“Do you think he’ll come for you?”
“I believe so, aye.” Arabella wanted to believe the words she spoke, but her self-doubt made her wonder if Lachlan would forsake her.
“I ken Beathan Gunn, and he’s not a mon I would suggest any woman marry. He’s far better than his aulder brother or uncles were, and better than his father. He could be a good laird if that’s now his position, but he’ll never be a good husband. He’s like his brother Arlan. He uses women and hurts them because it makes him feel more powerful. I wouldn’t wish a lifetime with him on any woman. If Lachlan comes for you, and you wish to be with him, I will help you.”
“Madeline, I can’t ask that of you. You’ll get in trouble. You’ll have to wear a hair shirt and beat yourself with a cat-o'-nine-tails,” Arabella said aghast.
“Nay. Those are auld tales from long before I arrived here. Mother Abbess is a kind soul. If she learns of who your father wishes you to marry and learns of the mon he is, she will accept you here to protect you. If I help you leave with Lachlan, she’ll understand. We may be in the Lowlands, but the Sutherland name carries significant weight everywhere. No one questions their honor. It runs too deeply in their veins for there ever to be any doubt. If Lachlan wishes to marry you, then Mother Abbess will ken you’re a fine woman.”
Arabella was about to thank Madeline when a party of riders passed through the gate. Arabella recognized Lachlan immediately. She moved to run and catch up to him, but Madeline caught her arm. From the other direction, the prioress and Mitcholm approached the refectory. The two women slipped back into the building, even though Arabella kept looking back over her shoulder.
“Do not say you saw Lachlan. Do not go to him yet,” Madeline warned. “Wait until your father is nowhere around.”
“But if he starts yelling, Lachlan will hear him and come looking for me.”
“Your father would yell in a convent?” Madeline’s eyebrows shot straight up.
“I wouldn’t put aught past him these days,” Arabella sighed.
“Mother Abbess won’t allow it. Stay beside me and don’t look toward the door. Does your father speak Gaelic?”
“No. No one in my family does. Why?”
“I’m still a Hebridean, Bella. And the Mother Abbess is a Highlander.” Madeline didn’t have the chance to say more as the prioress and Mitcholm entered the dining hall. Mitcholm narrowed his eyes at Arabella, suspicious of why she spoke to a woman who looked like a nun.
When the older man and woman came to stand before the two ladies, Madeline bowed to the prioress. Arabella curtsied and turned to her father. Keeping her voice low, she explained, “Father, this is Madeline MacLeod. She was a lady-in-waiting with me some years ago.”
Madeline dipped a bow to Mitcholm, then turned her attention to the prioress. She hurried to speak in just more than a whisper. “Màthair Abbess, chan eil fhios agam dè a chuala thu, ach tha an t-uachdaran an dùil a pòsadh ri fear as aithne dhomh a ’toirt ionnsaigh air boireannaich agus a mharbh co-dhiù aon. Tha mi air a bhith eòlach air bho bha mi nam nighean òg.” Madeline told the nun, “Mother Abbess, I dinna ken what ye’ve heard, but the laird intends to marry her to a mon I ken assaults women and has killed at least one. I’ve known him since I was a young girl.”
“Tha fios agam, leanabh. Dh ’aithnich mi an t-ainm nuair a dh’ innis e dhomh. Ma tha an duine càil coltach ri a chàirdean, tha e ri sheachnadh. Bhiodh i na h-uan don mharbhadh.” Continuing their conversation in Gaeilic the prioress replied quickly, “I ken, child. I recognized the name when he told me. If the mon is aught like his relatives, he’s to be avoided. She’d be a lamb to the slaughter.”
Madeline rushed to tell the prioress, “The brother of the woman ma brother married is who she wishes to marry. He just arrived. He will be looking for ye soon. He’s a good mon.” “Is e bràthair a ’bhoireannaich a phòs mo bhràthair a tha i airson pòsadh. Ràinig e dìreach. Bidh e a ’coimhead air do shon a dh’ aithghearr. Tha e na dhuine math.”
The only sign that the prioress registered the potential trouble was a slight flaring of her nostrils. She nodded her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mitcholm interrupted.
“What gibberish are you going on aboot?”
“Sister Madeline and I were making arrangements for Lady Arabella to share her cell. She will take your daughter there now, and I will show you to the guest house.” The prioress turned away from the doors they used earlier and led the group toward the back of the refectory. Arabella prayed that whoever greeted Lachlan sent him somewhere other than the guest house, or there would be an almighty scene that even God couldn’t stop.
Lachlan looked around the chamber he was shown to in the outer parlour. He was impatient to speak to the prioress, since he knew the Johnstones were there. He struggled not to storm out of the building and tear apart the convent as he searched for Arabella. When the door opened, he whirled around. Before him stood a woman in her middle years with a kind face and knowing eyes. When she stood before him, Lachlan reached out his hand, palm up. She placed hers over his, and he bowed to kiss her ring. The Mother Abbess noted the difference in how the young man greeted her to the laird who’d demanded an audience.
“Tha i an seo ach tha a h-athair. Tha Madeline MacLeòid air do bhean a thoirt gu seòmar Madeline. Tha i sàbhailte an sin gus an urrainn dhut falbh còmhla.” The prioress revealed “she’s here, but so is her father. Madeline MacLeod has taken yer lady to Madeline’s chamber. She’s safe there until you can leave together.”
Lachlan nodded, surprised to hear a Gaelic-speaking nun in the Lowlands, along with what he learned. The woman smiled softly before switching back to Scots.
“I was a Gunn many years ago. I’m the sister Elizabeth, Tomas, James, and Farlane forgot. I committed an indiscretion in my younger days, and my penance was life here. Little did my family know, I much prefer it here. But I ken what the men are like in my family. I won’t sentence any woman to that. I will help you,” the prioress explained.
“Thank you, Mother Abbess. Lady Arabella is all I seek. I don’t want to cause any trouble for you or the sisters,” Lachlan replied.
“I ken, lad. I kenned your aunt and uncle well. The Gunns and Sinclairs didn’t get along even back then, but it was to them I fled when Tomas threatened me. Laird Sinclair ensured my safe escort here. I owe my life to your family. I’m certain I wouldn’t have survived if I’d remained at Clyth Castle. I pray Beathan is a better leader than the men before him, but I doubt he is a better mon.”
Lachlan witnessed the sadness in the older woman’s eyes and could tell she was lost in her memories for a moment. While he wanted to hurry her, so he could reach Arabella sooner, he didn’t dare end her wistfulness before she was ready. She looked up at Lachlan and nodded.
“Laird Johnstone and his men have gone to the guesthouse. I will take you and your men to the cellarium. You can wait in the undercroft until I can fetch Lady Arabella. Compline will begin soon, so you and your men must be out of sight. I will come to you before I go to your lady. When I do, send your men to ready the horses while I go into the dormitory. You must ride as soon as Lady Arabella joins you. It’ll be a few hours before Matins. Rest while you can,” Mother Abbess instructed.
“What will you do when Laird Johnstone discovers Arabella gone?” Lachlan asked.
“I have many hours to solve that. The Lord will provide me with the right answer,” the prioress reassured. “Come now.”
Lachlan followed the woman in the swishing robes as she walked with her hands steepled together. It surprised him how quiet her tread was. If she’d been a man, she would have made a fine warrior. Once they entered the courtyard, he signaled to his men to leave the shadows and follow them. The hours spent in the cellarium were tedious, and he couldn’t lower his guard enough to sleep despite his exhaustion. He waited on edge until he saw two feminine forms coming toward him. One was dressed as a nun and the other wasn’t. He scrambled to his feet, but shock made him
take a step back. It was the Mother Abbess and Madeline MacLeod.
Twenty-Five
Arabella gazed down at the habit she wore. She’d traded her clothes for Madeline’s, and she found she preferred the simplicity. She wasn’t interested in becoming a nun, but it reminded her of the gowns she’d worn as a girl growing up along the border. It was a time long before her parents sent her to court with extravagant gowns and lavish jewels. She reached up to touch the wimple that now covered her auburn tresses. That was the item she was most grateful for from the entire ensemble. It would give her the anonymity that Madeline and Mother Abbess offered. She’d understood Madeline’s meaning as soon as the former lady-in-waiting suggested they trade outfits.
Arabella wanted to pace, but there was little room to do that in the cell. Two cots occupied most of the room, and she was relieved to see one was a spare that Madeline said she could rest on. She’d caught a couple hours of sleep before she woke to the sound of the cell door opening and Mother Abbess entering. Now she waited for the Mother Abbess to return for her. They’d agreed it was best if people witnessed Lachlan depart with a raven-haired woman rather than with a redhead. She would slip through the gardens and leave through a small hatch in the wall. It would put her near the woods where Lachlan and Madeline would meet her. She and Madeline would exchange clothes, and Madeline would return to her cell. Madeline wouldn’t appear until the morning meal, leaving plenty of time for rumors to spread that she left with Lachlan. There was little that could be done once Laird Johnstone learned that Arabella had disappeared, but the confusion should buy them some time.
Arabella turned toward the door when it eased open, and she found the prioress waving to her to follow. The nun pressed a finger to her lips, warning Arabella to be quiet. They hurried out of the dormitory, through the cloister, out to the end of the garden. Arabella kept her chin tucked, but her eyes scanned her surroundings. There was no one in sight, but that didn’t mean no one saw them. She tried to walk with the grace that Mother Abbess exhibited, but she wanted nothing more than to sprint to the wall.
“Go with God, my child,” the prioress blessed her with the sign of the cross.
“Thank you,” Arabella mouthed before passing through the wooden door in the wall. She looked around before running into the trees. It was only moments later that Lachlan’s arms snared her, and he lifted her off her feet, his mouth demanding she return his kiss.
“You haven’t time for that,” Madeline’s voice interrupted. Arabella looked at the woman she’d once loathed, and she couldn’t help but feel gratitude for what Madeline risked. Arabella feared how her father would react when he learned of her escape and if he learned of Madeline’s involvement. As though reading her mind, Madeline reassured, “Don’t worry. Kieran is still my brother, and that carries weight even to a Lowlander. He is Laird MacLeod of Lewis, and one of the Lord of the Isles’s most favored lairds. That carries sway, even with a border laird. I am safe.”
Arabella embraced Madeline, surprised at the warmth she felt for a woman she’d imagined she would always detest. But time at Inchcailleoch Priory had wholly changed Madeline. There was little left of the woman who’d once been a lady-in-waiting. Arabella regretted there wasn’t time to get to know the newer version of Madeline. She suspected they might have become friends. When Arabella released Madeline, she reached to pull off the wimple, but Madeline’s hand caught her forearm as she shook her head.
“Your hair is too noticeable. If your hood blows back from your head, anyone would see your mane of auburn hair,” Madeline grinned before growing serious once more. “Travel as a nun for as long as you can. The disguise will protect you as much as Lachlan will. I have another habit in here. Help me undo the laces, then put the gown in the satchel. It holds some food.”
Madeline pulled out a habit, then handed Arabella the bag. They ducked behind the trees as Arabella helped Madeline strip out of the gown. Arabella hastily folded it and shoved it into the leather carryall while Madeline dressed once more as a nun. They exchanged another brief embrace before Lachlan helped her mount and swung into the saddle behind her. Arabella glanced back as they rode away, but Madeline had already disappeared within the priory.
The party didn’t speak, except for when Lachlan arranged their ferry ride off the island. The ferry operator looked sideways at Arabella and squinted. Lachlan explained the woman who appeared as a nun was his cousin and was leaving the priory to attend her father’s funeral. The old sun-weathered man nodded and said nothing. Once they were on the mainland, Arabella distributed the bannocks and dried beef she discovered in the satchel. She offered the men apples and pears, but they declined, saying they would save them for later. Arabella hadn’t argued and made do with her own bannock and chewy strip of meat.
They had nearly a fortnight’s ride ahead of them, and Arabella dreaded being in the saddle for so long. The longest stretch she’d ever ridden was the five days it took to reach Stirling from her home at Lochwood Tower. It relieved her to see that Lachlan freed her mare from the stables and brought the horse with them. She’d feared riding double would slow them, even with Lachlan’s powerful steed beneath them. Once she mounted her horse and watched the smaller animal fighting to keep up with the larger destriers, she worried her horse would never last the arduous journey that would take them through the Cairngorm Mountains. Her horse was used to the flatter terrain of the Lowlands. The mare also wasn’t accustomed to charging alongside stallions. Arabella wondered if there was a way to circumvent the mountainous region, but as she pictured the map of Scotland she’d once seen, she realized it would add days to their journey.
When they stopped the first time to rest the horses, Arabella was certain it was for her and her horse’s sake. The men and their mounts barely looked winded. Lachlan helped Arabella down, his hands lingering at her waist as they gazed at one another. Lachlan moved them to stand among the horses as they drank. It was the only privacy they had. He pulled her against him, but it was Arabella who initiated their kiss. It was hungry with a need to reassure one another that they were both hale and that nothing had changed between them.
“I love you, Belle,” Lachlan swore as they broke apart.
“But it’s not possible that you can love me more than I love you,” Arabella replied before she pressed the fingers in his hair against his head, nudging him for another kiss. “It was only a day, but how I missed you.”
Arabella tucked her head and rested her forehead against Lachlan’s broad chest, catching her breath from their passionate exchange. He ran his hands over her back and arms, but it wasn’t a lover’s caress. She knew he was checking to see if her father or his men had injured her. She went onto her toes to kiss his neck, then whispered in his ear. “The only thing that ails me is the ache I have for your special attention. Only your ministrations will heal me.”
Lachlan’s fingers bit into her backside as he groaned. “Mo chridhe, you’re torturing me.”
“Aye,” Arabella grinned. “Misery loves company.” But she soon sobered as she cast her eyes around them to see if anyone could hear them. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she dropped her hands.
“Shh, little one. There’s naught wrong with what you said, and no one but me heard. What your father said isn’t true. You’re not one. I pray you will never be afraid to tell me what you want.”
“But doesn’t that make me wanton?” Arabella asked.
“If you were to offer yourself to every mon, it might. I ken you’ve never said such things to anyone else. I want you with a ferocity that makes me fear being too rough with you. But it pleases me to no end to ken you desire me, too.”
“It is a good feeling to be wanted,” Arabella admitted. Lachlan nodded, but she knew the moment he intended to change the subject, and she could guess what he wanted to discuss. She was certain he didn’t want to ask, but she also understood he was justly worried about her. “My father didn’t beat me. He came into my chamber and insisted that I get dressed. A
fter that, he barely spared me a word. I rode pillion with Edwin because he didn’t trust me on Firelight.” She felt compelled to tell Lachlan that she hadn’t ridden in Edwin’s arms, so his response surprised her.
“Don’t ride pillion again, Belle. It’s too easy for you to be thrown. If you share a horse, always ride where the mon can brace you.”
“You want me to ride in another mon’s arms?” She asked, surprised by his declaration, but Lachlan grimaced at her question.
“I’d prefer you not. No mon could ride with your backside rubbing against him and not have his body react. But I’d rather that than you break your neck.”
“If that’s the case, I don’t want you riding with any woman but me in your lap,” Arabella huffed. Lachlan grinned as he tickled her waist.
“Jealous?”
“Yes,” Arabella snapped. She refused to feel remorseful.
“Belle, aught rubbing a mon’s cock will make it stiffen. And you’re a beautiful woman, we ken that. Put those together, and while a mon may not wish for that reaction, I would say it’s rather inevitable.”
“But doesn’t that mean he wants to couple?” Arabella whispered.
“I think most men would give their sword arm for a chance to do that,” Lachlan grinned.
“Just because I’m pretty,” Arabella whispered. The conversation hadn’t gone in the direction she expected, and she felt worthless knowing that men only found her appearance attractive. “So that would happen if you rode with a woman before you?”
“I’ve ridden with my sisters plenty of times, and no, that doesn’t happen. A mon must find the woman appealing.”
“This is entirely confusing. You ken a mon would become aroused if I ride in front of him, and that doesn’t bother you because a mon can’t help being attracted to me because I’m bonnie. But I’m supposed to believe you wouldn’t react the same if a beautiful woman rode with you? And you wonder why I’m jealous.” Despite her conflicted feelings, she recognized that Lachlan trusted her. And her jealousy stemmed more from thinking another woman would be fortunate enough to ride with him than any mistrust she might feel.
A Beauty at the Highland Court: A Star-Crossed Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 7) Page 19
