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

by Emilia Ferguson

  “Mm.”

  She turned away and in silence they rode up toward the castle.

  “Who goes there?”

  Camden let out an explosive sigh. They had reached the side gate. He cleared his throat.

  “I, Rubina!”

  Her voice was answering before his. A clear, defiant voice. The gate guard – they could just see him now, if they looked up through the leaves – stared.

  “My lady! Hey, Matt! Open the gates.”

  The gate creaked open. Rubina, Camden noticed, had gone white. He rode up toward her. The courtyard was filling with people – they couldn't see them yet but the commotion of the guards echoed through – and Camden turned to her.

  “Leave me now,” she hissed urgently. “I'll ride in alone.”

  Camden nodded, miserably. He knew that she was right. If she appeared with him, people would think they had eloped together. They would have to wed, then. He realized, then, how hopeless things were.

  Truly, she hates me.

  As she rode ahead, the shouts of the guards rang out.

  “My lady!”

  “Sir! She's here!”

  “We searched everywhere...”

  Camden closed his eyes, waiting for Rubina to react to what must be, for her, a humiliating ordeal. He wished he was beside her.

  “Silence!” a voice rang out. It was the same sound as Rubina's, only slightly thinned and hollowed with age. “You are dismissed,” it said.

  Camden blinked. He appeared at the mouth of the gateway in the sunny courtyard, just soon enough to see Rubina ride toward the still, upright figure of her mother.

  He hung back. Watched from a distance as his dearest slid down regally from the saddle, and stiffly embraced her mother. The guards dispersed. The two women looked at each other and then, side by side, walked into the castle.

  Camden stayed where he was. He sighed. What could he do? He was not wanted.

  “Hey! Sir Camden!” a voice called. Camden spun round and glared at the guardsman who appeared beside him.

  “What?” he said.

  The man blinked. Camden saw a coldness in his face and realized that he must be giving him a murderous stare. He let out a long huff of breath.

  “Leave me be,” he said.

  The man shrugged.

  “Camden?”

  Camden found himself looking at Sean. His friend had a mix of joy and concern on his lean features.

  “What?” he sighed.

  “I'm glad you're safe.”

  Camden sighed again. “I'm tired. Any chance...any chance of a bath around here?”

  Sean chuckled. “I'll have one sent up. Want to talk?”

  Camden nodded. In the simple chamber he and Sean shared, he sat down heavily on his bed. He was caked with sweat from the journey, and his muscles ached. He just wanted to sleep.

  “I'm finished,” he said to Sean. Sean grinned sympathetically.

  “I'm sure you are. Long ride? Everyone was looking for you. Marguerite guessed where you were,” he added. “Which reminds me. Duke of Buccleigh wants to see you.”

  “Oh?” Camden looked up tiredly. A servant came in with a bath, another one with a pail or two of warm water to fill it. Sean sent the man off to fetch cakes and ale. When they were gone, Camden turned to Sean, questioning.

  Sean raised a shoulder helplessly. “I don't know,” he said.

  Camden shrugged out of his tunic. “Mind giving me a minute or two in here?” he asked.

  Sean smiled, easily. “Fine, friend. Don't be too long.”

  “I won't.”

  As he soaked in the tub, Camden let his mind explore the possibility of what the duke of Buccleigh might want with him. He had his own ideas about that.

  I would want me to wed my daughter, if it was me.

  He closed his eyes. He understood the duke's predicament. If he knew anything about people, he knew that someone would have noticed his absence and then, subsequently, his return with the missing lady. It was only a matter of time before rumor swept the court of their elopement.

  He wants to avoid a scandal

  Camden sighed aloud. It was ironic. He would have given almost anything, a few days previous, for the chance to wed Rubina. He still would. Only now, she didn't want him.

  Now we will be forced to wed. Now, when she's decided she hates my presence. When we have almost no chance of finding happiness.

  He laughed, a bitter, cruel laugh. It was a bitter, cruel occurrence.

  Later, when the servant had left the cakes and ale and he was dry and warm from the bath, he and Sean sat and talked.

  “It must have been...chaotic.”

  “Well, a missing lady, you know...the whole court was in pandemonium.”

  Camden closed his eyes, pulling a wry face at Sean. “I guessed.”

  Sean sighed explosively. “It's terrible. People. You know how they are. Especially with word of war on the air. Her father shut them all up. Poor man. I never saw such distress.”

  “Where will I find him?” Camden asked.

  “I don't know,” Sean admitted. “Ask someone to show you there. You going now?”

  Camden sighed and nodded. “I suppose I should.”

  “Mm. Good luck, friend.”

  Camden looked at him wearily. “Thanks, Sean.” He didn't know quite what his friend expected to happen to him, but he suspected he had the right idea.

  He's either going to kill me outright, or demand I wed her. Maybe both.

  He chuckled. At this point, being outright slaughtered by her father seemed a fair escape for both of them. Trapping a wonderful woman in a loveless marriage – being the cause of pain to a loved one – that was by far the worse fate than being safely dead.

  “See you at dinner,” Sean said. His gaze held Camden's. Camden sighed.

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so.”

  Camden let out a long breath. That, at least, was a reassuring thought. “Thanks,” he said.

  Sean just nodded and Camden walked slowly out.

  “Will you take me to the Duke of Buccleigh's room?” he asked the first footman he saw.

  The man blinked, surprised. “Of course, sir.”

  On the way, Camden felt his palms start to sweat. He wore a simple white tunic and brown trews. No armor and no weaponry. He was there to face whatever the duke saw befitted his actions.

  He let out a long breath and tried to think of something to say. Like, “I didn't touch your daughter”, or “I love Rubina with every fiber of my being”.

  Both seemed unfair things to say. He heard the servant clear his throat.

  “Here we are, sir.”

  Camden was facing a vast oak door. He nodded.

  “Thanks.”

  The servant bowed and withdrew, leaving him alone with the door and all the words he wanted to say. He drew a deep breath and knocked.

  “Sir? Your grace?”

  He knocked again.

  The door opened suddenly, startling him. He found himself looking into a strong, square-jawed face. The eyes that met his were hard, cold, and sad. They looked exactly like Rubina's, only a shade more gray.

  “Yes?” the man said brusquely. “Who are you?”

  Camden coughed. “Uh...your grace? Sir Camden.” he bowed low, swallowing his fear.

  He saw the man's vast shoulders tense and took an involuntary step back. A wall of anger and confusion hit him. Then, to his surprise, he saw resignation on his face.

  “She loves you?” the duke asked.

  Camden shrugged. “My lord. I'm sorry. I don't pretend to know the lady's thoughts.”

  He saw Lord Invermore's brow rise. He looked at him with appraisal on his face.

  “You do not know?” he asked.

  “No, my lord.”

  Camden shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking beyond the bulky form, trying to find calm in the surroundings. He was in a spare, unfurnished room, empty except for a fine carved desk. The duke's study, he
presumed. At length, the man's cold gaze shifted.

  “You do not know, and yet you rode to save her?”

  Camden gulped. “Yes, my lord.”

  “You care for her, then. Perhaps more than anyone else here.” A look of hurt crossed the man's face and Camden, recognizing it, knew it for self-reproach, regret.

  “I do care for her,” he said softly. “Though I think I am not the only one.”

  Her father chuckled bitterly. In that ironic grin Camden could see the uncompromising, formidable knight he must have been – the man the knights still talked of sometimes. The tales they told of Sir Rufus seemed unlikely – how he had won and wooed his wife, the most sought after heiress of the land. How she had rejected him until he was almost fatally wounded. Their love was the stuff of legends. Now, though, Camden knew a bit more how it felt – Rubina, too, inspired that love wherever she went.

  “No,” her father said. “You're not the only one who feels so strongly about her.”

  Camden smiled lopsidedly. “I know, my lord. Your daughter inspires the love of all who see her.”

  Her father nodded. “You do love her, don't you?”

  Camden let out a sigh. “Yes,” he said.

  He hadn't admitted that aloud before, not even to himself. However, it was absolutely true. He loved her with every fiber of his being.

  Her father sighed. “I couldn't part with her to anyone less,” he said. “You intend to wed her?”

  Camden gulped. Before he could give his response any thought, it poured from his lips. “Yes,” he said. He surprised himself with his response. He had always longed to wed her, but had never thought in his wildest dreams that he might one day get the chance to ask her father for her hand.

  The duke closed his eyes. “Well, then,” he said. “You have my blessing. I hope you prove worthy of her.” He was looking away when he said, it, his voice tight. Camden felt his own heart ache for the man.

  Camden swallowed hard. “I will try to, my lord. I will try with all my heart.” He had never meant anything so fervently in all his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A WEDDING IS DONE

  A WEDDING IS DONE

  Rubina wanted to cry as the maid lifted the veil over her head. She bit her lip and looked out of the window, focusing on the scene of trees and long grass.

  This was her wedding day. She looked down at her hands, long and pale, clasped over the cerise velvet skirt with its slashed front of white finely-wrought lace.

  Her maid sniffed. “You look so beautiful, milady.” Greere had been Rubina's maid since she was a young girl. Rubina felt her heart twist painfully as she wished she could participate in the girl's innocent delight.

  “Thank you,” she said hollowly.

  “There, now. And don't forget these.” She passed her a bouquet of pink-edged plum flowers.

  Rubina drew in a long, shuddering breath. It was her wedding and it was so, so different to how she would have imagined it. It wasn't the groom – he was as dear to her as anyone could be. It was herself. Her own stone-cold sadness.

  I don't think I can do this.

  The wedding was at Buccleigh, a small wedding to which only family and friends – Marguerite and her cousin Ettie, who happened to be coming to court – were invited.

  It was shame that weighed on her. Her heart told her that her father had arranged this marriage simply to save her. She would have been disgraced without it. Now, she could stay at court, live the same life she always would have done.

  I'm sure he's relieved.

  She didn't want to let such horrible thoughts occupy her mind, but she couldn't help it. It seemed so obvious that this was the only reason Camden would agree to wed her.

  “Thank you, Greere,” she said as the woman stood aside for her. She paused briefly in front of the mirror. The woman reflected in it was coolly groomed and looked just right. Long dusty red gown, the front slashed to show a lace underskirt, the bodice meeting it in a “v” shape. The sleeves were long and lapped over her hands, the dress tight and with a low neckline that showed her pale skin. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, a defiance. It was a sign of purity, chastity. She wore it like a challenge.

  Let any of you question me about that, if you dare.

  Her anger was a candle, warming her where she was cold.

  “Let's go down, she said hollowly to Greere.

  Her mother met her in the hallway. She looked lovely, in a dress of blue velvet and white brocade. Rubina smiled at her uncertainly. She still had no idea what her mother actually thought about her now.

  “My daughter,” her mother sighed. “You look...stunning.”

  Rubina smiled faintly. “Thank you,” she said. It felt as if her feelings all came at her through a cloak – they were the impression of feeling, only, not the true, easy emotion she'd once felt.

  “Daughter.”

  She looked at her father, bulky and regal in his cloak. Anger warred with fondness in her chest. This was his doing.

  “Father,” she said tightly. “Let's go, yes?”

  If he was hurt, she didn't look at him long enough to see it.

  They headed into the hallway and out toward the chapel.

  Rubina looked down the aisle toward the altar. Her heart throbbed. There he was. His hair caught the light shining down from the high, high clerestory windows. His back was straight under the plain green tunic. She loved him so much in that moment.

  I love you. I wish you wanted me for who I am.

  She blinked fiercely, defiantly. Stood beside him at the altar.

  “Camden Alexander McInvering, vis accípere Rubina Joanna Invermore, hic præséntern in tuum legítimum uxorem iuxta ritum sanctæ matris Ecclésiæ?”

  “Volo.” I do.

  Rubina shuddered. Only a few more words now. A few more Latin phrases before she was bound in a place so full of love, but now redolent of cold indifference.

  The priest turned to her, said similar Latin words and she swallowed, agreeing.

  More Latin. Then, suddenly, abruptly, she was facing Camden. Through the veil, she could see his eyes widen with uncertainty. She sighed. He could kiss her, she wasn't going to break.

  He kissed her. A small, chaste kiss, gentle and comforting, on the lips.

  Then they were heading back down through the crowds toward the great hall.

  Camden walked beside Rubina, trying to still his racing, aching heart. The world was full of her. He felt as if he walked on a current that flowed his every sense into her, making his body ache and his soul sing. He wanted her so much!

  Her long red hair was loose and silken round her pale shoulders. Her dress showed the beauty of her cleavage and long throat. Her lips and eyes were red-brown, shades of that fiery hair. He wanted her to desperation.

  She's hurt. She's scared. Go slowly.

  “My lord?”

  Camden blinked. They had reached the dais and he hadn't even noticed. He reached out a hand to help her up onto the platform. He wanted to groan as his hand touched her soft, scented palm.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  She didn't even look at him as they walked together along the platform and toward the seats set out for them. Two large, straight-backed seats of dark oak wood, facing out into the room. Camden stood beside her, feeling at once regal, blessed and agonized as the room acclaimed the newly wedded pair.

  He saw Rubina's eyes tense in the corners and thought she must be in agony right now, if for a different reason.

  She's scared of me.

  He sat stiffly beside her, looking out over the hall. He could see Sean and Marguerite, sitting at the long bench. There were two tables – one for noble guests, one for the servants. A small wedding, but nevertheless the bride was clearly well loved.

  Camden felt her shift beside him on the chair and realized that she must be fairly tense. He was. He couldn't stop thinking about the bedding ceremony.

  If her mother has half the sense I think she has, she'l
l ban it for tonight. The last thing the lass needed was the household servants in their bedchamber.

  He glanced at Rubina. She was staring fixedly ahead. The servants poured claret into their drinking cup and Camden tensed as he raised it for Rubina to drink. She wet her lips. His loins ached looking at their moist redness. He wanted her so much,

  Easy, Camden. Don't think about it. Focus on the surroundings. Breathe out.

  He sat through the delicious meal – course after course of rare delicacies, the best the estate could muster. The guests were becoming louder and merrier, the band setting about a lively melody with pipes, flute and violin.

  He glanced sideways at Rubina. She was sitting rigid beside him, staring ahead. Her eyes caught his. He was surprised by what was in their depths.

  He had expected fear, or loathing. Cold indifference. However, her eyes looked into his with something intangible, some expression that confused him.

  He cleared his throat and looked fixedly ahead.

  Rubina turned to him.

  “I feel faint,” she said. He reckoned that expression was fevered. He nodded.

  “Should we go?” It was hot in the room, oppressively hot. It would likely suit them both to leave now.

  If we leave now, then we can escape the ceremony.

  His loins clenched at the thought and he felt a physical pain shoot through him. He was not going to force himself on Lady Rubina. He would be a gentleman. He would do exactly as she wanted.

  She bit her lip. Nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Camden pushed back his chair. “Will you leave first?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  She smoothed her skirts and pushed back her chair. His whole body throbbed as he watched her get to her feet. “I feel faint,” she said to her mother. “I will take the air outside awhile. If you could please excuse me?”

  Her mother nodded.

  “Of course, Daughter.”

  Rubina stood and, straight-backed, left the room.

  Camden sat and waited. His whole body ached. He felt his hands lace through each other restlessly. He cleared his throat. When he could wait no longer, he turned to Lady Amabel. Her sapphire eyes shot him a look of inquiry.