“Aye.” Her voice was barely louder than a breath.
“We can do aught ye want. If ye dinna enjoy it, we willna do it again. If ye do, then we can do it as often as ye want.”
“Is it something ye enjoy?” Blair wondered.
“Blair,” Hardi warned.
“Ye made it sound as if I could ask ye aught.”
“Ye can, but do ye really want to hear of ma past? Blair, I dinna want to hurt ye, and to be honest, I dinna really want to remember aught before ye.”
“That’s sweet, Hardi, and it makes me feel good to hear it. But I want to ken what ye like. I dinna want it to just be aboot me. I dinna want ye to avoid something ye enjoy because ye dinna think a lady should do it.” Blair paused, realizing that Hardi may have coupled with ladies and not just village women or wenches. “That ye dinna think ye should ask someone as inexperienced as me,” she clarified.
“Blair, is part of the reason ye’re saying this because ye fear turning me away will make me find someone who will do what I want?”
Blair nodded. “But that’s only a wee part of it. I believe ye when ye say ye’ll be faithful. I trust ye completely, Hardi. Yet, I dinna think it’s unreasonable for a virgin to worry aboot being enough for her husband. I just want to give ye the same pleasure ye do me. I want to offer that to ye. I dinna ken if that makes sense.”
“It does. All of it. I can understand how a maiden worries aboot keeping her husband’s interest. And unfortunately, some dinna. But I pledge to ye that nay matter what happens between us, I willna ever disgrace us both by being unfaithful. I’d rather be abstinent than humiliate ye.” Hardi’s hand had slipped up to Blair’s belly as they spoke. His fingers squeezed her waist in reassurance. “As for offering me the same pleasure. I understand ye because I believe we are of a like mind. Ye’re offering because ye’re giving me a part of ye. The part that ye want only me to have. I feel the same way. I want ye to enjoy making love because of how I can make yer body feel. But I also want to do it because it’s a part of me, part of ma soul, that I will only give to ye.”
Blair tucked her chin and nodded. She felt raw admitting what she had, and it also overwhelmed her that Hardi understood what she muddled saying. Hardi drew her leg over the horse’s withers until he cradled Blair in his arms. She burrowed into his chest, kissing him where a tiny patch of skin showed behind the laces of his leine.
“Hardi?”
“Aye, lass.” Hardi glanced down at Blair’s upturned face.
“I love ye.”
“I love ye, ma bonny lass.” He brushed an all-too-quick kiss against her lips. “Sleep now, Blair. I will hold ye.” Blair’s eyes drifted closed. Hardi felt as drained from their unexpected conversation as Blair. It was far too early in the morning for the physical turmoil of dallying on horseback, and he hadn’t believed he could articulate his feelings as well as he did. He had given Blair a piece of his soul, and he knew he held the most precious gift, a piece of hers. He prayed he’d be a worthy husband and a laird she was proud of. The weight of his own expectations pressed down on him, making him weary.
Twenty-Two
Blair slept until the sun rose, and the light forced her eyes open. She remained in Hardi’s lap until they stopped at midday to rest the horses and eat. Before their meal, Hardi recited all the verbs he knew how to conjugate in the past and present tense, naming the past participles that Blair hammered into him. They were both pleased with his memorization, and Hardi was relieved that not only did he remember them, he could pronounce them along with understanding each of their meanings and uses.
After a meal of bannocks and dried beef, the party mounted and carried on. Blair opted to ride Buannaiche. The horse nodded his head and nickered as Blair rubbed his neck before climbing onto his back. Hardi was certain the horse pranced with his owner once again in the saddle. Throughout the afternoon, Hardi recited his sums and multiplication tables until his throat grew dry and his voice hoarse. When they made camp for the night, Hardi’s head ached, but Blair’s blinding smile of praise and pride made him glad he’d kept trying.
The following four days continued much as the first. They started out before dawn and rode until twilight. Blair was stiff from sleeping on the ground but found rising in the morning much easier. She rode with Hardi, enjoying his touch until the sun was bright enough to make discretion difficult. Buannaiche was only well behaved when Blair was nearby, so the other horses and riders welcomed her return to her steed. After the first morning, Blair opted to ride in a modified sidesaddle position with Hardi. It allowed them both the freedom to snake their hands beneath folds of material. Hardi feared he would fall from his horse the first time Blair’s bare hand touched his cock. She’d leaned against his chest with her eyes closed as if she dozed, but all the while, she stroked him until she felt something coat her hand and Hardi sighed. Then he flushed bright red. Blair was certain she could see his blush even in the dim light. He’d cleared his throat several times before reaching between them to wipe Blair’s hand with his plaid.
After her initial introduction to pleasuring a man, Blair’s confidence increased as Hardi’s questing hand became more insistent the more Blair aroused him. Unable to kiss or show any public displays of affection, the couple settled for what they could enjoy beneath the blanket Hardi spread over Blair each morning. Their illicit touches along with their inability to act upon their desire heightened their need for one another. Both Hardi and Blair breathed easier when Inverlochy Castle came into sight. Despite arriving midmorning, Hardi promised not to depart for Tor until the following morning. He refused to leave until he was convinced Blair would have proper accommodations and would be safe amidst the MacDonalds they discovered living there.
Blair swept her gaze around the Great Hall and wanted to tuck tail before racing back to Stirling. She’d grossly underestimated what it meant to walk into a keep with few women and a clan she knew little about. It relieved her to see the chieftain was married, and his wife wasn’t much older than Blair. The chieftain was old enough to be both women’s grandfather, but Blair observed that he acted kindly toward his expecting wife. The keep’s structure hadn’t been well-maintained since King Robert’s ascension to the throne forced the Comyns to relinquish it; however, it was clean. Blair turned her head to whisper over her shoulder to Hardi.
“It’s on yer land, but the MacDonalds have taken over. Who’s responsible for its upkeep? And why did yer uncle allow them to live here?” Blair asked.
“As far as I ken, the agreement was the MacDonalds would be guardians of the castle in return for maintaining it. It’s nae falling down around our ears, but I’m nae pleased with its condition. I suspect the MacDonald will ask for funds I dinna have, but I canna send them packing. I need his warriors to help protect Cameron territory from the Clan Chattan Confederation. With the Mackintoshes, Macphersons, and Davidsons banding together with the Chattans to create a unified clan, I need every able-bodied mon to fight.” Hardi slipped Blair’s arm around his. “Let’s meet our hosts.”
“Laird Cameron,” a deep bass boomed as the couple approached. “We didn’t expect the honor of your company.”
The chieftain’s accent, or rather lack of a burr, took Blair aback. She hadn’t expected to hear the bear of a man speak as though he belonged at court. Blair shifted her gaze to the woman sitting beside him. She squinted as a memory tried to force its way forward. Before she and Hardi stopped, she recalled why the woman looked familiar. She’d once been a lady-in-waiting, but she’d left court within a fortnight of Blair and Maude’s arrival. Blair struggled to recall her name and came up blank. She wondered if the chieftain adopted the speech pattern to match his Lowland wife’s expectations. She also wondered how a chieftain married a former lady-in-waiting.
“MacDonald, I apologize for nae sending more warning than an advance rider, but our journey here was unexpected, and our plans were hurried.” Hardi’s voice had an air of command despite their humility. “I would introduce y
e to ma betrothed, Lady Blair Sutherland.”
Blair forced herself to maintain her neutral expression despite the shock of Hardi’s introduction. She dipped into a shallow curtsy, offering deference to her host even though in theory, she outranked him. Hardi’s authority was clear to everyone in the Great Hall, and servants scurried to set extra places at the table for Blair and Hardi. Neither spoke until they took their seats.
“Lady Blair will be a guest at Inverlochy for the foreseeable future. Ye are to treat Lady Blair with the respect due ma future wife and the daughter of the Earl of Sutherland.” Blair often forgot that her father’s accurate title was Laird Hamish Sutherland, Earl of Sutherland. However, her father’s position registered with her host. “Lady Blair, I introduce ye to Chieftain Artair MacDonald and Lady Robena MacDonald.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, and I, too, apologize for the brief notice.” Blair sensed adopting her courtly tone would earn her more respect than her father’s title as she looked at the other couple. She’d almost apologized for inconveniencing them, but then recalled that she was soon to be the wife of the MacDonalds’ overlord at Inverlochy. At least she prayed she was. She wondered where her parents’ missives would end up if they were already en route to Stirling. Blair turned a warm smile toward the pregnant woman. “Lady Robena, I believe we met at court when I was newly arrived.”
“I remember, Lady Blair. It is a pleasure to see you once more and to have you visit our home.” Lady Robena’s soft voice felt at odds with her choice of words, as though she was asserting her authority over Blair. It felt as if Robena was reminding Blair that Inverlochy belonged to the MacDonalds, rather than the Camerons allowing them residence. Keeping her courtly expression in place, she locked eyes with Lady Robena. She wore a similar mien as Blair, both understanding the challenge laid forth when no one else appeared to notice. Blair refused to look away. If she was to be Hardi’s wife, she would outrank both Chieftain Artair and Lady Robena. At present, they were on near-equal footing, both daughters of lairds. Lady Robena blushed and offered the subtlest of nods, deferring to Blair.
Hardi observed the silent interplay between the women, not fully understanding what passed between them, but acutely aware that Robena challenged Blair, who did not back down. He noticed the slight dip of Robena’s chin, acknowledging Blair’s elevated position. It was only moments later that the women leaned toward one another and chattered like old friends. It relieved him to see women could resolve their battles with stares rather than fists like most men. Hardi arranged for Blair’s stay and explained ten of the king’s guards would remain as Blair’s personal detail.
“Faolán still a boil on a witch’s arse?” Artair’s voice boomed. Hardi would have preferred they not share their conversation with everyone under the same roof. He nodded before taking a sip of ale. He sensed Blair’s attention split between her conversation and the one Hardi was having.
“Ma cousin once removed has made decisions that dinna align with the ones I would have made,” Hardi hedged. He’d known Artair for years, but had no dealings with him until now. The dynamic of their relationship had shifted, but Hardi wasn’t convinced Artair saw him as more than a guardsman.
“I take it that it wasn’t your idea to lead the raid on the Macphersons,” Arthur noted. “I didn’t think so, but Faolán swore you’d given him permission to act in your stead, and that he only acted in alignment with your wishes.”
Hardi wondered why Artair jumped directly to discussing the raid rather than engaging with small talk, and he wondered why the chieftain was so apt to speak against Faolán, a man he’d known for decades.
“You’ve seen Faolán recently,” Hardi stated rather than asked.
“Aye, he and his men stopped here for the night on his return. It grew too late for them to continue,” Artair explained.
His men. Those are ma bluidy men. Artair is fishing. He’s baiting me with information aboot Faolán, but he sides with ma cousin. Hardi fumed but forced himself to remain calm. He would learn nothing more from Artair if he played his hand too soon. He also feared backing Artair into a corner that would make the man come out swinging. He wouldn’t jeopardize Blair’s safety, since he would leave her in Artair’s care in less than a day.
“I appreciate ye accommodating ma clan twice in so little time,” Hardi toasted as he raised his mug.
“My home is your home, after all.” Artair raised his own mug, a smirk on his face. Shifting his gaze to Blair before looking back at Hardi, his voice held a smug note. “Faolán expected you back at Tor Castle sooner. He was certain you would have preferred to lead the raid. But I can see what delayed you.”
“An issue with the taxes delayed me,” Hardi spoke the half-truth. He wondered what Artair knew of that situation.
“Faolán explained he stole the sheep to sell them. Once he realized you hadn’t calculated the taxes accurately, he knew you would return asking for more money.” Artair narrowed his eyes a sliver, but Hardi noticed.
“The delay was an audience with the king. I resolved the taxes,” Hardi's nonchalant answer made Artair frown. It was clear to Hardi that the man expected to hear a tale of woe, perhaps even curses against Faolán.
“It will please Faolán to know that. I ken he was anxious aboot you going to court and not being able to read.”
And there it was. Artair had grown impatient trying to goad Hardi into admitting his own shortcomings, so he abandoned his subtly and went straight to the point. Hardi’s peripheral vision caught how Blair’s hand gripped the arm of the chair so tightly that her knuckles were white. He was certain she was listening to the conversation and struggling to remain uninvolved. But Lady Robena’s attention shifted to the men as Artair’s proclamation. Blair straightened; her chin held high. Hardi admired her regal grace and realized he’d fallen in love with a woman who would be the silent force behind his clan’s survival. Her whisky hued eyes flashed a warning at the chieftain, but the man took no notice.
“It was of little consequence,” Hardi kept his calm, sipping his ale as though the battle he’d fought to learn even a modicum of Latin hadn’t happened.
“Someone must have assisted you,” Artair pressed.
“Aye. Lady Blair.” Hardi lowered his mug to the table as Artair burst into laughter, holding his hand to his side as his shoulders jiggled up and down. Lady Robena turned a horrified gaze from her husband to their guests back to her husband.
“A woman? You turned to a woman to read to you? Are you sure she wasn’t just reciting lullabies her mother taught her?”
“Chieftain MacDonald, do you ken who my mother is?” Blair asked softly. Before Artair could answer, she continued. “She was the daughter of the Earl of Ross and is the wife of the Earl of Sutherland.”
Artair’s laughter ceased immediately. He bubbled an apology, but Blair raised her hand. Artair fell silent. Blair raised an eyebrow, her imperiousness a ruse, but one she’d used often at court.
“Perhaps because I’m only a woman, I cannot understand why my mother wouldn’t have taught me to read.” Blair turned her palm up, offering Artair the opportunity to explain. The man gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing like a floundering fish. “I assumed you knew my father, but perhaps not as well as I thought. If you did, you would know my father expected my sister Maude and I to be raised to be chatelaines to a laird-husband. I understand that is a unique position from which most women are destined, but it is one that I am comfortable with.”
“I meant no offense, my lady,” Artair stammered. “It just surprised me that Laird Cameron couldn’t find a more apt tutor.”
“And what skills would such a tutor possess, Chieftain?” Blair kept her tone casual.
“I’m sure you are well versed in reading inventories and writing weekly menus, but a mon must be able to read contracts and understand clan business. It’s a mite more complicated than ledgers filled with tick marks for hams and beef.” Artair’s condescending voice grated on Blair’s ner
ves, but she kept her expression placid. She placed her hand on Hardi’s leg under the tablecloth. He ceased bouncing it and wrapped Blair’s hand in his.
“Such a shame my years of Latin will go to waste if all I’m to read are ledgers and menus once I marry,” Blair mused.
“You read Latin?” Robena whispered her question. Blair suspected Robena could only read Scots, at best. Even if she did, Blair guessed Robena didn’t parade her knowledge before her husband. Blair had no such reservations.
“And Scots, Gaelic, and French. I write them too. Sometimes a lady just needs to write to her Mama,” Blair smiled angelically.
“I suppose a lady of your standing would prefer these pursuits. A chatelaine who isn’t an earl’s daughter must complete the more mundane tasks,” Artair attempted to take back control of the conversation.
“Prefer? I loathed having to sit for my Latin lessons. It meant I wasn’t climbing trees with Laird Cameron and his brother. I would beg Laird Cameron to tell me stories of his time in the lists while I embroidered and made candles. My mother made me count everything in French and Gaelic when we took inventory. I’m certain it took twice as long, but even earls’ daughters must finish their mundane tasks.” Blair shrugged as she leaned back and smiled at Hardi with a look of adoration that she didn’t have to pretend.
“Lady Blair was of significant help to me, and we enjoyed rekindling our friendship.” Hardi lifted Blair’s hand from the arm of the chair where she’d placed it when she leaned back. He brought her knuckles to his lips, desire sparking in his gaze as he kissed the creamy skin. “All teachers should be as kind and patient as ma betrothed.” Hardi lowered their joined hands to rest on the tabletop where anyone with a view of the dais could see.
“Laird Cameron, you have a strange way aboot you. I suppose Lady Blair’s knowledge was useful, but you’re fortunate you won’t need it once you are at Tor Castle. Once you wed, Lady Blair will assume her position as Lady Cameron and not have time to read to you.”
A Saint at the Highland Court: A Friends to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 6) Page 15
