Reckless Scotland

by Vane, Victoria

  “I do not know what I would’ve done without Calum and his men. I would’ve never made it across the border. That much is certain.”

  Hammish heaved a deep gust of air and extended his hand. “MacGregor, you have my thanks for fetching my niece.”

  After more staring and another pointless pause, Calum accepted with a firm shake.

  Are all men daft? Rolling her eyes, she poked his hard chest and he relented, motioning toward the high table.

  “Come, Fraser. Dine with us. You and I have much to discuss.”

  At the table, Hammish bullied Liam into moving from his seat. Once a bad-tempered Liam settled across the table from them, her uncle sprawled beside her and openly appraised Elena to his right.

  “Still comely as ever, I see.”

  Elena snorted. “Still coarse as always, I see.”

  A servant paused beside Hammish to fill his tankard with ale, but he placed his hand over the goblet, while he continued to stare at Elena.

  “Nay, no ale for me.”

  Elena sniffed and turned her head to her companion on the right, immersing herself in conversation and thoroughly slighting Hammish.

  Arabella narrowed her eyes at the pair, curious at Elena’s cold reception. ’Twas evident something was amiss between the two. She would have to remember to question Mairi about the exchange later.

  “Now, ’tis about damned time you tell me what the hell’s going on, girl.”

  The harsh-spoken speech might’ve startled most, but she’d accustomed herself to her uncle’s frankness at a young age. It would seem little had changed in the years since she’d last seen him.

  Unsure of how to begin, she peered at Calum, as if he might somehow insert the words in her mouth. Thank the Saints, he understood her apprehension and leaned in close. He rested his hand over hers on the chair arm and twined their fingers.

  “Longford. He’s the swine responsible for Iain’s death. His men overtook Penswyck with the king’s approval and held Arabella captive. The arse thought to gain control of Penswyck by wedding her.”

  “The hell you say.” Hammish pounded a fist on the table, rattling tankards and trenchers.

  “We arrived to find your niece escaping from her tower window with naught but a rope of gowns and bed linens,” Calum added in a good-humored tone, which lightened the mood around the table.

  Hammish gaped at her, and then threw his head back and broke into a fit of boisterous laughter. He clasped her free hand between his.

  “Ever the fighter, my lass is. I’m proud of you, girl.” He patted her hand as though he comforted a small child.

  No matter she was a woman grown at a score of years. She imagined he would always treat her as a young girl. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment.

  “I could not have managed without Maggie and Dougal.” She met his gaze, her concern for the pair leeching away her mortification. “You have to send someone for them, Uncle.”

  “Dougal’s more than a capable warrior, Arabella. No doubt age has not dulled his wits one lick. He and Maggie’ll find their way home.” He squeezed her hand. “Fret not, lass.”

  Before she could press him to send riders in search of the pair, Liam spoke from the opposite side of the table.

  “That godforsaken beast of hers aided her escape as well.”

  Affronted, she glared at the foolish man. “Do not speak of Devlin in such a manner.”

  Hammish wheezed out a shocked breath. “You still have that unsightly, pain in the arse horse?”

  Arabella shifted her scowl to her uncle. “If you disliked him so much, then why did you give him to me in the first place?”

  “To get him far away from my damned keep. The surly bastard bit everyone. I did not expect you to fawn all over the wretched beast when I tried to rid myself of the eyesore.”

  “Eyesore? He’s not an eyesore.” Her voice rose with her indignation. “And I did not fawn over him. I simply gave Devlin the respect he deserved. He’s a wonderful horse and I shall never find another comparable.”

  “Aye, that’s the God’s honest truth.” Hammish sneered, his disgust plain to see.

  Calum’s muffled snort pricked her ears and she jerked her head around to pin him with a hard stare, daring him to speak against her faithful gelding.

  He lifted his hands in surrender and pressed his lips together in a bid to quell his humor. Across the table, Liam and a few other warriors did not bother hiding their amusement. Their shameless laughter filled the hall.

  To the devil with the lot of them!

  She had enough of them poking fun at Devlin. Slapping her palms on the table, she sprang to her feet.

  “I find myself bored with my present company, so I shall take my leave.” She sniffed and lifted her chin. “I bid you all a good night.”

  Following suit, Mairi rose from her seat. “I think I shall retire as well. I’ll see you up, Arabella.”

  *

  Calum watched as Arabella and his sister retired from the hall with their heads pressed together. Mairi whispered in Arabella’s ear and she tossed her head back and laughed. The feminine sound appealed to his senses. For the life of him, he could not pry his gaze away from Arabella’s swaying backside as she conspired, Christ only knew what, with his sister.

  “You think I do not know what you’re looking at, boy?” Fraser grunted. “You should be thankful I do not remove your eyes from their sockets.”

  Calum cast him a sideways stare. “I’d like to see you try, old man.”

  Laughter broke out around the high table and Elena bolted from her seat, silencing the men. Distaste colored her features. Without a word of explanation, she stormed from the hall.

  Confounded by her behavior, Calum darted a questioning look at his cousin who shrugged. Though the two were far from friends, Elena had never outright scorned Fraser in front of their clans before now. He peered at his ally and lifted his brows, surprised to find the older man’s intense stare fixed on his aunt. Fraser tracked Elena’s every move until she disappeared from sight.

  “And just what are you looking at?” He drawled out the question.

  The other laird blinked a few times, shuttering the force of his gaze. Glancing away from the empty hall entrance, he grabbed his tankard and peered into the contents as if the water might divine some long sought answer.

  Fraser muttered, “Leave it be, Calum.”

  He narrowed his eyes at the out of character response, but afforded the man a reprieve and let the matter lie. For now, at least.

  A few tankards later, most of the MacGregors had retired from the hall to bed down for the night, leaving him in the company of Fraser, Liam, and a score of his most trusted warriors.

  Fraser swallowed a mouthful of water and placed his drink on the table. “Now, tell me more of this whoreson.”

  “From what Arabella’s told us, this man, Longford, struck down Iain in an ambush. Seems he’s had his sights set on Penswyck from the start. He sought a match with Arabella, but Iain denied his request. I presume this led to Iain’s death.”

  Fraser shook his head. “At least the lass is safe now.”

  “True,” he hesitated. “Though, we met with trouble along our journey.”

  “Trouble?” The laird’s sharp gaze met his. “What sort of trouble?”

  “This man, Longford, sent a troop of men after her, if that tells you anything.”

  “More than I wished to know.” Anger darkened his harsh features. “You think the arse would be so daring as to come here and steal her?”

  “’Tis possible.” Liam leaned his elbows on the table. “Without Arabella, he has no legitimate claim to Penswyck.”

  ’Twas not a prospect Calum wished to entertain, but Liam spoke the truth. ’Twas a threat he could not dismiss. Men like Longford, compelled by a single-minded purpose, however ill-fated or irrational, would not relent until they obtained their wicked goals.

  “He’s taken bold measures t
hus far.” Calum met Fraser’s stony stare. “This will only end with Longford’s death.”

  Fraser reached for his tankard and sighed. “She’s headstrong, my lass is. I’ll need to assign a pair of guards to her at all times. I cannot have her flitting about without a care of the dangers lurking beyond my walls.”

  His walls? The notion of Arabella anywhere else but with him was unacceptable.

  Calum growled. “Nay, she stays here.”

  The older laird cut him a biting look, which would’ve made a lesser man wince. “Is that so, boy?”

  The warriors fell silent, the pointed question ensnaring each man’s attention around the table. Weighted stare after weighted stare landed on Calum, but he dared not glance away from the challenge in Fraser’s eyes.

  “’Tis so.”

  “Did you forget what we discussed before you left?” Fraser stroked his beard. “You understand the meaning of this?”

  By God, he was not daft. Of course he comprehended the meaning. He would not have stated otherwise. Besides, the old goat had already announced the wedding to their clans. A fact that still rankled Calum.

  He lifted his chin, bearing Fraser’s gauging scrutiny. “Seems you’ve already spread word from what Mairi’s told me.”

  “What? I did no such thing.” Fraser sputtered. At Calum’s raised brow, he amended, “I might’ve mentioned…well, ’tis no matter now.” He waved his hand in annoyance. “Saints above, just give me your damned answer.”

  Calum narrowed his gaze. He should make the stubborn laird pry it from him. Would serve him right if he did, but he took mercy. On some level, he understood Fraser’s need to safeguard Arabella with the match. Would he not do the same for Mairi?

  “Aye.” One simple word conveyed a wealth of meaning.

  Fraser straightened, his eyes widening. “Aye?”

  “Aye.” Calum drawled out the single word.

  “Well…” Victory flashed in the laird’s eyes and a smile emerged through his bushy beard. Fraser cuffed his shoulder. “’Tis settled then.”

  “Truly?” Liam exclaimed.

  Calum met his cousin’s astonished gaze. “Aye, I’ve decided to take Arabella as my bride.”

  Roused shouts and hoots rose from the men, chasing away the strained silence and lightening the mood in the hall.

  “You’re going to have to watch her,” Fraser warned. “She’s a mischievous lass. Quiet, but mischievous.”

  Liam chuckled. “No cause to worry. He’ll see that she’s well protected.”

  “Damn right, I will.” Calum scowled at the other laird. “I protect what’s mine.”

  “A mite possessive already, Laird?” Symon smirked.

  Ignoring the jab, Calum slammed a fist on the table, stifling the teasing in the hall. “Look, we have more pressing matters to discuss. Everyone agrees the Englishman must die, aye?”

  Without hesitation, a chorus of ayes rang out.

  “Then we prepare. I’ve no notion what to expect from Longford, but I’m not taking any chances where Arabella is concerned. Sean, Gavin, I want the two of you guarding her at all times. The rest of you, make sure to assign extra men to each watch. Anyone notices anything out of place, you come to me.” When the men nodded, he faced his second commander. “Symon, I have an errand for you. See me before you bed down for the night.”

  He glanced at Fraser. “Will you send word to the other clans to be wary of travelers through their lands?”

  “Of course.” Fraser nodded. “I’ll spread word, at once.”

  “So…when’s the wedding?” Marcus grinned.

  Rolling his eyes, Calum raked his hand down his face in exasperation. He glanced around the table, meeting each man’s amused stare. “Let me speak with the lass first. I do not need her finding out from someone else before she and I have a chance to discuss the matter.”

  Fraser snorted into his tankard. “Then you should make haste.”

  Calum’s gaze darted to older man. “Why?”

  With a shameless grin, Fraser shrugged. “I’ve already sent for the priest.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Arabella hastened down the stairs, eager not to miss the morning meal, or Calum for that matter. She’d slept far past first light, but surely she was not too late. She paused at the entryway of the great hall, panting from her mad dash. Aside from a few servants, naught but bare trestle tables and empty seats filled the chamber. Her shoulders and spirits slumped at the sight.

  “Over here, Arabella.”

  She glanced to the side of the hall where Mairi lounged in a huge chair in front of the lit hearth. A large, shaggy hound leaned against her legs while she scratched behind its ears.

  And they complained Devlin was unsightly.

  Arabella made her way across the hall, eyeing the mongrel as she passed. She gave the beast a wide berth, and settled onto a stool beside her new friend. Rubbing her hands together to chase away the chill in the air, she held them before the fire, absorbing the warmth.

  “’Tis cold this morn.”

  “Aye, I’m afraid it shall only get colder as winter approaches.” Mairi leaned forward and shooed the furry beast away. The dog moved closer to the hearth, its claws clicking on the stone as it moved to lie in front of the fire.

  “I’m sorry to have overslept. I’d hoped to break my fast before our tour of the keep.” Arabella frowned at the flames, unwilling to admit she’d mostly wished to catch a glimpse of Calum before he went about his duties for the day.

  “Not to worry. You needed the rest. I had Agnes save you some food.” Mairi motioned to Florie, who smiled brightly and darted into the kitchens. “Once you’ve eaten, I’ll show you my herb garden, and then we’ll visit with Aunt Elena. She’s working on a batch of salve to store for winter or she would’ve joined us.”

  Within moments, Florie rushed into the hall with a bowl of pottage she handed over to Arabella. “Here you are, my lady. ’Tis still nice and warm.”

  She accepted the fare with a gracious smile. “Thank you, Florie.”

  The blonde nodded and proffered a toothy grin before addressing her mistress. “Lady Mairi, Heartha asked if you’d bring Lady Arabella by her cottage later. She wished to check her measurements.”

  “We’ll be sure to pay her a visit.”

  The servant bobbed her head and returned to her duties.

  Arabella glanced at Mairi, who explained. “Heartha’s the clan’s best weaver. I’ve asked her to fashion new gowns for you.” Mairi reached over and patted her shoulder. “Liam told me what happened with your others.”

  “Oh.” Heat warmed her cheeks. “Thank you, but I imagine I’ll be traveling to the Fraser keep soon. Surely the Frasers’ weaver can supply me with a few.”

  “Ah…” Hesitant, Mairi frowned and tapped her finger on the chair arm. “Well, as far as I’m aware, Fraser intends to stay on here for a time. So in that case, you’ll need new gowns.”

  Arabella had not heard otherwise from her uncle, or Calum. In fact, she’d barely just arrived at the MacGregor holding and had little chance to speak to anyone at length aside from Mairi. After the evening meal, the two of them had spent the remainder of the night talking in Calum’s bedchamber. To her good fortune, she and Mairi shared many common interests and formed an immediate kinship. ’Twas a rare and refreshing change for her.

  Once Arabella finished her repast, Mairi rose to her feet and smiled. “Shall we?”

  Anxious to see more of the keep, she trailed her new friend through the great hall into the kitchens. Absorbed in taking in the new surroundings, she failed to notice Mairi had halted in her tracks until she slammed into the back of the woman. Arabella stepped around her to ask why she’d stopped and came up short at a large, wooden ladle jammed in close proximity of her nose.

  A short, decrepit woman with wiry, gray hair stood at the other end of the spoon. Deep wrinkles added to the force of her scowl. A full head shorter than Arabella, the old crone blocked their path.


  “The pair of you better not come running in here messing up my kitchens.”

  “Holy Mother Mary, Agnes. We’re merely on our way to the garden.” Mairi heaved an exasperated sigh. “We’re not going to mess up a thing.”

  “Best not, or I’ll turn you both over my knee.” Agnes squinted her beady eyes with the threat, and then hobbled over to a bubbling pot over the fire.

  Startled by the dour woman, Arabella glanced askance at Mairi, who rolled her eyes and motioned her to a hallway off the side of the kitchens.

  “Who the devil was that?” she whispered.

  “Agnes, our cook,” Mairi muttered. “Seems she’s in good spirits today.”

  Arabella exclaimed, “Good spirits?”

  “Aye, you should meet her when she’s in a foul mood.”

  “I’d rather not. In fact, I believe I’ll not venture into the kitchens alone in the future,” Arabella assured her.

  “Sound decision.” Mairi chuckled.

  With each step deeper into the passageway, the air grew cooler. At the end, Mairi unbarred a heavy door, stepped out into the morning sun, and waved Arabella through. As her friend bid, she strode outside and paused long enough to take in the charming sight.

  Vine-covered stone surrounded a lush garden filled with herbs and protected the patch of thriving earth from the chilled autumn winds. Breathing in the fresh, wholesome scents of rosemary and mint hanging in the air, she wandered through the garden, running her fingertips over leaves and blossoms.

  Memories of her mother’s garden at Penswyck surfaced. The image of her mother’s bright crown of red curls and loving face filled Arabella’s mind for a fleeting moment, then faded. She struggled to grasp ahold of the likeness once more, but the memory retreated into black oblivion as though it never existed.

  Tears slipped from her eyes and she crushed the leaves in her hand. Fleeting glimpses—short snatches of happier moments in her life—’twas all she had left anymore.

  “Are you all right?” Mairi’s hesitant voice cut through her grim thoughts.

  She sniffed and proffered a faint smile. “Aye, ’tis just your garden reminds me of my home.”