A Saint at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Six

by Barclay, Celeste

  Blair looked at Hardi and dipped her chin in a tiny nod of encouragement. She wished she could take his hand in hers and offer him the little courage she had to spare. Hardi darted his eyes to her before addressing the king.

  “I am here to answer yer call to appear at court, Yer Majesty, and to pay ma clan’s taxes. I ken I should have waited for yer summons to appear in this chamber, but Lady Blair has brought several pressing matters to ma attention. It seemed prudent to request an audience sooner rather than later.” Hardi met King Robert’s eye and refused to look away. He knew he faced certain humiliation in only a matter of moments, but he would do so without cowering.

  “And what are these matters, Laird Cameron?”

  Hardi inhaled deeply. “I canna read nor write, Yer Majesty, so I relied upon ma uncle, and then other council members, to share the contents of various missives, including the one ye sent. This reliance has nae served me well. With Lady Blair’s help, she has made me aware that the amounts I arrived with to pay ma clan’s taxes are woefully insufficient.”

  “Does your clan not have the funds with which to pay what it owes the crown?” King Robert watched the pair before him, but waited for Hardi to answer.

  “We have the funds, Yer Majesty. However, I dinna have the skills to read the ledgers nor the skills to do the sums to ken what we owed. I didna ken there were more types of taxes than ma council told me.”

  “And now you do?”

  “Aye, now I do. Lady Blair explained the levies on production, nae just on trade, and she computed what I owe. It’s far more than what I brought with me.”

  “Why did your clan council not provide you with the correct information? Why did they not prepare you?” King Robert drilled Hardi.

  “Because nay one expected me to become laird, Yer Majesty. And there are several older members of the council who believe they are better suited to the position. I’d have agreed with them until now. Nay mon who’s willing to jeopardize his entire clan to make a fool of one member should ever hold such responsibility or power.”

  “Let me guess, Laird Cameron. Faolán lied.” King Robert detested the man and had often questioned Farlane Cameron about why he allowed his own duplicitous cousin to remain on the clan council. But he’d understood and accepted that Farlane kept his enemy close, so the man was never out of laird’s sight. Robert was furious to learn that Farlane died without warning Hardi.

  “He did, Yer Majesty. Ma uncle said there were a few members of the council I shouldnae trust, but he didna tell me who before he died. His cousins, Faolán and Drostan, are the only members of the council who can read. I had to rely upon them to tell me what yer missive said and to prepare our payment.”

  “Is Drostan as bad as Faolán, or is he just weak?” King Robert demanded.

  “I believe that he’s weak, and that makes him just as bad as his brother. Based on Faolán’s instructions, I arrived with enough coin to pay our cáin and a small portion of the geld. Lady Blair explained that I must pay a thirlage on our grain, whisky, and cattle, and she tallied how much I owe on the land. She did the sums for the other taxes but didna discuss them when she realized I canna pay the ones I kenned aboot. She suggested I seek yer council, Yer Majesty.”

  “You brought only coin? Did you not bring any sacks of grain or barrels of whisky? Clans may pay in kind,” the Bruce pointed out.

  “I kenned that and suggested it to the clan council. They sided with Faolán and insisted we shouldnae risk giving up our grain in case we need it over the winter. They assured me I had what I needed.”

  “And if Lady Blair hadn’t helped you?” King Robert kept his eyes on Blair, wondering how she’d been drawn into this mess. He’d seen her seated with her brother and Lachlan for several meals and watched the pair dance each evening, but it surprised him to see Hardi seeking a woman’s help.

  “I’d be in debtors’ prison before the end of the sennight. I’d hoped Lachlan might teach me ma letters and numbers before he returned home, but there wasna time. Lady Blair agreed to assist me, so I asked her to read the missives I brought,” Hardi explained.

  “Lady Blair, what are the tallies?” King Robert shifted his focus back to Blair, who was prepared to answer. She glanced at Hardi’s sporran, so he retrieved the parchment on which she’d done her computations.

  “Your Majesty, Laird Cameron has what he owes for the wool, which is forty-six pounds, one merk. He has just over a fifth of what he owes for the geld. Faolán told him it was six pounds, thirteen shillings, four doyt. The Camerons’ geld is actually fifty pounds. I calculated the thirlage on the grain to be thirty-five pounds, four shillings. The levy on whisky comes to twenty-seven pounds even.” Blair looked at King Robert, then Hardi. “I would pay that in barrels, not in coin, Laird. The same for the grain. If the king will allow it.”

  King Robert observed the youthful woman advise the inexperienced laird, and he saw not only kindness toward a friend but also the wisdom that passed from a tutor to tutee. He nodded his agreement that he would accept payment in kind for the whisky and grain.

  “The Camerons’ cattle are worth more to them than to the crown,” Blair asserted. “They owe sixty pounds, two shillings, five doyt for the heads they own. With a geld balance of forty-three pounds, six shillings, eight doyt and the cattle levy, the final sum they need in coin is one hundred and three pounds, nine shillings.” Blair cringed as she said the final amount. That was more than some clans earned in a decade, let alone what they owed in a year. She prayed the Camerons really had the funds to pay for the levy. She didn’t doubt that Hardi’s uncle spoke the truth about the clan prospering; however, she feared Faolán and the clan council might have squandered the revenue.

  “Yer Majesty, I ken ma clan has those funds. Or at least they did before ma uncle passed away,” Hardi spoke up. His caveat echoed Blair’s thoughts.

  “Very well. Since Lady Blair has taken up your banner, I shall extend the time in which you may pay. You will need to return home before you appear before me again.” King Robert nodded, and both Blair and Hardwin prepared to leave. They froze at the king’s next comment. “Since you haven’t brought it up, I take it no one read to you the part of my missive that informed you that since David can no longer fulfill the role of groom, there is your betrothal to settle.”

  Blair couldn’t catch her breath. She didn’t understand why the news came a shock, or why she reacted so strongly when she’d skipped that part of the king’s missive. But the thought of Hardi leaving court to marry a faceless bride suddenly made her chest ache. She gripped her skirts in her lap as she waited for the king to speak. She slid her eyes to Hardi to see if he welcomed the news of an impending marriage, but he appeared to be a light shade of green. She caught herself as she lifted her hand to comfort him, knotting her fingers together instead.

  “Marriage, Yer Majesty?” Hardi croaked before clearing his throat. “I’m nae certain this is the time to bring a bride to a clan with unresolved matters.”

  “It’s the perfect time to use a dowry to pay what you owe,” King Robert countered.

  “Nay. Clan Cameron can pay its taxes, and I willna buy a wife to pay off a debt. I amnae opposed to marrying, but I willna use a woman like that. Ma wife will lead Clan Cameron at ma side. I dinna want to take a bride for her money only to realize that she canna be a proper Lady Cameron. I’m sorry, Yer Majesty, but I willna be pushed into wedding a woman I dinna ken and who may nae be what’s best for ma people.”

  Blair held her breath at the brittle tone in Hardi’s voice. She wasn’t certain she could protect him if the king lashed out for his impertinence. She looked back and forth between the two men, her anxiety growing as they stared one another down. She knew Hardi wouldn’t capitulate, and she feared he’d spend at least one night in the dungeon for it.

  “Very well. You may remain here a fortnight, though a moon would likely suit you better, during which Lady Blair shall tutor you. Then you will return to Tor Castle, where you will g
et your clan council under control before bringing back what you owe. We will discuss your wedding then. Lady Blair, the queen will be made aware of your absence.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Aye, Yer Majesty.”

  “You may go,” King Robert dismissed them. Blair and Hardi hurried to gather the documents the king never reviewed and pushed back their chairs. When they had nearly reached the Council chamber’s doors, King Robert called out, “Lady Blair, a moment, if you will.”

  Blair’s eyes flicked toward Hardi, and she saw his worry as she turned toward the king. She walked back to the table at which the monarch still sat. He motioned for her to step around the table and come to his side. When she approached, the king reached into a sack that sat on the table near his left hand. He withdrew a honeyed penyde from it and held it out to Blair. They were the same ones he and Queen Elizabeth would give to the Sutherland and Sinclair siblings when they were children. Blair’s soft chuckle made King Robert’s lips twitch as she held out her hand. He dropped the candy in her palm, wrapping his larger hand over hers when she enclosed it in her fist.

  “He needs you more than either of you realize, Blair. I admire that he isn’t too proud to ask, but he isn’t aware of just how much he must learn. And you haven’t much time to teach him. He must return to Tor Castle, and there is a betrothal looming. He won’t be able to put that off forever. I tell you this not as your king, but as a concerned uncle who sees that the little girl he once knew is now a loyal and resolute friend to a young mon very much out of his depth. Do what you can, Blair.”

  “I will, Uncle Robert,” Blair whispered, and without thought, she bent down and wrapped her arms around the king’s neck. “Thank you. For everything.” She dropped a quick kiss on his bristly cheek before stepping away.

  “You’re a good lass. Your parents are proud of you, just as the queen and I are.” The king patted her arm. Blair dipped a curtsy and hurried back to Hardi’s side as he pushed open the door to the Privy Council chamber.

  Ten

  Hardi wanted to be ill. He’d struggled throughout the meeting with the Bruce, anxiously sitting before a sovereign who could sentence him to death and strip away all of his clan’s wealth and land. The weight of his duty had never felt so heavy. He’d been in the king’s presence many times as a delegate for Clan Cameron, but he’d never been the representative who spoke before the sovereign. He’d been trying to hide his nervousness, but his temper flared when the king suggested he become betrothed soon. He knew the woman David had been set to marry, Una Macquarie, and while he wasn’t fond of her, he’d already expected having to take on the betrothal. However, he’d wanted to run for the hills when the king mentioned it. For some reason, it was the most unpalatable thing he could imagine. He wasn’t prepared to marry anyone while amid his grief and his transition into leading his clan. He refused to even think about Laird Donald’s inquiry about David marrying his daughter and what that would mean for him.

  As he sat beside Blair and listened to her advocate on his behalf, he couldn’t keep himself from thinking about how much better suited Blair would be as Lady Cameron than Una. The two women were close in age, but Blair carried an innate ability to command respect while Una demanded it by being a harridan. The latter had a reputation for demanding her father bedeck her in lavish clothing, despite being part of a clan branch that possessed only the small island of Ulva. It had surprised him to learn that his uncle considered a Macquarie--and not one from the senior branch on the Isle of Mull--rather than the Donald lass. David had appeared more excited to have the blacksmith pull a tooth than accept Una. Hardi had been more philosophical in his acceptance, knowing there was little he could do, but he wasn’t willing to rush into the arrangement either.

  Now, as he and Blair entered the passageway, he was keenly aware of the grace with which she handled what was an embarrassing situation for him. She’d silently reassured him when he worried he would have tripped over his tongue several times. He wished he could whisk Blair home with him, hand over all the ledgers, and run away to the lists. As his mind continued to wander, Blair caught him off-guard when she clasped his hand and pulled him into an alcove, a tapestry providing them privacy. He looked down into Blair’s beaming eyes and was struck by the umber hue that seemed to shimmer in the scant light that filtered past the tapestry. They shone brighter than the whisky color they’d been in the music room.

  “We survived!” Blair bubbled as she squeezed Hardi’s hand and bounced onto her toes to kiss his cheek. His arms came around her, but they froze as they stared at one another. As if each grain of sand in an hourglass took twice its normal time to drop, their mouths drifted together. They watched one another until their lips pressed, and their eyes slipped closed. The kiss was unhurried as Blair’s hands slid along Hardi’s chest, his muscles twitching beneath her touch, until her arms wrapped around his neck. His tongue pressed against the seal of her lips. She gasped with surprise, but even without personal experience, she knew what he wanted. She opened to him tentatively until she felt his tongue swipe across the satiny recesses of her mouth. She moaned softly as she melted against him.

  Hardi was certain his heart would explode from its rapid staccato. His ears rung as the kiss continued, his breathing echoing within them. He didn’t dare move anything but his mouth, lest he break the spell. Before returning home from fostering, he’d wondered more than once what it would have been like to steal a kiss from Blair Sutherland, but he’d never acted upon it, and the curiosity had slipped away after he returned to Tor Castle. Ever since reuniting, he’d been aware of her attractiveness, but he hadn’t thought—no, hadn’t considered—acting upon it. Her beauty, inside and out, was too great to ignore, and she was even more appealing to him than she had been when he was six-and-ten. But he hadn’t dared imagine doing more than appreciating it from a distance. Now she was wrapped in his arms, and he wasn’t certain he could ever let go. It was only when they were both breathless that they pulled apart.

  With their arms still around one another, Blair and Hardi gazed into one another’s eyes. Passion glazed, the sparks of attraction remained, but neither acted upon it. They eased apart, unwilling to address what had happened but not in a hurry for it to end. Once they were no longer touching, they both remembered to breathe again.

  “Thank—” Hardi began.

  “That wen—” Blair spoke at the same time. Their laughter eased any awkwardness before it could develop. Blair tucked hair behind her ear before trying again. “That went well.”

  “Better than I imagined. Thank ye.” Hardi dropped into a bow, and Blair used the opportunity to tousle his hair.

  “None of that. We need to figure out when and where we can meet for your lessons. When will ye finish in the lists? Midday?”

  “I willna be going. Aye, a fortnight or even a moon is too long to be away from training, but it isnae nearly long enough for ye to teach me what took ye years to learn.”

  “Willna people ask where ye are? Ye said the MacMillans are here. Surely, Henry will notice if ye’re nae in the lists. He’ll want to ken why.”

  “Henry MacMillan can bluidy well keep his neb out of ma business,” Hardi grumbled.

  “But he willna,” Blair countered. “Wouldnae it be better if ye made an appearance each day, even if it’s only a brief one?”

  “Nay. That’ll just make people ask where I’m going,” Hardi replied. “It’s best if I remain out of sight, out of mind.”

  “Then we’ll meet at least in the morning, and if we can, in the afternoon, too. That leaves where. Voices carry in that music room if ye’re nae careful, and it’s too easy for someone to notice one or both of us slipping in and out.”

  “Must we stay here? I mean in the castle.”

  “I canna go to a tavern with ye!” Blair screeched.

  “I didna mean that.” Hardi chortled.

  “Where else in town can we sit with books and parchment before us?”

  “We din
na go into town. Yer guards can accompany us, and we’ll ride out somewhere. The weather is warm enough during the day, and if nae, I’ll either pack an extra plaid, or we’ll make do with missing a day.”

  Blair considered what Hardi suggested and recognized it was the best option. She didn’t want to imagine what the other ladies-in-waiting would conjure as an explanation for her absence, but she trusted Queen Elizabeth to devise an excuse. She wondered if the queen would say she was ill. It would excuse her from the noise and heat of the evening meal. It would also make it possible for Blair to avoid unwanted questions, but she suspected she wouldn’t be so lucky.

  “We can begin tomorrow morn after we break our fast. I must return to ma chamber now to prepare for the evening meal, or I will be late. I pray King Robert explains the situation soon to Queen Elizabeth, so she might have a story in place. As curious as Henry might be, he will be naught compared to the other ladies.”

  Hardi nodded and drew back the corner of the tapestry. He looked in both directions, slowly counting to twenty each time before he stepped into the passageway. He blocked Blair’s way until he counted to twenty once more. Without looking back, he moved in the bachelor quarters' direction, and Blair slipped out soon after, winding her way to her chamber.

  Eleven

  “Little Blair Sutherland has grown into a lush berry waiting to be picked,” Henry MacMillan sniggered. “Perhaps I’ll steal a taste and learn how sweet her juices are.”

  The MacMillans seated with the Camerons roared, but the Camerons glared at them. Hardi struggled to keep his expression neutral when he wanted to bash Henry’s face in. His guards knew how he felt about disrespectful comments made about women, and they were all aware that Hardi and Blair grew up together. Even if Hardi hadn’t tasted Blair’s kisses that afternoon, he wouldn’t have appreciated Henry’s ribald comments. In the space of a breath, Blair went from still seeming much like a younger sister to a woman Hardi wanted. But neither of them had addressed the kiss, pretending as though it hadn’t happened. He would follow Blair’s lead. He wouldn’t make any advances, and he prayed it wouldn’t be uncomfortable when they were once again in each other’s company. He caught glimpses of her from the corner of his eye, but his back was to her.