A Rogue at the Highland Court: An Arranged Marriage Highlander Romance

by Barclay, Celeste

  “It’s quite a bit colder than I realized, and I didn’t bring my cloak. I don’t think I will last long out here. I’m sufficiently cooled, so I believe I will return.”

  “I’ll keep you warm, lass.” The young man wrapped a band of steel around her waist, and she realized she’d underestimated the man’s strength. She didn’t even recall his name, as the effects of the whisky had made her forgetful, but the brisk air had sobered her.

  “I must return before my father wonders where I’ve gone. He arrived at court today and is keeping a close eye on me.”

  “What I intend won’t take long.” He pressed a kiss against her throat. Its gentleness eased her fear, and she relented as his hand caressed her back. He pulled her closer as his lips traveled to her jaw, then cheek, before resting at the corner of her mouth. He paused for a heartbeat before pouncing. He caught Allyson off guard as he pressed his lips against hers, persistently swiping his tongue across her lips. Allyson tried to jerk away, but his steely arm had her locked in place. She grasped fistfuls of his leine as she attempted to push him away. She had no intention of allowing his tongue into her mouth, and didn’t understand why he kept pressing it against her lips. When her attempts to break free failed, she reverted to what she’d done as a child when her older siblings tormented her. She grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked as hard as she could. The thwarted swain bellowed and lashed out. Allyson ducked under his hand as it swung toward where her cheek had been a moment ago. She didn’t hesitate to stomp on his foot and dashed into the dark toward a door she recalled would be unlocked. She heard heavy footsteps following her, but once she reached the hidden door, she sprinted through the passageways, taking the shortest route to her chamber. She slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it as she struggled to catch her breath. Allyson lambasted herself for being so foolish as to go out into the dark with the man. The other times she’d allowed a man to kiss her had been quick pecks in the gardens, with daylight and discovery as incentives to keep the interludes brief. She’d been a fool to take such a chance, and she admitted she’d given the man a mixed message. But she also was certain he hadn’t misunderstood her when she struggled to break free. He’d disregarded her attempt to say no, and that was unforgivable to her.

  Is that what it will be like once I’m married? Will Ewan force me? Will he give me a chance to say no, or will he take what he wants?

  The fear from earlier in the day, both in the passageway and in the Privy Council, returned. Allyson moved to sit on the foot of her bed as she looked around her chamber. Her roommates would return that night, but she intended to be asleep, or would at least appear to be asleep, by the time they arrived. She assessed her armoire and chests, considering what lay inside. She eased off the mattress and opened one of her chests to pull out a satchel and flipped it open, looking inside for a long moment before glancing at the other contents of the chest. She retrieved a plain kirtle she hadn’t touched since before she returned to court the previous year after spending Christmas with her clan. She’d worn it the last day of the journey to court and then retired it to her chest, acknowledging that it would never meet the standards of courtly attire. She ran her hand over the stitching around the hem, remembering how she’d labored over it, pulling it apart and redoing it until she was certain no one would find fault with it. Her thumbnail picked at the one tiny imperfection where the left side seam met the bottom hem. She remembered how her mother chastised her for the uneven stitching even though it was in a place no one else would notice.

  Allyson heaved a deep sigh as she set the gown on the bed and pulled out two older chemises that she’d also worn while traveling. They were sturdily made, but again not the quality expected of a lady-in-waiting. She placed one on top of the kirtle and the other in the satchel, then dug through the chest, pulling out three pairs of stockings, a pair of gloves, and a scarf. These were of superior quality, but the colors were subdued, unlike what she wore in Stirling. They were the clothes of a country laird’s daughter, not a courtier. They were what she preferred, what she felt most comfortable in. Once she’d placed the clothing and her Elliot plaid in the satchel, she lifted what remained in the chest and placed it on the floor beside her. She pried the false bottom from the chest and removed a pouch that filled her palm.

  She’d tucked away coins for years and kept them in the suede bag. Anything she’d received for her saint’s day, Christmas, Hogmanay, Beltane, or any other feast, she hoarded. While her sisters had frivolously spent their money at the markets and fairs, purchasing ribbons and sweet treats, Allyson had only bought enough to keep her family from questioning her, anticipating she would one day need the coins after leaving home. She understood as well as any woman that anything she possessed when she wed would become her husband’s, but she also understood a woman should have a nest egg in case her husband failed to provide for her. She’d seen it with her oldest sister, married to a man twice her age who hoped to beget a son. He died of a heart attack in their bed, leaving her sister destitute with her new clan deep in debt. She hadn’t the money to even buy food for herself or her maid on their return to Elliot land. She’d had to rely on the meager contingent of guardsmen loaned to her from her husband’s garrison, and their father had to repay the men for what they’d spent on her sister and the maid. Allyson had sworn to never find herself relying on someone else for a meal and a blanket. She could always provide at least that much for herself. Now she would need the coins when she left Stirling.

  Allyson considered her friend Elizabeth Fraser, who had been a lady-in-waiting before her marriage to Edward Bruce, the adopted brother, not blood brother, of King Robert. She and her husband left court and made a home at Inverlochy Castle after a threat to Edward’s life nearly killed Elizabeth. Dare I go to Elizabeth and Edward at Inverlochy? Would they take me? If I can make my way there, I think Elizabeth would allow me to stay until I can figure out what to do next. Doubt niggled at her mind that Edward might send her straight back to Stirling once he learned that she’d disregarded Robert’s order for her to marry Ewan.

  I wish Isabella still lived on Dunbar land. At least I know my way around the Lowlands, even if we’re from opposite sides. But she and her husband have gone to the Sinclairs. There’s no way that I could travel that far north on my own. I barely know aught about the Highlands that border the southern portion of Scotland. I won’t make it in the wilds alone. A man or a beast is more likely to attack me than I am to survive.

  Allyson remembered how to reach Elliot land from Stirling, but it would be the first place anyone searched. She might go to their neighbors, the Kerrs or the Douglases, but they would turn her over to her father. Desperation set in, but Allyson refused to allow it to dominate her. She hurried her packing and hid the satchel in her chest before undressing and crawling into bed. The candle had just finished smoking when the door creaked open and her roommates entered. They eased through the door and moved about the quiet chamber as they readied themselves for bed. Allyson forced herself to remain still and regulate her breathing despite her mind jumping from one idea to another.

  Who says I have to be Allyson Elliot any longer? No one has to discover I’m a laird’s daughter, nor do they need to learn I was ever a lady-in-waiting. For all anyone knows, I’m the young widow of a farmer and couldn’t maintain the plot on my own. I’m a fair seamstress despite what my mother might say, and Morgana said I was a natural in the kitchen. If our clan’s head cook believes that, then I must be at least decent. I don’t intend to work in a tavern, but perhaps I could work for a family in Edinburgh or Glasgow. I can’t remain in Stirling, but I need a city large enough to get lost in. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll say I’m a poor widow willing to assist a shopkeeper or become a maid in exchange for room and board. I must trade my finer clothes for money and use the money to buy less questionable stockings and gloves. I can claim the cloak and scarf were wedding gifts from my husband. I never imagined I’d become a servant, but I know I can do the wo
rk. I know how to do the work. At least my mother was wise to ensure all her daughters understood the duties of every servant if we were ever to be a proper chatelaine.

  I’d rather be alone than with a husband who will shame me with a mistress under my roof. I don’t want to believe Ewan would ever force me, but he did little to disabuse me of the notion that he might. Some women might accept that lot, but I refuse to be overlooked and discounted any longer. It hurts too bluidy much.

  Allyson slipped into slumber as she found some resolution to the quandary of how to evade her arranged marriage. She would figure out the rest when the situation demanded a solution.

  Chapter Four

  Ewan observed Allyson flirt with every man between the age of eight-and-ten to eighty. He ground his teeth as she glided from one partner to another, tossing her hair and dazzling the men with her smile that showcased perfectly aligned teeth. When the dancing began, he assumed she was taunting him and trying to make him jealous, so he partnered with the most beautiful widows and matrons in attendance. But he soon realized she never glanced in his direction. Although she arrived late for the meal and merely pushed her food around her trencher, Ewan noted she appeared animated and cheerful. He failed to understand how her mood changed so drastically until a man standing near he and Eoin mentioned Allyson.

  “I can’t be sure, but I suspect Lady Allyson’s had more than a tipple of whisky this eve. She’s in even better spirits than usual. I intend to test my theory.”

  Ewan recognized the man as one of the Maxwell clan’s representatives. Before he had a chance to listen to more or even inquire about the man’s plans, the Maxwell man slipped away and swept Allyson into a dance. Ewan edged around the Great Hall as he caught his intended leaning closer to hear what the man whispered in her ear. She nodded and allowed her partner to guide toward the terrace.

  Like hell she’s having a dalliance under my nose. I’m not taking a wife who isn’t a virgin. I’ll not have her bearing some man’s bastard and passing it off as mine.

  Ewan recognized the hypocrisy of his thoughts, but he believed in his right to do as he pleased as a man, an unmarried man. He followed the couple onto the terrace and watched Allyson tilt her head to allow her partner to nuzzle her neck. Ewan ground his teeth as he crept forward. He would note how far she allowed the interlude to go, but he wouldn’t intervene. If she allowed the man any liberties, he would gain his reason to call off the wedding. He didn’t care if he destroyed her reputation. She would deserve it for being loose. He noticed Allyson grab the man’s leine, but it wasn’t until she yanked the insistent swain’s hair that Ewan realized she’d been trying to push him away rather than pull him closer. Allyson twisted and squirmed until she had enough space between them to stomp on the man’s foot and duck under his flying hand. She ran into the dark with the Maxwell clansman following her. Ewan darted forward and plowed his fist into the unsuspecting pursuer’s temple and watched him crumple to the ground. He heard the click of a door closing and rushed to find the portal Allyson used to slip into the castle. Once he was inside, he looked around, but just as she had done earlier in the day, she’d already disappeared.

  “Where did you go?” Eoin asked when Ewan returned to the Great Hall. Ewan’s fist smarted, and the punch had split the skin over two of his knuckles. “You better not have been chasing after Lady Bevan with Father’s eagle eyes on you. It’s bad enough you’ve danced with every eligible and ineligible woman here.”

  “I followed Allyson onto the terrace to see how far she’d allow that Maxwell swine to go. She didn’t appear at all unsettled when he kissed her neck and cheek. She didn’t even shy away from him pressing his mouth to hers, but at some point, he became too insistent, and she struggled to break free. She was already running back into the keep by the time I reached the lout. I plowed my fist into his head and chased after her. She was nowhere in sight when I followed her inside.”

  “Are you certain that she’s all right? He didn’t do more than kiss her?”

  “I’m sure he would have if she’d allowed him to. She must have known the message she sent by going outside with him. There is no way she couldn’t after the knowledge she shared this afternoon.”

  “Do you think she was drunk like that Maxwell said? She’s never struck me as a drinker. Why would she have tonight?”

  “It’s rather obvious she needed some liquid courage to face the evening meal, and I’d say that’s largely, if not entirely, my fault. I’d also guess she allowed him to take her outside as a silent rebellion. She may be savvy about life at court, but her mind was too slow, or she’s still too innocent to realize that saying no and having the man listen to her wouldn’t be as easy as she assumed.”

  “Ewan, don’t you see how this makes everything you said earlier even worse? You left her under the impression you’d force yourself on her and then discard her like sennight-old fish. Then a man she might have been willing to kiss tried to force her to do more. She’ll never trust you now. She’ll see at you as being no better than that piece of shite, and she wouldn’t be wrong to do so. I might know you’d never force a woman, but she doesn’t know either of us well enough to understand that. And like it or not, what she saw this afternoon entitles her to a poor opinion of both of us.”

  “You’re not saying aught I didn’t already think about. It might seem ridiculous to us, but I can understand how she might fear us sharing her or playing her a fool by taking turns unbeknownst to her. Rather than try to sooth her fears, I acted like the petulant child you called me. I just couldn’t seem to still my tongue each time she needled me.”

  “Neither of us likes to fail to have the last word. This time, you lost both the battle and the war.”

  Ewan looked at his brother’s concerned face and shook his head. The uncanny way their minds ran along the same path was a benefit that kept them alive on the battlefield, but it also meant that their consciences were never silent. Eoin spoke the doubts and regrets Ewan struggled with all evening.

  “I suppose I should begin wooing her tomorrow. Though after my performance tonight, dancing with every woman in sight just to spite her, most likely didn’t endear me to her any further.”

  “I doubt it did. Before the evening meal, I might have recommended you begin tomorrow, but now I fear you need a few days of lying low and ignoring temptation.” Eoin paused for a long and assessing gaze at his brother. They were mirror images in more ways than their looks, but they didn’t share the same beliefs about everything. Eoin was more romantic and believed in the sanctity and preservation of marriage, no matter why the union began. Ewan viewed marriage as a business transaction between two clans rather than two people, and as long as the parties upheld the terms of the agreement, he saw no reason to alter his life. He understood how some might view him as selfish, but he considered himself practical. He didn’t expect his wife, whoever she might be, to harbor soft feelings for him, nor did he anticipate loving her in return. Except for needing an heir, he was content to allow his wife to do as she pleased. Eoin’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Will you accept her taking a lover once she’s bred your children?”

  “What?” Ewan jerked away as his brother’s questioned registered. “Of course not.”

  “Then you aren’t as willing to allow her to do as she pleases. You’ve always said your wife could do what she wanted once she’d borne you an heir. What if what pleases her is a lover? You intend to keep a leman.”

  “It’s different.”

  “Why? Because she’s a woman? Because she might give birth to a bastard? You’re just as likely to sire a bastard. If you don’t believe you need a woman’s love, then why keep a leman? You might enjoy bedding your wife and be satisfied there. You might marry a virgin, but then teach her all the things a more experienced woman had to learn one way or another. Why go to another woman when you can enjoy the pleasure you want with your own wife?”

  “Because a man doesn’t bed his lady-wife like a whore.”

>   “Lady Bevan was once someone’s lady-wife, as you put it, and she knows more than most tavern wenches. She had to learn that somehow. Do you consider her less of a lady for it? Is the word just a title that doesn’t fit its owner?” Eoin shook his head. “I think you’re peeved that Father didn’t consult you before this announcement, and I think you’re peeved that your wings are being clipped before you wanted to settle down. You have the opportunity to take a beautiful and alluring woman to your bed every night and not spend a penny or worry about the pox ever again.”

  Ewan recognized the logic in his brother’s words, and they were another example of ideas that had already occurred to him. It proved they were like-minded in more ways than not. He was angry at the king and their father along with Laird Elliot, but he’d vented his spleen at Allyson when he felt attacked. He understood she shared his sentiments, but she felt threatened while he felt inconvenienced. Rather than ease the terror, he poured oil on the fire, then grew angry when the conversation went up in flames. “I haven’t shown a redeeming quality since the moment we encountered Allyson and her friend today,” he admitted.

  “No, you haven’t.” Eoin shrugged when Ewan shot him a scathing glare.

  “I have a lot to make up for, and I worry she’ll decide what she saw today is the real me rather than when I try to prove otherwise.”

  “That’s because parts of the real you were on display today, too. You need to reconsider your ideas on fidelity. A woman like Allyson may not expect you to love her, but she expects and deserves you to honor her.”

  Ewan glanced around the Great Hall and caught sight of not only Lady Bevan, but several other women he’d bedded over the years of visiting court and attending various clan gatherings. He’d made his rounds and revisited several eager and willing bed partners. For the first time, he regretted his choices and his refusal to consider how they might affect a marriage that was inevitable. He knew plenty of men who kept mistresses, his father included, so he’d never questioned whether he should give up bedding whoever he wanted once married. His mother hadn’t been able to tolerate his father, and they rarely spoke while she was still alive. She’d loathed any form of affection whether it came from her children or her husband. She’d wanted to be a nun, but she hadn’t been given the choice. His mother turned a blind eye to her husband’s infidelity because it meant he left her alone.