Soul Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “What on earth is happening?” he shouted at the servant.

  The man stared up at him, rendered incapable of speech, it seemed, in shock.

  “Come on,” Fraser shouted, losing all patience. “Tell me.”

  “Sir...the mistress...she...”

  “She what?” he yelled.

  “She's with them.”

  “What?” He stared at the man in horror. Now it was his turn. He was speechless. He shook his head, completely shocked.

  “I'm sorry to tell you, sir. But they rode off with her. Three men. We couldn't stop them.”

  “What?” Fraser said again, and then his brain cleared and let him speak. “Are you serious? You let them get away? After them!”

  “We...” The guards looked sheepish. “There aren't enough horses in the stable.”

  Fraser swore. “You are unbelievable! Take whatever horses you have and follow me.”

  They brightened considerably at the thought of his company. “Yes, sir.”

  From a place utterly broken, the yard became abuzz with activity. The guards ran to the stables. There were two horses there.

  “One’s...” They trailed off uncertainly. “One's hers.”

  “So?”

  “So she'd send us away if we rode her horse.”

  Fraser laughed, despite his tension. “I believe it. Right, then. You,” he pointed at the guard who'd come forward when he had first arrived. “Come along.”

  The guard nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “My lord,” Fraser corrected automatically. He rolled his eyes at himself. Why was he insisting on ceremony now? “Actually. Never mind. Come on!”

  They rode away.

  As he rode, Fraser felt his heart thumping. They headed across the yard and out through the back way, whence the men had also ridden. “How did they get in?” Fraser asked.

  “Well, they came in the same way the villagers come in. Kitchen's open daily.”

  Fraser swore. The fact that such a kind, generous woman had been betrayed made him more furious. He wanted to make these men feel this keenly. “Which way did they go?” he asked the guard.

  “Along the road,” the guard said succinctly.

  Fraser nodded, and they rode to follow it. “Can we go any faster?” he asked. He was worried. Very worried. His worst fear had come true. They had been planning all along. In addition, he knew which way they were going. To Corron.

  That man intends her harm.

  He swore again, and rode faster. He wanted to save the strength of his valiant horse – after all, if the men intended to reach Corron, they might be riding all day. They had to stop them!

  “Where to now?” he asked as they stopped, looking for any indication of direction.

  “I don't know, milord.”

  “Which way is Corron?”

  “That way,” the man said. His eyes narrowed, then widened. “You don't...”

  “I don't know what to think,” he said quickly. “But yes. I do think. Who else would wish her ladyship harm?”

  “You?” the man asked.

  Fraser stared at him. “What?” For the second time that day, he was horrified.

  The guard sighed. Fraser couldn't see him, for he rode ahead, his mount much stronger, but he heard the unhappy sound.

  “Beg pardon, milord. But we all thought...We thought you wished her no good.”

  Fraser sighed. He supposed he had taken liberties with the lady, and guessed her servants – if any of them had noticed that fact – would be protective of her and disapprove of him. But what could he do? “We need to find her,” he said. “I hope I can allay her fears on my account when I see her again.”

  “I hope so too, sir.”

  They rode north.

  As they headed into a valley, they started to slow. Night had fallen and Fraser wanted to slow down to spare the horses.

  “They'll stop somewhere?” he asked.

  “They'll need to,” the guard replied. “Three of them, one carrying the lady? They won't make it to Corron just yet. And no one likes to travel here after dark.”

  “Indeed,” the count replied. “So. If the group has stopped somewhere, whereabouts would it be?”

  The man sighed. “Would they go to an inn, sir?”

  Fraser snorted. “And arrive with the lady of Evreux held captive with them? Hardly, man.”

  The guard looked upset. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, where then? We urgently need to find them. If we can't stop them before tomorrow morning, we've as good as lost her.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man nodded. Then he frowned. “Should we go straight to Corron? Block the way?”

  Fraser raised a brow. “Good thinking. If we can't find them in the next half an hour, we will do that.”

  “Yes, Lord Count.”

  Fraser and the man headed on into the woods. Fraser racked his brain. What would he do, if he had just abducted someone? Find somewhere in the woods and go to ground. But where?

  He breathed in and sighed. Then he smelled it. Smoke. He looked at the guard, who nodded.

  Fraser indicated they should dismount. The guard nodded. They silently swung to their feet. Then they walked forward through the woods.

  Fraser breathed in, smelling the scent of the smoke. It was stronger now, indicating they were heading in the right direction. He shivered. They might be wasting time sneaking up on a charcoal-burner or a group of outlaws camping. Then again, this might be the men they pursued.

  His suspicions were confirmed when the trees opened out into a trace of path. He realized that three horses could have ridden along here fairly easily. There were signs of recent passage – flattened bracken, the scent of broken twigs and fresh-moved leaf-mold.

  “Sir, I...”

  “Wait,” Fraser hissed. He breathed in and strained to listen. He could almost hear someone talking.

  “We'll set out at first light,” a voice was saying.

  It was so low-pitched, so quiet, as to almost escape his notice. However, he'd heard it. He held up a hand to the guard, who stopped in his tracks to listen too. Together, they stood and strained to hear the conversation around the fire.

  “We'll stay here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is she?”

  “In the barn.”

  “Good.”

  Fraser listened longer, but the men seemed to be settling down and said nothing for a while. He pointed in the direction from where the voices issued. The guard nodded. Fraser made a circling motion with his hand, indicating that they should approach from opposite sides. The man nodded again.

  As they walked forward, Fraser heard his heart pound, and knew it was not fear, but tension. And anger. How dare they harm her? The thought of Bernadette alone and afraid in these woods, was too much for him. She was a brave, exemplary woman! How dare they think to reduce her this way? To hurt her!

  I'll make them pay for this, so I shall.

  He was so focused on the rage that he didn't notice when he walked out into the clearing. He could see the firelight and three forms around it. He froze.

  “Hey, Berthold. Pass me that too...”

  One of the other men chuckled. “Fine. Help yourself – you always were slow, Franc.”

  The other man looked angry. “You shut your mouth. Or I swear...”

  They all laughed. The affronted man laughed too. “Fine,” he said. He reached over and took whatever it was they were sharing around the fire.

  Fraser stood and watched them, making a plan as he went. He had already made a vague outline of a plan when he sent the guardsman to encircle the camp with him. He glanced about. Over there!

  Just behind the circle, perhaps eleven paces away, was the barn. A dark, squat silhouette, he had barely noticed it earlier. Now, he realized with some relief that his fellow was almost beside it. That gave him an idea.

  Will he guess what to do if I start?

  He was fairly sure he would. With that, he ran forward into the firelight, w
hooping and yelling.

  The men jumped back in horror. He saw them recoil and then, one by one, they reached for their weapons.

  “What in perdition?”

  “It's one of them brigands.”

  Fraser laughed insanely, making them all step back. Inside, he was coldly angry. He drew his sword and feinted at the first man. The man reached for his weapon and they clashed.

  Fraser felt his blood rise with excitement. It had been too long since he visited the practice-ground. Since becoming the head of the family estate two years ago, he had almost never had time to attend practice. Now he recalled how much it excited him.

  He was shouting, thrusting, gesturing with the sword. Two men ran at him and he started to fend them off, blood fizzling with excitement. He knew it was insane, that he was mad even to try and engage three men at once. However, he had to do it.

  “The barn!” one of them shouted. Fraser swore as one of the men detached from the group and ran backward into the shadows beyond. He wanted them distracted here.

  He made a gargling yell and ran after the man, temporarily ignoring the two he'd engaged. They were rooted to the spot in terror for a moment before they ran after him. Fraser would have laughed if he hadn't felt so desperate.

  When in doubt, act crazy.

  He remembered the man who’d taught him that, the dour old armorer who had worked for his father. He hadn't ever used that particular piece of advice before. Hadn't had to. Now he knew it worked.

  “Yah!”

  He was still screaming and capering when the two men turned to face him and he noticed the guardsman appearing from the barn. He had cut away the hinges of the door with his unsheathed dagger, and now he had a weight in his arms.

  Bernadette,

  Fraser's heart soared even as he felt desperation close in on him. At that moment, just as his assistant threw Bernadette over his horse and swung into the saddle, he heard a hunting horn.

  The woodsmen. The real ones.

  He wanted to cheer.

  He took advantage of the distraction and ran toward his own horse. Vaulting into the saddle, he rode away.

  Back to Evreux.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IN THE WOODS

  IN THE WOODS

  Bernadette clung to the saddle. She was terrified. She was dimly aware that the men who had attacked her were being fought down. That meant that these men – whoever they were – must be help.

  Or another set of brigands.

  Bernadette wanted to scream, but her head was hanging down and the saddle pressed against her chest, making it almost impossible even to breathe, much less shout. Or scream. She tried to draw in a deep breath.

  “Help!” she cried.

  A voice spoke from her left. “We are help, milady.”

  Him!

  Bernadette felt both confused and elated as she recognized that voice. It sounded exactly like Fraser! But how?

  “Fraser?” she shouted. She heard her voice come out wavering and uncertain. She spat and cleared her throat.

  “Yes,” he replied – he'd heard her anyway. “It's me, milady.”

  She suddenly felt very tired. After all the terror and confusion, all she wanted to do was sleep. “Rest,” she whispered.

  “In a moment, milady. You!” he yelled.

  A voice spoke from above her. “My name's Honore, milord.”

  “Fine. Honore. We ride to the nearest inn.”

  “Very good sir.”

  Bernadette coughed again. The saddle was pressing into her ribs and it hurt. “Up,” she said weakly.

  “Honore?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Stop. Let the lady sit up.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  They had been going at a full gallop. Bernadette had closed her eyes, not wanting to think about the fact that they were riding in a forest at full gallop in the dark. Now, she opened them. They were on the path in the woods, two horses, their breath panting and gasping as they stopped. Two men.

  “Let me help you down, milady,” Honore said gently.

  Bernadette winced as his hands closed around her waist, but he was deft and impersonal in his touch and set her down gently. “Thank you,” she said softly. She looked behind her.

  “Milady,” Fraser said. “Allow me to say how sorry I am.”

  “You have no need to be,” she said tiredly. “Allow me to say thank you.”

  It grated just a little to have to thank him – she was fairly sure he'd gloat. However, when she looked up into his face, those brown eyes were gentle. There was no mockery, only a gentle care.

  “You need not, milady. It was an honor to help you.”

  “Thank you,” she said again. She looked into his eyes and he looked back. There was a long silence.

  “Honore?” Fraser said over her shoulder.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Could you scout back along the road? See we're not followed?”

  “Yes sir.”

  When the sound of him heading through the brush faded away, Fraser and Bernadette looked at each other.

  “My lord,” she began.

  “Bernadette.”

  They kissed. His mouth descended onto hers, but not with the harsh insistence of earlier. This kiss was gentle, tender, an exploration that made her heart lift even as her body ached for more. She sighed and melted into his arms. She was very tired, but here in the velvet darkness of the forest, she felt a sweet need for this man who wrapped strong arms around her and held her close.

  “Milord..?”

  Fraser moved back, looking down tenderly into her face. “Yes?” he called.

  “We need to go back. No sign of them, but you never know who else is about in these woods.”

  “Indeed,” Fraser said. He looked at Bernadette and his mouth lifted in a smile. “Would the lady ride with me?”

  She was surprised, but felt herself smiling. “Yes,” she said softly.

  “Well then. Allow me to help you up.”

  He lifted her into the saddle and Bernadette was surprised by the fact that she felt no repulsion at the feel of his hands on her waist – rather, she felt pleased by it. She sat side-saddle and he sat behind her, his arms wrapped round her, holding her to his chest.

  “Walk on,” he called to Honore. They headed out of the clearing.

  As they rode, Bernadette tried to ignore the sweet sensation of his warm arms. She felt drowsy and the feeling of his heartbeat, steady and warm, under her chest made her feel safe and cared-for.

  She woke with a jolt as the rocking motion of their ride abruptly stopped.

  “Here we are, milady,” Fraser called gently. “At the Old Millhouse Inn.”

  Bernadette smiled up at him sleepily. She let him lift her down from the saddle, still half-asleep. They walked in together and she found it hard to stay awake as they negotiated with the innkeeper and arranged accommodation for the night.

  “Now, milady,” Fraser said gently. “If it would not be too unseemly, I shall carry you up to your chamber.”

  “Thank you, milord.” Bernadette held her breath as he lifted her and carried her up the stairs to a bedroom. She tried not to let her imagination run away, tried not to think about what it would be like to be laid on the bed by those strong arms, with his hands running down her back, unfastening the buttons that Amelia fastened only that morning. It seemed a lifetime away.

  “Now, here we are,” he said gently, placing her carefully onto the bed.

  Bernadette held her breath. He was standing at the bedside, not moving from there. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “It is my pleasure,” he said softly. She looked into his eyes and he looked into hers.

  Slowly, he sat down on the bed. She felt his hand slide over hers and she drew a deep breath as he leaned in and his mouth met hers.

  Here in the bedroom, with no one and nothing to disturb them, the intimacy was intense and she felt a slow, heavy arousal as he held her. She was shivering as his tongu
e gently probed her mouth, her tongue sliding over his and his arms crushing her to him as he pushed her, slowly and insistently, down against the bed.

  His hands traveled down her body and she gasped as he squeezed her breast through the velvet fabric of her gown.

  He sat back instantly, his face contorted with the intensity of need. “My lady!” he whispered. “Oh. I...Forgive me. I should go.”

  She sighed. Her heart was racing, her whole body throbbing in the most surprising of places. She wanted him so badly! She looked up at him sorrowfully. “My lord, goodnight,” she said in a small voice.

  “Goodnight, milady.”

  His eyes were gentle as he looked down at her. She was sitting up on the bed and her eyes stared into his, her whole body aching for him.

  His gaze slid away from hers and then he was walking away, back into the hallway.

  She lay down and closed her eyes. What a day! She had been abducted, and then rescued. Now she had discovered another side of a man she thought she abhorred.

  Well, I always knew I didn't really hate him.

  She smiled and curled up tighter on the bed. Then the memories of earlier – of the fear and danger and the ride – returned and she curled up in a ball, exhausted. Why had that happened? It was entirely baffling. Who were those men? What, more importantly, had they planned to do to her?

  Bernadette didn't want to remember them. All the same, the traces of words she had overheard during the ride came back to her. One of them was particularly memorable.

  “He'll want to see her alive.”

  Who? And had they considered killing her? Who hated her so much?

  During the time locked in the fetid barn, she had wondered if it wasn't the lord of Remy who had abducted her. Now that he had rescued her, she was less sure.

  He had been so gentle, so courteous. However, had he been sincere? She believed so. She wanted to believe so.

  She let her thoughts move to the happier memories: Riding with the count, the feel of his heartbeat under her cheek. The warm strength in his arms.

  She would find out more about the count and his motives tomorrow. For now, all she wished to do was sleep.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN