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

by Barclay, Celeste

  Once the four horses were on their way, Blair asked, “Ye named yer horse Pride?”

  “Aye. I received him as a gift from Uncle Farlane when I returned from fostering. He said I was a mon and needed a mon’s horse.” Hardi explained. “He was my pride and joy, so I named him for it.”

  The powerful stallion ate up the miles as his hooves churned up the ground beneath them. Blair felt the muscles bunch and release with each stride. “We should find a mare and name her Joy. Then Pride should be her stud.”

  Hardi chuckled but tucked the thought away for another day. He liked the idea of giving Blair the mare as a wedding gift, even though she already had Buannaiche. Chickens scattered as they raced through town, angry fists raised at them, curses flung at them about hens never laying eggs again. Once in the castle’s bailey, the guard handed the missive to Hardi. He ordered the man to eat and retire to the barracks. Hardi glanced around before taking Blair’s hand and leading her to the gardens. They walked in silence until they reached the center, and he handed the parchment to her. Blair tore open the wax seal and unfolded the vellum. She scanned the missive and gasped before starting at the beginning and reading it aloud.

  Hardwin,

  The Mackintoshes and Macphersons raided our borders a week apart. They razed the fields and burned the crofts before executing the villagers. The attacks were too similar not to have been organized. They’ve made camp on our side of the border from the Macphersons. The council believes they intend to lay siege while you dally at court. If you do not decide to lead soon, you may have no clan left to lead at all. I will make decisions in your stead to protect your people.

  Loyal servant to Clan Cameron,

  Faolán Cameron.

  The tone and contents stunned Blair. She never imagined a clan member writing with such disrespect to their laird. Even the salutation wasn’t befitting a laird, regardless if they were family. She ground her teeth as she looked up at Hardi. The anger she anticipated wasn’t there. She saw shame instead. She glanced down at the missive Hardi now held but still couldn’t read. She placed her hand on his arm, and Hardi jumped as though he’d forgotten she stood beside him even though her voice still filled his head.

  “Hardi?” Blair murmured.

  “I must leave. Today,” Hardi looked back at the castle, his mind already a blur of things he needed to do to depart before sundown.

  “Hardi, wait. Listen to me,” Blair clung to his sleeve as he turned away. “This doesnae make sense.”

  “It makes plenty of sense to me. While I spent ma days courting ye and pretending to be more than I am, ma clan suffered because I dinna have any business being their laird.” Hardi’s voice bit into Blair’s heart as she recoiled from his veiled insinuation. She gritted her teeth to keep from lashing out, knowing Hardi was a drowning man who didn’t need water pouring over his head.

  “Listen to me, Hardi.” Blair grabbed his upper arm, her fingers barely wrapping around the sides, and shook it. “Just stop for a moment. Riding out without a plan and without reasoning through what this missive doesnae say is likely to get ye killed.”

  Hardi looked down at Blair’s face. She wasn’t pleading with him. She wasn’t even trying to reason with him. Hardi realized that she was thinking more like a clan leader than he was. He nodded for her to continue.

  “When did this happen? Faolán says the attacks happened a week apart. Why didna he send a missive after the first one? Why wait? It took yer mon at least five days to get here. That means the first one happened at least a fortnight ago, if nae longer.” Blair pulled the missive from Hardi’s hand and shook it. “Ye could’ve already been back if ye’d been told. Mayhap even prevented the second attack. This isnae something Faolán and the council should have kept from ye. Where were yer patrols to keep the Mackintoshes and Macphersons from setting up camp? Why werenae more patrols set after the first attack? Faolán doesnae say whether either Laird Mackintosh or Laird Macpherson led the raids. Who’s in charge, and did they send any demands? There’s nay mention of what they want. It isnae yer land. There are too many hills in the area to do more than keep goats. The Macphersons have enough land for that. What do they want?”

  Blair pointed at the castle and tapped her temple. She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at Hardi. “Both lairds ken ye’re away. That’s why they timed it when they did. But they must also ken ye’re here, at court, with the king. They wouldnae massacre yer people for naught kenning ye can tell the king. Hardi, ye need to find yer messenger and find out what really happened. I dinna think this even scratches the surface of the truth.” Blair was breathless by the time she finished.

  Hardi nodded as he considered the questions Blair asked. They were ones his brain should have thought of, but guilt and shame took hold, slowing his mind until it stalled. He was embarrassed that he’d failed to wonder the same things as Blair, which only made him feel like a greater failure. He feared Faolán was the better choice for leading the Camerons.

  “Dinna do that, Hardi,” Blair’s icy voice warned. “Dinna think Faolán should be laird. He wrote that missive hoping this is how ye would react. He wants to make ye feel guilty and ashamed. He’s manipulating ye, and I’ll be damned if I watch him succeed. Hardi, how much time did ye spend with yer uncle when he had to decide these matters? How much time did ye spend following orders that ye didna questions the reasons for?”

  “Until I became ma uncle’s heir, I rarely was a part of discussing clan business. I patrolled and stood watch. Otherwise, I trained or helped where I was sent.”

  “Exactly. Do ye ken why these questions came to me? Because I was trained to be a chatelaine. That doesnae just mean counting vegetables and bedlinens. Who do ye think protects the keep and the clan when the laird rides out? If ye think it’s guardsmen, then ye are as blind as every other mon. The lady of the clan must ensure everyone eats, everyone has a roof over their heads, and ensures the wounded and sick are cared for. Under a siege, who rations the food and supplies? It isnae the laird, that’s for bluidy sure.” Blair took Hardi’s hands in hers and squeezed until he looked her in the eye. “And who do ye think ensures enough food is available when patrols ride out all of a sudden? Who decides what supplies are sent along with warriors to give to survivors?”

  “I didna ken a clan’s lady did all of that,” Hardi admitted. He felt just as overwhelmed as he did a moment ago, and even more foolish for not knowing what was obvious to Blair.

  “Stop, Hardi,” Blair’s frustration echoed in her voice. “What do ye think I was doing when I wasna sitting and embroidering? Mama was teaching me these things. What do ye think I was doing during the years between ye returning home and me coming to court? I was practicing these skills. I’ve kenned ma entire life that I would likely be the lady of a clan. Ye’ve kenned all of two moons that ye would be laird. Faolán is taking advantage of that. Ye need to decide now, Hardi. Are ye going to let Faolán take the lairdship from ye, or are ye going to take help when it’s offered and stand yer ground?”

  Hardi took in the determined face before him. Blair’s resilience radiated from her. He’d been self-conscious when he asked her to teach him to read and write, but not too prideful to accept her help. Not only had he fallen in love with Blair, he’d gained confidence as a laird. He wouldn’t let Faolán or anyone else strip away Blair’s hard work. He knew the moral support she’d given him was worth even more than the academics she taught him.

  “I dinna trust Faolán to lead a fly out of a chamber pot. Ye’re right that I wasna trained to be laird, but that’s what fate and the Lord dealt me. Blair, I dinna ken what I would do without ye.” Hardi pulled her into his embrace, pressing a tender kiss against her lips. She opened for him on a sigh, her arms wrapping around his neck. They heard the shocked gasps not far from them, but neither pulled away. After a handful of small kisses, Hardi professed, “I love ye.”

  “And I love ye. I will stand beside ye nae matter what, Hardi.”

  Hardi nodded.
They stood with their arms around each other as Hardi thought aloud. “Ye’re right that I need to find ma guard and ask him what he kens. Laird Menzies is here, too. He may ken what the Macphersons have been doing near our borders. Once I find out what I can from them, I will decide whether I should inform the king. If I canna do all of that this eve, then I will still ride out in the morn. I dinna want to leave ye here, Blair, but neither will I take ye when ye arenae ma wife. And I will nae ride ye into battle.”

  Blair nodded. There was nothing she could say other than agree with Hardi. Their romance was hardly the most pressing matter, and she knew he was right that she shouldn’t leave court with him while they were unwed. Or at least not until a betrothal was set. Blair accompanied Hardi to the barracks, where he asked for his guard. The man exited the barracks with just his plaid slung around his waist and heel of bread hanging out of his mouth. He choked when he saw Blair and hurried to bow. Blair covered her mouth and looked away so the man wouldn’t see her laugh. When she felt composed and the man no longer coughed, she looked back at him and offered the kindest smile she could, hoping it would ease his discomfort.

  “Bran, Lady Blair and I are in need of information. Do ye ken what Faolán included in the missive?” Hardi asked.

  The guard looked between the couple and shook his head. “Nay. He said it was urgent clan business that couldnae wait and that I was to ride like the Devil was poking a pole up ma arse.” The man’s eyes widened as he looked at Blair. “I beg yer pardon, ma lady.”

  “I imagine that would be most uncomfortable. I dinna blame ye for hurrying,” Blair grinned, and the man relaxed.

  “What aboot the raids?” Hardi interjected.

  “Raids?” Bran’s forehead furrowed. “Ye mean how many heads of sheep we pilfered from the Macphersons?” The man grinned from ear to ear. “We took at least fifty from the bastards.”

  “Ye raided the Macphersons?” Blair demanded as she leaned forward. When she realized what she’d done, she stepped back. Hardi’s arm shot around her waist and pulled her back beside him.

  Bran looked between the two until Hardi growled, “Answer Lady Blair.”

  “Aye. The council said we should raid while the weather’s been good,” Bran explained.

  Blair glanced up at Hardi, and he nodded.

  “How far into their territory did ye have to ride to do that? I’ve ridden through Macpherson land every time I come and go from court. Ye have to ride pretty far from yer border into their territory to get to their pastureland.”

  “Aye, from the keep, it’s a day’s ride to the border and another day’s ride to where we found the first flock.”

  “First?” Hardi snarled. “How bluidy many flocks did ye take?”

  “Two,” Bran beamed.

  “Shite,” Hardi’s hands fisted, forcing himself not to take his ire out on the messenger.

  “Faolán ordered this?” Blair asked. When Bran nodded, she continued. “So there wasna a raid by the Mackintoshes or the Macphersons?”

  “Nay.” Bran shook his head, confusion clear on his face.

  “And there are nay members of their clans camping on yer land?” Blair pressed.

  “Nay. Drostan doubled the patrols once we made it back with the flocks. We dinna want them retrieving the sheep. Half of them are ours anyway.”

  “Ours?” Hardi’s face showed his confusion.

  “Aye. When ye and David went to the Macquaries the last time, there was a raid where the Macphersons stole several sheep and a few cows.”

  “Did David learn of this?” Hardi wondered.

  “I dinna think so. The battle with the Mackintoshes came too soon after. I dinna think there was time. And since it seems ye didna ken, I doubt he did.”

  Blair and Hardi exchanged a look before Hardi dismissed his warrior. Blair and Hardi returned to the gardens and found a bench near where they’d stood earlier.

  “I dinna understand why Faolán would lie and nae think that ye would ask. Hardi, I dinna think Bran is lying. He seemed too surprised at times to be spinning falsehoods.”

  “I’ve kenned Bran since we were weans. He isnae a liar, and I believe he supports me. I think Faolán truly didna tell him what the missive contained. And it wouldnae surprise me if Faolán told the men it was ma order that sent them on the raid. I should have asked Bran that, but I didna think of it.”

  “Ye can ask him later. There was plenty of other news to work through. I didna think of it either,” Blair assured him. “What next?”

  “I find the Menzies. He arrived after I did, so he may be aware of the raid. Clan Menzies minds their own business and doesnae get involved with the feuds around them. But that doesnae mean they dinna ken what’s happening.” Hardi looked toward the castle. “I’ll find him before the evening meal and see what I can learn.”

  Blair nodded as she followed Hardi’s gaze to the castle. As though Hardi knew what she thought, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. When Blair rested her head on his shoulder, he tilted his over hers. His other hand took both her in his. His thumb ran along her ring finger on her left hand.

  “I amnae going anywhere,” Blair promised.

  “I still dinna want to leave without ye. But even though Faolán lied, I’m nae convinced it’s safe to bring ye to Tor. If Faolán wants to oust me as laird, I dinna ken how far he will go. I willna risk yer life.”

  Blair sighed, but nodded. “Even if this didna happen, I ken ye need to return home anyway. Ye canna linger here much longer. The moon ye were willing to spend is over, and ye’ve been away too long. I dinna think Mama and Da will dawdle with their permission. I think it’s a matter of how long it takes the messengers to travel that far north.” Blair entwined her fingers with Hardi’s. “It gives me a chance to decide what to teach ye when next I see ye.”

  “I ken what I want to teach ye, lass. And it’s nae aught ye can learn in a scriptorium. I’d really hoped to return home with ye on ma arm. Or better yet in ma arms on ma horse.”

  Blair laughed. “Buannaiche willna care for that. He is sure to let ye and Uaill ken that he believes ma place is on his back.”

  Hardi chuckled. “I’m jealous of a bluidy horse.”

  “We shall sort this all out, mo chridhe,” Blair smiled. Hardi kissed her temple before they returned to the castle.

  Twenty

  Hardi was certain steam radiated from his ears as he listened to Laird Cathal Menzies laugh at him after Hardi asked whether the fellow laird was aware of the situation with the Macphersons and Mackintoshes.

  “Aye, I heard,” Cathal chortled. “Faolán barely got his arse out in time, from what I hear. He’s too old to be playing a young mon’s game.”

  Hardi ground his teeth. Bran neglected to mention that Faolán rode out with them. He fought to keep his face impassive, and he knew Blair had her courtly mien in place. It was the one that he knew meant the wheels were turning in her mind, but she would give nothing away.

  “It does surprise me that he can sit a horse that long. His gout tends to flare when he’s out in the damp,” Hardi noted.

  “It surprised me to hear he rode to the border, but he’d rather send someone else to their death than he would his own. Macphersons chased them to the border, but yer men were out of sight before they got there. A Macpherson band ran into one of ma patrols as they swept the border to see if yer men lingered. That’s how I learned of it.”

  “I admit I wouldnae mind listening in when the Macpherson tells the Mackintoshes aboot how the Camerons pulled the wool over their eyes.” Hardi’s pun elicited another chuckle from Cathal. He nodded several times before taking a long sip from his mug.

  “Och, I wouldnae worry aboot them too much. They’re still licking their wounds from the last time they encountered ye. I mean they didna suffer the defeat and lose all their men like ye did, but they arenae in the mood to fight ye again.”

  Hardi clenched his fists and bit back his angry retort as Cathal blandly mentioned the battle where h
e lost the last of his cousins and nearly lost his own life. Blair wasn’t so willing to ignore the slight.

  “Clan Cameron is lucky that Laird Cameron was the one to survive, or they would have lost the last of the laird’s family that day,” Blair hissed. Cathal blinked several times before looking contrite.

  “That was rude of me, lad,” Cathal clapped a massive paw on Hardi’s shoulder. Had his tone not confirmed his words, Hardi wouldn’t have stood for being called “lad.” “For what it’s worth, I think ye should breed yerself a passel of yer own lads and get an heir sharpish. She looks like she could bear yer braw sons.”

  Hardi narrowed his eyes at Cathal, fighting to keep his temper in check. “‘She’ is Lady Blair, and I willna have ye speak of her as though she’s little more than a brood mare.”

  “Come now, Hardwin. Ye’re being awfully sensitive. Perhaps all that time I hear ye’ve been spending with yer little lass has softened ye.” Cathal chuckled once again, amused by his own inuendo. “I thought ye’d be harder than that.”

  “Menzies,” Hardi warned. Cathal sobered when he realized Hardi hadn’t found any humor in his comments.

  “Aye, well. There isnae anyone camped on yer land unless they are passing through. Faolán is a deceptive bastard, and I’d still get yerself married to someone sooner rather than later and get her with child. Pray it’s a lad and useful unlike ma gaggle of daughters.” Cathal turned away from Hardi and Blair before waving over his guards. Blair and Hardi moved toward the side of the Great Hall where they could talk without an audience.

  “Nae one word in the missive was true. Except mayhap the part aboot making the decisions for the clan,” Hardi said.