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

by Freya, Bridget

  For a moment they were both quiet. Francis was the first to say anything.

  “Lady Arabella-”

  “Please, just call me Arabella,” she interrupted.

  “Right…Arabella,” Francis continued, blushing. “I am very sorry for how I behaved earlier this evening. It would seem that ye have seen the very worst of me. I am thankful that ye have given me so many chances nevertheless, and ye have allowed me to have hope that we might figure something out about me mum. But I ken that I’ve not made it easy on ye,” Francis said.

  Arabella thought for a moment and wondered if now was the time to start asking for details about his mother, but decided against it. She and Francis had to deal first with their tension and with his consistent anger. After that, she would find the right time to bring up the painful topic of his mother and they could proceed after.

  “And I understand why ye were so concerned earlier today. Ye didnae ken where I’d gone to. I ken I left ye in a rush and I was not so grand at telling ye where I was headed or anything. But I am not used to having to give a report of meself to everyone. In the laird’s home I am ignored by most, save for his daughter and nieces when they lived in the castle. So please understand that I was not aware ye’d expect that from me,” she said.

  “Ye shouldnae have to report anything to me,” Francis said. “But with all the enemies about, I couldnae help but fear for ye. And it was such a long time after ye had gone. I wasnae sure where ye’d left to. I wondered if ye were alright or not. And then the rain started. But anyway, I’m not trying to justify me behavior. I ken it was wrong of me,” Francis confessed.

  “Please, dinnae worry. I am fine. I met a lady last evening and she invited me to spend some time with her,” Arabella said. “But that was all. She lived an hour away. And then I returned. I am well. And ye needn’t worry on me behalf,” Arabella said.

  “I am glad to hear it,” Francis replied.

  He apologized again and Arabella assured him that all was well. Deep inside she still wondered if she should mention his mother now, but tried to push away the temptation. It really was not the right time at all. She needed him to be at peace with everything else first.

  He told her how he had apologized to the coachmen and she was relieved by that as well. It was evidence that Francis was choosing to make himself a better man despite the anger that lived inside of him. Arabella was impressed at how he was working so hard to improve. It made her admire him even more. There was something in the way he spoke that drew her in, no matter what she had seen from him.

  Francis looked at Arabella and paused in his speech.

  “What is it?” she asked, sensing that he was leaning in ever so slightly.

  “I cannae think of words, Arabella. I’ve so much more to say than these simple apologies, but ye are absolutely more than all of it. Ye are the most exquisite woman I have ever seen and yer compassion toward me is something I’ve never seen from a woman in all me life,” he told her.

  Arabella felt herself unable to speak. Francis was being so honest with her and she wanted to return that honesty, but was frightened to tell him what she thought of him.

  “F-Francis…” she said, exhaling with difficulty. Her words would not come.

  “Ye needn’t say anything,” Francis said. “Not unless ye want to. But I need ye to ken how I think of ye.”

  His words helped Arabella to voice her own this time.

  “I think ye are utterly magnificent,” she said and laughed gently.

  Arabella watched as Francis’ eyes lit up in surprise.

  “Ye do?” he asked.

  “More than anything,” Arabella confirmed. “There is something about ye. I keep asking meself if it is only yer…yer outward appearance that has me so intrigued, but it is everything about ye. I ken ye’ve been in a difficult place, but I cannae help it, Francis…”

  “Really?” he asked again, shocked.

  Arabella knew that he might not understand what she saw in him. He had said it himself; she had seen him at his worst. On the other hand, she had also seen so much more. He was a man she found perfectly imperfect and she could not resist the man she saw underneath the anger.

  As Arabella nodded, Francis leaned in and she responded in kind.

  Their lips met in a perfect union of peace. There was no anger or rage from Francis and there was no pride or irritation from Arabella. They felt only unified by the meeting of one another.

  Arabella felt that Francis was warm, and it drew her in even further. His hand came to rest on her waist and she knew that she would be risking her reputation if they were caught. Despite that, for all the world, it seemed there was nothing but this kiss.

  When Francis finally released her, Arabella leaned back and caught her breath. She looked at him and gave him a shy smile before he returned in kind.

  “Well, ye are quite the magnificent lass,” he said with a breathless laugh.

  “And I didnae expect such passion from a man with so much anger,” Arabella teased.

  Francis smiled despite that fact that Arabella worried her teasing might be too harsh for him to handle. It seemed that he didn’t mind it. He understood her just as she understood him.

  For a moment, it was as if everything was right in both their lives. As if the whole world had come to rest on that moment and now they could truly breathe.

  Chapter 19

  A Dinner Among Enemies And Friends

  Francis found himself humming the tune of an old song about love. His heart was swimming after the encounter, kissing Arabella. It had been a kiss that meant everything to him. Suddenly the world seemed bright and filled with joy. Suddenly things were as they ought to be. He was happy, relieved, and filled with excitement for the future.

  As he dressed for dinner, buttoning and straightening, centering his sporran, Francis could not think of anything else. The kiss had truly been magical. Arabella’s lips had been exquisite, sweet, and pleasant. She was such a tender woman. He even began to imagine evenings of them together where she would help him with this ridiculous formal attire.

  More than anything, he just wanted to spend his evening with her again. He wanted to have her at his side, to speak with her, engage her in conversation and in entertainment. She was so wonderful and she was the only thing he wanted in that moment.

  It had been agony to pull away from her to get ready for dinner and the evening ahead. At the same time, it would make it all the more sweet when he saw her again.

  Francis pulled himself together, shaking his head to clear it of all of his thoughts of Arabella. Although they would flood him, probably for years to come, he needed to focus on the evening at hand. He would have to go down to dinner and that meant seeing his uncle and his faither.

  He still didn’t know how he and Arabella might find out the truth, but he couldn’t allow himself to be too affected by his uncle’s accusations when for now he simply wanted to spend time with the woman he found so alluring.

  However, when Francis reached the base of the stairs, he was relieved to find that it was not only his faither and uncle. Guests had been invited without his awareness and relief washed over him. He would not have to cling to his rage. He could brush off the anxiety of his uncle’s accusations because tonight it would be dinner and not a party, no one for him to speak with in a drunken state.

  Francis breathed deeply, relieved, and let go of all of is anxiety. This was the peace he wanted, and he found it in the knowledge that he would be sitting at the table with guests and with Arabella.

  When he heard the sound of a gown swishing behind him, Francis turned and saw her there, eyeing him as she descended the stairs to join him.

  “Me lady,” he grinned, unable to prevent himself. The very sight of her was enough to take his breath away and he couldn’t bother to pretend he was stronger than that.

  “Yer Grace,” Arabella replied, using a title even less accurate than that of laird.

  It made Francis nearly fall all over
himself once more to see her standing before him like that. She was utterly amazing and exquisite in her gown. The way her hair fell over her shoulders caused her to be such a vision and Francis didn’t know how he could ever look past her.

  “How are ye?” he finally asked. It wasn’t merely a question of politeness, but genuine curiosity. It was not as if they could discuss things in that moment, but Francis was desperate to know if she was happy or disappointed with the kiss they had shared. Did she regret it? Did she think he had taken advantage? Or was she floating as he felt he was?

  “I’m well, thanks. And ye? How was yer brief time alone?” she asked with a hint of a laugh. Their private joke. Their awareness of what had passed between them. A secret to bind them to one another.

  “It was…lonely,” he replied, smiling all over again.

  The blush seemed to bounce from one to the other, although Francis could not say which of them was the source of it. Arabella’s astonishing beauty overwhelmed him too much for him to ignore how the gentle pink made her face even more ravishing. Francis could hardly stop himself from kissing her again even now in the midst of people coming and going.

  “There he is, there’s the lad,” came his uncle’s voice.

  Francis knew his face had fallen slightly, but he did his best to recover it. “Uncle. How are ye?” he greeted, turning to face the man.

  “Very well, very well. And ye’ve brought yer beauty to us again, I see,” the man gruffly commented.

  “Aye, Uncle, I did. She will join us again for dinner,” Francis stated, not allowing it to be a matter of question.

  “Ah, well, that’s very nice, lad. She ought to join us. I’m certain she will have a grand time, dinnae ye think, me laird?” he said, gesturing toward Francis’ faither for an answer. It seemed that his uncle had already had a drink, to Francis’ irritation.

  “Aye, of course, brother! Francis, please bring the lass,” the laird called from the other side of the open door. He was polite and sober, unlike his brother.

  Francis looked at Arabella and smiled. She smiled back, albeit uncertainly. They both realized that perhaps she hadn’t been invited to dine with them after all, but Francis was not going to miss out on an opportunity to spend time with her or to have her at his side. No matter how awkward it might become, they would accept it.

  Arabella was the only female guest staying at the home, although many couples were in and out throughout the days to greet the laird and visit. Francis knew that for her, being the only woman was lonely at times, and certainly a bit overwhelming. Arabella could brush past it all, but he wanted her to at least spend time with him when she could, as he could make her feel significantly less lonely than if he had not been there at all and she was alone with his faither, uncle, and guests.

  Around the table sat men of importance, but a smaller group than the previous evening. Francis realized that these were the men that the laird truly desired to have at his side, especially in the midst of all that was to be done during this time in Edinburgh.

  Francis had not yet had to join his faither in the castle where they would be forced to put on a pretense of Hanoverian loyalty, but he knew from the bits and pieces he heard of the conversation that these other men were those who would be alongside them.

  “Me lady,” greeted one of the servers. Francis watched as, unrecognized by the others at the table, Arabella was handed a card. He observed that she read it privately and then resumed her interest in her food, delicately placing the card on her lap, upside down.

  Francis could not help but wonder at it. Could it be an invitation from one of the gentlemen the night before? He tried to eye her, but her face gave away nothing and she was sitting directly beside him, where he could only see half of it anyway.

  It was not long before Arabella struck up a conversation with him as if nothing strange at all had happened.

  “I do believe yer uncle had best stop filling his cup,” she said, leaning over to Francis and trying not to laugh.

  Francis nodded in reply, raising an irritated eyebrow as his gaze moved across the table to where the man sat, laughing heartily with his face reddened once again.

  The laird’s brother was mercifully silent on the topic that had caused such a rift for Francis all those times. He was rather distracted at present, using foul words to express his hatred of the Hanoverians. While most at the table considered themselves of a higher class than to use such words, they could not claim to disagree with him.

  For Francis, having so many others at the table truly eased his concerns and he felt quite certain that this semi-formal event would keep his uncle at least partially in favorable behavior. Meanwhile, the Laird of Inveroch laughed with only the slightest tinge of embarrassment at his brother’s antics.

  Francis watched it all, but he could sense Arabella continuously looking at him, gauging his response to the various conversations. He would turn to her as often as he could and they would share a long, meaningful gaze, mutually aware of the secret they held of their time with one another.

  He could not help but continue to wonder at the calling card Arabella had received, but there was no sense in worrying just now. He knew that he trusted her, for better or worse, of his own good. Whatever the card held, whomever happened to be the sender, he believed that Arabella was a good woman, a woman that he could rely on for her integrity.

  “Francis,” she began, leaning in to make a quiet conversation with him.

  “Aye, me lady?” he replied.

  “I am curious. What exactly were ye brought here for? I mean, I hear all the conversation and I ken generally what it’s about, but what are ye doing here if they havnae sent ye out to do anything?” she inquired.

  Francis thought for a moment and nodded to himself. He decided he might as well let her in on the rest. “Well, tomorrow I am heading into it all. I cannae say that it is going to be easy or smooth, Arabella. But I dinnae have another option, ye see. Me cover isnae fully built even. The laird says this is urgent and me superior from me clan is eager to have communication. But it’s an unusual situation…” Francis said, still unsure if his explanations would make sense to Arabella.

  Did she understand the complicated relationship between him and this man he was to call faither? Did she understand how that might affect the unusual strategy for reporting he had to do? Sending to his superior when the leader of the clan was his own…supposed…faither and trying to distance himself from the Jacobites for the sake of his cover, and yet he was staying with them in town.

  It was a delicate situation. Part of Francis even wished Arabella had not come for the sake of her very safety. If it turned out that he was questioned about her, would he be able to keep up the ruse that she was a servant? It was certainly better to keep her hidden, or at least to not associate with her again in public. The situation was far too delicate a matter.

  Arabella simply nodded at his reply. He could see the gentle concern of her face, could tell that she was uncomfortable with his duties, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  When the sticky toffee pudding was brought out for dessert, Francis was quite tempted to watch Arabella indulge in the sweetness of it. She was the one thing that calmed his mind. She was a source of peace that he could not find anywhere else in the world. She was all he wanted to focus on now.

  Francis knew it was wrong, he had a duty. He had trials to concentrate on and tasks to fulfill, and his nation relying on his actions and the duties of others like him. There was no sense in being so completely distracted that he failed the side for which he fought. Nevertheless, it seemed impossible to do anything else.

  Finally he leaned back to Arabella, needing the sound of her voice again.

  “How is the pudding?” was the only thing he could think to say.

  She looked at him with a knowing glance, and Francis realized that she could see right through his attempts at conversation.

  “It is…remarkable,” she answered with a girlish laugh, lift
ing a forkful to her mouth.

  “Perhaps once ye’ve finished we can convene to the terrace?” he asked, nodding out the door of the dining room. A little down the hallway was a room that led out to a wide overlook. The night was growing older and he considered that there might be a slight chill, but it could be nothing compared to the warmth of Arabella’s company.

  “I would love nothing better,” she replied, taking another bite in a careless way. Many young women would have been hesitant to show such indulgence, but Arabella was remarkable in her own right. She was far more genuine and carefree than many of the young ladies Francis had known.

  Although she appeared soft and tender at first sight, Francis had quickly come to realize that she was stronger than that. She knew how to be her own woman and to share her voice. It was one of the most exquisite and intriguing aspects of her personality.

  In addition, it was one of the many reasons that when she finished her dessert, he nodded to her and stood, taking her hand to assist her, and departed with her out of the dining hall.

  Chapter 20

  Questions Answered On The Terrace

  “It’s so quiet,” Arabella noted with a satisfied sigh.

  “Aye, it is. And it’s made all the better by yer voice being the only sound,” Francis replied.

  Arabella felt herself blush. When a strong son of a laird said things like that to her, she couldn’t help but enjoy the flattery.

  Of course, she knew that Francis didn’t necessarily consider himself the son of the Laird of Inveroch. No, instead he was just waiting out the time for his true birth to become known and destroy all chances he had at living in dignity.

  Even still, Arabella knew that he was going to be the next laird. She trusted that no one could ever prove such a thing against him, whether it was true or not. And why should they? Francis was such a good man. Who would want to see him tossed aside as laird?