had to steal one of Caitriona’s dresses.

When they reached her room, Caitriona pulled him inside, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. The moment the door was shut behind them, she pressed Hugo against it and kissed him, moaning into his mouth as she reached between his legs.

The only thing Hugo could think about was Abigail and how different her lips had felt when he had kissed her, how much more he craved them.

How will I get out of this now?

With a gentle hand on Caitriona’s shoulder, Hugo pushed her back a little and gave her a feeble smile. “Would you like some wine?” he asked, clearing his throat. “I know… I know I would.”

It wasn’t often that Hugo stumbled over his own words, but now it seemed that he couldn’t help it. Every time he tried to speak while thinking about Abigail in Caitriona’s presence, his lips forgot how to move and his tongue felt heavy like lead in his mouth.

Caitriona gave him a curious look, but she pulled back from him. “O’ course,” she said as he headed to the door. “I willnae be long.”

Hugo gave her a tight smile along with an awkward wave, or at least the start of one before he forced his hand to fall back down by his side. He was acting too oddly, he thought, and there was no way Caitriona wouldn’t realize something was wrong, but despite his concerns, she only left the room without saying another word.

Hopefully, she thought he was only nervous despite being a smooth talker.

In her absence, Hugo quickly went through her belongings, trying to find a suitable dress that would reveal just enough of Abigail’s body without being too indecent. It was far from an easy task. Everything he picked up was designed to show off every curve in a woman’s body and each bodice seemed to be worse than the last, each more low-cut than the other.

In the end, he settled for the only one that seemed to cover at least a little bit, a deep red garment that he hoped Caitriona wouldn’t miss too terribly. With the dress secured, he made for the door but then thought better of it. What if Caitriona saw him? What if they encountered each other when he made his way down the stairs?

With a sigh, he looked at the window on the far wall. He wasn’t too high up from the ground and with any luck, he would land without any injuries, but he still cursed Abigail for putting him in this predicament. He wasn’t prepared to jump out of a window that day; in the past week, he had had more excitement than in the last five years combined.

Hugo resigned himself to his fate and walked over to the window, slinging the dress over his shoulder before he carefully climbed down, using every part of the wall he could grip to get a little lower. Once there was nothing else to hold onto, he simply braced himself and jumped, landing solidly on his feet—though he would be lying if he said the impact wasn’t hard on his knees.

Once he was safely back on the ground, he snuck to the back of the building and looked through another window there to make sure Caitriona was nowhere to be seen. Soon, she would find out that he had fled, if she hadn’t found out already, and then perhaps she would even notice that her dress was gone. Hugo couldn’t risk him and Abigail being there once that happened, just in case Caitriona decided she wanted her dress back.

It would be foolish, getting so far only to be discovered because he had stolen a dress.

Abigail’s table was close to the window from which Hugo was observing, and he hissed at her, trying to get her attention. It took him a few times of whispering her name before she turned around and her eyes widened upon seeing him, opening her mouth as if to speak before she thought better of it.

Silently, Hugo gestured at her to join him outside and after a few moments, Abigail did as she was told. The moment she was close to him, he grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the tavern, as far as she would allow him before she dug her heels in, refusing to move.

“Abigail, we must?—”

Hugo was swiftly silenced with a slap to his cheek, the force of it so jarring that his head was whipped to the side. It startled him so much that he was speechless at first, his jaw only opening and closing to test just how much damage he had taken.

For a woman her size, Abigail certainly had a strong hand.

“Have you lost your mind?” Hugo hissed, and the frequency with which he asked that question should perhaps tell him that Abigail had, indeed, gone crazy. He didn’t think he would have so much trouble reasoning with her, but it seemed that she was full of surprises. “Why did you slap me?”

“Ye’re utterly indecent!” Abigail said with an indignant huff as her hands came to rest on her hips. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, her body practically vibrating with rage. “Ye talk about our lives bein’ in danger, ye talk about wantin’ tae help me, an’ yet ye spend yer time beddin’ the courtesan while I am right there? Ye’re the one who has lost his mind! If ye think that I will tolerate such behavior, then ye’re mistaken. I’d rather ye left. I can dae this on me own.”

Hugo rubbed his cheek with his hand, trying to alleviate some of the pain. He didn’t even know where to start with excusing himself to Abigail, since she seemed to fully believe her own version of the facts.

Instead of saying anything, he passed the dress he had stolen to her, shoving it into her chest.

“What is this?” Abigail asked, ripping the dress out of his grip to take a better look. “What is this thing?”

“A dress,” said Hugo, rather unhelpfully. “If you wish to pretend to be a courtesan, you must look like one. Did you think you could enter the castle with the dress you’re wearing?”

Abigail looked down at her clothes, frowning as though she hadn’t even considered the problem they would pose. It took her a few moments, but understanding slowly dawned on her and she averted her gaze, her cheeks turning a bight shade of pink in the first light of the morning. At least she had the decency to be embarrassed about her reaction, Hugo thought, though it consoled him little when the entire left side of his face was burning.

“I didn’t bed her,” he added for good measure, just to make sure Abigail was fully aware. “I didn’t even take that long up there! I was gone for five, ten minutes?”

“A lot can happen in ten minutes,” Abigail deadpanned, clutching the dress close to her. “But I am sorry. I assumed any man would take the opportunity to bed a lass like her.”

“Not any,” said Hugo. “Certainly not me.”

“Why? She’s a bonnie lass. Anyone can tell.”

Hugo couldn’t argue with that. It was true that Caitriona was pretty, with her big blue eyes and dark hair, and that many men would desire her. Only a few days prior, Hugo himself would have probably desired her, too.

But ever since the night he had spent with Abigail, she plagued all his waking thoughts. He couldn’t get her out of his mind, no matter how much he tried to convince himself he had no feelings and that there was nothing between them. He wanted to have her again. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her close and show her just how much pleasure he could give her. If only they hadn’t agreed to never speak of that night again, he could have given her anything she wanted.

“Because I don’t want anyone else,” he admitted. It was easier to get those words out than he had thought it would be. They simply tumbled out of him. He didn’t know if he could stop them even if he wanted to. “I only want you.”

Abigail said nothing and Hugo braced himself for the inevitable rejection. Perhaps he had misread the situation. Perhaps Abigail’s jealousy was only born out of the night they had shared and meant little else in the grand scheme of things, with her feeling some misplaced ownership over him that she didn’t truly want to have.

The longer she stayed quiet, the more Hugo was convinced of it. There was no taking back what he had said, but maybe they could pretend that this, too, never happened.

But then Abigail took a step forward and Hugo found himself leaning in closer until their lips met in a kiss. It was soft, tender, nothing like the ones they had exchanged before, and Hugo’s hands came up to cup her cheeks, cradling her face in his palms.

When they pulled apart, neither of them spoke at first, silence stretching between them once more. It was odd, he thought, how some things came so naturally to him and how others seemed impossible to say out loud. He wished there was something he could say, something that would point him to the right direction and show him what it was that was blossoming between them. As it were, he wasn’t certain what to think. They had an agreement, one that neither of them had tried to take back, but now they had kissed once more. Then again, he doubted a kiss meant much to Abigail—at least not as much as it would mean to other noble girls, who weren’t as familiar with men as she was.

Instead of asking her about it—which would perhaps be the better, more mature thing to do—Hugo frowned, taking a step back. “You’re a very unreasonable woman.”

The sudden change in Hugo was like a physical blow to Abigail, who took a stumbling step back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Hugo said. “You’re very unreasonable. You let your jealousy control you and you have a tendency of thinking the worst about me.”

Abigail sputtered, throwing her hands up in exasperation before pointing an accusatory finger at Hugo. “I have every right to be suspicious o’ ye,” she said. “Ye said it yerself that ye were always with a different lass! An’ I must say, ye played the role o’ an infatuated man very well with that lass in there.”

“That was all it was! A role!” Hugo said, just as exasperated as Abigail. “And I’ll be very disappointed in you if you ever act like this again.”

Scoffing, Abigail, pushed past him as she walked away, looking over her shoulder to tell him, “Ach, how will I ever survive yer disappointment? I live tae please ye, o’ course.”

“Where are you going?” Hugo demanded, rushing after her, the blood rushing to his head as his anger bubbled up inside him. He didn’t know why he ever thought he could be attracted to this woman. Everything that came out of her mouth infuriated him.

“I must give a note tae the courtesan,” Abigail said flatly, coming to a sudden halt so that Hugo fell right into her, his momentum keeping him going even after she stopped walking. Abigail regarded him with an irritated gaze, taking a step back from him. “Ye’re lucky me plan is more important than fightin’ with ye. I must stop her from visitin’ the castle on the morrow if I am tae take her place. They cannae see both o’ us.”

“An’ how will ye dae that?” Hugo asked, but Abigail was already procuring a piece of paper from her pocket.

“With this,” she said. “I wrote it when the man in the tavern was busy. It is meant tae be from Niall, tellin’ her he willnae need her services on the morrow an’ that he will see her the day after. But that means ye must be prepared fer this tae happen now. Are ye still willin’ tae help me?”

Hugo had to admit that he had not thought as far ahead as Abigail had. She seemed to have planned everything to the best of her abilities, and her abilities were more impressive than he would have originally thought.

She makes for a formidable foe. I wouldn’t want to be her enemy.

Then again, it seemed to Hugo sometimes that he already was.

“Do I have any other choice?” he asked. “You wish to do this and there is no stopping you. Of course, I will help.”

Abigail nodded, pleased with his response. “Good. Take this,” she said, as she handed him the dress back. “I will leave the letter fer her an’ then we can find a place tae spend the rest o’ the night and day. Hopefully one with a bath an’ a bed.”

Hugo barely managed to hold onto the dress as Abigail shoved it in his hands and ran off, too eager for her own good. He had to agree, though; a bath and a bed sounded like the best idea he had ever heard.