Adventures of a Highlander

by Emilia Ferguson

  She didn't know how to put it into words. Not exactly. But there was something unusual about him. He was so hostile to Francis. So rude, almost – and uncle was always gracious. And she felt like he was watching her carefully.

  “How strange? Doesn't he approve?” Bernadette asked.

  “No,” Claudine replied. “At least, I think he does not. He is strange with this man. As if he challenges him at every turn.”

  “Perhaps he just seeks to find if he is worthy of you,” Bernadette said.

  Claudine nodded. “Mayhap yes, friend.”

  In her heart, she felt less certain. She had never seen her uncle so quickly take against someone. Somehow his approach was not as if he sought to test Francis. He was more trying to scare him off.

  No! Stop being fanciful, Claudine...why would he?

  He was just being protective and concerned for her. That was all.

  “So this young man?” Bernadette asked slowly.

  “Mm?” Claudine felt dreamy, considering the topic of Francis. The feel of his lips on hers, his body near hers, his hands on her shoulder...

  “He is easy to find?” Bernadette asked.

  “You mean...” Claudine trailed off. “You mean, to arrange to meet?” she felt her heart thump slowly in her chest and looked round-eyed at Bernadette.

  “Yes,” Bernadette nodded. “I am your chaperone, after all,” she added with a big smile. “So I reckon it would all be fair and above reproach if I were to accompany you and arrange a meeting with him. Cautiously, of course.”

  “Bernadette!” Claudine felt herself grinning broadly. “Oh, you darling...” she stood and through her arms around her impulsively.

  Bernadette blushed.“Now,” she said. Her nose was blushing pink and her eyes seemed moist, as if she teared. “Now, the first thing we need to do is find a place to meet.”

  “Yes...” Claudine frowned. “Mayhap...”

  “I was considering the terrace,” Bernadette interrupted. . “What with the sunny weather, many people will be out enjoying the afternoon. I don't see any reason why you shouldn't see him there.”

  “Yes,” Claudine nodded. “I can take her sewing out.”

  “Well, then,” Bernadette said. “Should we head there after luncheon?”

  Claudine felt her cheeks grow pink.

  “Yes, please,” she murmured.

  True to her word, Bernadette accompanied Claudine to the terrace after luncheon. Claudine sat on a stone bench, overlooking the courtyard below.Her tapestry she settled on her knee. Then she bent over, trying to focus on her stitching. It was sunny outside, the light reflecting brightly on the fabric, making it hard to see.

  “Milady?”Bernadette was looking down into the courtyard with a raised brow. Claudine walked to the edge of the terrace, each step a trial in the midday sun. She stood leaning on the rail, head swaying a little with weariness. She looked down.

  There in the middle of the courtyard was Francis.

  She felt a tingle of delight go through her. His tunic that hung off his heavily-muscled shoulders, and his hair shone in the sunshine. He was down there, sword in hand, as he practiced moves of sword fighting. He was alone.

  Claudine looked at Bernadette.

  “Yes, that's him,” she whispered. “How did you guess?”

  “He is a foreigner, clearly,” Bernadette said slowly. Claudine felt a momentary impatience at that – poor Francis, he had to face that all the time! – but she saw the serious expression with which Bernadette faced her now. She had meant no harm by that statement.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Now, we need to get him up here,” Bernadette continued.

  “We do?” Claudine felt herself blush.

  “Yes,” Bernadette said. “I have an idea. Have you a handkerchief?”

  Feeling utterly bemused, Claudine nodded. She reached into her work-bag and then, finding no embroidered handkerchiefs there, reached into her kirtle and drew one out.

  “Yes. Here.”

  “Perfect.”

  To Claudine's utter surprise, Bernadette took it and threw it over the balcony.

  “Bernadette?” What was she doing? Claudine felt her heart flutter in alarm.

  “Hush. Come along.”

  Bernadette, grinning at her, beckoned to Claudine. She leaned on the balcony railing just in time to see the handkerchief flutter down and land on the ground before Francis. He looked up.

  He saw her there and smiled.

  He lifted the handkerchief and put it into his sleeve then strode toward the entrance to the colonnade. Claudine frowned. Her heart thudded with excitement.

  “Is he..?”

  “He's coming up. See if he doesn't.”

  For a chaperone, Bernadette seemed remarkably satisfied with bringing a young man to the balcony.

  “Bernadette!”

  Claudine leaned on the railing, feeling a flutter of nervousness, trying to calm down. He wasn't coming up. Bernadette was wrong. He was going inside to do something. She had to be wrong. Calm down, Claudine. Breathe deeply. In. Out. In. Out.

  She heard a cough, low and surprisingly musical, in the hallway. She jumped.

  “Ah.” Bernadette smiled, turning fluidly to face the door. Claudine felt how her head pounded as she made the sudden motion. She stared.

  Francis smiled sweetly. Then he bowed.

  “I retrieved this from the yard,” he said softly. “I have reason to believe it yours?”

  “Y...yes,” Claudine nodded. Did he realize she had done it on purpose? She blushed.

  She held out a hand and gently closed her fingers round the square of embroidered linen with the monogram of the house of Pavot on it. Francis let it go somewhat reluctantly. His fingertips brushed over hers, soft and enticing. She tensed.

  “You are enjoying a free afternoon?” she asked.

  She looked about to check if Bernadette was still near. Contrary to her duty as a chaperone, or keeping to the letter of the rule alone, Bernadette was perhaps ten paces away along the terrace, leaning on the wall and staring firmly down to the courtyard below. Some chaperone! Claudine wanted to smile, feeling a mix of joy and impatience at her friend.

  When she looked back at Francis, who was smiling at her with that peculiar sweetness again.

  “My lady?”

  Claudine realized he had said something and shook her head to clear it. “Sorry, my lord?”

  He smiled shyly. “I just asked if you would like to stroll on the lawn later?” His eye drifted to Bernadette, and Claudine wondered if he was thinking that on the lawns they might lose her chaperone somewhere in a convenient knot garden?

  Her heart thumped and she cleared her throat. Just the thought that he might want to be alone with her again made her feel truly lovely. Even so, he should know her chances of out walking were limited.

  “Sir, alas,” she said. “I'm not much one for walking.” “Of course. Forgive me. It was...remiss of me...”

  Claudine laughed. “There's no harm done, Francis,” she said gently. “I know you understand.”

  He let out a ragged breath. “Good.”

  She smiled. “Well, if we do not go walking then perhaps you could stay here with me awhile? I confess your company is...quite diverting.”She felt her cheeks go red. What a wanton thing to say! What would he think of her? She touched her cheeks with shocked embarrassment.

  “I am honored,” he said softly. He didn't seem shocked. Quite the opposite, in fact. He seemed delighted.

  Claudine blushed. She walked back to the bench and sat down. Only after she'd done it did she recall that she usually felt embarrassed limping along in front of other people, but not him. Mayhap because, in his company, it ceased to become important.

  “You are sewing a scene from something seasonal?” he asked. He was looking at her work,She looked down at the tapestry where summer flowers jostled for the viewer's gaze under a cerulean blue sky.

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  “You are
unusual in that,” he said. “Most tapestries have pictures of the family insignia on them.”

  Claudine nodded. She didn't like to do that. Her family name and history seemed too much a burden. She was angry with her father and how he made her feel unwanted. The last thing she wanted was images glorifying the Poiters family all round her.

  Mayhap if I were the daughter of some minor noble or even a tradesman, I would have less pressure on me, less cause to hate myself and this weakness.

  “I prefer not to show it,” she said simply.

  “I understand,” Francis said with a nod. “The thing - the family sigil – isn't something I like seeing around the place much either. It is a reminder of duty. A heavy burden.”

  Claudine nodded. “Exactly!”

  Francis chuckled. “It's odd,” he ventured . “But sometimes I feel as if we know each other. I mean, better than we should. After such a short time's passed.”

  Claudine nodded. “Yes,” she said hesitantly. “I feel it too.”They stared at each other.

  Francis leaned forward and their lips just brushed against each other before Claudine leaned away.

  I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't even be here.

  All the same, her body felt wonderful even after that brief contact. That smudge of lip against lip was surprisingly potent. Her whole body tingled.

  “My lady?” Francis murmured. “Pray forgive me. I shouldn't do that.,”

  Claudine shook her head. “Nothing to forgive.”

  Francis reached forward and their hands met. Claudine felt the sweetness of his touch on her fingers. She closed her eyes. Then, tensing, they opened quickly as she glanced to Bernadette.

  “Stella! Where have you been?” Bernadette said loudly with a woman on the terrace. It seemed she was making a show of looking the other way.

  Noticing, Claudine felt her heart flood with a delicious naughtiness. She smiled at Francis. He smiled back.

  Very gently, they kissed. Francis leaned in, breath sighing out as his lips touched hers. She felt his tongue move, tingling her flesh, across her lips. She sighed and her lips flew apart. His tongue quested between and her body caught fure.

  A moment later Francis was standing, cheeks flaming.

  “My lady,” he said quickly. “I should go. But...thank you. It was a pleasure to spend some time with you.

  “Nothing...it's nothing,” Claudine murmured. She felt her face redden in a blush. “I should also go.” She felt amazed, and a little confused. Had she done something to offend him?

  “I too.”

  When she looked into his eyes, he didn't look offended, she had to admit. He looked amazed, the same way she felt inside. He was bright red and sighing. Claudine felt herself shiver as he lifted her hand to his lips again. Their eyes met.

  “Goodbye, milady,” he said tightly. He coughed. He seemed discomforted, hurrying off down the terrace. Claudine waited until she had seen him go, and then sat down slowly on the bench again.

  “Bernadette?” she called.

  “Milady...yes?”

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “I appreciate it.”

  “Appreciate what?” her companion asked and then winked to show she teased her.

  “I'm glad I got to talk with him again,” she said simply.

  “Well, these things start that way,” her maid said, making Claudine stare at her in shock for the second time in a few days.

  “Bernadette!” she exclaimed, laughing; astonished. “You mean that?” she asked then. She was curious. Did Bernadette really think that...that Francis liked her? The way men liked women?

  “ Course I do,” Bernadette said lightly. “Things start as being friends,” she said. “So my mum used to say. And if you're lucky, she always added, you'll stay friends no matter what else comes along.”

  Claudine nodded. “I feel like that,” she said sincerely. Even though she ignited whenever Francis sat close to her, she also just enjoyed talking to him. They were friends now and hopefully always would be. She liked him.

  “If only I could walk,” she said, feeling suddenly sad.

  “You can walk,” Bernadette countered. Claudine glared at her.

  “You know just how well,” she said with some sarcasm. “Or how badly,” she added crossly.

  The two women were quiet for a while.

  “Well, milady,” Bernadette said softly, “it seems to me that the only reason you hold yourself so aloof from enjoyment is because you think no one wants you around.”

  Claudine nodded slowly. “I suppose you're right. ” The insight surprised her.She knew Bernadette cared about her and that, if anyone knew of her struggles, it would be her companion. However, she hadn't noticed just how wise she was.

  “Well, then. The best thing to do is to ignore the lot of them. They just wish they were as sweet and lovely as you.”

  Claudine swallowed hard.

  “They? Jealous of me?” She snorted. “Never.”

  Bernadette said nothing. Claudine noticed her skeptical look. She sighed.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, milady,” Bernadette said mildly. “Now. I think I'm going to do a tapestry to match the one in the solar at Pavot...the one with the field of flowers. I think we could do with a matching one for the back wall.”

  Claudine let herself get drawn into conversation about the tapestry. It was a pleasant distraction from her suddenly-gloomy turn of mood. She wished she didn't feel so impatient with her body, sometimes, but she did. Now more than ever. She wondered if she would start to feel worthy of the attentions of Francis.

  Perhaps he's just polite.

  Though, she had to admit, he wasn't very polite to her uncle.

  But uncle wasn't very polite to him, either.

  Claudine was surprised at how rapidly she seemed to have changed support. Where she would once have been with her uncle on any matter whatsoever, she felt disinclined to support him now. More inclined to question what he said sometimes. What he said to her.

  It seems sometimes like Uncle would rather I didn't recover ever.

  She snorted, dismissing the thought. Bernadette looked up from where she rummaged through a chest of cloth.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  Claudine sighed. “Nothing, Bernadette. Sorry to disturb.”

  “You didn't,” Bernadette said quickly. “I was just looking for a color that will make forget-me-nots on the tapestry...would you say this is it?”

  Claudine nodded at the skein of blue silk, the color of the sky just above the hills at noon.

  “That looks perfect,” she nodded.

  “Good.”

  They found their materials. Claudine heard other ladies arrive and looked round, feeling awkward.

  “Oh, and did you see? I won the match of battledore and shuttlecock...” Jacintha was saying.

  “Oh! Well done, Emilia.”

  Claudine felt sad. These were things she'd never do herself. Rather hadn't done for years now.

  “Oh, Lady Claudine,” one of them said, standing back in the door as Claudine slipped out. She recognized her as Lady Nicolene. “I didn't see you there.”

  Claudine gritted her teeth as the five ladies stood back to let her pass, and she felt their gaze hang on her as she walked slowly and painfully between them. Did they have to stare at her like that? She tensed and hobbled on, feeling their looking at her like coals, burning into her back.

  Bernadette was at her side but she didn't offer to help her stand, aware that Claudine would feel even more awkward.

  She endured their stares and the silence until she reached the doorway. By the time they were through, she could feel hot tears of indignation prick her eyes.

  Claudine sniffed fiercely. “I'm sorry, Bernadette,” she said in a small voice. “It's just...why is it that they have to be like that? Have to make me feel so clumsy, so foolish? And don't tell me they're jealous. I won't believe so.”

  Bernadette sighed. “I won't tell you,” she said. Claudin
e looked sideways at her.

  “But...”

  “But it doesn't mean it isn't true,” her companion added.

  Claudine couldn't help it. She smiled.

  “Thank you, Bernadette.”

  “It's nothing, milady.”

  The two of them walked slowly back up the hallway to the wing where the bedchambers were to find her bedchamber. It was time for afternoon rest.

  GETTING TO KNOW MORE

  Francis walked moodily through the colonnade. He couldn't stop thinking about Claudine. He knew it was foolish of him, but she had moved him in a way no other lady ever had.

  It's those eyes. No, her sweet, pouting mouth. No, her hair... It was all of those things, and more than any of them. His body was tormented by lust for her, but his heart felt already a fierce regard. She was special.

  He tensed. He could see a figure sitting in the courtyard, on the edge of the fountain. She was bent over something. Embroidery.

  He walked closer, feeling his heart thumping in his chest. It was her. He hadn't imagined it.

  He leaned against a pillar, looking over. The curls of her blond hair ruffled in the breeze, her lips parted in concentration, she was stunning.

  He felt his loins respond as his eyes rested on her bosom and rebuked himself gently. She was a lady. She was also not for him. No daughter of a duke would ever marry a mere count.

  He racked his brains. He couldn't just walk away. She was alone here in the courtyard and he couldn't forgive himself were he to pass up the opportunity to talk to her.

  Ask her something! Go on. Do it.

  Francis walked doltishly forward, feeling like he was facing his tutor and failing dismally at some lesson.

  “Milady,” he said. “Uh...do you know where the kitchen gardens are?”

  The lady bit her lip. An innocent move, it nevertheless made his loins throb with wanting. She had such sweet, pink lips, big and wet. He felt a stab of desire. He looked at the ground, controlling his breathing.

  “They're over there, I think, sir,” she said in that soft, gentle voice. “By the kitchen, I'd say.”

  Francis closed his eyes. How could you ask such a stupid question?

  “Uh, thanks, milady,” he said. Stupid, stupid me.