“Blair and Hardi are just different. I can’t explain other than they’re two sides of the same coin. It’s not just that they understand one another and accept each other for it. It’s as though they share the same thoughts and way of thinking on everything.” Lachlan shrugged and raised his hands. “I don’t really know how to explain it.”
“I understand what you mean. I saw it when they were here,” Arabella agreed. “Maybe it’s because they grew up together. Their way of thinking is so similar because they were with each other so much. From what Blair says, it was always you and your cousin Michael while Laird Cameron had his older brother Dougal. But whenever there was trouble with the other boys, Dougal and Laird Cameron made themselves scarce so they wouldn’t anger your father. It meant Laird Cameron spent a lot of time with Blair.”
“It did. And they had a great deal in common even then. They both loved archery, climbing trees, throwing knives, and being a pain in my arse,” Lachlan chortled. “Bella, I’m certain you can call him Hardwin, if not Hardi. You’re like a second sister to Blair.”
A second sister. All the more reason naught can happen between us. If Blair thinks of me as her sister, it would horrify her if Lachlan were to pursue me. And does that mean he thinks of me like a sister? Have I completely misread everything?
“Bella?” Lachlan nudged her. Arabella turned a blank stare toward Lachlan before she realized he’d continued talking. She hadn’t a clue what he’d just said. From his grin, she understood he knew that. “Where did you go just now?”
“Nowhere that interesting,” Arabella grinned. When she didn’t say more, Lachlan shrugged and returned to looking at the flower bed. It was Arabella’s turn to find something to say, having pushed Lachlan into silence when he assumed she was no longer paying attention. She struggled to find something to say. “How are Laird and Lady Sutherland?”
“Mama and Da are well, but it hasn’t been easy for them now that Maude and Blair are married. My sisters seem to cause more trouble as married women than they ever did as lasses. I don’t think my parents worried as much about sending them here as they do now that they belong to new clans.”
“I can understand that. Your father is no longer responsible for them. He has to trust his sons-by-marriage to protect his lasses. Laird MacLeod and Laird Cameron are up to the task, but it must be hard to ken that neither of them will return to Dunrobin and call it home.”
“It is. The keep is empty without them. For two such small women, they filled the keep, and their absence is keenly felt by everyone.”
Arabella glanced up at Lachlan, her brow furrowed as she considered what he didn’t say. On a hushed voice, she asked, “Are you lonely?”
Lachlan started, then nodded as he looked down at Arabella. “Aye. At times. First Hardi and Dougal left when they finished fostering. Then a couple of years later, my cousin Michael left to join the priesthood. Then Maude and Blair came here. But their position as ladies-in-waiting was always meant to be temporary. They still felt part of our clan, even if they were away. Now they belong elsewhere.” Lachlan shrugged. “I never thought I would feel left behind when I ken I’m to one day become Laird Sutherland, but Dunrobin seems empty now.”
“No keep is ever empty,” Arabella teased.
“The family quarters then,” Lachlan conceded. “It does sound ridiculous since Dunrobin is rather large, and there are servants buzzing aboot everywhere.”
“Rather large?” Arabella giggled. Dunrobin was one of the largest keeps in Scotland, and easily the largest in the northern Highlands.
“It just isn’t the same,” Lachlan grumbled in mock consternation. Their eyes locked, and their smiles slipped. The charged energy between them was palpable. Lachlan dredged his mind for something to say, but when the words came out, he realized he’d erred. “How is your family?”
Arabella stiffened. “All is well. Thank you for asking.”
“Bella?” Lachlan was unaccustomed to such a perfunctory response from Arabella. He knew he’d misstepped, but he thought he would have gotten more than such a curt answer. When she turned a studiously innocent expression on him, he didn’t press the matter.
“I am glad for the extra time outdoors, but the nooning approaches. The queen will notice if I’m late for that.” Arabella dipped her head and offered a fleeting smile before sweeping from the garden. Lachlan was left staring and wondering how their conversation went adrift so quickly.
Because ye mentioned her family. She never likes talking aboot them. And bluidy hell, her father may be arranging a betrothal. Christ on the cross, I dinna want to ken if that’s the case.
Lachlan rubbed his fist over his heart, but it did nothing to ease the ache. When Arabella was no longer in sight, Lachlan wandered through the gardens. He needed to clear his head and stretch his legs. He was stiff after so much time on horseback, but his mind felt addled as he kept returning to the notion that Arabella might soon be another man’s bride.
Can I live with that? Do I have a choice? Aye. There’s always a choice, but what if Bella isnae the right one and it ruins her friendship with Blair and Maude? What if I ruin things with them? Why canna I get the bollocks to make a move? I can slay an enemy, but I canna let a wisp of a lass ken that I love her.
Lachlan wound his way through the gardens until the noon meal bells pealed, and his stomach rumbled in response. He entered the Great Hall and searched for Hardi and Blair, but they were nowhere to be seen. He noticed Arabella immediately. She sat with Laurel Ross and a handful of ladies Lachlan recognized but didn’t know. He sighed and made his way to where the Sutherland and Cameron guardsmen sat together.
Four
Arabella slipped into her chamber and pressed the door closed without a click. She rushed across the room and kneeled beside the head of her bed. Arabella leaned below the mattress and stretched to pry away two loose stones from the wall. She sighed as she pulled the jug of whisky from its hiding place. Pulling the stopper loose, Arabella inhaled the deep aroma of the distilled liquor. She didn’t care for the taste of whisky, or even the scent, but she knew she was only minutes away from the soothing relief it offered. The first taste bit into her tongue and burned her throat, and soon everything was numb: her taste buds, her throat, and her mind. She shifted until she sat with her back resting against the bed, her legs out before her.
I look like a bluidy drunkard left to rot beside a dock. But a true drunkard is none the wiser to what’s happening around him. Sotted and forgetful. Lucky bastard. I need just a wee more liquid courage before I face the evening. I’m both eager and dreading dancing with Lachlan. I want to be in his arms, and dancing is my only choice. It keeps me away from all the others. But it’s so bluidy hard to let go. And if one more person calls me Bonnie Bella, I shall scream. I don’t give a damn how I look. Why does everyone else? What has being beautiful done for me but send me away from my clan to serve as a trinket for the queen? I can’t do aught or say aught without people chiming in or straining to hear. What would they do if I came out of this chamber less than perfectly presentable? Would time stop if I wasn’t perfect? If only I could make that happen.
Arabella took another long drag from the jug as the afternoon’s conversation in the queen’s solar replayed in her mind.
“Aren’t you excited that your father is finally arranging a betrothal?” Laurel asked.
“I can’t say that I am,” Arabella murmured.
“I do hope it’s to a man as handsome as you are beautiful. Just imagine what a perfect couple you would make, and the perfectly cherubic bairns you’ll have,” Laurel gushed but then turned wistful. “To be as bonnie as you, Bella. We should all be so fortunate. God made his masterpiece with you.”
“I hardly think God was paying attention to my looks when I was in my mother’s womb,” Arabella scoffed.
“But he must have,” Caitlyn Kennedy chimed in. A fellow Lowlander, Caitlyn arrived the previous year to replace her sister Cairren, who left court to marry. �
�How else could you always be so flawless?”
“I have plenty of flaws,” Arabella chuckled, but she felt no mirth. She wished they could all see her flaws, then they might leave her alone.
“Nay. Not a one,” Caitlyn answered with such surety and sincerity that Arabella felt a twinge of guilt for not graciously accepting the compliment. But as Caitlyn continued, Arabella felt the guilt evaporate as the weight of more expectations piled upon her. “You make the rest of us look like poor country cousins. Everyone says you’re the most beautiful woman at court. We’re lucky you’re so kind and selfless, but then again, that just proves you are above reproach. We’d all do well to be more like you.”
As Arabella took another long swig, tears pricked the back of her eyes. She wanted to lean her head back, but she didn’t dare disturb her hairdo. She swallowed her tears along with the whisky. People expected her to be enchanting and outgoing even though she would have rather hidden with her sewing than venture into the Great Hall. And she loathed sewing.
Get yourself together, Belle. You do the same song and dance every night. This is no different. You’ve been doing it for more years than you have fingers on one hand. Don’t be maudlin, and don’t cry. Puffy eyes and a red nose will draw more attention. The last thing you need is gossip. Gossip that somehow always reaches Mother and Father. I swear they know more aboot what happens at court than I do.
Arabella pushed the stopper back into the jug and ducked beneath the bed to return it to its hidey hole. She stood and shook out her skirts before breaking off several mint leaves that she chewed. Between the mint and the wine served with the evening meal, she’d successfully hidden her penchant for liquor for months. As she spat out the leaves, she looked once more at the bed.
Mayhap one more sip? I feel calmer and a little more at ease, but I’d hardly say relaxed. Do I dare? Do I have time? Sod it. I have time if I make time. I need a little more.
Arabella crawled back onto her hands and knees before retrieving the jug. She shook it, disappointed to realize it was nearly empty. The flasks weren’t lasting nearly as long as they used to. Arabella recognized that was because she drank more often and needed to drink more of the liquid fire to get the numbing escape she longed for. When she was certain she’d drained the last drop, she hid the empty container and grabbed a handful of mint leaves. She would have to chew them on her way to the Great Hall and find somewhere along the way to dispose of them. She would most certainly be late. But it would be worth it, Arabella decided as the warmth spread throughout her body.
That’s all I needed. I just needed to move around a tad and get the whisky in my blood. I shall feel much better now.
Arabella grinned to herself as her cheeks took on the telltale tingle before they grew numb. She knew the effects of imbibing were imminent, and she was confident she could muster her way through the meal and the dancing to come.
Lachlan’s heart raced as he watched Arabella glide toward the table where he sat with his sister and brother-by-marriage. He watched her greet those who called out to her, always gracious. As she approached, Lachlan watched her blink several times as though she needed to clear her vision. Blair and Hardi sat with their backs to her, but Lachlan noticed that her cheeks seemed flushed, and even the tip of her nose was a touch red. He worried that she was ill when she cast her bleary gaze at him, but her warm smile set him at ease.
“Forgive me for being tardy,” Arabella murmured as she took a seat beside Blair, putting her across from Lachlan.
“I was wondering where you were,” Blair responded before taking a bite of bread.
“I had a couple of loose curls to fix,” Arabella fibbed.
“You haven’t a hair out of place,” Blair grinned as she swept her eyes over Arabella. “Picture perfect as always.”
I ruddy well hate that word. Perfect. No one would be calling me perfect if they saw me guzzle down a pint of whisky not ten minutes ago. Arabella laughed to herself. I wish they would. Perhaps I should bring some down tomorrow and see what everyone has to say when Bonnie Bella drinks most of the men in here under the table. Why is Lachlan staring at me? He’s usually discreet. Can he tell? Does he ken I’ve been drinking? Nay. He can’t. Calm down, Belle. You’ll give yourself away.
“Thank you,” Arabella stated as a servant placed a trencher before her. She focused on her food, but she was careful not to eat too much or anything too heavy. It would dull the effects of the whisky sooner, and she wasn’t interested in sobriety if she still had hours ahead of her. She reached for her chalice at the same time the Lachlan reached for his and the backs of their fingers grazed one another. She felt singed, and her eyes flew to his face. Their gazes locked, and Arabella read the concern in his.
Mayhap I did have a wee too much. Mayhap I shouldn’t have gone back for the second round. Lachlan is too perceptive by half. I may not be able to dance with him tonight lest he discovers what I’ve been aboot. I can’t afford him giving me away. And I don’t want to answer his questions. And I don’t want to lie to him either. The best thing is to avoid him. But I don’t want to. Wheest, you sound like a spoiled wean. You can’t have everything. Everyone else might think you do, but you know you don’t.
Arabella felt a headache developing by the middle of the meal as her mind wouldn’t cease its constant internal monologue. She was sick of the sound of her own voice, even if it was only in her head. As the servants cleared away the last of the meal, Lachlan drew Arabella’s attention when he asked her to dance. She nodded as she rose from the bench. She recognized the concern in his eyes and knew questions were inevitable. She still wasn’t prepared.
“Are you unwell, Bella?” Lachlan whispered as they grasped hands for the first dance.
“I’m hale,” Arabella assured as she turned away, then returned to face Lachlan and dipped into a curtsy, matching the other women in her row as the reel began. It was an energetic dance, and it required they change partners, so while she was spared Lachlan’s questions, she wasn’t spared attention from other men. She was relieved when the dance steps brought her even with Lachlan, even if she wished to avoid his questions.
“Bella, you’re very flushed,” Lachlan worried. “And your eyes are glassy again.”
“Too much wine, I’m sure.” Arabella tried to explain away her appearance with a half-truth, but Lachlan shook his head.
“You didn’t have more than you usually do. I’m concerned.”
“I’m not your concern,” Arabella snapped. Her eyes widened at her curt reply. She felt her temper bubbling not far beneath the surface. Generally, alcohol soothed her, but every once in a while, the anger and resentment seemed to be forced higher, making room for the whisky in her belly. “I apologize.”
Lachlan nodded, a stony expression on his face. As the music shifted, Lachlan twirled Arabella to the large doors that led to a terrace. He grasped her hands and pulled her into the shadows.
“You’re drunk,” Lachlan stated. It wasn’t an accusation. It didn’t even sound like an observation. His tone was flat, stating a fact.
“I am not.” Arabella jerked free and shook her head. She was feeling more defiant that she ever had, and she knew she was risking her friendship with Lachlan, but he felt like a safe outlet for her repressed anger and anxiety. “I was, but now I’m not. Killjoy.” She hissed the last word. She didn’t fail to see the shock and hurt that flashed in Lachlan’s eyes before he raised his chin.
“Why? Were you meeting someone? Did he give you too much to drink?”
“What?” Arabella gawped at him. “You think I slipped off with a mon and let him get me soused. Am I too perfect to do something so imperfect on my own? Or am I not smart enough to come up with such an idea on my own?”
“Bella, you’re not making sense,” Lachlan tried to cup her elbow, but she shied away.
“Of course, I’m not. I’m drunk. Remember?”
“Bella.” The exasperation was obvious in Lachlan’s voice.
“Lach,”
Arabella mocked. She witnessed heat flair in his eyes before he tamped it down and narrowed them. “You’ve accused me of being drunk and of meeting a mon alone. You don’t have the right to be indignant in this conversation.”
“Mayhap I’m only half right, but it doesn’t change that you’ve been drinking.”
“So you say. I had wine at the meal and didn’t eat very much. It’s gone to my head.”
“Why weren’t you eating?” Lachlan pressed, but he knew every word he spoke pushed Arabella further from him.
“I’m not a wean, Lachlan. I don’t have to explain myself to you. I didn’t care for the food, and I didn’t feel like eating. I rarely eat much at the evening meal. You know that. You’ve commented on it before.”
Lachlan’s chin jerked back in surprise. “I have?”
“Aye. You’ve made me sound finicky and wasteful. You’ve drawn attention to how much I eat before, and I didn’t appreciate it then. I don’t appreciate it now,” Arabella blurted.
“That was never my intention.” Lachlan was aghast. He had no idea he’d offended Arabella so deeply, and from the sound of it, on more than one occasion. “I offer my most humble apologies, Lady Arabella, for slighting you.”
Arabella heard the sincerity, and this time she couldn’t ignore the pain in Lachlan’s gaze. She’d cut him deeper than he had her. She glanced toward the doors, ensuring no one was watching them before she took Lachlan’s hand in hers and squeezed.
“I know you didn’t. I just don’t like having attention drawn to what I eat. People expect me to eat like a sparrow and comment if I eat what most other women would. When you comment aboot how little I eat, I feel trapped.”
“Why is how much you eat anyone’s business, including mine?” Lachlan demanded. “Aren’t you starving then most nights?”
“People like to have something to talk aboot,” Arabella said dismissively. “And my maid usually has a heel of bread and a chunk of cheese for me when I return to my chamber.”
A Beauty at the Highland Court: A Star-Crossed Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 7) Page 3
