Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

H ugo and Abigail spent the better part of that day in bed. It was far from comfortable, the mattress thin and stiff, but it was the best the little town could offer at such short notice, and neither of them minded too much after two days sleeping on the ground. At least they had a bath and some warm food, and they could sleep for a few hours without anyone or anything—especially birds and squirrels—disturbing them.

Hugo was so exhausted by all this ordeal that the moment his head hit the pillow, he was fast asleep. He didn’t stir at all in the next few hours, not even to seek out Abigail in his sleep, and he was thankful for that when he woke up, finding the two of them with plenty of space between them.

Anything else would have complicated things, he reasoned. He still didn’t know where they stood or what Abigail wanted from him. He still didn’t know how to deal with her or if every other word out of their mouths would set each other off, sparking yet another argument.

When it was time for the two of them to leave, Abigail forced him out of the room as she changed into the dress Hugo had stolen from Caitriona. By then, the sun was low in the sky but had not yet begun to set. They should make it back to the castle by sunset, he thought, and then have some time to spare until the sky was fully dark, before it would be time for Abigail to play her role.

When the door opened, the only thing Hugo saw was Abigail’s head, peeking out from a tiny gap.

“I cannae go out like this,” she said. “I look ridiculous.”

He looked at her, equally amused and bemused, then sighed, a hand coming up to brush through his hair. “Let me see.”

“Nay.”

Hugo pinned her with an impatient look. “What do you mean? You can’t hide in here forever. You’re the one who wants to sneak into the castle.”

“I didnae think I’d have tae wear this!”

“I had to wear a plaid for days. Days , Abigail,” Hugo reminded her. Thankfully, his usual clothes were now clean and dry and he had finally changed into them, the relief of wearing trousers once again great, even though he had started to get used to wearing the plaid—not that he would ever admit it to anyone but himself. “I’m sure you can wear this dress for a few hours. Open the door. Let me see.”

Reluctantly, Abigail opened the door just a fraction more, but it was enough for Hugo to push his way inside. When he took a good look at her, though, he froze, his heart jumping to his throat.

It was true that the dress was a little ridiculous, the laces tied awkwardly and the bodice askew as Abigail had had no help, but that wasn’t what gave Hugo pause. Rather, it was the sight of Abigail like this, the dress clinging to her waist, her breasts spilling invitingly over the neckline, the bodice accentuating all her features. With this on, it didn’t take much for him to imagine her fully nude or for his mind to conjure up all sorts of scenarios that could easily make them miss their window of opportunity. If he tugged that dress just a little lower?—

“What are ye doin’?” Abigail asked, dragging him right out of his indecent thoughts. “Will ye help me with this?”

Right. I can do this. I’ve seen several women nude in my life and I never lost my mind.

All things considered, it sounded like an easy task. Abigail wasn’t even nude. The dress covered most of her body, just in a way that drove Hugo crazy with lust.

“Fix the laces,” Abigail demanded, turning her back to him so he could help her. Hugo’s hands shook as he tried to undo what she had done to the laces, his fingers fumbling uselessly with the tiny little strings, and he cursed under his breath every time they slipped right out of them. He couldn’t be blamed for his lack of coordination, though, he thought. If anything, he should be applauded for keeping his wits about him as much as he was when all his blood rushed south, his manhood hardening uncomfortably in his trousers.

Don’t let her see. Don’t even touch her.

As long as he kept his hips canted back, then he could hide his arousal, he told himself. He could get himself back under control by the time Abigail turned around. All he had to do was breathe and think about anything other than Abigail in front of him; the gentle slope of her shoulders, the length of her neck that seem to beg to be kissed, those rosy lips he couldn’t get enough of.

Murder. If we fail, there will be a murder. Two murders, in fact. That’s more important.

He knew that, logically, of course. It was only that his body didn’t seem to understand as well as his brain that this was a matter of life and death.

“What is takin’ ye so long?” Abigail asked, frustrated, her own hands reaching behind her back to help him, only to end up hindering his efforts. Their fingers fought for dominance and after a few moments of struggle, Hugo gave up with a sigh, letting Abigail undo the laces herself.

With his hands free, he gave himself a discreet squeeze, something to try and relieve the need that coursed through him, while at the same time adjusting his manhood to hide his very obvious arousal. It did little to help and he had to bite back a groan at the brief touch, his lust so overpowering that he didn’t know how he would ever calm down without reaching his release.

When Abigail finally managed to untangle the knot they had both created, her bodice slipped down her body and she barely caught it with a yelp before it fell to the floor. From where he stood, Hugo caught a glimpse of her bare breasts, the sight of them making him swallow audibly—only to then choke on his own spit.

Abigail, her arms wrapped tightly around herself to hold her bodice in place, turned to look at Hugo with a frown. “What is the matter with ye today?” she asked, and Hugo didn’t even know how to start responding to that question.

“Nothing,” he said. “Have you never choked before?”

“On air?”

“Yes,” Hugo said, the word coming out like a question. “Do you want my help or would you rather leave the room like this?”

Abigail rolled her eyes at him but said nothing more as she turned her back to him once more. Hugo remained silent as well, not trusting himself to speak as he started lacing the bodice, pulling the strings tight and neatly across her back.

Every now and then, his fingers brushed against her and he could have sworn that he felt her shudder at the brief, gentle contact. Hugo did his best to dress her quickly and clinically, touching her as little as he could, to avoid the seemingly unavoidable temptation, and by the time he was done, perspiration coated his forehead as though he had just finished an hours-long training session.

“There,” he said, pulling his hands behind his back in case they decided to act against his orders and reach out for her. “Done.”

Abigail turned around and Hugo was pleased with his work; she certainly looked the part of a courtesan, but he had managed to make the dress just a little more modest—or at least so he thought before Abigail tossed her hair back, revealing the curves of her breasts.

It was difficult to look anywhere else when they swelled over the neckline with every breath she took, the ample flesh bouncing so seductively right in front of his eyes. It was even worse when she took a particularly deep breath, surely trying to get used to how tight the bodice was, and her nipple spilled out of it, the pebbled nub pressing against the edge of her dress.

Hugo imagined himself falling to his knees, coaxing her breast out as he tugged her neckline down to wrap his lips around that nipple, sucking and biting on it until she was begging him for more, his fingers slipping under her dress to find her opening. Would she be slick with need, he wondered? Would she part for him easily, her body opening up around him with little resistance?—

A cry echoed in the room and Hugo belatedly realized it had come from Abigail, who had followed his gaze and had found herself exposed to it. She quickly tugged her bodice up, firmly pushing her breasts inside and out of view, and Hugo couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at being denied the view. When he dragged his gaze back up to her face, he saw that her cheeks were flaming a bright red against her pale face, colored with embarrassment.

“Ye could have told me!” Abigail protested, lips pressing into a thin, dissatisfied line.

“I was about to tell you,” Hugo said, which wasn’t entirely true, but not entirely a lie either. He was going to tell her, in a few moments.

Abigail scoffed, her hands coming up to cover her chest as she walked over to the bed and perched herself on the edge of the mattress. Hugo took the chair that sat beneath the window, not trusting himself with getting any closer to her.

“Alright,” Abigail said, drawing in a deep breath. “So, we will get the horse where we left it last night and bring it as close to the castle as possible so we can make a quick escape. I will enter the castle an’ tell them I was sent in the courtesan’s stead because she has fallen ill. They will take me tae the room. Ye will have Niall summoned an’ then once everyone is busy, ye will wait fer me so we can leave after I find what we need.”

It was a straightforward plan, one they had gone over and over again in the past few hours. The simpler, the better, Hugo had thought; there was no need for them to try anything too ambitious. The sooner they were out of that castle, the safer they would be, with no room for delays or improvisations.

And yet Hugo couldn’t help but worry that Abigail’s disguise would not be enough. “What if Niall sees you?” he asked, not for the first time that day. He had brought up the same concern over and over while they were discussing the plan, and every single time, Abigail would simply dismiss his concerns in a way that didn’t make him feel any better.

“Ye cannae think about that,” Abigail said. “I’ve told ye, I understand it may happen, but what are the chances? We must think o’ this by assumin’ it will all go accordin’ tae our plan. If we think we can be defeated, then we will be.”

It didn’t seem much like a sound logic to Hugo, who would much rather be prepared for every eventuality. He didn’t think his concerns were that implausible, not when Abigail would be so close to Niall. There was a very good chance, in fact, that they would end up crossing paths and then there was no way that Niall would not recognize her.

She was his brother’s betrothed. They were already very familiar with each other, after all.

“Everythin’ will be fine,” Abigail assured him when Hugo said nothing. He wished he could have as much confidence in this plan as she did. He wished he could be optimistic about it.

He knew, though, that only one thing had to go wrong for their lives to be in real danger.