A Spinster at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book One

by Barclay, Celeste

  Fergus fought like a stuck boar, thrashing and flailing, attempting to ram his head into the chest of one guard. Edward drew his dirk from his belt and held it up for Fergus to see.

  “I can say you attacked me, and I defended myself,” Edward mused. “Perhaps you attempted to flee, and it was the only way to keep you in custody. Mayhap you fell upon your sword, or at least my dirk, rather than give yourself up—the final act of a coward.”

  Edward held the sharp blade in the air to catch the light from the fireplace. It made the blade appear as though it glowed. He ran the pad of his finger over the tip and along part of the edge before showing Fergus the blood on his finger. The prospect of imminent death and the sight of blood made the man panic, a wild look replacing the glassiness from the alcohol. Edward raised his hand and brought the dirk toward Fergus’s head, the captive screeching over and over until the hilt of Edward’s knife landed against Fergus’s temple, and the man crumpled. The four guards, the injured one having recovered, maneuvered Fergus from the chamber after binding his hands behind his back.

  Elizabeth pulled Amelia out of the way, the woman too shocked to react on her own.

  “I hated him more than most,” Amelia whispered. “Odious man. I know treason results in death, but I wish he’d rot away in a dank cell for the rest of his days. Once he’s dead, he can’t suffer. It’ll be over. He deserves agony after all that he’s done to his clan—and to me. Thank the blessed Lord I always got him soused before he tried to bed me, but not always before he took liberties I never wanted to offer.”

  “I understand that sentiment,” Ceit stepped before Amelia and squeezed her hand. “I wanted that very thing for my uncle. But I find knowing he can never escape, never come after me, never hurt anyone again brings me more relief than letting him rot would have done.”

  Amelia nodded before she exhaled a long breath, her shoulders slumping. She shook her head as she looked at the three women.

  “I still don’t understand why you would help me of all people. Not after the way I treated you and what I’ve done with your husbands, what I tried to tempt them to do.”

  “My parents kept me from Magnus for seven years because they argued his clan wasn’t good enough, despite them being one of the most powerful in the country. They tried to betroth me to a man who would have raped me had Magnus not saved me. This was the same man who tried to kill Magnus and had me kidnapped. All of this for my parents’ and Lord Hay’s ambition.” Deirdre rubbed her belly before continuing. “Without Magnus and his steadfast love for me, I’d be another political pawn and likely dead.”

  “My uncle was one of the most loathed men in Scotland, and the entire country finds my clan’s name repugnant. My clan sent me here as a peace offering. Me, a person, a woman was the peace offering. Not coin. Not jewels. Not men sworn to serve. No. Me.” Ceit stabbed a finger at her chest. “My father did that for the sake of bringing peace to the clan, but he realized my uncle intended to coerce me into spying. My uncle had my brother beaten nearly to death to convince me to serve him. I spent weeks traveling at night on my own to pass messages. I had my uncle’s mercenaries lurking in dark corners of the castle. The king demanded I provide him information on my uncle’s schemes.” Ceit paused to take a deep breath. She trembled as she admitted her secret to someone outside of her family. “If it hadn’t been for Tavish’s refusal to give up on me and refusal to accept the danger I faced, I, too, would most likely be dead. If I survived, and the king hadn’t planned a betrothal to Tavish, my father would have arranged my marriage to a man that benefited him. Tavish understands me and respects me, never making me ashamed for what I did to survive, to ensure my family survived.”

  Amelia looked at the two women in awe. She was familiar with the rumors and the bits and pieces of fact that had trickled out. She never considered how these women’s lives paralleled hers. She labeled them as insipid and innocent. She looked at Elizabeth, the woman who most recently suffered from Amelia’s machinations. Amelia was still surprised by the smile Elizabeth offered her, the patience and acceptance in her eyes.

  “My father may not be as ambitious as his older brother, but he betrothed me four times and broke each one in hopes of a better match.” Tears stung the back of Elizabeth’s eyelids. “He would’ve continued to do so if Edward hadn’t taken notice of me. I was prepared to remain a spinster here for the rest of my life. I never thought to find love or have a family. I was certain my destiny was to remain alone and on the shelf, only being considered as a potential mistress but never a wife. My father rejected Edward because he couldn’t manipulate him, and that meant Edward wouldn’t bring my father any gains. He was so set upon keeping me from marrying Edward that he was willing to send me to the very northernmost point in Scotland to hide me with the Sinclairs. In December. Instead of showing Edward gratitude for rescuing me, he accused Edward of defiling me and demanded the king annul our handfast. Without Edward’s determination and love, I’d have either died or still be pining for love.”

  “So, see, our stories aren’t so terribly different from yours, Amelia. You were brought to court as a pretty bobble on the arm of a man and expected to do his bidding for his ambition.” Deirdre’s soothing tones eased some tension from Amelia’s rigid frame. The creases in her brow relaxed, and the lines around Amelia’s mouth and eyes softened. “You were forced to do things you objected to, but you knew refusal was too dangerous. Even once you became a widow, there was no freedom. People may assume you’re a merry widow, but we understand now that you were just surviving. With no place to go and no other means to support yourself, you fell back on the currency so many women must trade in. What else do we have that’s our own? But are our bodies ever really truly ours?”

  “You’ve found a man who’ll allow you the freedom we’ve found with our husbands. Love has the power to build and destroy.” Elizabeth gazed into Amelia’s eyes. “It’s time for love to build you up, build your future. Go to Roy and make a life with him. If the Gregors won’t accept you, Roy offered to leave the clan until he inherits the lairdship. I believe he’d give that up if it meant keeping you safe. There’s bound to be other clans that would allow you to make a home among them. It might be a croft instead of a keep, but it would be a life with Roy.”

  Amelia’s tears trailed down her cheeks. While they had removed a tremendous weight, she felt exhausted and aged after carrying it for so long. She prayed these young women, ones who weren’t that much younger than her but still seemed sheltered, were right. She prayed Roy never came to resent her for her past. She prayed they would find somewhere safe. Amelia would gladly never see a silk garment again. Gold chalices and plates were the last things she ever wanted to eat from again. A croft with Roy sounded like bliss.

  “You should pack, Amelia. Roy will receive his pardon in a few hours. You must be ready to leave when he does. You may need to deliver it to him if he doesn’t come to the castle.” Ceit guided her back into her chamber. “Would you like help?”

  Amelia nodded, and the women worked in silence. Everything that could be said had already been shared.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Edward searched for Elizabeth among the crowd gathered in the bailey. He spotted her standing beside his sister-by-marriage. He thought his wife looked as regal and elegant as the queen who stood to her right. He was late because one of the prisoners attempted to escape despite the heavily armed escort that would lead them from the dungeon to the gallows. Edward joined Elizabeth, and they stepped behind the king and queen. It had taken three sennights to round up and try the three co-conspirators along with Fergus Baird.

  Edward was aware Elizabeth wished to leave court, as the Sinclairs had. However, she understood duty took precedence. He also recognized a part of her needed to see for herself that the threat to them was coming to a definitive, unalterable end. Elizabeth leaned against Edward as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Their heads tilted to rest against one another as Robert announced the verdict
that all four Baird men were guilty of conspiring to commit treason and were, therefore, sentenced to death by hanging before being drawn and quartered. Their limbs were to be sent to the four corners of the realm.

  The guards brought men onto the platform, placing them over the trapdoor, and the hangman thrust black sacks over their heads before fitting the noose around their necks. Robert nodded, and the trap doors swung open, the men dropping with the force of gravity. Elizabeth shut her eyes, but not before seeing them convulse and twitch. She heard the order for the convicted to be cut down and taken to the wooden pallets that awaited them. She watched as they forced the men onto their backs as they tied their limbs to the saddles of four jostling horses. Elizabeth turned her head into Edward’s chest and shuddered as his arms came around her. She felt him rest his forehead on her crown and sensed he wasn’t watching either as the executioners disemboweled the four men, who were still alive. They tossed their entrails into a fire stoked for that purpose. The stench and howls of agony were more than Elizabeth could withstand. Edward caught her as her legs gave up trying to support her.

  “Close your eyes, Beth,” Edward murmured against her hair. “I’m taking you inside.”

  Edward lifted her into his arms as the first thud of the headsman’s axe severed a head. Elizabeth whimpered as she squeezed her eyes shut and held a hand over her mouth. She was already suffering from morning sickness well into the afternoon, and this was more than her fragile stomach could bear. The crowd was dense, making Edward’s path difficult to navigate. They failed to avoid hearing three more similar thuds then the whistle that signaled the riders to spur their horses, each tethered to a limb of the dead men.

  “Put me down, Eddie.”

  “What? This isn’t a good place.”

  “Now, or I will retch down the front of you.”

  Edward eased her to her feet, and she stumbled a couple paces away before doubling over to cast up her accounts. Edward kept her hair out of the way while rubbing soft circles along her back. When they were sure Elizabeth’s stomach was empty, Edward hurried to lift her into his arms again. The cacophony of noise from the crowd as they cheered the brutal ripping of limbs from torsos was overwhelming even to Edward, who’d seen even worse violence and heard far louder noises on a battlefield. He rushed up the castle steps, a guard scurrying to open the door in time. It was easy for Edward to find an empty chamber considering much of the court was watching the spectacle in the bailey. The prisoners had been hanged, gutted, beheaded, then drawn and quartered. Edward made sure the chamber was on the side of the castle that didn’t face the bailey. He found a chaise to lay Elizabeth upon, unlacing the top of her kirtle, giving her lungs more room to expand. Her pallor and the perspiration that dotted she brow shook him.

  “I’ll be fine in just a few moments. The smell was overpowering.”

  “Are you sure? Should I fetch a physician? Beth, you don’t look well.”

  “Of course I don’t. I just revisited my breakfast with the stench of death seeping into my nose and mouth,” Elizabeth snapped. She covered her forehead and eyes to block the light. Her other hand struck out in search of Edward’s. “I apologize. I know you’re worried, and I suspect I appear rather wretched right now. I just need a little time to come around. I’ve witnessed that more than once and never had this adverse a reaction. I think our wee one doesn’t agree with such theatrics.”

  “Can I fetch you some water or ale at least?”

  “No. Stay with me.” Elizabeth squeezed the hand she found. “Nothing will make me feel better other than having you with me.”

  Edward kneeled at her side and stroked her hair from her damp brow. He found it disconcerting to see his stalwart wife brought low, even if it was from a weak stomach during pregnancy. He longed to ease her symptoms and relieve the discomfort. He placed a kiss on her forehead, and she sighed.

  “Eddie?”

  “Yes, little one.”

  “I want to go home.” Elizabeth moved her hand from over her eyes and gazed at her husband’s worried expression. “I don’t know where that is, but can we go soon?”

  “Yes, mo ghaol. Just as soon as we can, we’ll leave. If you never want to return to court, you don’t have to.”

  Elizabeth snorted before rolling her eyes. “You know that’s impossible. Of course, I’ll have to come back. I’m the wife of the king’s brother. And besides, who will protect you from all the merry widows and bored wives?”

  “I didn’t realize there were any. I have eyes only for my beautiful wife. I love her to distraction.”

  “I think I’m ready for some distraction.”

  Edward chuckled. Elizabeth’s pregnancy hadn’t made her interest in coupling wane. If possible, it made her even more voracious. He lifted her into his arms again.

  “I can walk. I’m sure I’m well enough.”

  “Mayhap, but your legs are too short to keep up with mine.”

  Elizabeth’s peel of laughter filled the chamber and spilled into the passageway as Edward sprinted through the castle to arrive at their chamber. They stripped one another and fell into bed in a tangle of arms and legs. It was dusk by the time they remembered there was a world beyond their chamber door.

  Edward and Elizabeth dressed that evening and appeared at the door to the Privy Council in response to a summons a page delivered. They preferred to take a tray in their chambers, but they weren’t to be so fortunate that night. Unlike people who spent the entire day waiting for admittance only to be denied, the chamberlain granted Edward and Elizabeth immediate entry. Edward was used to the mutterings and crude comments, but Elizabeth’s fair skin resembled a ripe strawberry.

  “You’ll get used to it. Even if Robert wanted to see everyone who requests an audience, there aren’t enough minutes in the day to accommodate the entire queue. Even I’ve entered and been kept waiting for hours. I simply had a slightly better holding pen.”

  Edward and Elizabeth approached Robert, who sat at the table with all the members of the Privy Council. It was rare that Robert convened them all; it was also uncommon for them all to be seated. His gaze swept over a few of the members, in particular James Douglas and Walter Stewart, the sixth High Steward of Scotland, who sat on the left and right side of Robert, respectively. Further down the table were Laird Fraser, Elizabeth’s uncle; Gilbert Hay; and Neill Campbell. Thomas Randolph, David de Lindsay, and Roger de Kirkpatrick, three of Robert’s most trusted statesmen, sat at the opposite end of the table from Robert. A tightening in his belly forewarned Edward that whatever Robert intended to discuss wasn’t only significant, but bound to affect his and Elizabeth’s life. He was uncertain if he wanted to hear whatever it was. He definitely was uncertain if he wanted to hear the news before he prepared Elizabeth.

  “Elizabeth, Edward, thank you for joining us. Elizabeth, I noticed you were unwell this morning. I wish I could have stepped aside to inquire at the time.”

  Edward had already made his bow just as Elizabeth had made her curtsy, but she dipped her head before answering.

  “It was a little overwhelming to my system, as my sense of smell has become sensitive.” Elizabeth wouldn’t say more. There had been no announcement about them expecting a child, nor did Elizabeth want one. At least she hadn’t wanted it until they eliminated the threats. She noticed some men understood her meaning and beamed at her while others looked baffled. Her father, who stood behind her uncle, was one of the latter. She’d set aside time to speak with her mother and father to share the good news.

  “I summoned you both here because there is the matter of where you will live since you no longer wish to remain at court. With the Privy Council’s agreement, we present you with two choices for your future home. While both were keeps under the former control of the Comyns, they have reverted to the crown. Since you are the Earl of Lochaber and Badenoch, you shall have your choice between keeps in either earldom. Within Lochaber, Inverlochy Castle has been under the care of the MacDonalds in recent years, but I b
elieve there could be an understanding that you shall accept the castle without expecting to become laird of the clan.” Robert raised an eyebrow at Edward.

  “I have no intention of being the laird to any clan. I will forever serve you and will always pick up my sword on your behalf, but I desire a home for Elizabeth and any children the Lord blesses us with.” Edward nodded his head, and Robert grinned at his brother’s diplomacy since the MacDonalds wouldn’t appreciate losing an important keep such as Inverlochy.

  “The other option is Dunachton, which the MacNivens oversee. As you’re aware, they’re a sept of the MacNaughtons. I would give the same stipulation that you would be in possession of the keep and surrounding land, but not a usurper to the MacNiven lairdship.”

  “Those are reasonable terms. I’ve no need for a lairdship when you’ve already made me an earl twice over,” Edward emphasized that he had no need for clan hierarchy when his station was already well above most local leaders. “I’d like a moment to confer with my wife.”

  Edward’s statement made several sets of eyebrows shoot toward their owner’s hairline, but he wasn’t interested in their judgment. He wanted Elizabeth to share where she believed she’d be happiest. He drew her aside and placed his broad back to the table, shielding Elizabeth from their view.