He strode through the archway into the great hall. Half the village was already there, even Craig wearing his cleanest shirt and kilt. The ornery cur would surely curse him for his English clothes, but Aiden didn’t care. Where was Scarlet? He glanced around the room but didn’t see her.
“I thought ye were bloody jesting,” Kerrick said as he strode over, a huge grin on his face as he looked Aiden up and down. “Your own da would flip in his grave to see ye so.”
In actuality, Aiden’s da would be the only one to understand his costume. He wasn’t going to lose Scarlet to England without a fight. And since a fight with swords could cost the Campbell clan by labeling them traitors to the crown, he had to exchange his claymore for short trousers, hose, and a cravat.
“Hold your tongue,” Aiden said, his voice low in warning, though it did little to stop the chuckle from escaping Kerrick’s wide grin. He pierced the man with a sharp gaze. “And what do ye plan to do to keep Scarlet from returning with them to England?”
Kerrick’s smile dropped. “Is she planning to leave?” His gaze scanned the room.
Aiden slid his hand to the sword strapped to his side, its familiar feel the only thing keeping him from going above to change. “She hasn’t said, but I know the royals must want her to go back with them.”
“What the bloody hell are ye wearing?” Craig asked as he clomped over.
“He’s trying to keep Scarlet in Scotland,” Kerrick answered before Aiden could open his mouth.
Aiden gave the man a hard elbow in the side, making Kerrick double over, clutching it. “Just showing these prigs that we are not some homespun country beggars,” Aiden said.
“What Englishman did ye strip to get the clothes?” Craig asked, wiping a hand self-consciously over his hair that was actually combed for the first time that Aiden could remember.
“Nathaniel Worthington left these behind,” Aiden said, his gaze going to the two chairs that had been set up for the king and queen. They’d been decorated with holly and velvet to look like small thrones, and the monarchs sat serenely, clothed in silk, wigs, and jewels. No doubt, Grey’s da was bellowing at Heaven’s gates as he watched the king hold court in the heart of Finlarig and Campbell territory.
More Campbells came in through the entryway, even Donald Campbell from Balloch Castle. Everyone wore their finest clothes, some bringing gifts for the royal couple. Aiden watched the king’s mistress, Louise, walk with Jacqueline Beckett toward Harry Covington. The pompous ass stood by the hearth in a rich, yet less ridiculous costume than the king. Both of the Englishmen wore long wigs of dark curls.
Aiden’s gaze slid to Jacqueline. Kerrick still hadn’t discovered the woman’s birthday, but the resemblance was so close that he knew she must be related to Rebecca and him in some way. He’d caught her looking at him but didn’t know if she knew her lineage or not. If he could get her away from Covington, he’d ask her tonight.
Music played, and a line formed to present the monarchs with greetings and small gifts. As people exited the line, they moved over to the bounty that the king’s cook, along with the help of Molly and some of the Highland Rose students, had prepared. Venison pies, roast goose, rabbit stew, braided breads, apple pudding, and of course tarts, since the Highland Roses School was known for them.
Craig began to cough into his fist. “Holy Mother Mary,” Kerrick whispered as he stared in the same direction as the old blacksmith. Stepping out from the archway from the stairs, almost as one body, walked the students of the Highland Roses School. Only Molly and Izzy seemed to be missing from the group. The ladies wore flowing gowns that they’d been embellishing under Rebecca’s superior guidance for the last few days, as fast as their fingers could move. But he hardly noticed the ribbons on their gowns for his gaze fastened on the one woman who led them all. Scarlet.
Her lovely dark auburn curls and creamy skin would catch anyone’s attention, but it was what she wore that stopped his breath. The plaid design was familiar to all the Scots in the room for it was the green and blue lines of Campbell hunting plaid. A lace-edged smock came above the low neckline of the bodice. The plaid material draped down in a V to sit upon the purple petticoat, the top plaid skirt cinched up with a brooch on one side. Both layers flowed into wide skirts that shifted around her as she walked with the grace of royalty, her head held high as she displayed the Campbell colors.
“Seems someone else is using her costume to make a statement tonight,” Kerrick said.
As if a silent command had been given, the stacked rows of Scarlet’s students stepped out from the formation behind her. The ladies walked in graceful divergence as if their steps were part of a dance. Everyone in the room turned to watch, but Scarlet’s gaze slid around the room until it landed on Aiden.
Connected, they stared at one another. Her gaze ran down his costume, making her eyes widen. He grinned, stepping away from the wall to walk toward her, but before he could reach her, Covington came up. He took her arm, bending to say something to Scarlet that made her turn, though her smile became a mere mask. Aiden stopped in the middle of the floor, watching the bastard lead her to the monarchs sitting on their thrones. When Aiden glanced away, he realized that he stood in the middle of the floor like an abandoned suitor, and everyone stared his way. He inhaled long and turned toward the table. Hopefully someone had tapped the whisky.
Hamish stood by the table, chewing one of the tarts. He sucked in through his teeth. “Och, Aiden. I’d say Covington just sliced ye again.” He shook his fat head, his smile spreading his sticky beard.
“Hold your tongue,” Aiden said, but once again, his threats were answered by more smiling and a chuckle. Mo chreach. He wanted to meet the Englishman on a battlefield of mud and men, not silks and wigged prigs.
His hands curled into fists against his silk trousers. Fok propriety. He was walking over to her; proper manners be damned. He was just an ignorant Scot anyway, a brute from a savage land. But Scarlet had draped herself in his colors. His heart pounded behind the walls of his chest. Was she showing her decision? The one he’d asked her to make after thinking all around it?
Halfway across, Jacqueline Beckett met him. “Sir Aiden,” she said, stepping up to him. “Might we take a turn about the room?”
Aiden glanced toward Scarlet as she spoke with Queen Catherine. Scarlet looked over to him, and her brows pinched slightly, but she continued to chat and finally turned her full attention to the queen. Jacqueline placed her hand on his arm, and Aiden raised it slightly as a gentleman would do. Years of training as a lad were being resurrected, yet this was no game with Rebecca before the sharp eyes of his mother before a simple hearth. This was a battle.
He led her toward the entryway. “You look quite handsome in English garb,” she said.
He cleared his throat, knowing dozens of eyes were trained on him. “Ye look quite handsome as well, Lady Beckett.”
“Thank you,” she said demurely and nodded to Alana as they passed. Jacqueline looked up at Aiden. “There are many fine ladies this evening. I dare say that Lady Worthington has taught the Highland Rose School students to shine.”
Aiden looked down at Jacqueline as they stopped near the dark entryway. The crowds had all entered, and no one stood near. “Aye, she has. The ladies in the Highlands can shine just as bright as the ladies down in London. We but have other endeavors to keep our hands busy on a daily basis, endeavors to keep us warm, fed, and safe here.”
She made a small humming sound and nodded. “Yes, the set of tasks to keep one sheltered, fed, and protected here in the wild beauty of Scotland is vastly different from what I am required to do down in London at court.”
The small catch in her voice made Aiden study her. Gone was the confident smile. It was replaced by a slightly haunted look, similar to the one Scarlet wore when speaking of her time at court. A protective feeling came over Aiden, and he leaned slightly toward Jacqueline’s ear.
“Who are ye, Lady Beckett?” She turned big eyes up to hi
m. “And why have ye come up here to Finlarig?” he asked.
He watched her upper teeth perch on her lower lip before it was quickly released, as if her training had almost abolished the habit of showing her worry.
“I have come here,” she whispered, “to trade myself for Lady Scarlet.”
Chapter Seventeen
Scarlet barely heard the queen’s question about local herbs. When she’d walked into the great hall, her stomach had flipped when she’d seen Aiden dressed like an Englishman. For a brief moment, she thought someone had forced him to switch out of his Highland dress, but nothing short of threatening to slaughter his clan would force Aiden Campbell to do anything he didn’t want to do. Surely, he wouldn’t dress for the king. Had he dressed in the short trousers and hose for her?
“I say,” King Charles said, catching Scarlet’s attention when Queen Catherine touched her hand. “You certainly look as if you fit into the Scottish life well enough.” He eyed her gown, which the Roses had helped her alter from one of Rebecca’s.
“Yes, your majesty, I have. I find it quite comfortable here.” She bowed her head slightly, though she slid a glance to where Lady Jacqueline had taken Aiden’s arm. Damn Harry for dragging her away from Aiden to talk to the queen.
“We miss you at court,” Harry said, standing beside her, though Scarlet refused to look at him.
Instead, she smiled at the queen. “How you must miss your homeland of Portugal, and yet you have found a new life in England.”
“That is true,” Catherine said. “I would not return now.”
“And you’ve brought such rich and wonderful things to England,” Scarlet continued. “Like drinking tea. What would I do without my morning tea leaves brewing?” She laughed softly as if she were at ease, though nothing done before these people was performed with ease. Especially after she’d seen what occurred behind closed doors.
Harry moved so that he was once again in Scarlet’s peripheral view. “Queen Catherine would remain in England out of duty to her husband and king as well,” he said.
Scarlet smiled at the queen and touched her hand to her heart, which thumped beneath the Campbell tartan of her bodice. “Since my heart has turned to the good people of Killin and the Highland Roses School, it is fortunate that I do not have such duty to perform. I will remain here until I die.”
The king frowned, his gaze going to Harry and then back to Scarlet. “That is not what we wish at all. Without you at court, our poor Lord Covington practically mopes about the halls. None of the ladies have been able to lead him out of his melancholy, although they try. I, therefore, request that you return with us.”
His words squeezed inside Scarlet’s chest as if they were fingers clutching her heart, a bird caught in a monster’s grasp. “Sire,” she said, bowing her head. “I am flattered, but there has never been an understanding between Lord Covington and myself. My brother has not entered into any contract for my hand, and I am choosing to live north in Scotland as an independent woman.”
The king waved his hand as if he could brush aside all that she just said, all her desires and freedom. “Lord Covington,” he said, leaning to the side to see around Scarlet. “Make your heart known or lose your lady love forever.”
He cleared his throat, and Scarlet felt her chin numb as her heartbeat soared in growing panic. Just then, the musicians started up a jaunty tune for a country dance. “Forgive me,” Scarlet said loudly. “But I promised Sir Aiden Campbell the first country line dance.” She curtsied low.
“Why… Yes, of course,” the Queen said.
Scarlet could have kissed her for giving her permission to leave before the king could deny it. “We ladies are nothing if we do not keep our promises.” The queen’s gaze met Scarlet’s, holding her for a moment, to make certain she picked up on the queen’s warning. Scarlet nodded. She would make no promises that she could not keep, else find herself forced. Freedom was so fleeting as to be nonexistent at court.
Scarlet curtsied once more and turned, completely ignoring Harry as she walked away. She kept her stride measured and slow, even though she felt like a bird escaping a golden cage. Striding by herself across the floor where couples paired up in two long lines, Scarlet kept a direct route toward where Aiden stood in the shadows with the beautiful young Jacey. Aiden was staring down at the woman, his face a mix of confusion and shock.
Scarlet didn’t care if she was intruding. “Pardon,” she said briskly. “But I believe the first country line dance was promised to me. Aiden?”
His glance slid from Jacey to Scarlet, and his hesitation lit a fire inside Scarlet’s middle. When she’d seen his costume, she’d thought he’d dressed to impress her, but perhaps he hoped to catch the eye of another. Yet, here Scarlet stood waiting, dressed from head to toe in Campbell colors, swearing to the king that she would stay in the Highlands.
Certainly, though, Aiden wouldn’t just turn away from her after their intimate nights together. “Aiden?” she said, leaving all her questions in the inflection of that one word.
“Aye,” he said, giving Jacey a nod and turning to Scarlet. “The dance.”
Jacey looked pale, blinking her eyes as if she’d been stung by a slight. She forced her lips into a serene smile as Aiden left her to accompany Scarlet. His arm was firm, his fist clenched. Neither of them spoke, and he left her across from him in the line beside Kirstin, who danced opposite Kerrick.
Kirstin’s cheeks were pink, and she smiled. “What a bloody wonderful ball,” she whispered to Scarlet and then giggled, a finger to her lips. She was either having great success flirting with the men or she’d been drinking the whisky. Both should require a gentle reprimand from the school’s matron, but at present, all Scarlet cared about was discovering what was going on between Aiden and Jacey while keeping herself from being tricked into promising to return to England.
Pairs of dancers stood across from one another, alternating man and woman along the two lines. Several of the English guards were participating, dancing opposite the ladies of the school. Of the Scots, only Aiden, Kerrick, and Lawrence were brave enough to step in.
The musicians started a strong tempo, and the ladies curtsied while the men bowed. Aiden looked natural, almost as if he belonged in a ballroom in his fine English garb. They came together, palms flattening against each other’s. “Where did you find the clothes?” Scarlet asked, but he didn’t have time to answer before stepping back. They turned toward the couple to their right, and Kerrick smiled at Scarlet while Aiden stared into the beaming face of Kirstin. “What fun,” Scarlet heard her say.
“Something is wrong,” Kerrick said as they stepped forward. His gaze passed between Scarlet and Aiden, but then they stepped back to face their first partners.
Scarlet met Aiden’s palm again. It was warm and large, and she couldn’t help but remember the feel of it skimming the skin of her naked back. “I borrowed them from your brother,” Aiden said, and she realized he was talking about the clothing.
Down the line, the couples met and retreated then turned to meet and back away from the dancers to their right. As Aiden came close again, he spoke low, his eyes shifting to take in the line of people. “I feel a noose tightening around us, but I cannot tell who is pulling it,” he said and stepped back.
Palms together, Aiden and Scarlet turned. “’Tis how every ball I attended in England felt,” she said. “I call it social imprisonment.” They parted with the steps.
The top couple in line, at the far end, strode separately along the outside toward the bottom. As the end couple, Scarlet and Aiden became the second from the bottom, and they were to turn and greet their new neighbors. Scarlet’s stomach tightened as Harry grinned at her from opposite Louise. One glance at Aiden and Scarlet was certain blood would be forthcoming.
Stepping forward, she met Aiden’s gaze with a warning expression and a little shake of her head. Harry was goading Aiden here on the dance floor, trying to get him to lose control so that the king would inter
vene. The king would surely choose Harry’s side, throwing Aiden out of the ball.
Louise passed close to Scarlet, her whisper coming at the right moment to pierce Scarlet’s ear. “You are still desired at court.” Louise met Aiden’s palm, and they rotated, stepping back into place. Her words shot like poison through Scarlet’s veins, yet somehow her feet continued to move.
Harry stepped forward to press his palm against Scarlet’s. His words came low near her ear as they turned. “The king could do great things for your sister’s school.”
She turned away from him without meeting his gaze and lifted her eyes to Aiden. They stepped together. “What the bloody hell are they saying to ye?” Aiden asked, his words loud so that Harry, Louise, as well as Kirstin and Kerrick surely heard him.
Just then, Alana and one of the English guards came down to the bottom, and she and Aiden were once again paired with Kerrick and Kirstin, at least for a few minutes. Kirstin, having picked up on the tension, wasn’t quite as excited, but she was still much more pleasant than dealing with Louise.
As the king’s mistress stepped into Aiden again, Scarlet heard her say, “What a strong figure you cut in your English costume. ’Tis a shame I can’t bring you home with me. Oui?” she said in her mild French accent.
Scarlet’s belly churned. The royals would gobble up everyone to bring home as playthings.
“Think of how many ladies would be begging to attend your sister’s school if the king sanctioned it,” Harry said before Scarlet retreated with the musician’s set rhythm.
Anger added to the tightness in her stomach, making the food she’d eaten rise. As Louise passed her to turn, the woman opened her pouty lips. “Mademoiselle, think of the riches and luxuries you will have if you return to court.”
So, Harry was trying to bribe her away from Scotland while Louise was trying to lure her toward England, the two working together. They moved down the row through another pairing with Kerrick before she was forced to meet Harry again. Through it all, Aiden’s face hardened more and more, until she thought his teeth might break from clenching.
The Savage Highlander Page 21