“Ye’ll have to forgive me!” Francis exclaimed with a winning smile.
“No chance of that. I’ll have to beat ye, that’s what,” Hamish replied, readying his body for more.
The men posed for another strike, but from the corner of his eye, Francis saw movement at the door. He glanced over and saw that Arabella was peeking in, watching their sparring.
Immediately he found his thoughts drifting to the fact that he would have to prove himself a worthy fighter. Indeed, he would have to best Hamish now more than before. There was no chance of him allowing Arabella see him lose the match.
He wondered if she saw him glance at her. Did she know he was now going to be performing rather than fighting? He would have to remain strong, focused, prepared.
In that moment of trying to focus, Francis allowed his eyes to begin traveling back to the door and in that moment of weakness, Hamish struck, getting him right in the liver.
Francis rushed his attention back to the fight at hand and dodged another strike that was coming for him. He leapt to the left and came up around Hamish, getting him in the kidney.
It had been a smooth strike, one of his best. He hoped dearly that Arabella had seen it.
Hamish swiftly turned to him and they began a series of strikes and blocks with neither successfully jabbing the other and both remaining protected by their skill. Francis was nearly hit, but his foil blocked Hamish’s at just the last second.
Yes, this was ideal. Let Arabella see him fighting with one of the best swordsmen in all of Dunmore! Let her see that he was deserving of the title of Laird, that he was a skilled fighter and a man to contend with.
He hoped she would be impressed.
Ducking, he dodged another slice from Hamish.
The swordplay continued for a long while, until finally Francis got in a final stab and Hamish surrendered.
“Ye got me. I’m finished. Well done, me laird,” Hamish said through his heavy breathing.
Francis grinned, although internally he was embarrassed by the title he received from Hamish. Still, if Arabella was watching, that was what he wanted her to hear. Words of respect and an acknowledgement that he’d won.
He turned to the door, prepared to act surprised to see her there, but when he faced it, Arabella was gone. She was nowhere to be seen.
Francis felt his heart sink a little. He had wanted to speak to her. More than that, he had wanted to make sure she’d seen the whole of the fight. With her gone already, there was no way for him to know if his strength had been quite the victory he’d hoped for.
Hamish offered him some water and the two sat to rest. With sweat dripping down his back, Francis realized that he likely smelled and maybe in some ways, it was good that Arabella was not there to smell him. Still, he would have liked the occasion to speak with her.
It would have been a moment when his confidence was high and he was less likely to stumble over himself in her presence.
“Ye’re quite the fighter,” Hamish acknowledged, crashing onto his seat and shifting to his comfort.
Francis was relieved to let his muscles rest after the effort he had put into the swordplay. His body was aching, but he couldn’t allow Hamish to see that. Remaining strong was more important than allowing his body to rest. He would have a bath later in the evening.
“Ye’re a good sparring partner. Ye think we can do this often while I’m here?” Francis asked.
“Absolutely. Ye’re tougher than most of the guards and I think it’d be good for many of them to train with ye,” Hamish replied.
“It’s all well and good, but at the same time, do ye think any of them would use a sword against an intruder?” Francis laughed.
Hamish shook his head with a smile. “Likely not, but the rules of swordplay are useful for more than just fighting with a sharp blade. Guns, fists, whatever means a soldier is using is useful. It’s about the movement, the speed, anticipating yer opponent,” Hamish explained.
“I ken all that, I ken it’s useful for any learning on self-defense. I’m just asking if ye think the younger guards would have any interest or care in it. Would they put in the effort to learn it well? Or would it merely be something ye force them into that they serve half-heartedly?” Francis asked.
“I’ll ask about it, see if any of the men show an interest. In the meantime, ye and I will continue our training regularly. I think we both have plenty to learn from one another and before ye ken it, we’ll be slicing down Hanoverians from every direction. We’ll be cutting their bullets in half,” Hamish said with enthusiasm.
Francis laughed, trying to picture the blade of a sword cutting through a little metal bullet racing through the air. It was an amusing thought.
A servant brought them more water and they guzzled it down.
Francis kneaded his right bicep where he was sore and knew it would be worse the next day. More than anything, he needed to ensure that he would be able to fight again any time he knew Arabella might be around.
No matter how hard he tried, Francis could not get his mind off her. She was so beautiful and he adored her confidence. A woman like that was not to be ignored. She was everything he could have ever imagined a woman to be.
Over the past three days of observing her, Francis could see that Arabella was strong and independent, but still deeply conscious of others and their needs. He could see that she was wise, kind, and always amusing her friends. She was also observant. Perhaps that was the characteristic that scared him the most.
“So, can ye tell me more about everyone who lives here?” Francis asked suddenly, hoping the question was broad enough.
Hamish laughed. “There are rather a lot of them. I’m assuming ye dinnae care about us staffers. But ye mean the laird and his family?”
“Aye,” Francis said, knowing that was only a handful and he would eventually get to Arabella.
“Well, obviously there’s the laird. He’s a deeply proud man. Not in a bad way, but I cannae say that he’s overly pleasant. His wife is a stunner, but ye’ll hardly ever see her. She spends most of her time in her chambers just making herself more beautiful for any chance she might be seen,” Hamish explained.
Francis had heard of the woman’s vanity. He understood now why he hadn’t seen her or met her the whole time he had lived at Dunmore thus far.
“There were three other young ladies living here. Ye met Colla, but also her cousins Grace and Adeline. All three have married over the past year. Now Arabella is the only lass left. She’s beautiful, but she has a confidence that is hard to break through. And she mostly keeps to her friends. I think she’s likely lonely now that the others are gone,” Hamish said.
Francis listened intently. “So she has no suitor?” he asked.
Hamish looked at him with understanding and a mischievous smile. “Not yet…” he answered.
Francis felt his cheeks flush. How foolish of him to ask so forwardly! Hamish seemed he would be a good friend and ally, but that did not mean he could be free to discuss the young woman he was so intrigued by! He had been such a fool to speak out of turn.
“Dinnae worry, me laird. Me mouth is sealed better than most tombs. It has to be. I am a servant in the house of a laird. I ken how to remain quiet on matters. But ye should ken that she’s not an easy woman to please. She has never noticed a man so far as I’ve seen. In fact, I wouldnae be surprised if she even chose never to wed. She’s terribly independent,” Hamish restated.
“Aye, there’s nothing to it. I was only curious. Dinnae worry. But thank ye for yer discretion. I wouldnae want anyone thinking I’ve come here only to find a suitable wife,” Francis said awkwardly.
Hamish looked at him curiously. “And why would ye say that? There’d be no shame in it even if that were yer reason for coming here. Everyone kens that a laird must find a wife who is suited for such a station. Dunmore is a grand place to search for such a woman. I dinnae think anyone would have anything bad to say to ye if ye found a bride here. Worry not,” H
amish said with a grin.
Francis was grateful for the words, although that same sense of deep seated shame filled him again at the thought of him being a laird. Would he ever not feel haunted by this lie that he had no fault in creating? Would he ever feel at peace in the position he was to inherit one day?
Or would he ever be seeking the permission and approval of others to feel that he had any worth at all?
For now, perhaps his best option was to look past all that and focus rather on his duty of learning to be a leader.
And maybe finding a wife…
The more he thought about it, the more Francis began to wonder where she had gone. Was Arabella still in the room next door where she had been peeking through? He needed to think of a good excuse.
“Well, I had best go wash up. I think I can smell meself and that’s never a good spot to be in. But if ye find yerself wanting a workout tomorrow, let me ken! I’m knackered for now, but I’ll be ready in the morning without a sore spot on me body,” Francis said, knowing Hamish would see through the lie.
“Of course, me laird. And I’ll not feel a bit of a sting in me muscles either. They’ve never ached a day after a match like that,” Hamish responded with a similarly exaggerated lie.
After a moment of eyeing one another hostilely, they cracked into grins and nodded their goodbyes.
Francis casually, as if for no apparent reason, went toward the door to the drawing room beside the gallery. He hoped to stumble upon Arabella as if by accident, but was saddened to find that the room was empty and she was nowhere in the vicinity.
He walked intentionally through each room that led to his own room, but still he did not see Arabella. Finally, Francis gave up, assuming she was in her chambers one floor up from him and having no reasonable excuse to make his way there. He would have to accept that he would not see her again until dinnertime, so he decided to do as he had claimed he would and wash up.
The hot bath was soothing for Francis’s aching muscles. He washed away the sweat and smell until he was a clean, fresh man again. By the time he left the tub, his skin was red and raw from the cleaning.
He made his way back to his room and dressed in clean clothing. That way, when dinner came and he saw Arabella again, he would look well and she would only have seen him at his very best the whole day. Strong in the fight and clean after.
As Francis passed by his window, he glanced outside into the gardens. There she sat, with her sewing equipment in hand. Arabella was among all the flowers, but it was easy for him to see that she was the most beautiful.
Chapter 5
An Unexpected Conversation And
The Servant’s Call
“Oh, bugger,” Arabella mumbled under her breath as the needle pricked her finger. It had been the fourth time a stitch caught her skin and she was frustrated beyond measure. She knew well that it was her own fault for allowing herself to be more focused on watching Francis dance with a foil than on actually finishing her work.
In the garden, surrounded by an array of beautiful flora, Arabella breathed in the fresh smells from where she sat on the little wooden bench. She had been so deeply fascinated while watching Francis and Hamish spar that it was terribly embarrassing when she realized that she had been seen.
Francis had eyed her but not quit his game. Had he thought her childish or foolish for watching him like that? Or was he proud of his work and considered it a compliment that she should be so fascinated by him?
No, that was surely wishful thinking. Clearly, any man would think her a terror for stalking him at the door like that. How could she have been so careless?
There was still something so deeply moving about having seen him fencing.
Arabella allowed her hands to rest in her lap for a moment as she smiled to herself, picturing each motion once more. Finally she picked up her work again and continued.
His movements were utterly graceful. It was as if battle had become a dance, a very art, or a ballet. Francis was the star performer, a dancer unlike any other. Each bend of the knee, each time his arm cut through the air, everything he did was stunning and brilliant.
Arabella felt her world spinning out of control with the memory of him moving with Hamish. She could not believe the feelings that were soaring within her.
A noise startled Arabella as someone came from around a topiary. She looked up and was surprised to see Francis standing directly before her.
All color seemed to drain from Arabella’s face, leaving her pale, and in the next instant, she felt her cheeks grow hot and red. Had he come to tell her to leave him alone and not watch him?
“Oh, hello,” she greeted, rather coolly, before going back to her sewing. It seemed best that she scarcely pretend to have noticed his presence. She couldn’t allow him to know her true feelings upon seeing him.
“Hello,” Francis replied, standing awkwardly before her. “Um…I-uh…was looking for…”
Arabella looked up at Francis again as he stammered through his sentence. He seemed terribly uncomfortable and uncertain how to explain himself, which caused her to wonder all the more what it was about this man that made him so endearing.
“I was looking for the…uh…stable hand,” he said, bursting the last two words as if relieved that anything came out at all.
“That stable hand?” Arabella asked.
“Aye. Aye, that’s what I wanted to say,” Francis confirmed, his fingers playing nervously as if he had something on his mind.
Arabella watched him for a moment as he looked around them, perhaps eyeing the flowers, or maybe just trying to see anything other than her. She didn’t know which.
“Right. Well, the lad is feeling rather poorly just now. I believe he was sent home yesterday and told to take a couple days’ rest. Do ye have some pressing journey ye need to rush off for?” she asked him, wondering deeply if his need for the stable hand meant that he was going out from Dunmore.
She hoped utterly that he would not be departing so soon.
“Oh, no! No, no, nothing like that at all,” Francis replied in a rush, as if to reassure her of something. He then stood, awkward and quiet before her, as if completely disinterested in her presence.
Arabella waited a moment, but, emboldened by his silence, decided she had to speak. “Then what do ye need him for?”
Francis turned and looked her in the eye at that question and for a moment, Arabella wondered if he would be angry at her forthright question. Perhaps she should not have asked something so boldly as that of a future laird.
“Oh. Right. Um…” Francis began.
Arabella was beginning to wonder what it was about her that made Francis so reluctant to give her his time or conversation. Was he really choosing to ignore her like this? Was he really this arrogant that he considered himself beyond the status of having to speak with her? Perhaps his awkwardness truly was merely arrogance.
“What I mean to say is that I wished to go for a hunt with the laird in a few days. I was going to speak with the stable hand about which beast I might borrow. Ye ken, who is the strongest and all that,” he finally replied.
Arabella watched him further, not moving. He had answered. Either he was giving in to talking to her for the sake of his reputation and not being rude or he was truly not eloquent. Maybe he just didn’t know how to speak to people who weren’t generals or rulers.
“Aye, well then, ye can speak with him in the morning. I’m certain he’ll be back. It was only a little flu and honestly I think he probably could have come today, but he wanted to take his opportunity for an extra day to rest,” Arabella said with a hint of a smile. Immediately she realized that she had allowed herself to speak on friendly terms with Francis again and prepared herself for yet another rejection of his company.
“Ah, I see. So…he’s lazy?” Francis asked, looking somewhat confused.
“No! Not at all. He’s just…young,” Arabella replied. She could not read Francis’ face. Either he was a half-wit or he was still un
sure why he was spending his energies speaking to her.
“Young?” Francis asked again.
Arabella cocked an eyebrow. Yes, Francis was clearly a half-wit. “As in, he isnae old,” she said slowly, hoping it would be an explanation to clear up the strange confusion Francis seemed to have.
“Oh, aye, aye. He is quite young. Ye mean that he doesnae have the work ethic of a grown man,” Francis clarified, as if finally understanding.
“Aye…” Arabella replied.
She could not imagine that Francis was really struggling this much with the simple conversation and assumed there had to be something she didn’t understand. Perhaps it was she who was the half-wit and didn’t clearly see what they were on about. Otherwise, how could their mutual understanding be so challenging?
“Right…” Francis said before they descended back into silence. “Well, I suppose I had better be speaking with the laird and his generals. There are some important matters at hand,” he added.
Arabella felt her eyes slit a little. Of course Francis would find it more important to speak with those men of high station rather than she, who was nothing more than a silly little girl.
Francis opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out and just in that moment, a servant made his way through the flowers and came upon them.
“Me laird,” the servant began.
“I’m not a laird…” Francis replied, seeming slightly irritated and leaving Arabella to wonder if perhaps he was as rude and dismissive to the servants as he was to her.
“Yes, forgive me. I have brought word for ye,” said the servant, handing Francis a letter.
Arabella watched as Francis took the paper in his hands, seeming surprised. He glanced at the name of the sender and his face seemed to fall.
“It is from yer faither. He says that he is to be in Edinburgh in a few days’ time. He expects that ye will come to meet him there and that ye ought to make yerself ready to be presented,” the servant said.
Love Saves A Highland Spy: Ladies of Dunmore Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 4
