Blair swallowed as she retreated, and Hardi’s laughter ended. She pulled her lips in until she was confident she could speak without crying. “Ye’re making fun of me. Ye think I’m foolish. I kenned I shouldnae said aught.”
Hardi pulled the sheet loose and lifted Blair so that her legs draped over his, and she faced him. He took her hands and rubbed his thumbs over the backs of them. “I didna mean to hurt yer feelings, Blair. I jested, but I didna mean to make fun of ye. Ye tell me all the time how proud of me ye are. Mayhap I dinna tell ye often enough that I feel that way aboot ye too. I admire yer tenacity and yer courage. Ye havenae given up on me once when I’ve been ready to quit the schooling over and over. And I told ye before, ye dinna try to control me, and ye dinna ever manipulate me. Ye arenae that kind of possessive. That ye arenae willing to share me, and that ye’d fight for us, makes me feel good. It makes me ken ye love me and want our marriage as much as I do.”
“But it’s ugly. I sound like a harridan,” Blair argued.
“Do ye think I would react any differently if I saw a mon flirt with ye, if a mon claimed to be yer lover, the father of our bairns? Blair, just because it hasnae happened and we havenae talked aboot it, dinna think I willna defend what is mine. I dinna ken if other wives feel as ye do, but I’m glad that ye do.”
Blair nodded, then a slight smile broke through. “I canna even lift a sword or a targe, much less beat one against the other. I’ll stick to dirks.”
“That’s ma lass. I dinna understand why a mon being a raging bull when it comes to his woman makes him a wonderful husband and a braw mon, but when a woman wants to assert her right to have a faithful husband, she’s seen as a shrew.”
“Because the world is made for men,” Blair explained.
“Ma world consists of ye.” Hardi kissed her, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth as Blair inched closer. Breathless, they pulled apart. “I told ye, I will defend ye, and I willna tolerate any mon thinking ye are available. But I willna do it because ye are ma possession, because ye belong only to me. I will do it to keep ye safe and because I value yer honor.”
“Bluidy hell,” Blair grumbled. “I wish I could say the same. I mean, I suppose I feel that way, too. But I am a raging—what is the female equivalent of a bull anyway—and I feel like ye belong to me. I’d keep ye safe and protect yer honor, but I also just dinna want to share. How is it ye’re the reasonable one in this relationship?”
“Someone has to be,” Hardi laughed as he laid back and brought Blair with him. As she sank onto his cock, Hardi groaned. “I’m yers, take me.” They both grinned as Hardi spoke the words most would expect a woman to say, but there was no doubt for the rest of the night that Hardi was a man. One who loved and admired his wife. He followed her lead as she took control of their lovemaking, and he gladly did as he was told.
Thirty-Six
“Lady Cameron,” Artair spoke across Robena as they broke their fast. “You’ll want to go for a ride with your guards or mayhap take up my offer of reading Tristan and Isolde or work on your embroidery today. Laird Cameron and I will meet with my laird. He’s a very busy mon, so Laird Cameron doesn’t have time to waste.”
“Artair—” Hardi began, but Blair placed her hand on his forearm.
“The Lord of the Isles is coming to Inverlochy?” Blair asked innocently.
“He is my only laird,” Artair quipped.
“I suppose he travels alone. There’d be no reason for his council to meet inland. Pity, though. My brother-by-marriage, Kieran, is one of what the Lord of the Isles calls his four greatest lairds, since he is the MacLeod of Lewis. It would have been nice to see Kieran. I’ve wondered why Laird MacDonald doesn’t have another title besides Lord of the Isles. After all, he is the overlord for your clan here in Lochaber.”
“Since your brother-by-marriage won’t be here, you’ll surely want to occupy yourself elsewhere.”
“Surely,” Blair demurred. She turned to Hardi, and he saw the mirth in her eyes, but he didn’t understand why. Glancing back at Artair to ensure his conversation with his senior guardsman distracted him, Blair leaned closer. “I’ve met John of Islay more than once. At least that’s what he called himself before becoming Lord of the Isles. He attempted to court me until he realized that ma dowry wouldnae bring him any land that’s of use to him. It’s too far north from Lochaber and the Hebrides. He has his eye on Amie Mac Ruairi, but she’s still too young. He wants to marry her because her brother is Raghnall Mac Ruaidhrí, and her family controls several of the Hebridean islands. Anyway, he’ll recognize me when he sees me. I can stay out of sight if ye wish, or ye can let Artair see I’m connected yet again to someone whose power and position impress him.”
“He courted ye?” Hardi had a moment where the possessiveness Blair admitted to threatened to take hold.
“Attempted to. He didna care aboot me. He just thought I would come with a dowry that would be of use to him. It doesnae, so he didna pursue it.”
“And did ye wish he had?” Hardi attempted to sound nonchalant.
“Good heavens, nay. He’s a pompous arse who would marry his land and his title if he could. He’s dangerously ambitious, Hardi. If he isnae yer friend, he’s yer enemy. Ye and Clan Donald are allies, and ye have MacDonalds living in yer keep, but dinna forget that he thinks of himself first. He doesnae see any ties back to Clan Donald and doesnae care aboot history before the MacDonalds became their own clan. He only sees where he wants to go. Dinna count on him as an ally just because he shares ancestors with the Donalds. And dinna think ye can rely on him because ye’re letting a branch of his clan serve as guardians to yer keep.”
“I thought the MacMillans were annoying with their branches and what they want to be called. But the Donalds, MacDonalds, and MacDonnells are a pain in the arse. They all came from the Donalds who kens how far back.”
“True. Cameron and Sutherland are much easier. We are who we are, and who we’ve always been. Have ye met him?”
“Nay. I’ve seen him but only because I was ma uncle’s guard during various meetings. I dinna actually ken him,” Hardi admitted.
“Give it five minutes. Ye’ll wish ye still didna.”
Bells tolling ended their conversation and marked the arrival of John of Islay, Lord of the Isles. Hardi and Blair led the way from the dais to the bailey as the senior-ranking couple, with Artair and Robena following a few steps behind them. Blair recognized John of Islay immediately and remembered how arrogant the man was.
“Lady Blair Sutherland, what a surprise,” John gushed as he stepped forward to take Blair’s hand, bowing over it. “I—”
“I’m Lady Cameron,” Blair’s voice wasn’t loud when she interrupted, but it held the authority of a laird’s wife, and Hardi wanted to grin.
“I beg your pardon,” John blinked. “You’re who?”
“I am Lady Cameron, and I would like to introduce you to my husband, Laird Hardwin Cameron.”
John MacDonald assessed Hardi as though he attempted to determine on sight whether Hardi was friend or foe. He thrust out his arm to Hardi, who grasped his forearm in a firm shake. John grinned as they released each other’s arms. “I take it you’re glad that I didn’t have use for your dowry, Lady Cameron.”
“Very glad. Laird Cameron and I are well suited,” Blair explained.
“Well suited,” John snorted. “At court, everyone raves aboot how besotted you are with one another. They say you ran off with him despite the king repeatedly saying it was he who sent you with Laird Cameron.”
“You were recently at court, my laird?” Blair asked. She knew Hardi wanted to learn if John knew anything about his cousins, who were late returning from Stirling.
“Aye. It seems Laird Cameron’s cousins found themselves a spot of trouble.” John looked at Hardi, then Blair. “You haven’t heard. It seems they claimed highwaymen robbed them along the way. They arrived short a few barrels of whisky and several bags of grain. King Robert’s voice could be heard from
outside the Privy Council chamber. No one could make out everything he said, but fortunately, I was in the chamber.”
Hardi’s heart sank. He could only imagine the lies Faolán and Drostan spewed to save themselves. He suspected that if he rode south and crossed Loch Leven and then entered Glencoe, he would find the missing goods. Hardi suspected the brothers either stored them to sell later, or they’d already conducted the transaction and pocketed the coin. Hardi turned his attention back to John as he continued the story.
“King Robert already has a ruddy complexion, but he was scarlet by the time he finished with them. He threatened to castrate them for failing to give you the correct information about the taxes. Then he threatened to chain them in a cell because he likes you and can’t stand them. Then he suggested having them drawn and quartered for stealing from the crown. Perhaps he will do all three. He left the chamber swearing that Lady Cameron marrying you and living at Tor was the only thing keeping him from seizing all your lands. I think they shit their plaids.” John clapped Hardi on the back as he stepped between Hardi and Blair, taking Blair’s arm. She hung back, and John looked down at her.
“I don’t want to be in the way when you greet Chieftain and Lady MacDonald. I’ll stand with Laird Cameron,” Blair’s tone sounded hospitable, but her frigid gaze made John shake his head as he let go of Blair’s arm. He looked over his shoulder at Hardi.
“You are well suited. I think she loves you nearly as much as you love her,” John chuckled.
“Just as much,” Blair snapped, and John laughed harder as he turned his attention to Artair and Robena. His face fell, and it was clear he was less enthusiastic to greet Artair than to greet the Camerons. He was polite to the MacDonalds, but the warmth he’d shown Hardi and Blair was lacking. The two couples and the Lord of the Isles entered the Great Hall, and Robena signaled servants to bring out a repast for their guest.
“I haven’t much time to spend here, so let us conduct our business. Cameron, I wasn’t aware you would be here, but please join us. Lady Cameron, too.”
“But she—” Artair spluttered.
“She’s brighter than the three of us put together,” John quipped as he walked toward the solar. “I suspect Laird Cameron appreciates that.”
“I do,” Hardi spoke up as he took Blair’s hand in his. John had called them a love match, even if not in so many words. Hardi saw little point in hiding that they were.
“But women—” Artair tried again.
“Cease your blathering, MacDonald. I’d like to hear her opinion. If her dowry hadn’t included land practically on Orkney, I would have married her for her mind.”
“How generous,” Blair smirked. John turned to Blair, then glanced at Hardi.
“It seems I imagined your eagerness to accept my courtship.” John took the seat at the head of the table. Hardi sat to John’s right, and Blair sat to his right. Artair grimaced as he took a seat to John’s left but two down from where the lord sat. Blair didn’t doubt that had John not sworn his fealty to Robert the Bruce, he would have called himself the King of the Isles. “Laird Cameron, I would have you address me as John. May I call you Hardwin?”
“Aye. Thank ye,” Hardi nodded.
“I don’t dare call you aught but Lady Cameron, Lady Cameron.” Blair cocked an eyebrow at John’s jest. She sat quietly, but wished the men would move forward and abandon the pleasantries for business. With no tittering and blushing forthcoming from Blair, John turned his attention to Artair.
“You are fortunate Laird Cameron honors his uncle’s arrangement with you. Are you up to date on the rents?” John demanded. His shift in tone surprised Artair, but neither Hardi nor Blair blinked.
“I am, my laird,” Artair assured.
“And the improvements to the keep? You are to serve as guardian of this keep. You don’t look to have guarded it from falling down around our ears. I gave you funds to repair the keep and the wall. It appears you have accomplished naught. Did you assume Laird Cameron wouldn’t be aware?” John persisted.
Hardi still held Blair’s hand. He squeezed it, but didn’t look in her direction before releasing it. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I wasna aware of such an agreement. I offered to fortify the wall if Artair made repairs to the keep. I did so in good faith to show yer branch is still welcome here.”
“You did it so he would be beholden to you and reminded of whose keep this really is,” John corrected. “I don’t blame you. However, if you fortify the wall, it means Artair pockets coin I set aside for him. That displeases me. Artair will use the funds given him to repair your keep and your wall. He will remain beholden to you because he continues to have a keep to call his own. A keep you might find yourself in need of at any time.”
Artair shifted nervously in his seat, uncomfortable that the attention was on him, but not in the manner he wanted. He looked back and forth between John and Hardi before glaring at Blair, as if she’d caused the situation. Hardi continued to look at John but directed his comment to Artair.
“Continue glaring at Lady Cameron and making yer usual patronizing comments, Artair, and ye will find yerself living in a croft somewhere near Sleat. Ma uncle found ye easily enough. I’m certain I can find another MacDonald eager to take yer place as chieftain.”
“Are you being an arse to Lady Cameron?” John’s tone lowered as he looked at Artair.
“He doesn’t mean to be, my lord,” Blair interjected. “I don’t think he realizes it. I’m certain he gives his advice with the best intentions.” Blair tilted her head and looked sideways at Artair. He didn’t know where to look, but his resignation told Blair he understood that now the person he was most indebted to was her.
The conversation carried on as Hardi and John discussed the rents and taxes owed to Hardi from what the MacDonalds grew on Cameron land. Hardi wondered why no one mentioned that the MacDonalds owed him banalities for the grain. He glanced at Blair and realized she hadn’t thought of them either. Since the MacDonalds were overdue, Hardi agreed to accept the fee without penalty but negotiated updated terms. When Artair mentioned his livestock, Blair leaned over to whisper to Hardi.
“Negotiate a pannage. It’s a fee for his grazing rights outside the village,” Blair murmured. Hardi’s calm demeanor as he haggled with John impressed her. She offered her most serene smile when John glared at her after Hardi broached the subject of the pannage. Neither Blair nor Hardi had deduced who sent the anonymous missive, so Hardi seized the opportunity to gauge Artair’s possible culpability.
“I might be willing to lesson these fees if ye promise me three score of yer warriors, Artair,” Hardi suggested.
“Three score? Are ye bluidy drunk?” Artair snapped, his burr creeping into his words. “I will have barely any warriors to defend maself.”
“Are ye expecting an attack?” Hardi responded.
“Nay,” Artair spluttered. He tried to rebound by arguing, “We ken the Macphersons are breathing down yer neck aboot the sheep incident. And ye want the wall fortified. It must concern ye that they will attack here, too.”
“Nae particularly. I thought to make it easier on yer coffers, but if ye believe ye need yer warriors more than ye need to afford the wool ye buy from us, then keep them.” Hardi raised his hand in a dismissive motion. He suspected Artair didn’t want to lend his warriors because it would diminish his numbers to attack Tor.
“The men can leave with ye when ye ride out,” Artair conceded. He suddenly looked every year of his age, deflated and defeated. Blair couldn’t decide if he looked so resigned because he disliked losing the negotiations or if Hardi’s request altered plans for an attack on Tor. “But the repairs will take longer without the men here to work.”
“Mayhap I’ll loan them back to ye,” Hardi grinned.
“Now that you’ve resolved that,” John turned the conversation back to him. “Artair, you may leave. I have matters to discuss with a laird.” Artair huffed but lumbered out of his chair before leav
ing his solar. Hardi and Blair remained silent, giving John the opportunity to play the first card.
Thirty-Seven
“The eejit is my mother’s second cousin’s son. If it had been anyone but my mother asking for him to be made chieftain, I would have laughed in their face. He’s useless. All bluster, nay bollocks,” John chortled as he shook his head. “Now that he’s left, I’d like to discuss a topic I’d hoped to bring up sooner. But you were at court when last I was here, and then I was at court after you left. Anyway, I intended to offer a betrothal between you and my sister.” John swept his gaze over Blair before shooting Hardi a knowing grin. “But that is no longer an option. I would propose a betrothal between any second son I have and first daughter Lady Cameron bears you.”
John’s proposition surprised Hardi so much he couldn’t think of anything to say, so he was grateful when Blair sat forward. She laughed in John’s face. As John’s grin withered, Hardi feared the man would lash out at Blair. She rested her forearms on the table and leaned forward much like Hardi had done earlier when he spoke to Artair.
“You want to secure more land in Lochaber, and you’ve run out of ways to do it. You’d have us agree to wed two unborn, not even conceived, children to gain a dowry you don’t even know what it’ll consist of. You are either the most patient mon I ken, or the most desperate. I lean toward the latter. You aren’t even married. And you think more highly of yourself than I do. Any daughter I have can do better than a second son,” Blair turned her nose up.
“You married a man seventh in line to inherit. He wasn’t even the first nephew of the previous laird. He was a second son in the second line,” John blustered.
A Saint at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Six Page 23
