Текст книги "Highland Daydreams"
Автор книги: April Holthaus
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 11 страниц)
Chapter 19
“Ride faster, ye eejits,” Dermot yelled to his men. They had been riding on Norse land for over an hour, and still had several more hours ahead of them. Traveling across the sea at night, they had arrived on the shores of Norway just before the sun crested the horizon.
Dermot was determined to get to Bergen as quick as possible and get his wife back. He had kept the ruse of the mournful husband for long enough, but when word came that Lara had somehow managed to escape her prison, he feared that the rights to her dowry and treasure would be taken from him. His anger grew the more he thought about the ungrateful wench. How dare she deny what belonged to him; both her treasure and her body! She was his wife, and she would love, obey, and honor him with her very last breath. Dermot wickedly chuckled to himself at the thought of being the cause of that last breath.
Never had he imagined settling for such a defiant lass. If it were not for his greed and taste for wealth, he would have denied his father’s order to marry her. Dermot wished to just kill her and not waste his time or strength prancing around as if he missed his bride. He was rather proud of himself for his clever idea to allow the English to take her instead of having to deal with her himself; it was quite convenient, actually, that they arrived when they had.
Dermot knew that if Lara had already arrived in Bergen, he would once again need to act as if she had been kidnapped, as everyone else in his clan had. His biggest concern was that Lara could somehow prove or convince her father that their marriage had not yet been consummated. That one minor detail caused their union to hang in the balance. According to their laws, if the marriage had not been consummated within a fortnight, the contract of union was automatically annulled, though there were always exceptions. Using the excuse that she had been kidnapped was one of those exceptions that he was certain the priest would sanction.
“My Laird, once we find yer runaway bride, will we be returning directly to Foley?” one of his men asked.
“Aye, we will no’ waste another minute on this Godforsaken land. I dislike these Vikings as much as I do the French and the English,” he replied. Both he and his guard laughed at his remark. “I wish to retrieve me bonny wife and return home.”
Dermot had to be cautious of revealing his motives for rescuing his wife. With only a few short hours left, Dermot rehearsed the words needed to be said to ensure possession of his bride.
Sitting in a chair next to the side of her bed, Bram watched Lara as she slept. Her black hair sprawled out across her pillow, and the covers tightly snuggled around her. After too many shots of whiskey she had fallen into a coma-like sleep. With only a solitary candle lit, he studied her face, wanting to remember every curves and shape. She truly was the most beautiful lass in all of Scotland, and now that she was on Norse lands, all of Norway as well.
Brushing a wisp of hair away from her face, he whispered, “Lara, I dinna ken why I do’ nay have the courage to tell ye this, but the last few days ye have brought forth a light inside of me I ne’er ken existed. Ye saved me from the darkness that night, like the angel of mercy. When I am no’ with ye, I feel as if part of me is lost; and when I see yer smile, I am whole again. I would sacrifice all I have, all I am fer ye.”
Bram sat back against the back of the chair and continued to watch her sleep until the sky began to lighten and rays of orange could be seen transcending over the vista of mountains and valleys.
Lara woke with a pounding headache. Never had she drank so much ale and whiskey, but as soon as she emptied her cup, Bram, her brother and the other men filled it cup back to the rim. They were celebrating John’s last night as a vassal.
Wanting to show that a lass could keep up with a man, she did not back down from the challenge. Over the night, the group of them challenged themselves into a drinking contest, which ended very badly for her. Lara had spent the night throwing up in the privy while Bram once again held her hair. The last thing she recalled was Bram carrying her up to her room and laying her on the bed. After that, she had passed out.
With her head pounding, every sound made her feel as if she stood next to the church bells as they rang in her ears. Lara took the pillow and placed it over her head to drown out the noise. It seemed to be getting louder and louder. Even the light from the window seemed to burn her eyes. Lara rolled over, feeling the urge to empty her stomach, but the result was only dry-heaves.
“Ye will be wanting to drink this, lass,” Lara heard Bram say from somewhere in the corner of the room.
Lara sat up, her hair hanging over her face like the long thin leaves and branches of a willow tree. Brushing her hair to the side, she slowly opened her eyes and saw a blurry image of Bram standing next to her bed holding onto a mug.
“What is it?” her voice hoarse and scratchy, as if she had spent the entire night yelling.
“Tis ale.”
“Oh nay,” Lara said and fell backwards, landing on the bed, then covering her head with the blanket. The idea of drinking any liquor made her stomach cringe. She swore that she would never again drink any substance that would cause her head to spin and stomach to roll. Bram laughed out loud.
“Lass, I promise, it will only make ye feel better.”
Under the blanket, she mumbled, “How can drinking poison make me better?”
“Just drink it, ye stubborn lass.”
Lara popped her head out from the covers and sat up. With shaky hands, she reached for the mug and drank the cold ale. Soon, her stomach settled and the pounding lessened. Bram sat on the chair next to her bed with an all-too-confident grin on his face. The look aggravated Lara, and if she felt up to par, she would have gladly dragged him out to the loch and drowned him.
“Feel better?” he asked, still grinning.
Lara took in a sharp breath and released it hastily, loud enough for Bram to hear her snort in response to his comment. She did not like the enjoyment he got out of proving her wrong all the time. Bram was very much like her brother, in the sense that he often teased her in a playful way, but the feelings she had for him where more than brotherly love, and the kiss they shared told her that the care he had for her was just as strong. A wave of sadness went over her like a dark cloud. Today was their last day together, and what a journey it had been. She knew in her heart that she would never forget her Highland warrior.
Looking at his tousled hair and clothes, Lara realized that he had not changed.
“Did ye sleep here last night, in the chair?” she asked.
“Aye I did. I wanted to be close in case ye fell ill again.” Bram stood and raked his fingers through his hair. “The coronation is to start when the sun is at its highest in the sky. Ye should get dressed,” he suggested.
“Where are ye going?”
Bram could hear a pitch of sadness in her voice.
“I need to gather my things and prepare my horse for my journey back to the port. My boat leaves later this evening and I do no’ wish to miss it. I will leave ye now to dress, my lady,” he replied and walked towards the door.
As Bram grabbed the handle, he felt his heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. While watching Lara sleep, he’d whispered a promise to her to not steal anymore kisses, or speak words of love and devotion. Her brother had vowed to protect her, and as king, he had greater power than Bram ever would. She would be safe among family. Bram opened the door and walked out into the corridor. It was time to go home.
Chapter 20
Visitors from near and far gathered in the bailey and the courtyard as they waited for the coronation to commence. While farmers, smiths, and other commoners waited for the new king to present himself on the castle’s balcony, the Lords, Earls, and other nobility waited to be seated in the cathedral. Charging through the gates, Dermot and his men searched for William Fergusson or some sign of Lara.
Donning a borrowed dress that the maids had brought her, Lara finished readying herself by braiding her long black hair, intrinsically linking each braid starting at the crown of her head and allowing the length of it to flow down her back. The dress she wore was dark burgundy and reminded her of a bright-colored rose when it first started to bloom. The v-shaped neckline was stitched with gold thread, and matched the golden slippers peeking out from the skirt.
As sister to the king, Lara assumed that she would take her place by her brother’s side during the ceremony, whether her father agreed with it or not. With her brother’s new position, she no longer felt she needed to fear her father. It was not the first time she had angered him in her seventeen years, nor would it be the last. In the past, his lectures had been repetitive, but usually his anger subsided, and he moved on, pointing out other things Lara had said or done to upset him. The only liberty she had was permission to move about the castle and come and go as she pleased.
As Lara made her way from the great hall to the courtyard and into the mass of visitors, she froze at the sight in front of her. Suddenly, as if caught in a storm, Lara spun around, pushing past the crowd to shield herself from the group of kilted men displaying Clan Moray insignia and colors.
“He’s here,” she whispered to herself, her hands trembling.
Scanning the courtyard, she looked for Bram and John to seek protection, but neither of them could be found among the men. She thought to blend in with a group of women who were talking amongst themselves along the castle wall and scurried over to them.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Dermot forcefully grab the shoulder of every black-haired lass in the courtyard, turning them to face him as if he expected to see Lara’s silvery eyes staring back. The women squealed at his assault, which quickly angered their male escorts. Commotion stirred and voices were raised.
“What is the meaning of this?” a loud, booming voice hollered over the crowd.
The people standing in the courtyard became stone silent and all eyes fell on the man standing at the top of the stairs. He was tall with black shaggy hair and dressed in formal attire. Lara watched as the group of people bowed in unison. Instinctively, she did the same. The King!
Lara knew that the King had returned from his journey with her father and brother, but since his arrival, he had been locked away in his library and solar attending business. Now, with the arrival of distant travelers, here to celebrate, he finally made his presence known.
“My apologies, my Lord. I believe Laird Dermot has traveled here to discuss an issue wit’ me. I apologize for the disturbance his presence has caused,” William explained, as he walked towards Dermot from the other end of the courtyard.
Lara, still hidden behind the group of women, watched her father as he went to stand next to Dermot and whisper something to him.
“I do no’ like disruptions, William. See that the situation is dealt with,” Eric replied, and turned to go back inside the castle.
William nodded his head towards the gates, indicating to Dermot that he wished to speak to him in private. At least, that was Lara’s, interpretation as the two men walked towards the battlement and disappeared under the portcullis. She spotted John standing near the stables; he too had seen the embarrassing display, and ran after them. Lara worried what her brother and father would say. For now, her fate rested in their hands.
“What are ye doing here?” William asked.
“I thought my wife had been kidnapped. Should I no’ be concerned about my estranged wife?”
William looked at him suspiciously.
“I find that hard to believe, as she came here by her own free will and wit an escort. A Highlander. Ye have no’ proved yerself truthful or trustworthy. And ye cannae e’en protect and keep track of yer own wife. She is nay more than a lass wit’ her head in the clouds. How did ye let her escape the castle grounds?”
Dermot ground his teeth before speaking.
“She is a disobedient and defiant wench. I gave her every freedom, more than she deserved, and still she denied me. When no one could find her, I assumed that she was either kidnapped or the foolish lass had run away. I followed her trail to Stearns, but when I reached the castle I learned that she had traveled here to find ye. As fer her Highland friend, I dinna ken who he is, but I can assure ye that I will find him and bury him. ”
“And why do ye suppose she would have done that?”
“She dinna tell ye?”
“Nay,” William barked.
Dermot considered his answer. Perhaps the lass was too afraid to tell her father what had really happened. He thought to rectify the matter and retrieve his wife before all was lost to him.
“My Laird, there is something ye should ken which should be of great importance to ye. We have no’ consummated the marriage. I have tried to be tender wit’ the lass, but she is as stubborn as a horse. Ye do ken what this means, aye?”
“Aye. If ye dinna consummate it, the union between our clans is null and void,” William said in a gruff tone, more angry with his daughter than anything.
“Aye. That is why I have come here to collect my wife. If the neighboring clans learn we hold nay truce, they will rebel and war will break out. The lass has caused more trouble than she kens,” Dermot reminded him.
Now, he had no choice but to return Lara to him.
“I agree wit’ ye. I will fetch her, and ye will take her on the first boat back to Scotland. I trust that ye can manage no’ losing her again?”
“Aye, of course, my Laird.”
William walked back inside the courtyard and searched for Lara. John stayed behind and glowered at Dermot. Lara had run up the stairs to the top of the curtain wall and watched the scene below, though she could not hear the conversation they were having.
“Why are ye really here? I ken it is no’ fer Lara.”
“As ye must ken, besides my insolent bride, I have no’ received the other half of her dowry. Yer father promised me a treasure worth its weight in gold. And I expect to claim it.”
John stared at him with icy blue eyes. Taking a step forward, he whispered, “I ken the truth. I ken what ye did.”
Dermot held his breath, feeling threatened when John exposed his secret. As John continued to talk in his ear, Dermot, with precision and stealth, slid his dagger out of its sheath along his belt and slipped it into the sleeve of his tunic. Over time, the words John spoke were hazy and mumbled. With his mind focused on his surroundings, all Dermot could hear was the sound of his blood rushing and heart pounding in his ears. Each breath and exhale became louder and more distinct. Anger boiled in his veins when John spoke his last words.
As fast as a lightning bolt strikes the ground, Dermot raised his dagger to John and lurched towards him. Within moments, the two of them were wrestling on the ground. John twisted from side to side, avoiding the dagger held in Dermot’s hand. Lara panicked and called out for help, but the commotion in the courtyard was so loud that no one heard her cries. Even the villagers outside the gates were too distracted to notice what was occurring.
John successfully plunged Dermot’s own dagger through his heart. The color drained from Dermot’s face, and the irises of his eyes grew dark. Dermot staggered back, and with both hands pulled the dagger out of his chest. Blood seeped out of the side of his mouth. He took one step, then another, before crashing down onto the ground. His cold and lifeless body doubled over and stiffened. Lara’s panic caused her lungs to feel as if all of the air had escaped her, making it difficult to breathe. Through glistening eyes, Lara looked at John. He was standing over the dead man’s body. Lara ran down the steps to join him. Staggering towards her, John wrapped his arms around her. He escorted her away from the view of Dermot’s corpse.
“Go to yer room. I will meet ye there soon. Dinna worry, dear sister, I promise ye everything will be alright,” John said, smiling down at her.
By the time Bram reached the front gates, a crowd had gathered around a lifeless body lying on the ground. Blood oozed from his chest. Bram recognized his Highland colors and assumed that the man lying dead on the ground was none other than Laird Moray, but questions raced in his mind about who had killed him. Had Lara taken another man’s life? Had Dermot attacked her, hurt her? Dashing through the gates, he searched for Lara, but ran into her brother, John, instead.
“Where is Lara? Is she alright? Is she hurt?” Bram asked, fearful of the man’s response.
“Nay, she is fine. She is waiting in her room for my return.”
“Thank ye,” Bram said, and dashed up the stairs towards Lara’s room.
Chapter 21
“Something is amiss, husband, and it has to do with that lass.” Queen Isobel spoke elegantly and her tone was smooth and soft as a gentle breeze.
“What girl?” Eric asked, as he rummaged through a stack of papers on his desk.
Isobel glided across the solar and placed her hand gently on her husband’s, lowering the papers in his hand from his view.
“Heaven sakes, Eric. Why is it that you only hear half of what I tell you?”
Eric breathed in deeply and set the papers back down onto the table. Settling back into his chair, he looked at her, giving her his full attention.
“I do listen to you, you just happen to talk when I am busy, or eating, or sleeping, or…”
Eric snickered at the unamused look displayed on Isobel’s face as she stood with arms crossed and foot tapping on the floor. “I am listening to you now, my love. Now, what were you trying to tell me?” he asked, as he reached out for his wife and pulled her down to sit in his lap.
Isobel wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders and continued. “As I was saying, something is going on and it has to do wit’ that lass. That man who was killed at the gate, they say he was her husband. If William invited enemies or trouble into our midst, especially now…”
“I will talk to William and John, and whoever this lass is,” Eric said cutting her off.
“Thank you.”
Eric helped Isobel down from his lap and stood. Walking to the door, he opened it and summoned his guard.
“Gather William and the lass who is staying in the guest rooms upstairs, and meet me in the library.”
“Yes, my Lord,” the guard replied.
Eric would take care of this mess once and for all.
Lara sat on the edge of her bed, her hands shaking and mind spinning. Dermot was dead. Lara felt a sense of relief and freedom, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was overjoyed. No longer was she bound to a loveless marriage. No longer did she have to fear him and what he would have done to her. No longer was she forced to bare his children, or be forced into warming his bed. She was a widow and free. Falling back onto the bed, she spread her arms out wide and breathed.
A soft knock came from the door. Sitting up quickly, she hurried to the door. Opening it, she smiled widely at Bram, who was standing in the corridor. Today, of all days, he looked rather handsome, shedding his dirty brown shirt and worn-out kilt for a clean white tunic and a pair of dark brown trews. With her new sense of freedom, she felt the walls she’d erected around her heart soften. Now there were no more reasons or excuses for pushing him away. Looking at him now, a flood of emotions began to overwhelm her.
“Are ye alright?” he asked.
“Aye. I am more than alright. Come in. I have so much to tell ye,” she boasted, grabbing his hand and dragging him inside the chamber.
Sitting down in opposite chairs next to the hearth, Lara retold the story of what had happened between John and Dermot. She told him everything except what truly mattered – how she felt towards him.
“I have word that the boat for Scotland is leaving earlier than scheduled. So I have come to apologize that I have to break my promise. I will no’ be here to attend the coronation.
Bram did not want to leave, though he knew it was time. He had fulfilled his promise, and every journey had to come to an end. Standing up, he quietly walked towards her. Leaning down, he grabbed her hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.
“It has been a true pleasure, my lady,” he said as he lowered her hand and started towards the door. As he opened it, he heard Lara call out to him.
“Bram,” Lara’s voice trembled as she looked at him with desperate need.
Bram turned back to face her. “Aye.”
“I…I dinna want ye to go,” she whispered, staring into his eyes.
Bram could see the sadness in her eyes and a frown forming on her face. His heart skipped a beat. Hearing those words was all it took to change his mind. They were all he wanted to hear.
Slamming the door shut, he ran back to her. With great urgency, he grabbed her, pulling her into his arms, and tightly pressing her body against his. Lowering his lips, he kissed her firmly, with fervor, filled with want and need. Her lips were moist and tasted as sweet as nectar. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. He wanted to touch her; to feel her bare skin against his.
Bram was completely lost in the moment. Had he been another man, he would have ripped the dress right off her and taken her right then and there. He kissed her again and again, rubbing his hands wildly through her hair and down the expanse of her back, keeping her body against his so that there was no distance between them.
This was not meant to be a sweet and gentle kiss. This kiss was meant to ravish her, to breathe all of her in; her heart, her body, her soul. He kissed her as if his life depended on every touch, every breath; and when she pressed her body closer to his and deepened the kiss, he felt as if he was about to come completely undone. Emotions exploded through every chamber of his heart and each corner of his mind. In the back of his throat, he growled as his body ached with need. She was his, always and forever.
Bram’s kiss caused Lara to become feverish. With each kiss, her desire and passion built higher than she had ever experienced or imagined. Sucking in sharp breaths of air, she felt as if she was about to swoon, but his grip kept her upright as she melted into him. She had been holding back for so long that this release of emotion and desire freed her from the inner torment she felt. She wanted Bram, all of him.
As they interlocked their fingers, Lara slowly started to calm herself as if she was descending from an imaginary summit.
“I ne’er want ye to leave,” she whispered against his lips.
With her eyes still closed, she rubbed her cheek against his stubble and breathed him in. Bram loosened his embrace just enough to smile down at her. Raising his hand, he gently rubbed the side of her cheek. Lara’s eyes were misty; not from sadness or anger, but from a sort of bliss she had never known. Reminiscing over the past few weeks, she knew her feelings were as certain as the moon and the stars that hung in the heavens. She loved him with her whole heart.
Startled by a loud pounding at the door, Lara was swept back into reality and jumped out of Bram’s embrace. Heaven knew what would happen if her father came upon them, only hours after the death of her husband, bastard though he was. Trying to gain composure, Lara patted down her hair and straightened her dress on her shoulders. With a deep breath, she opened the door.
“My lady, you have been summoned to meet in the library,” one of the royal guards informed.
“Summoned? By whom?”
“King Magnusson, my lady.”
Why would the king want to see her? She held no title or land and was no one of importance. Nervously, she looked back at Bram. Biting her bottom lip, Lara followed the guard down the long hallway, with Bram following closely behind.
Eric stood next to the windowsill, staring out into the valley below. Heated by his discussion with William, he was convinced that William had lied. His story did not make any sense and was full of holes, as if he purposely meant to keep out important details. Eric may have been old and his memory had been fading from time to time since his illness, but he was not daft enough to overlook such. He needed to be able to trust William and his son.
His decision to fabricate the relationship of John as his cousin’s son, allowing him to take the throne, had not come easy. But his hatred for his brother made the decision vital for his people and all of Norway. His brother did not support the war with Denmark, which was critical for Norway to maintain political power. He feared that if his brother became king, Norway would fall into the hands of either the English or the French.
William sat quietly across the room from where Eric was standing. Both of them waited for Lara to arrive. William tried to speak to defend himself, and tried to convince him that his daughter was daft and did not know how to present herself in front of royalty, but Eric would hear none of it. He would meet the lass and calm his wife’s worry.
