“Besides,” Blair cut in. “Why would a border laird need an alliance with a clan at the very opposite end of the country? The Johnstones are one of the most powerful border reiver clans and hold much of the West Marches. Why wouldn’t he find a husband for Lady Arabella from one of the Lowland clans?”
“Because the clan has spent far too much time siding with that bluidy bastard. Laird Johnstone swore his fealty to Longshanks, and he has much to make up for,” King Robert snarled. Like many border lairds, Arabella’s father switched alliances as he sought to protect his clan from the ongoing turmoil between King Robert the Bruce and King Edward of England.
“Isn’t Lady Arabella’s tenure here part of their reparations for—” Blair trailed off. She didn’t want to say treason, but disloyalty seemed too benign. Laird Johnstone was a powerful man who intended to exert his influence in Scotland and England. From pieces of information she gathered from Arabella, Blair knew the king didn’t completely trust her father. Laird Johnstone’s ambition kept him from accepting any proposals for Arabella’s hand. It surprised Blair that Beathan Gunn was aware of Arabella and held any interest in her. She couldn’t see how the alliance would benefit either clan.
“Johnstone is eager to prove that he has mended his way and is now my humble servant. He thinks marrying Lady Arabella to a Highland laird will prove how Scottish he is.”
“We’re not Scots,” three voices grumbled under their breaths. King Robert’s uproarious laughter only made the three faces scowl more. While the Bruces were a Lowland clan, King Robert had relied heavily on Highland forces to win the war against the English. He saw himself as more of a Highlander now, but it was small comments such as this that proved he wasn’t, truly, one of them.
“Either way,” King Robert waved a dismissive hand. “He is looking for a husband for Lady Arabella, and Laird Gunn is looking for a wife.”
Blair stepped forward and lowered her voice, even though there was no one in the chamber besides her brother and husband. “Uncle Robert, I understand you consider the political ramifications for each of these noble marriages, but Arabella is my friend. She’s a wonderful woman who deserves a mon who kens her and appreciates her for more than her appearance. She will be naught but a trophy to Beathan Gunn. He’ll use her beauty and put her on display to prove his position among the other Highland lairds. He will preen and claim that you must favor him above others to have arranged such a marriage.”
Blair clasped her hands before her and leaned forward. Her eyes were as beseeching as her tone. She feared for more than her friend’s happiness. She feared for Arabella’s life.
“Please, Uncle Robert. Don’t do that to Arabella. She’ll be miserable. The clan will reject her because she’s naught like them. Highlanders aren’t keen on outsiders, and she’ll stand out because of her beauty and her Lowland customs. Beathan may be a good laird, but we’ve known him since we were weans. He won’t make a good husband.”
“Who would you suggest instead?” King Robert cast a calculating glance at Lachlan before returning his eyes to Blair. She wanted to squirm and look back at Lachlan, but she didn’t dare. When her brother didn’t speak up to nominate himself, Blair lifted her chin.
“A mon who already kens she’s more than just a pretty face. A mon who will make her welcome among her new people, and a mon from a clan who won’t cast judgement without giving her a chance. A mon with a family who will make Arabella belong in a way her own never has.” Blair’s nostrils flared as she dared the king to disagree with her.
“I shall take that into consideration, Blair,” King Robert nodded before offering her a kind smile. He shot a pointed look at Lachlan, who had stood in rigid silence as the king and his sister discussed the woman he wanted for his own. With their business concluded, King Robert leaned back in his chair, giving a clear sign that the trio was dismissed. Blair curtseyed while Lachlan and Hardi bowed. They left the private solar in silence, Lachlan and Blair deep in their own thoughts and Hardi unsure of what to say.
Six
“You’re going to spring such news on me and then in the next breath tell me you’re leaving?” Arabella demanded as she tried to calm her anxiety. She and Blair stood outside the Great Hall as people filed in for the evening meal. In low tones, Blair recounted her audience with King Robert and what she learned about Arabella’s future. Then she informed Arabella that she and Hardi would depart the following morning.
“I’m sorry, Bella. We can’t linger,” Blair sighed.
“But it hasn’t even been a sennight. I thought you were staying a few more days,” Arabella insisted.
“We only planned to stay that long assuming we wouldn’t meet with the king so soon,” Blair explained. “There is still much to do at home to ensure a unified new clan council that’s prepared to defend the clan. Hardi heard a few men talking in the lists this morning, and there are rumblings that the MacPhersons have plans for another raid. We have to get home.”
“But…” Arabella swallowed the bile forcing its way up her throat. Her eyes darted around the crowd, fearful that people could hear their conversation. She noticed those who were watching her, but it was the same attention she drew every evening. She struggled to convince herself that she shouldn’t panic, but she had an overwhelming need to escape. She wanted to return to her chamber and seek solace as she had the night before. With only a tippling left in her other hidden flask, Arabella had her customary dram of fortification before arriving at the Great Hall, but now she wished she could return to her chamber and console herself with the warmth and comfort only whisky offered her. She wanted nothing more than to drink until her lids grew too heavy to stay open and then slip into the abyss of sleep.
“Blair, Lady Arabella.” Lachlan’s voice made Arabella jump. She hadn’t heard Lachlan and Hardi approach, and she was unprepared for his proximity. Only moments ago, the few sips of liquor she’d had felt like not nearly enough to survive the news of a potential marriage to Laird Beathan Gunn. But now the alcohol, mixed with the fresh pine scent of Lachlan’s freshly washed hair, made her head swim. She felt unsteady on her feet as she turned to face the men as they joined her and Blair. When she wobbled, Lachlan’s hand shot out to steady her by gripping her elbow. She hurried to explain away her lack of balance.
“Blair just told me what the king said. I wasn’t prepared for the news. And now she’s leaving.” Arabella enunciated each word, fearful of slurring her words. She glanced at Blair before shaking her head. The walls were closing in, and she knew there was no way she could remain in the Great Hall and maintain her mask of serenity and grace. “Excuse me.”
Arabella made to step around Lachlan, but his hand on her elbow kept her in place. She glanced down at it, and Lachlan must have realized he still held her, because his hand fell away with haste. She drew her gaze up to his, their contrasting emerald and amber eyes meeting. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, feeling too exposed to Lachlan’s perceptive and inquisitive stare.
“Are you not well?” Lachlan whispered. Arabella shook her head, her eyes darting to Blair. She didn’t want to miss her last evening with her friend, but she felt her heart racing. Her hands were growing clammy, and her lungs ached. She swept her eyes over the growing crowd settling at the tables. The meal would begin soon, and she would lose her opportunity to flee if she didn’t leave immediately.
“I’ll go back to your chamber with you,” Blair offered.
“You need to eat,” Arabella countered.
“We can request a tray,” Blair argued.
“I—” Arabella could only shake her head. She watched as Blair sent a look at Lachlan before nodding.
“I’ll escort you to your door, Belle,” Lachlan whispered. Arabella knew decorum called for her to decline. It was inevitable people would notice her leaving with Lachlan, but she felt her unease strangling the breath from her. Casting one more look around the Great Hall, she ignored the judgmental gazes as people watched her speaking to her frien
ds. She felt the eyes assessing her coiffure, her kirtle, the jewelry she wore, looking for any flaw that would be the seed to a new rumor. Arabella nodded, and Lachlan turned to walk to the doors with her. They entered the passageway in silence, both out of discretion and discomfort. They hadn’t seen one another all day, and neither was certain whether they should mention the kiss from the previous night. The quiet drew out between them until they reached the passageway that contained the ladies’-in-waiting chambers. Torches in sconces illuminated their path, and when they stopped at Arabella’s door, it made it easy for Lachlan to notice the telltale signs he was certain he’d seen the night before.
“Thank you,” Arabella murmured. With none of the other scents from the masses of people in the Great Hall, Lachlan was certain he caught a whiff of whisky on Arabella’s breath. He blurted his suspicion before he thought better of it.
“Where did you get whisky, Belle?” Lachlan demanded.
Arabella made to take a step back, but Lachlan’s arms shot out and pulled her against his chest. His mouth descended and pressed against hers. His tongue swiped the seam of her lips, and despite her better judgement and wariness, she opened to him. Their moans and sighs blended into a melody of passion. Arabella slid her hands over his chest until she could wrap her arms around Lachlan’s neck, but she had to stand on her toes to reach. Lachlan’s arms encased her in a solid shield where she felt protected from the world. His tongue caressed the insides of her cheeks as it swept over her tongue. Arabella was certain her legs would give out if Lachlan weren’t supporting her. An ache took up residence in her low belly as her core tingled with a need to press her hips against Lachlan. His sporran kept her from finding what her body searched for. But it felt like a bucket of ice was dumped over her when they broke apart, and the accusation slipped into Lachlan’s eyes.
“I can taste it,” Lachlan whispered.
“Is that why you did it? Is that why you kissed me last night too?” Arabella hissed.
“I kissed you then and now because I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I met you. Five years I’ve waited, Belle. I couldn’t last any longer. That’s why. But it doesn’t change that I know you drink.”
“So what if I do? It’s not your concern. Mayhap you should have had the bollocks to kiss me sooner. Before I’m practically betrothed to someone else. I’m not your problem, Lachlan.”
“I never thought you were a problem. But you are my friend. You’re my sisters’ friend too. You know that’s why we’ve—I’ve—” Lachlan trailed off.
Arabella inhaled deeply as she pulled her lips into a flat line. She nodded. The truth was finally spoken aloud. “I know,” she whispered.
“Why?” Lachlan pressed.
“I don’t drink much. Just enough to sooth my nerves before the evening meal. It makes it easier to ignore people watching me and to endure the endless attempts at seduction when I’m dancing. It makes it easier to forget everyone’s expectation that I’m perfect.” Arabella shook her head. “Clearly, I’m not.”
“Belle, is it that bad? I never knew until last night that they call you Bonnie Bella.”
“Aye. I don’t ken who started it, but it stuck. Women comment on my gowns and my hairstyles. Men go on and on about my hair and eyes. It’s all they can say to me. It’s all they see. Women ask what soap I use and what oils I rub into my skin. I do naught but stay clean. I would happily be plain if it would let me lower my guard.”
“Plain like they thought Maude was?” Lachlan’s voice held an edge.
“Your sister isn’t plain,” Arabella snapped.
“But others thought she was. You know how she fared. You’d prefer the relentless jabs and insults?” Lachlan reminded her.
“What Madeline and the others said was cruel, but the attention she received wasn’t that different from what I get. Everyone has something to say. No one sees me as more than my appearance. My family expects me to catch a wealthy and titled husband, and my parents have even alluded to me seducing a mon if I have to. They don’t believe I can find a mon who might be interested in me for who I am. I doubt they’ve even considered it.”
“And so you drink?” Lachlan heard the skepticism in his voice, and he knew Arabella did when she pulled loose.
“I don’t drink because I pity myself,” her clipped tone putting more space between them. “It makes me less anxious when I have to be among the crowd of people. It makes it easier to bear all the stares, all the comments. They don’t bother me as much because I’m mercifully numb.”
“Where do you get it from?” Lachlan asked for the second time.
“I have a guard who fetches it for me,” Arabella confessed. “Lachlan, I don’t want to talk aboot this. I told you, I’m not your problem.”
“And I told you, you aren’t anyone’s problem. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t think this is problematic.”
Arabella felt her defensiveness building, and she felt backed into a corner. What did Lachlan know? He wasn’t the one who felt himself being ground down by the weight of expectation for something as trivial as his good looks. Her anger increased with every word he spoke, so she lashed out.
“I’ll be another mon’s bride soon enough. I doubt I’ll be wanting whisky when I’m with him.” Lachlan didn’t miss the innuendo as he glared at her.
“You’ll crave it even more after the first time you go to Beathan Gunn’s bed. Too bad your guard won’t be there to feed your habit.”
“You don’t ken what you’re talking aboot,” Arabella sniffed.
“Don’t I? Have you met him? I’ve known him since I was a wean. He may be a good laird, but he’s not a good mon.”
“Bah,” Arabella waved a hand. “How can he be a good laird if he isn’t a good mon? That makes no sense.”
“His brother Arlan wasn’t the only one with a reputation for forcing women.”
Arabella gaped at Lachlan. Nothing he said eased her fear of marrying the stranger. His words added to her anxiety and only made her want to escape into her jug of whisky. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Why would you tell me that? You’re jealous, that’s why. I have no choice but to marry him if that’s what my father decides. You want to scare me to punish me.”
“This is to punish you,” Lachlan growled as he pulled Arabella back against him and spun her, so her back was against the wall. His mouth crashed down to hers with no mercy. She opened to him without hesitation. Their anger fueled their passion as Arabella flicked her tongue into Lachlan’s mouth, taking control of the kiss before he could. His chest pinned her against the wall as his hand grazed along her ribs until he cupped her breast. He kneaded the firm mound as his hips pressed forward. He ripped his mouth away long enough to growl, “This is to remind you of who wants you. Who’s always wanted you. I don’t give a bluidy damn aboot your looks. But it’ll be me you think of when he’s rutting on you.”
“Then you should have done this sooner because it doesn’t matter. You’re right. I’ll be in his bed soon enough,” Arabella panted before their mouths fused together again. Lachlan felt Arabella’s nipple pebble beneath his palm. He pinched it until she moaned with need.
“You wouldn’t have let me,” Lachlan countered. “Not until now you know you can’t have me. But it will be me you wish was buried inside you. Can you see me when you close your eyes? It’ll be my face you’re looking at.”
“Am I who you see as you tup other women?”
“Yes.” Lachlan snapped. He could be as spiteful and proved it with his next words. “They’re so well pleasured they don’t care when it’s your name I call out with my release.”
Arabella pushed against Lachlan’s chest, but he didn’t budge. “I despise you. I’m not humping anyone, but you seem to be more than happy to toss any skirt that will rise for you.”
“You’ll be humping someone else for the rest of your life sooner than I will.”
Arabella grunted as she tunneled her fingers into Lachlan’s hai
r and tugged hard. Her other hand fisted his leine as she pulled him back to him. “Then give me something to remember, Lach.”
Lachlan gazed down at her and regretted what he said. He knew his words would last longer in her memory than the feel of his kisses. “I was being cruel. Arabella, I’m no monk, but there is rarely anyone else. But I didn’t lie when I said it’s you I call out to.”
“You can tell I’ve kissed before. Never like this. But it’s you I’ve thought of.” Their kiss was gentler, more like the previous night. Their anger fizzled as regret took its place. Regret for wasted time and wasted opportunity. Regret for a future that would keep them apart. Lachlan’s touch as he ran his hand over her back was soothing rather than needy. As Arabella ran her fingers through his hair, her touch was so tender that Lachlan’s heart ached. Laughter from nearby forced them to separate. Arabella slid along the wall until her door was at her back. She reached behind her for the door handle, but she couldn’t bring herself to open it. She was certain her heart was breaking as she looked at Lachlan. When the voices drew too close to ignore, Lachlan shook his head.
“It’ll always be you,” he whispered before he spun on his heel and disappeared into the shadows where Arabella knew he would hide until the passageway was empty.
She entered her chamber and closed the door without a click. Her new roommate Rebekah would return some time later that night, but for now Arabella knew the meal was still going on. She didn’t know which ladies were in the passageway, and she didn’t care. She scrambled to reach under her bed. As she pried the stones loose, she held her breath, eager for just one sip. But she knew she wanted far more than one. She wanted to drink until she no longer felt anything, until she passed out on her bed and wouldn’t dream of Lachlan.
A Beauty at the Highland Court: A Star-Crossed Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 7) Page 5
