“It’s nae just that. I didna believe I was smart enough to ken them,” Hardi confessed. Blair’s heart broke to see the giant of a man sitting beside her appear so unsure of himself. She’d believed as a child that he was among the bravest lads she knew. That belief had solidified as they grew older, and she hadn’t questioned it since seeing him again at court. It took her aback to realize even this rugged warrior could feel self-conscious.
“Will ye walk with me for a while? We dinna need to go far. Mayhap just back and forth,” Blair asked. She remained quiet until they walked out of earshot of the guards but remained within their sight. She didn’t want to whisper what she had to say, as though it were some secret or source of shame she intended to keep hidden. “Hardi, I will say this once, then I willna speak it again because I dinna believe in speaking ill of the dead. But yer father was a bluidy selfish bastard who should have let his betters decide what was right for ye and Dougal, cause he clearly didna ken. I dinna ken what he said to ye aboot nae allowing ma father to have ye tutored. I only ken what I heard aboot. But he was wrong to refuse to let ye learn. Nae because now ye need it. But because he made ye doubt yerself, made ye think ye werenae smart. I would beat him to a pulp if I could. Then I would kick him.”
Blair turned away, but then spun back to face Hardi. Her movement was so abrupt that her skirts twisted around her ankles. Hardi watched the anger in her eyes burst into flames where they had been sparks only minutes ago.
“Learning to read and write doesnae mean someone is smart. It means they’re willing to work hard enough to learn. What makes ye smart is kenning ye canna do everything by yerself and that ye arenae a lesser mon for asking for help. What makes ye smart is being willing to learn now that ye’re a mon. What makes ye smart is accepting that a woman is teaching ye and nae pretending to ken more than her or acting as though she’s an eejit. Reading and writing isnae a measure of intelligence. What ye do with it is what makes ye intelligent.” Blair was out of breath by the time she finished.
Hardi reached out a hand and cupped Blair’s face. Her eyes drifted close as she leaned into the warmth of his palm, the callouses were rough against her skin. She covered Hardi’s hand with hers, and they stood together for a long moment before she opened her eyes again. Neither moved to bring their bodies closer together, but neither moved away.
“Thank ye, Blair,” Hardi whispered. He cleared his throat when his voice broke. “Ye canna ken how much yer faith in me means.”
“Ye wouldnae do aught less for me. And I didna lie. I meant all of it.”
“I ken ye did, and that’s what makes it—ye—so special. I felt timid and uncertain when we started. Now I feel invincible. I dinna ken anyone else who’s ever made me feel this way.”
“That’s what friends—” Blair trailed off. Whatever passed between them in the alcove was the same electrifying connection they had now, and calling it friendship seemed wholly inadequate. “That’s why I want to help.”
Hardi reached out his other hand and rested it on Blair’s waist. When she didn’t resist, he drew her closer. She fisted his leine at his waist as though clinging to his shirt would anchor her in the growing storm between them.
“Blair, there is naught I want to do more right now than kiss ye, but I canna. There are too many people watching. Standing here like this is enough to ruin yer reputation, but I canna seem to let ye go.”
“I understand. I shouldnae have kissed ye yesterday. Ye’re practically betrothed.”
“I dinna ken who kissed who first, and I dinna care. I amnae practically betrothed. I wouldnae have kissed ye if I were. There’s been talk of it. I assumed I would have to take on that duty too, but I havenae negotiated any contract or signed any documents. I dinna want to think aboot another woman when I’m standing here with ye. I canna think of anyone after that kiss.”
“King Robert didna sound like he would give ye much choice. It sounded like, in his mind, ye’re already betrothed to the woman.”
“Mayhap that’s how he looks at it, but it isnae how I ever have,” Hardi insisted. “The woman is nae one I wish to marry. She isnae right for ma clan, and she isnae right for me.”
“Ye canna ken that unless ye ken her well,” Blair whispered. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear how well acquainted Hardi was with another a woman while she stood in his embrace.
“I’ve met her a handful of times when her family visited ma clan and when I accompanied David to meet hers. She’s spoiled and frivolous. Ye read the missives. Ma clan is in turmoil. There are threats on every side, and there’s unrest within, if nae a traitor. I canna bring a woman like that into ma clan, into ma home, into ma life.” Hardi gazed over Blair’s head for a long moment before peering into her chocolate-colored eyes. He released his hold on Blair. “I’m nae trying to dally with ye or lead ye astray. This is nae the right time for me to consider marriage.”
Blair let go of his leine, offering a soft smile before stepping back. He watched her chin notch up as she firmed her resolve. “I didna come out here to seduce ye, and I amnae looking to snare ye into marriage. We are friends and have been most of our lives. I willna give that up, so we neednae discuss this again. We had a moment—or two—and now we have cleared the air.”
“Blair—” Hardi understood what she was doing, but it felt wrong to pretend as though there wasn’t something between them. But he had nothing to offer. What was he supposed to do? Ask her to wait indefinitely for him to decide he was ready to play house? He couldn’t do that.
“Come back to the blanket. It must be near the nooning. Ye and yer men must be hungry. After we eat, we shall work on yer numbers.” Blair made to step around him, but he caught her forearm.
“I like it when ye sound like the lass I kenned.” Hardi murmured. But when it was clear Blair didn’t understand what he meant, he clarified. “I like it when ye dinna sound like a bluidy Scot. God intended ye to be a Highlander, and I like it better when ye sound like one.”
Blair blinked several times as she considered how she’d been speaking since they left the castle. She hadn’t once realized that she’d slipped back into her brogue. It felt natural to be near Hardi, and so her regular accent had taken over her speech. She smiled and nodded before leading them back to the blanket.
Thirteen
Blair watched as the seven men devoured the picnic she’d ordered from the castle’s kitchens. She’d heard the teasing about the amount of food she’d packed, but she’d been right in her estimation. She turned to Hardi, “And ye said this looked like I was packing to ride back to Dunrobin. It’s barely gotten us outside Stirling’s gates.”
She munched on her apple as the men finished the last of the meal and tidied up after themselves. She wondered how the men would occupy themselves during the afternoon, having finished sparring before the noon meal. She watched as they moved away from the blanket and sat together, laughing and telling stories. A Sutherland and a Cameron once again took turns on watch. As Hardi wiped crumbs from his leine, Blair watched as the shirt tugged across his arms with each movement, hinting at the defined muscles that lay beneath the fabric. She forced her mind back to planning how to introduce Hardi’s first lesson on numbers.
“How high can ye count?” Blair jumped straight in.
“To at least a hundred,” Hardi answered as he looked up.
“Can ye count by skipping numbers?” Blair held up her hand and pinched her first two fingers together. “Two.” She pinched her last two fingers. “Four.” She alternated grasping pairs of fingers as she continued to count. “Six, eight, ten, and so forth? What about by fives?” She held up one hand then the other until she’d counted to twenty, then held up both hands, raising and lowering them as she counted by tens.
“Aye, I’ve done that before,” Hardie nodded as he picked up where she left off, counting by each increment until he reached one hundred. “I ken that a score is twenty, so when I count things like barrels of whisky and sacks of grain or wool, I keep a ta
lly on a stick.”
Hardi looked around the blanket until he found one that would work before pulling out his dirk. He cut twenty small notches, then cut a horizontal line through them. “I ken that one set of notches is twenty, two sets is forty, three sets is sixty, four sets is eighty, and five sets is one hundred. I repeat that until I’ve finished whatever I’m counting.”
“That’s excellent. Did someone teach ye that?” Blair asked quietly.
“Yer da taught me that twenty is a score, but I figured out that I couldnae remember how many times I counted to twenty unless I had a way to make marks to keep track. I found a twig one day and cut the notches to help. I’ve done it ever since.” Hardi shrugged as he watched Blair.
“If ye ken how many notches are on yer stick, can ye figure out how many are there without recounting each one?” At Hardi’s blank expression, she clarified. “Say ye have one set of twenty and then eight more ticks, do ye ken that’s twenty-eight or do ye have to count the notches again, maybe starting with the score and adding the others?
“I dinna need to count them. I ken what it sums by kenning the two parts.”
“Can ye do that in yer head with more than two numbers?”
“I can if they arenae too large between one and twenty. I struggle around thirteen or fourteen. I can do it from one hundred and two hundred up and so forth.”
“Then ye already ken the hard part. Ye just need to learn what the numbers look like when ye need to read or write them. I can show ye how to add a column of figures, but ye understand the idea behind it. If ye already ken how much different sets of twenty are, then ye can learn that for other numbers. Three sets of four is twelve, just like four sets of three is twelve. That takes a while to memorize, but it can be done.”
Blair gazed up at the sky filled with dozens of puffy white clouds. She laid back and patted the spot beside her. She pointed above her and began counting, changing her method now and then before asking Hardi to do the same. They passed an hour counting and grouping the clouds before counting those. When they were certain they’d counted each cloud at least ten unique ways, they fell silent as they both became lost in their own thoughts. The changing of the guard brought them back to the present.
“I canna thank ye enough for helping me, Blair. It’s nae just the letters and numbers. It’s embarrassed me for years that I’m part of the laird’s family but couldnae read and write. Ma father and all the other men assured me that I would never need such skills. I wanted to better understand what was happening around me when I traveled with Uncle Farlane or Angus or David, but I’m just a warrior and a sometimes farmer.”
Blair rolled onto her side to look at Hardi, who turned his head. “Ye arenae ‘just’ aught. Ye’re a good mon who’s served his clan in every way ye’ve been asked. Who could have predicted ye would one day become laird? I already told ye how I feel aboot yer father refusing to allow mine to help ye. But we canna change the past. Ye are, however, changing yer future. I admire that ye’re willing to take help from a woman.”
“Why wouldnae I? I ken plenty who think women arenae capable of such learning, but it’s obviously nae true. Ye and Maude can read and write. I would imagine most of the ladies-in-waiting can too. Or at least those who had a convent near their homes. Ye benefited from yer brother’s tutor. Now ye’re willing to help. I’d be an eejit nae to accept.”
“Even if people learn of this? Of me tutoring ye?” Blair shifted her eyes down. Hardi used his forefinger and thumb to lift her chin.
“I’d be proud if people heard of how learned ye are and that ye are teaching me because I amnae. Ye’re ma friend—” Hardi broke off as he swallowed. He grasped Blair’s hand as he rose, practically dragging her away from the blanket. He whistled once as they entered a copse of trees. Blair looked over her shoulder to see two Cameron guards and both Sutherland guards spread out along the tree line, facing away from them. The other two Cameron guards entered the stand of trees but soon melted into them. Hardi spotted a gigantic oak tree, and once they rounded it, he eased Blair against the bark.
They came together in a heated kiss, their lips fused together as Blair opened her mouth to Hardi’s questing tongue. Hardi drew her tight against his body, as she went onto her toes to press her chest to his. With a frustrated growl, Hardi pushed his sporran out of the way, his pulsing length relieved to be free of the weight pressing against it, preferring the feel of Blair’s mons instead. Hardi’s hands cupped her backside as she shifted with curiosity and growing need.
Everything fell away—time, people, duty—as they explored passion that had been simmering just below the surface since Hardi’s arrival. His hand slid along her ribs until he cupped her breast, relishing the soft moan he elicited. His fingers slid along the neckline of Blair’s gown until he could feel her nipple. The tight nub poked against his fingers as he passed his calloused palm over it. Blair’s fingers tunneled into Hardi’s tawny locks as her other hand slid under the open neckline of his leine. Her fingers warmed as she absorbed the heat from his smooth skin.
An abrupt whistle had them jerking apart. “MacMillans,” a guard called. Blair hurried to flatten her hair, grateful it was down. It would pass for windblown. Hardi pushed his sporran back into place as he offered Blair his arm. They both recognized Henry and Daniel galloping toward them as they exited the woods.
“Thank you for guarding me while I needed a moment of privacy,” Blair said, certain she’d spoken loud enough for the MacMillans to hear. It was the only thing she could think of to justify them coming out of the trees together. She let go of Hardi’s arm and walked toward the horses, then around them before returning to the blanket. She gathered her books and slid them back into the satchel before the MacMillan brothers could spy them. Once she folded the blanket and placed it on top of a basket, she carried her satchel to her horse and fastened it to her saddle.
“A quaint little picnic between friends,” Henry droned.
“Aye. I’ve been at court for some time, but Lady Blair and I havenae had an opportunity to catch up on news from our families. I learned that Lady Maude recently had a bairn, and I was curious to hear of the lady’s other children.”
“How cozy,” Daniel chimed in.
“And without chaperones,” Henry mused.
“We have six guards,” Hardi gestured.
“Aye, to protect you from someone else attacking. Who’s to protect Lady Blair from you?” Henry wondered aloud, the accusations clear to one and all.
Blair mounted her horse and turned it back toward the castle. With little choice once their lady mounted, Donald and Tomas mounted too. Hardi didn’t look back before he swung into his saddle. Blair spurred her horse into a gallop before they could exchange another word, leaving Henry’s question hanging in the air. They remained quiet until they reined in as a group of stable boys rushed out to gather their horses. In silence, Blair led Hardi under several archways before pushing open the door to an empty storeroom. It was one Blair knew; the room was used to store medicinals that Maude used to fetch from the nearby abbey. Hardi kicked the door closed and reached back to turn the key in the lock.
Their arms wrapped around each other as Hardi steered them toward a table in the center of the room until the back of Blair’s legs brushed against the side. Hardi lifted her onto the table as his lips trailed a scorching line of kisses along her jaw until he reached her ear. His teeth tugged her earlobe before sucking, his warm breath in her ear eliciting a purely carnal moan from Blair.
“Do ye understand what I want to do with ye, Blair? The ideas floating within ma mind as I kiss ye?” Hardi’s voice was hoarse as he whispered into Blair’s ear.
“Aye. I ken. I canna stop wanting to feel ye against me. Ma body aches in a way that only happens when ye are touching me.”
“I want to taste every inch of ye,” Hardi murmured as he tugged the laces loose at the top of Blair’s back until her sleeve sagged. She arched her back toward his questing hand as it slipped ben
eath the material. This time her kirtle was slack enough for him to palm the bare flesh. He kneaded the mound, her nipple caught between his forefinger and middle finger before brushing his thumb over it. When it puckered into a tight dart, he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. As Blair’s breathy moans filled his ears, he pinched her nipple with just enough pressure to make her legs quiver.
His hand squeezed her covered breast while the other hand pulled her skirts high enough to allow Blair to wrap her calves around his. He stepped into the space as she leaned back onto the table. Hardi’s body followed hers. As his rod pressed against her mound, Hardi brought his mouth to her breast, suckling.
“I willna ever look at ye like ma little sister. Ye are the woman I crave, Blair. I want to be inside of ye, bringing ye hours of pleasure night after night,” Hardi pledged.
“The space between ma thighs aches and feels so empty. I ken it’s because ma body is begging for ye to fill it. I want to touch ye, Hardi. Without clothes in the way. I want to learn what every part of ye feels like.” Blair’s eyes met Hardi’s in the dim light. “Does it shock ye to hear I ken what I want, that I ken how a mon and woman join?”
“Mayhap a little, but I’m glad ye understand. I dinna ever want to scare ye, Blair,” Hardi reassured her.
“And I am grateful for what Maude explained, or this would have been terrifying.” Blair smiled, but Hardi’s eyes widened. “I mean nae understanding why ma body reacts so strongly to ye, why it aches for ye. I’ve never felt aught like it.”
“There’s a great deal more that I would like to make ye feel, but I willna do it in some storeroom atop a table.” Hardi pulled away from Blair, the passion still sizzling between them, but the moment of intimacy passed. He eased Blair’s sleeve back onto her shoulder before she reached behind her to tie the ribbons. She once again smoothed her hair as Hardi tugged at the front of his leine and brushed out his plaid.
A Saint at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Six Page 9
