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

by Barclay, Celeste

  “It doesnae appear as though ye are still childhood friends, ma lady,” Osgar noted. He appeared very close in age to Hardi.

  “How could we?” Blair asked innocently. “We’re nae children anymore. Just as well or we couldnae have married.” Blair locked eyes with Osgar, refusing to look away until he did. She swept her eyes around the table, challenging any who were tempted to embarrass her.

  “Ye must have been vera busy going from one feast to another.” Niall picked up the challenge and pressed on.

  “Nae really. We follow the same liturgical calendar as ye do. We had as many feasts as any clan. The queen isnae one for extravagance and wasting time when one can better spend it in prayer. She’s a vera devout woman and expects her ladies to possess a pristine reputation.”

  “I am certain the king looked upon ye favorably,” Paul suggested before taking a bite of beef.

  Blair was no fool. She understood the insinuation. At that moment, she decided she would reveal her well-guarded secret in hopes it might deter the schemers from their plot or draw out the treasonous members of the clan. “I’d say most favorably. He used to sneak me honeyed treats when I was a wean. That didna please ma mother the time ma brother, sister, and I ran around the keep when we were supposed to be napping. I remember nay long after Laird Cameron came to foster, the king and queen visited Dunrobin. The queen gave me a handkerchief she’d embroidered just before the English captured her and put her under house arrest. It’s the finest gift ma godmother ever gave me. Permission to marry Laird Cameron is the most precious gift ma godfather gave me.”

  Blair wanted to laugh at the dumbfounded faces that stared at her. She heard Hardi clear his throat as he tried to keep from laughing. He took a swig from their shared chalice before turning to look at his council members.

  “Lady Cameron has a tall family tree with many branches. Some of the most powerful men in Scotland sit upon them.” He took another sip from the chalice before turning to Blair. “Would ye care for any more of the veal?”

  Blair’s lips twitched at Hardi’s nonchalance. She shook her head and forced out the words, “Nay thank ye.”

  “I would think yer wedding would be quite a fancy affair if there are so many important people in yer family,” Paul mused. Blair wanted to slap him. For a man who supposedly supported Hardi, he was becoming obnoxious with his questioning.

  Blair shrugged one shoulder. “I dinna need to see everyone’s face to ken they’re related to me or allied with ma clan. The king granted us his permission to marry and doing so meant I could accompany ma husband north.”

  “But ye went to Inverlochy first,” Osgar pointed out.

  “Aye,” Hardi intervened. “I have been laird all of three moons. There are unsettled matters with our neighbors. I’d been away, and as we ken, decisions were made that I didna agree to. I believe it was ma duty as her husband to ensure it was safe to bring Lady Cameron to Tor Castle.”

  The doors of the keep swung wide, cutting off the conversation at the dais. Hardi gripped the arms of his chair to keep from hurling chalices and plates at the newly arrived men. Faolán and Drostan made their way to the dais, but both men stopped short when they noticed Blair seated beside Hardi. She smiled serenely at them but feigned disinterest, as though she wasn’t aware they were members of Hardi’s family and the clan council.

  “Aboot bluidy time ye returned.” Hardi’s hazel eyes bore into the men as they remained in front of the laird’s table. “Did ye resolve the matter of the missing grain and whisky?”

  “What?” Niall spluttered. “What missing grain and whisky?”

  “Since ye were welcoming ma wife and getting to ken one another, I didna have the chance to mention the informative visit I had with John of Islay this morn,” Hardi explained. He sounded bored as he glanced at his council members before turning his attention back to his cousins. “The Lord of the Isles mentioned the king’s displeasure at our payment being short several sacks and barrels. And yet, I counted each one before ye left the bailey. Apparently, ye had a spot of poor luck coming across highwaymen such as ye did. We’re lucky ye escaped with only a few missing goods.” Hardi lifted the chalice to his mouth but paused as if to add the afterthought, “And yer lives.”

  “It was a near miss,” the man Blair guessed was Drostan agreed.

  Hardi waved a servant forward and spoke softly to her before reaching out his hand to Blair. They stood and moved away from their chairs. Hardi didn’t look back at the men at the table when he gave his order. “The council meets now. Faolán, Drostan, food will be brought to you.”

  Hardi led Blair to the solar he wished them to share. He’d quietly asked Mordag to have a chair placed to the right of his behind his desk. He was pleased to see she’d fulfilled his request. He guided Blair into the seat as they’d discussed during their bath. The couple registered the looks of shock and disgust when they noticed where Blair sat.

  “I thought this was a council meeting nae a sewing circle,” Faolán spat. “Can ye nae send yer mistress off until we’re done?”

  Blair listened to several deep throat clearings and noticed a few men’s eyes widen. She even saw one or two heads shake as all the men shot Faolán a warning look.

  “What? He’s finally started tupping a wench after pretending his cock fell off. Now he wants her within reach. Women arenae allowed in council meetings. If they were, I’d have a whore on ma lap too.” Faolán spoke, somehow missing all the warnings his fellow council members sent him.

  Hardi withdrew his dirk and placed it horizontally on the desk before him. He placed his hands by the tip and the hilt as he narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to decide if cutting out yer tongue is worth dirtying ma blade. Mayhap I’ll have ye use yer own to do it.”

  “Ye canna be serious?” Faolán sneered. “Ye can dress her up in fancy clothes, but we all ken we dinna bring whores to the council meetings.”

  Before anyone knew what was happening, Hardi whipped his sgian dubh from his belt and launched the short, razor-sharp knife at Faolán, embedding it in his arm. “I dinna care for how ye’re speaking aboot ma wife. Count that as yer last warning, Faolán. I have already removed ye and Drostan from the council, so yer word on how these meetings are run is worth less than yer horse’s shite. Ye will apologize to Lady Cameron for the offensive things ye said, ye will greet her properly, and then ye will sit yer fucking arse down and speak only when spoken to.” Hardi’s voice remained even and calm throughout. It was that calmness that made the men seated around the table squirm. They could have laughed and discounted Hardi’s demands if he’d lost his temper. But his cool resolve made the council realize the young laird they assumed they could control had grown more confident. Many shifted their gazes to Blair, who remained indifferent and unruffled, and they understood where Hardi’s newfound confidence came from.

  “I will do nay such thing. Lady Cameron, ma arse. The king would have told me if ye’d married against the council’s wishes,” Faolán persisted.

  “Mayhap the king values ye as much as he does a carbuncle on a sow’s tit. He had nay trouble mentioning it to the Lord of the Isles. Mayhap it slipped King Robert’s mind because he was too busy chewing ye a new arse for lying to me, stealing from our tax payment, and trying to deceive him.” Hardi grinned as Faolán continued to press his hand over his wound, red soaking the sleeve. “John of Islay is an auld acquaintance of ma wife. We had an interesting conversation this morn.”

  Hardi reached over and took Blair’s hand, entwining his fingers with hers. He cocked an eyebrow at Faolán and waited. Faolán’s defiance grew the longer Hardi waited. Hardi shook his head and looked to Blair. “Lady Cameron, what is yer recommendation?”

  Blair’s stomach knotted. She hadn’t prepared to be the one casting the verdict. It wasn’t part of what they discussed. She understood Hardi was proving what he’d said on the keep’s steps. She was his equal and his partner. He would make no decisions without her. But she wasn’t convinced her fi
rst night was the best time to pass judgment on a man who’d been on the council longer than she’d been alive.

  “Faolán, will ye do as the laird instructed? Will ye apologize for yer inappropriate comments? Will ye greet me how I deserve as both Laird Cameron’s wife and the daughter of the Earl of Sutherland?”

  “A fancy title and a lavish gown doesnae make ye any less than a whore. Ye ran off with Hardwin before ye wed. He’s been tossing yer skirts for more than a fortnight at Inverlochy. The whole bluidy keep kens how ye like to be fucked,” Faolán seethed.

  “It is Laird Cameron to ye,” Blair corrected. “It’s unfortunate that ye speak without listening. Ye dinna listen to chances given ye to stay alive, and ye dinna listen to yerself as ye prove ye’re a liar.”

  Blair waited for what she said to register with Faolán. She remained silent, expecting Faolán to respond, to deny what she said. When he did nothing but scowl, Blair sighed.

  “If ye ken so much, then ye didna come straight here from Stirling. But ye kenned before ye left court that I was with Laird Cameron. The Lord of the Isles shared with us how yer meeting went. We ken King Robert told ye our marriage keeps him from seizing Cameron lands. If ye kenned that I was at Inverlochy, then ye kenned we handfasted. If ye ken what we do behind closed doors, then ye ken we consummated our marriage. That makes me Lady Cameron. Ye dinna have to like it, ye dinna have to agree with it, ye dinna even have to accept it. But ye also dinna have to live.” Blair paused as her words sank in. “Laird Cameron made it clear to the clan when we arrived today, that the expectation for the Camerons is the same as for any clan. The clan is to treat their lady with the same respect as her husband. Any slight to Lady Cameron is a slight to Laird Cameron. That means ye have called Laird Cameron a whore.”

  Blair casually looked down at her hand joined with Hardi’s then at the members of the council before shifting her gaze back to Faolán. “Since ye are nay longer a member of the council, ye canna be ma laird-husband’s second. That makes ye little more than a villager. Such behavior—and I’m including the thievery and lying to yer laird—entitles ye to the lash, banishment, or death.”

  Blair pursed her lips as though she was deep in thought. “Ye and Drostan are the last of Laird Cameron’s family. Until I bear the laird a child, I will nae have the last of yer bloodline on ma conscious. Besides, once ye are dead, ye canna live with regret to eat at ye. I will nae suggest yer death. I dinna care for the lash because with time the wounds fade and often so does the memory of why a mon received the punishment. It’s nae a permanent deterrent. While nay clan is to accept a banished mon, somehow most of the banished become another clan’s burden. I willna cast ye off to be someone else’s problem. Laird Cameron suggested cutting out yer tongue, but that still leaves ye with yer freedom.”

  Blair released Hardi’s hand and stood. She walked around the desk to stand before Faolán but kept a safe distance. “I dinna give a damn whether ye like me, respect me, or acknowledge me as yer lady. I dinna care because ye are nae worth a minute of ma time. But ye sent yer laird to stand before the king, kenning he would be humiliated and possibly imprisoned. Ye either stole from yer clan the sacks and barrels, or ye are an inept warrior who doesnae deserve to be anyone’s second if a handful of highwaymen robbed ye. How many were there? Three? Five? Ten? Ye outnumbered them, or at least should have had an even fight. I dinna believe for a minute yer lies. By insulting me and putting yer selfishness ahead of all else, ye have wronged the laird. That I dinna overlook. That I dinna forgive. If the laird finds ma judgement reasonable, I sentence ye to life in the dungeon.” Blair peered around Faolán to the horrified faces. “To be clear, if Laird Cameron accepts this punishment and sentences Faolán to the dungeon, I will request the oubliette to anyone who thinks to free him or contest the decree. I may be smaller than each of ye, but I promise ye, ma will doesnae bend.”

  Blair took a step back before turning and walking back to her chair. She sat down and accepted Hardi’s outstretched hand. She forced her pounding heart to slow as she inhaled deeply. She fought to keep her face neutral, not revealing her fear while confronting Faolán. She concentrated on putting back in place her courtly mien that revealed none of her real thoughts or feelings. Hardi looked at the council, many of whom didn’t know where to look. He wasn’t sure if Faolán’s actions still stunned them or if it was Blair’s pronouncement. Either way, the chamber was silent.

  “Ye have heard Lady Cameron’s suggestion. Faolán will keep his life and all his body parts. I willna force him from the clan. His body will bear nay scars—besides the one on his arm that will remind him of me—but he will live out his days alone but for any friends he makes with the rodents. I will ensure Faolán is well fed, has adequate clean water, has clean bedding, blankets, and clothes. Beyond that, he can rot. If ye canna accept ma judgment, speak now.”

  Hardi expected a barrage of dissent, but the chamber remained quiet. Faolán spun around to glare at his peers. Blair and Hardi glanced at each other. When they’d discussed Faolán and Drostan’s return, they hadn’t planned for Blair to pass down judgement, but they’d hoped Faolán’s punishment would spur him or Drostan to reveal the conspirators. They hoped Faolán would refuse to shoulder the entire blame. But his arguments had nothing to do with plotting treason against the laird.

  “I have trained beside ye, lived alongside ye, served this council with ye, and now ye’d let a wee bitch send me to the dungeon. Are ye all buggering her? Are ye all hoping to? Did he offer to share?”

  “Faolán,” Niall warned. “The laird has passed his judgment. Ye should thank Lady Cameron for nae sentencing ye to death. Ye ken that if it were up to the laird, ye’d be dead already. Faolán, ye brought this upon yerself. Ye lied to us, just as ye did the laird. We believed ye when ye swore it was best for the clan to raid the Macphersons. Ye swore we had what we needed for the taxes. Ye swore we had enough funds for the winter. Ye swore, ye swore, ye swore. And we were fools to believe ye.”

  “I have kenned ye since we were weans,” Malcolm, a member who’d been silent until now, stood. “I want to believe it’s ineptitude and nae selfishness that’s led ye to the decisions ye’ve made. But the way ye are acting toward Lady Cameron makes me nae care. If I were the laird, and ye spoke such vile things to ma Martha, I would kill ye. That ye’re breathing is a testament to both our lady’s mercy and the laird’s respect for his wife. It’s all that’s keeping ye alive, mon. Shut up.”

  “Faolán,” Hardi interrupted. “Speak the truth of yer brother’s involvement, and mayhap I will ask ma wife for greater leniency.” Hardi and Blair intended to set brother against brother if they could. Hardi waited to see if Faolán would turn on Drostan or protect him.

  “Drostan did naught.” Faolán opted to protect his younger brother, but Hardi had more to say.

  “We all ken that’s a lie. Drostan was at least complicit. He kenned what the missives said, kenned what ye were up to, and he did naught aboot it. The only quality to commend him for is that he’s loyal to his family. But that shall get him a cell next to ye,” Hardi announced.

  “Nay. I didna give ma brother a choice. I threatened him if he exposed me,” Faolán blurted.

  “And ye rewarded him when he didna,” Blair muttered. She pretended to speak under her breath, but she intended everyone to hear her. She would remind them that Drostan was far from the innocent party in the brothers’ scheme.

  “Drostan, what say ye?” Hardi asked.

  “Ma brother and I may have wronged the clan since Farlane’s death, but it was to show everyone that Hardwin isnae a fit leader. Faolán or I should be laird,” Drostan argued.

  “Or ye?” Hardi smirked. “Faolán, did ye ken yer brother wants to take the lairdship out from under ye? He would help ye be rid of me, then he’d be rid of ye.”

  “Nay!” Faolán bellowed. But he spun to look at Drostan, who didn’t deny the accusation. He launched himself at Drostan, and the men tumbled to the floor. Faolán landed
on top of his brother, wrapping his hands around his throat. Drostan struggled, trying to buck Faolán off of him, but they were too evenly matched and knew each other’s fighting style too well. However, Faolán forgot that Drostan also knew that he kept an extra dirk attached to the back of his belt beneath the folds of his plaid. Drostan withdrew it and drove it into Faolán’s neck. With his last breath, Faolán snapped Drostan’s neck.

  The council, Hardi, and Blair stared in shock at the scene before them. Never did Hardi nor Blair imagine this outcome when they thought to pit the brothers against one another. Blair watched as blood trickled over Faolán’s shoulder and onto the floor.

  “I dinna ken which is Cain and which is Abel,” Blair muttered.

  “They’re both Cain, ma lady,” Paul mused.

  Forty

  The earliest rays of morning sun peeked around the hide that hung over the window embrasure in Hardi and Blair’s chamber. Blair and Hardi lay on their sides, facing one another. They’d slept little that night, but for the first time, it wasn’t from making love. They’d spent many hours discussing their plans now that Faolán and Drostan were dead. Hardi draped his arm over Blair’s waist as her hand skimmed his chest.

  “What do ye think the clan will say today? Most willna ken until the morning meal.” Blair asked.

  “It will shock them. Some will be angry. I will have to ensure the youngest of Faolán’s bastards are cared for.”

  “Will they blame me?” Blair whispered.

  “Nay. And if people do, I will inform them that ye presented them with a chance to live. They chose to fight one another and to kill each other. It’s nae well timed with yer arrival, but we will learn who stands against us if anyone on the council blames ye or encourages the clan to do so.”

  Blair nodded, uncertain that was how she wanted to learn who conspired against Hardi. She had much to do that day, and she’d been looking forward to it before the council meeting. Now it made her nervous to move about the keep and the bailey. During the brief ride from Inverlochy, Hardi discussed with Donald and Tomas whether they should return to Dunrobin. The men refused until they were certain Hamish knew about the handfast and agreed to Blair remaining with Hardi. They argued their duty wasn’t discharged until their laird said so. Hardi accepted the men’s explanation and made it clear he was pleased Blair continued to have at least two devoted guards.