Love Saves A Highland Spy: Ladies of Dunmore Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Freya, Bridget

  Arabella nodded again and Francis could sense that she was trying to reconcile herself to the idea. However, he knew she was still a bit wounded by the suggestion.

  Finally the time came for them to load into the coach. Laurie snuggled in one of the corners, promptly falling asleep, only to be woken by the jolt of the carriage when the horses began their trot. Soon the rhythm sent her back to sleep.

  Arabella sat beside Francis. He did not look directly at her, but felt her presence like all the world was coming together. She brought him so much joy just being nearby.

  “How are ye feeling?” he asked again, worried that she might still be offended.

  “Truly I cannae help but be excited,” she replied. When he looked at her again he saw the truth of her words. Arabella was evidently very excited that they were going on this journey together. She was a bundle of energy that he had not seen prior to their loading into the coach.

  “Well I am glad!” he sighed in relief. “I had worried that I offended ye,” he added in a whisper, not wishing to wake Laurie.

  “Oh no, dinnae worry. I understand it now. And honestly, I have so many feelings about this all. I am anxious and excited. I mean, I’ve traveled a bit to see friends and everything, but this is a very different thing altogether. This is adventure. And adventure in Edinburgh, no less!” she said again with excitement.

  Francis noticed the way her dimples deepened with her joy and it made his skin warm. He wanted to rush her into his arms in that moment, but knew that such a thought was utterly senseless.

  He had been brave to ask her to join him. Well, to ask the laird to allow her to join him. Still, he could not believe that he was lucky enough to have her say yes. She wanted to be escorted by him in this event just as he so badly wanted to take her. Such a beautiful woman… and he had her all to himself!

  “We’ll be in Edinburgh around noon. When we arrive we can walk for a bit if ye’d like? See some of the shops and everything?” Francis offered.

  Arabella smiled, trying to conceal the extent of her excitement. “I would love that,” she agreed.

  Arabella looked up at Francis and he caught her eyes again. This time he held her gaze and would not release her. He sensed that she was hesitant, as if she were not allowed this moment of connection with him. Francis was utterly unable to let her go though. He needed her eyes. He needed her gaze.

  Francis leaned toward Arabella and she drew in likewise. For a moment he thought this was going to be the time. He knew they would finally kiss.

  A stone in the road ruined it all when the coach hit a bump and Arabella crashed into Francis. The whole ordeal woke Laurie and the three sat uncomfortably until she fell back to sleep.

  Arabella and Francis looked at one another again, but he sensed that, like himself, she was too shy to initiate another moment, too shy to lean in for the kiss he so desperately wanted from her.

  It would be fine, Francis knew. He would be patient. It wouldn’t be fair to push her before she was ready. He was a gentleman.

  Soon, Edinburgh was surrounding them. They had nearly reached King’s Road when Francis smiled as he looked out the window. He tapped on the roof of the coach and the driver pulled to a stop.

  Francis grinned at Arabella, who was evidently confused, and Laurie woke up from her exhaustion to a yawn and bleary eyes.

  “I think it is about time we alight and see the city!” Francis exclaimed. Arabella could not hold back her thrill at the prospect.

  Francis led her out of the coach and helped Laurie down as well. The driver agreed to take their things ahead to the townhouse where they would be staying during their time in the city.

  Meanwhile, Francis eyed Arabella as she took in all the sights of the capital. He knew she would be fascinated by the architecture. No matter how beautiful Castle Dunmore might be, they had a whole city of beauty around them.

  “Oh goodness!” Arabella exclaimed, gazing at a pastry shop. Francis could not help but smile yet again. Her excitement was palpable, and it brought him so much joy to see her like this, with childlike wonder in her eyes.

  “Well, we had best have a taste, dinnae ye think?” he offered with a hint of laughter.

  Arabella nodded enthusiastically and Francis opened the door for her to enter. The moment they were inside, the smells of sugar and freshly baked bread washed over them.

  “Oh this is so delightful!” she nearly squealed. “I cannae think of another time I’ve seen such bonnie food.”

  They both laughed and Francis picked out a pastry that had pink sugar glazed over the top of it to indulge Arabella. These sorts of treats were not easy to come by, but he was thrilled to be able to offer it to her for an experience she hadn’t had before.

  “Thank ye so much,” she said to him.

  Francis nodded quietly and handed another to Laurie, who took it with a silent nod of her head. The three went and sat at a small table in the corner and ate their treats. Francis had caramel fudge and cautiously offered to share a bite with each of the ladies, but only Arabella accepted.

  Again her eyes grew in delight. Francis didn’t think he would ever stop admiring her facial expressions when she was this happy.

  When they left the shop, they made their way to the townhouse. It was soon upon them and Francis suddenly felt a knot in his stomach.

  “Well, go on in and make yourselves comfortable. The maid will show ye to yer rooms. If ye’d like, ye can change into something for the evening, as I believe we will have an event later on,” he instructed the ladies.

  “Thank ye. Very, very much,” Arabella said, still as if in a dream.

  “Ye are most welcome,” Francis replied. Arabella and Laurie each gave a slight curtsey before leaving the room and going to their own rooms to rest and make themselves ready.

  Francis was led to where he assumed his faither was and knew that he would be expected to give a formal greeting and account to him.

  “Me laird,” he said courteously, and bowed upon seeing him.

  “Ah, aye, me lad. How was yer journey? Did ye arrive well enough?” the laird inquired.

  “Aye, we did, me laird,” Francis replied formally.

  “Very well, very well. And ye ken we’ve got the reception later on. Ye’d best clean up. Tomorrow we’ll go over all the plans for ye at the castle and things. Ye ken I’m glad to have ye here to assist me,” the laird said.

  Francis ached in his heart. He still didn’t know if the laird was deceived by his mother or if he knew the truth and was simply trying to make the best of it all.

  “Aye, me laird. Thank ye. I’ll do me best to make ye proud,” Francis replied.

  “What an excellent lad ye are,” the laird said, shaking Francis’ hand.

  From the corner of his eye, Francis spotted him. The last man he’d wished to see. His uncle. The man who had told him of his shameful lineage.

  “Ah. Lad…” he greeted.

  “Hello, Uncle,” Francis replied dryly, shaking his uncle’s hand and giving him little further attention.

  He wished to be anywhere else. Back on the road with Arabella, maybe.

  When his uncle was nearby, Francis noticed the laird also tensed. He looked to his brother and then to Francis, and a sadness crept into his eyes, as if remembering something he had been told long ago and only just recalling the unhappiness of it all.

  “I had best go…” the laird said suddenly, and he turned to leave.

  Francis had seen the laird like this before. He knew well that his uncle had told him of his mother’s disloyalty. Of course he hadn’t simply forgotten.

  At times it seemed that way, as though he truly believed Francis to be his son. Then, at a sudden turn, his faither would become distant, anxious, and uncomfortable, as if Francis were some pestilence merely to tolerate.

  It had been a struggle for him since he had been old enough to recognize it. Here he was, seeing both sides of his faither in one meeting and feeling more confused than ever. Feeling more as
hamed than ever about a misdeed that he had not caused, but rather had caused him.

  “Forgive him, lad,” his uncle said, leaning close and whispering in Francis’ ear. “Ye ken it cannae be easy to know that yer son isnae really yer own…”

  With that, his uncle walked away and Francis was left standing alone in the entryway, feeling a seething rage within his chest. His uncle. His faither. It was all a horrible mess and he didn’t want to be there at all.

  His only solace was Arabella. She would be with him the whole stay. She would be with him and they would spend time with one another, and he would forget about the mess that was his family.

  Chapter 11

  A Reception To Learn The Truth

  “Do ye think it looks alright, Laurie?” Arabella asked with a nervous energy. She was stunned by the beauty of the brocade gown, but remained uncertain if it was right for this evening. It had to be. It was a reception at the home of a laird. Surely she ought to look this exquisite?

  “Me lady, I think ye are grander than any queen,” Laurie replied honestly.

  Arabella was grateful to have such a wonderful handmaid with her. Laurie had always been kind and supportive.

  Just a few years older than Arabella, Laurie always looked out for her when needed. After helping her dress for the evening’s event, Arabella was delighted that she was the one to come on the journey with her.

  “Thank ye, Laurie. Ye’re always so supportive!” she exclaimed.

  One of the maids of the townhouse knocked on the door to Arabella’s guest room and alerted the two that it was time for them to come downstairs for the gathering. Arabella inhaled and straightened her spine before walking with Laurie behind her and descending the stairs into the gathering.

  She felt truly beautiful in her gown, with her hair done up in a plait around her head. As she noticed some of the other guests, she realized that she had dressed perfectly for the event. She was not overdone, but she was certainly at the standard.

  Elegantly nodding her head toward guests, she was whisked around by a few gentlemen greeting her and some of the ladies who had not met her before were whispering behind their teacups to inquire as to who she was.

  Arabella was generally not shy, but it was strange to be noticed like this. She was uncomfortable, but still thrilled. It was a strange blend of emotions to feel and Arabella couldn’t quite register exactly how she was meant to respond to everything.

  Finally, she spotted Francis in the corner of the room, sipping a glass of some dark amber liquid, and when his gaze shot up to meet hers, she saw awe strike his face.

  “L-Lady Arabella,” he stuttered, making his way toward her.

  “Mr. McNeil, it is so nice to see you again,” she smiled, gracefully curtseying before him in view of all the guests.

  When she came up again, Arabella saw that Francis was blushing slightly. She wondered if she had embarrassed him when she had meant to bring him honor, but the twitching at the corners of his lips told her she had succeeded and he was rather delighted by her actions.

  “My goodness, ye are a gracious lady,” he said with a small puff of a laugh.

  Then it was Arabella’s turn to blush. She sensed that they were being watched and that some of the guests were curious as to their relationship. Their interactions were evidently those of two people who knew one another, but Arabella hoped they did not sense the fact that there was a consistent strain between she and Francis.

  It was not long before they were joined by a man who clearly held a role of superiority. He came toward them with a stiff back and a charming disposition, as a man who knew his role and sought to appease others accordingly.

  “And this must be the lass we were told would be joining us?” he asked, nodding toward Arabella. She looked between Francis and the man who shared a few of his features.

  “Yes, me laird, this is the Lady Arabella,” Francis replied.

  Arabella realized then that this must be Francis’ faither. There was a strange tension between the two of them, though. It was as if they were walking on parallel roads, but with a river between them. The laird was stiff and formal; Francis seemed somehow anxious and awkward.

  There was something more, she realized, as if the air was filled with an unspoken question. Whatever it was, Arabella was certain that she would not be told any time soon and she had best just get on with the party and enjoy her evening.

  “Well, lad, she is a beautiful lass. I hope ye enjoy yer evening, Lady Arabella,” the laird said, moving on to the next, more interesting guests.

  Arabella felt shy once more, left alone with Francis after that sort of statement. She then saw another man coming. For a moment, she thought it was the laird again, but then she saw the differences in appearances and realized he must be the laird’s brother, and Francis’ uncle.

  “Well, me goodness! The rumors are certainly true. Lad, where’ve ye been hiding this one?” his uncle laughed inappropriately, slapping Francis on the back.

  Arabella felt her cheeks warm again, but this time the embarrassment came with a hint of rage. Who was this man to be making such statements? How could he shame her so casually as this?

  “Uncle, please…” Francis said, trying to even his own breathing.

  “Of, forgive me, lad. Ye ken I’m only making a joke. She’s the talk of the evening, though. Ye’d best keep her close before any others come along,” he laughed crassly.

  Arabella was disgusted. Once more, she detected that there was some underlying rage or shame that Francis felt. Something beyond her own understanding of the evening’s events. Whatever it was, she had to let this mystery go as well. She was not there to learn about all of Francis’ family secrets.

  She wished rather to show him what sort of woman she was and hoped to gain his interest in so doing.

  Finally, his uncle moved on as well, and once more it was just Francis and Arabella alone, with Laurie hanging at a slight distance.

  “Please forgive me uncle,” Francis said quietly, looking at the ground. “He doesnae always say things the way he ought…”

  The vagueness was another frustration for Arabella. Francis continued to do this. In one moment he seemed intrigued by her and the next he would force her away from him.

  In his face, she saw flashes of rage, but mostly there seemed to reside simply pain. Whatever hurt was causing it, Arabella knew he wouldn’t tell her. He would conceal it as best he could. It angered her, but she didn’t expect anything more of him than that.

  “F-Frances,” she began, knowing she ought not to use his first name so comfortably.

  “What is it?” he replied.

  “I can see that something’s the matter. And I ken that ye’re not going to tell me anything about it. But are ye alright at least?” she finally asked, not caring that it wasn’t appropriate. She cared about him, despite everything, despite her own judgment, and wanted to ensure that he was alright after all.

  Francis sighed. “Aye, I’m fine. I just need to deal with a few things this evening and it’s best ye keep out of the way. It’s no offense to ye, but I dinnae want ye in the middle of it all,” he said, awkwardly trying to preserve her feelings when he had already wounded them.

  “Right…I see,” she replied.

  Arabella turned and left Francis alone. She walked out of the room and was followed by Laurie.

  It was clear that if she was to have any answers to Francis’ confusing behavior, she would need to learn from someone else. There seemed no one better than a brash uncle, prone to speaking out of turn.

  As the evening wore on, Arabella made her way toward Francis’ uncle and finally managed to stand near him, alone, at one of the many refreshment tables. With Laurie keeping her usual short distance, and all the noise of the party, Arabella was confident she could ask the uncle privately about these things.

  “There she is again, that bonnie lass!” the man greeted.

  Arabella put forth a false laugh and smile. “Oh ye do flatter me so. A
nd are ye enjoying the reception this evening?”

  “Aye, lass. I always enjoy a cause for a bit of drinking,” he confessed in a whisper.

  A breeze of his breath rushed toward Arabella and the overwhelming smells of whisky and haggis nearly made her gag.

  “Yer nephew is quite a good lad,” she began, confident that the man was drunk enough to not be bothered by her questions, and not to think ill of her for inquiring about a young man, when she was a young lady who ought to be protecting her own reputation.

  “Aye, a good lad. I dinnae ken about the other part though,” he laughed hoarsely, causing himself to break out in a cough.

  “What do ye mean by that?” Arabella asked.

  “Oh ye ken, that whole ‘heir of the laird’ thing…”

  “What ‘heir of the laird’ thing? He is the heir,” Arabella replied, confused.

  “Ha! Whatever ye say, little lass. He’s just a lad. Nothing much more than that. But whatever it is ye want to think of him as, I’m sure he doesnae mind it. That boy’s got a mind to be whomever the world has told him to be,” the man said, returning to his hacking cough.

  “I’m afraid I still dinnae under-” Arabella began again before she was cut off.

  “Listen, lass. All I’m saying is this…dinnae go chasing after the lad for the sake of a title. A title comes and goes with information. And it’s men like me who’s got information…” he said, leaning in too close once more.

  Arabella simply eyed him with suspicion before Francis’ uncle leaned back against the table and only scooted it with his body weight, nearly falling due to the unexpected movement.

  “Oh, dear me. That’s what I get for starting early!” he laughed, raising his glass in cheers.

  Arabella remained quiet as the man tottered off and found other men to chat with. She was confused and still annoyed. She had gotten nowhere in asking Francis about the evident strain and his uncle seemed only vaguely mocking and unwilling to share about what was really happening.