Adventures of a Highlander

by Emilia Ferguson

  Claudine smiled

  “I would be pleased to talk awhile,” she said. She blushed too, admitting that.

  “Good.”

  Their gaze held. Under the table, Claudine became aware of a warm leg close to her own. She drew in a breath as his knee bumped hers gently and then withdrew. She felt a blush flood her face.

  She glanced sideways at Francis and he looked back at her. She swallowed. He looked so intensely back. It made her feel things deep inside her body – things that she had never felt before. Her rational mind didn't understand. Her body seemed to know precisely, however. It throbbed and wanted to lean closer to him...

  As they both moved closer, Claudine felt herself suddenly stiffen. It would be absolutely scandalous if they kissed here in the hall, with all eyes upon them!

  She flushed and leaned hastily backward. She knew what her body wanted. She had seen ladies kissing young men before – discreetly, in the corners of the hall . She had never thought of doing it herself before.

  “Are you ready to go?” Francis asked.

  Claudine swallowed, unable to get a word out round the big lump that blocked her throat. She nodded. “Yes.” she managed to say.

  “Well, then.”

  Francis stood and Claudine pushed her chair back, feeling a vague unease inside her. What would her uncle think?

  Uncle always says I should make more effort to be like other people, to be likable. Why should I make him anything other than pleased if I do this?

  “Heading off early?” her uncle asked as she got up.

  “Uh, yes, Uncle,” Claudine stammered. ,

  “Apologies, sir. I trust it is not unsuitable to escort your niece to the ramparts?” Francis asked.

  All the people at the table looked at the count of Corron. He directed a neutral smile at Francis.

  “Of course it's not unsuitable, young man. I think there is nowhere in France it would be so. Perhaps in your home country, though? Here we are more relaxed – more modish, I think.”

  Someone at the table laughed and Francis colored.

  Claudine drew in a breath. In two sentences her uncle had managed to make Francis look like a bumbling foreigner.

  Francis looked puzzled. Claudine found a retort on her lips before she had thought much.

  “Uncle, I'm sure Lord Francis is aware of that. He was merely exercising courtesy. I suppose that isn't outmoded.”

  Claudine smiled sweetly. Nonetheless the barb was unmistakable. You are being ruder than you have to be, she was saying. I noticed.

  “Of course, Niece,” her uncle smiled.Claudine walked slowly out. Francis followed her.

  They walked into the hallway.

  Claudine sighed. “I'm sorry. I don't know why Uncle is being so strange. He's not usually like this.” “I hope it isn't aught I've done?”

  Claudine shook her head quickly, feeling at once tenderness for Francis and worry for her uncle.. Why is he doing this?

  “It cannot be that. I don't imagine anyone would find anything to object to in you.”

  Francis blushed. “Really? I mean, thank you, milady.”

  Claudine smiled warmly. “Lord Francis, you're acceptable. More than acceptable.”Francis blushed. She herself felt a flush creep into her cheeks, amazed with her own boldness.

  “Thank you,”he said.

  Claudine swallowed hard. She was twenty years of age – most of the ladies of her acquaintance had found husbands by now – but she had little knowledge of talking with a man her age, never mind anything else.

  Yet she felt as if she could really speak to Francis, say what was on her mind.

  “Of course,” she said with a shy grin. “Now. Shall we inspect the ramparts?”

  Francis grinned. “Yes indeed, milady.”

  Claudine was mildly surprised when he waved her ahead. She moved so slowly that she knew people often became impatient of her.

  “Thank you.”

  Francis looked genuinely surprised. “Of course. Ladies first.”

  Claudine smiled, then walked along the hallway beside him shyly.

  When they reached the top of the stairs she was out of breath.

  Francis stood back at the door that led to the battlements and Claudine leaned on the wall beside it, breathing heavily. She felt as if she had been walking all day, her head dizzy and her heart thudding. Wretched body!

  “E...excuse me,” she whispered. She felt impatient, and angry and embarrassed. What was Francis going to think of her? She was just being difficult. Why should he have patience with this?

  “There is nothing to excuse,” Francis said, surprising her. “My lady, I understand your own impatience with yourself. But no one else has the right to be impatient. Walking is hard, in your life. As hard as it would be for me to change the color of my hair.”

  Claudine smiled. .

  “Lord Francis, I like your hair. I trust you will not endeavor to change it.”

  Francis blushed.They looked at each other in the close space of the tower's apex.

  In the silence, with just the two of them, Claudine felt a strange urge fill her. It was the same strange urge as she had felt at breakfast, when they had leaned closer . She wanted to kiss him. She looked down abruptly, trying to quell the feelings that were flooding her body, igniting her veins.

  “Shall we go outside?” she asked quickly. If they didn't move soon, she'd do something improper.

  He cleared his throat, face red. “Yes. Of course. You first.”

  Claudine winced as she stepped onto the rampart. She managed it without losing her balance, and stood against the wall outside. It was warm out and she leaned back on the heated bricks,, feeling the warmth on her skin from the sunshine.

  She heard Francis alight beside he. They stood and looked over the landscape. The roofs of Paris spread out before them – tile and thatch, miles of them stretching to the silver sparkle of river water. The sky was crystallized blue, an arced dome over the placid city.

  “Is it not beautiful?” Claudine whispered.

  “So beautiful.” Francis' voice was thick with feeling. “I am sure there is no city to compare it to.”

  Claudine felt her cheeks fill with a blush. She felt absurdly proud of Paris. It was the place she had spent half her life – every year in the summer her family came to court – first she and her father, then uncle. It was so much a part of her life that she felt as if it was part of her and she was pleased that Francis liked it so well.

  “It is breathtaking,” she agreed.

  “Indeed.”

  They stood and watched the city awhile. Somewhere below them in the courtyard, men-at-arms practiced with sword and wooden staff, the sounds and shouts of their training lifting up from below on the warm air.

  Francis leaned on the rail. Shyly, Claudine joined him. Her elbow was close to his, so close she could feel the warmth of his body through his linen tunic. She blushed, realizing that she had been imagining his body beneath the tunic: how muscled and lean it must be, how smooth..

  Claudine! How can you even think of such things?Francis and the way he looked made her think all manner of wild thoughts. She even wondered what it might feel like if he kissed her. His hard, firm lips touching hers, his pink tongue pushed through the gap between her lips, filling her mouth. How his hand might touch her cheek, the way she had seen done. The thought was so deliciously wicked that she looked at her hands, trying to hide her smile.

  “My lordship is here for long?” Claudine asked. Her voice came out all scratchy and she blushed.

  “Um...a week.”

  “So long! I am surprised your family spares you that long,” she replied warmly.

  Francis laughed. “I'm sure they'd spare me longer. I think it's a relief to have me gone from underfoot.”

  Claudine shook her head.

  “Lord Francis, why do you imagine people wish you elsewhere?”

  She saw his eyes narrow in surprise. “You know...I never thought about that question,” h
e admitted. “I suppose I...just came to think of myself as a nuisance.”

  He sounded sad. Claudine knew how he felt.

  “Me too,” she agreed. “Ever since I turned nineteen and this...debility...crept over me, I've come to expect people would wish me gone. I am too slow, too cumbersome. I feel like no-one wants to spend time around me..” She bit her lip, looking down impatiently. “Sorry,” she added. “I know I'm complaining, but...”

  Francis surprised her by reaching out to her. Gently, he rested a hand on her shoulder, just under the soft curls of her hair. She felt as if her heart would leap out of the cage of her ribs in surprise. Tentatively, he stroked her hair and then quickly moved back, looking embarrassed. Claudine felt the imprint of his fingers like the warmth of coals.

  “Sorry,” he said. “That was improper.”

  “No,” she murmured, her throat tight. “It seems so shocking that someone as beautiful would think themselves tiresome,” Francis said.

  Claudine looked up into his eyes. She stared. He thought she was beautiful?

  As long as she could remember, no one, except her father and her maidservant, had ever said that to her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Her throat was tight with feeling.

  Francis reached out gently for her hand. Then, almost before either of them had any idea of what was happening next, his lips moved over hers. His hand reached up and cupped her cheek tenderly.

  Claudine shut her eyes, feeling a shiver of amazement pass through her. She breathed in with amazement at the sweetness of the feeling. She would never have imagined that being kissed felt like this – the sweet softness of his mouth on hers, the way his tongue stroked along the parting of her lips.

  Francis kissed her longer, his hands moving down. He gripped on her shoulders, drawing her against him. Then abruptly he moved away.

  “Claudine. I...I'm sorry.”

  Claudine looked up, lips parted, eyes wide with surprise.

  She couldn't think what to say. Her whole body was tingling with excitement and the sweetness of his touch on her body stayed with her, even as he withdrew.

  “I shouldn't have done that,” he began.

  “Nor should I,” Claudine said, interrupting him.

  She smiled. They were both grinning. Claudine wasn't sure why. She could feel a slow joy building up in her heart and making her want to sing. She didn't know why, but she felt ridiculously alive. Happier than she'd felt for months.

  Francis was smiling.

  “I am sorry,” he said in a soft voice. “But also I am not sorry. My lady, I'm overwhelmed.”

  Claudine giggled. Her throat was tight with feeling. “Me too,” she whispered quietly.

  They looked at each other again. Claudine felt as if she was drowning in those warm, friendly eyes. She blushed.

  “I suppose we should return,” she said, indicating the door behind her.

  “Yes,” Francis whispered. “We should.”

  Claudine felt her throat tighten at the urgency in his voice. Evidently he wanted, as did she, to stay here and do that again. She blushed in delicious shock at her own feelings.

  Kissing at a ball was all very well – people would excuse it – but in daylight on the ramparts was highly reprehensible. Even very bold young ladies would think twice at such an impropriety! And with a man they barely knew? Scandal would pursue anyone who behaved in such a manner.

  She wanted to laugh. She, Claudine Poitiers, being scandalous?

  She would never have imagined such a thing. It was so unbelievable as to be almost amusing. Even so, she made herself turn away from him and walked in briskly through the door. for she was determined to save her reputation as far as she could.

  Francis followed her in and she felt her body respond to the closeness again.

  Her mind was still focused on the sweet sensation of closeness and intimacy. She turned round to face Francis and he smiled a little breathlessly.

  “We should return to the hall?”

  “We should.” She replied gravely.What would her uncle say about her long absence on the ramparts?

  She felt a mix of shyness and joy in that. The fact that she had flouted protocol, and with this man, made her feel shyly proud.

  What would the other ladies think?

  She felt a smile stretch her lips as she walked with Francis. Foreign he might look, but she had noticed already how the ladies' eyes lingered on him – even that night at the ball she had caught sight of more than one glance.

  They would be surprised. And maybe jealous.

  A sentry smiled at her and saluted as they went past. “Milady. Milord.”Claudine saw his eyes rove toward Francis and felt her cheeks flush with pride and shyness.

  Yes, she wanted to say aloud. This is Lord Francis, heir to a count. And he just kissed me.

  She grinned and felt a want to laugh with joy.

  “I should go,” Francis said awkwardly at the bottom of the steps. They stopped there together. Stared at each other intently. “I need to take my petition to the great audience chamber,” he explained sorrowfully.

  “Yes,” Claudine said softly. She didn't want him to go.Slowly, he leaned in towards her. Claudine felt her whole body respond as he reached out and took her wrist. Her heart sang as those lips, soft and satin-like, touched the back of her hand.

  “Until tomorrow, then, milady,” he murmured, straightening up.

  “Yes, milord,” Claudine said in a small voice.

  His hand slowly left hers and she felt the touch of it even as he turned and walked lightly and quickly away. She watched him until his tall, broad frame blended into shadow at the corridor's end.

  All she understood of that morning was that she felt for Francis in a way she never had felt about anyone before. And she would never forget, whatever happened next, that he had kissed her. She, an almost-cripple, had done what the most respectable court ladies would blush at – and that, for a morning hours before luncheon, was not too bad a way to start the day, after all.

  CONSIDERATION AND QUESTIONING

  Claudine walked into the hall, still thinking about that kiss. Her uncle had gone, along with most of the noble guests. She felt a sudden flood of relief sweep through her.

  At least if he's gone he won't guess what happened with me and Francis.

  Uncle was terrifyingly perceptive. The closeness between she and Francis was not going to go undetected. Or unremarked on.

  Strange. Why does that make me feel scared?

  For some odd reason, she had the strong conviction her uncle would be angry if he knew. But why?

  The way he talks sometimes, he'd be pleased to see me attract the interest of a kitchen servant, just to show I could.

  Claudine crossed the hallway slowly, heading up to the western wing and her bedchamber. When she got there, she closed the door behind her, calling Bernadette.

  “My lady?”

  The familiar heart-shaped face appeared around the edge of the partition.“There you are,” Claudine said softly. “I was hoping you'd be in.” She sat down on the bed heavily, her legs tired after the morning excursions.

  Bernadette nodded. “Indeed I am. Can I help you, mistress?”

  “I don't know,” Claudine said frankly.

  Bernadette frowned.

  “What do you mean, my lady?” she asked. “You're not unwell, are you?”

  “No,” Claudine said, “at least, no more than this wretched malady. But my thoughts are all confused.”

  “How so, milady?”

  “Well,” Claudine sighed. “I met someone the other night: Someone different.”“Mm?” Bernadette inquired.

  “Well,” Claudine frowned. “He's...foreign, more or less. From Scotland. Though he has family here, in the country. It... it's his first time in court:but he's not that unrefined. Or, not as you might imagine from my explaining.”

  Bernadette giggled. “Go on,”she encouraged.

  “Well, he...” Claudine frowned. “It seems silly �
� but, well, he and I, we share so much. He doesn't belong. And nor do I.”

  Bernadette frowned. “Now, my lady...”

  Claudia shook her head, interrupting her. “I know, Bernadette. You'll say I shouldn't feel that way. But what am I to feel, when I am so slow, so ill? There's no-one like me. No-one who understands how it feels. And the other ladies pity me. I can feel it.”

  Bernadette sighed. She looked at her hands and said nothing for a while.. “Go on,” she said eventually.

  “Well,” Claudine paused. “I...the young man and I are – it seems we like each other. I feel like...like my whole world is happier just from knowing he exists.”

  Bernadette smiled. “It sounds wonderful, milady. Like love.”

  Claudia shot her a look. “It does?”

  Bernadette nodded. “Yes, milady. It does. You must have heard the minstrels sing of things so similar?” she grinned.

  “Well,” Claudine hesitated. “Yes, but...”

  “No 'but' about it,” Bernadette interrupted briskly. “That is a wonderful thing.”

  “Is it?” Claudine asked. “I mean of course it is. But...”

  “But what? Is there some difficulty? The young man's lineage is wrong?”

  “No,” Claudine murmured. “I mean, it's true he's lowborn for a duke's daughter, but I think my father would cheerfully see me wed to just anyone, just to see an heir born.”

  Bernadette frowned. “You shouldn't say that. Don't think like that,” she cautioned.

  Claudine gave a mirthless snort. “Bernadette, don't try to soften things. I know you're being nice, but you can't fool me. I know all too well that Father would rather see me wedded to an inconsequential noble and safely out of his responsibility.”

  “No,” Bernadette soothed.

  “I know it, Bernadette,” Claudine said sadly. “But I also know this young man is different. Not like the others. Not shallow.”

  Bernadette smiled. “You are right.” she nodded. “Many of them are.”

  “Quite.”

  They both laughed. After a moment, Bernadette looked serious again.

  “You have yet to tell me. Why so sad?”

  Claudine frowned. “It's...uncle, mainly. He's being strange!”