A Beauty at the Highland Court: A Star-Crossed Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 7)

by Celeste Barclay

  Before Arabella could say anything, the man pushed her hard enough that she lost her footing. She landed hard on her hands and knees as the door slammed shut and the lock turned. When she looked up, she realized her nose nearly touched the far wall. She eased herself onto her feet and looked around. There was no window in the wall and no light coming in from the door. There was no opening to the outside world. Arabella realized the vindictive guard had thrown her into the oubliette. Her head dropped as the sobs began. She knew no one could hear her. Even if Lachlan came, he wouldn’t be able to hear her scream. She wouldn’t hear anyone enter the dungeon, so she wouldn’t know when to even try.

  The name’s fitting. Oubliette. I will be forgotten. Lachlan won’t know where I’ve gone. No one believes me. They’ll leave me down here until I die of starvation, thirst, or succumb to illness. There is little likelihood aught else will happen now. They will conveniently keep me in here, even when they take the others before the king. You eejit, Belle. You haven’t the sense of a coo. At least a coo has a bell around its neck, so it can be found. This is exactly what you deserve for your vices and stubbornness. God will have me pay my penance here. Bonnie Bella locked away. Hardly so perfect now.

  Arabella sobbed until her throat was raw, and her eyes burned. The single benefit of the oubliette was that it didn’t stink. At least not yet.

  It will once I’ve been down here a day. It’ll be even worse than the first cell since it’s so small.

  Arabella stuck her foot out and swept it across the floor, touching each wall. There was no chamber pot. Her tears began again as she considered the life she’d given up for a jug of whisky, a jug she never even got. She wanted more than anything to see Lachlan, but she would marry Beathan Gunn without dissent if it meant she was free and safe. Grateful she still had her cloak, she slid down the wall until she sat on her haunches, propped up by the stones behind her. She closed her eyes, at least grateful she was not at risk of being attacked by a cellmate.

  Her exhaustion hit her with the force of a tidal wave, carrying her away to an ocean of nightmares. She slept off and on; each time she dozed, it was fitful. But her body was too weary to fight the need for sleep. A banging on her cell door woke her fully. She caught the stale heel of bread thrown at her, rejoicing that at least they fed her. She could survive for quite a while on bread alone. She just prayed that the bread would come at least once a day. Forgotten in her hellhole, she didn’t know if she’d be fed again.

  Thirteen

  Lachlan glanced sideways at the king as they rode over hill and dale accompanied by an entourage of guards and courtiers. King Robert invited Lachlan on the royal hunt that morning, and Lachlan wasn’t sure if it was meant to be conciliatory or a distraction. Either way, it kept him from Arabella, and it made him feel testy. After leaving Arabella at her door, Lachlan had felt unsettled as he returned to his chamber. There was so much still left unsaid between the two of them, and he had no way of knowing whether he would have a chance to say any of it before Arabella’s father and Beathan arrived that day.

  As the hours ticked by and they still had found little more than grouse and rabbits, Lachlan was frustrated and irritable. He wanted to return to the castle since the hunting seemed to be a wasted effort. He sensed King Robert felt much the same way in spite of all his boasting how he would bring down the largest stag of the day. Lachlan breathed a sigh of relief when the king relented and ordered their party back to Stirling. As his luck would have it, just as they turned south to ride back to the castle, a herd of deer sprang from the trees into the meadow that stretched before them.

  Lachlan drew an arrow from his quiver and knocked it. It flew straight and steady, piercing the side of a large doe. His sharp sight and quick thinking allowed him to choose between two female deer, one clearly pregnant and the other simply large. A man a few horses down from him was not as conscientious and felled the pregnant animal. King Robert’s oaths were so loud that Lachlan expected them to scare away the other animals, but arrows zipped through the air, striking a stag and several other does.

  “Sard!” King Robert bellowed as he spurred his horse around to trot in front of the offending hunter. “Can you not tell the difference between a doe that’s with fawn and one that’s fat?”

  “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. It wasn’t until after I let go of the arrow that I realized my error,” the courtier confessed.

  “Not only is that cruel, but you’ve wasted an animal that could have grown and fed the keep in a year or so. You are no longer welcome on hunts. Return to the keep before I stick an arrow through you,” King Robert ordered.

  Lachlan was only partially paying attention. His eyes tracked a stag with a ten-point rack of antlers as it remained in the tree line away from its fallen and skittish comrades. When it moved within Lachlan’s shooting range, he released his arrow. He heard the snickers and chides that he shot at nothing. The voices when silent at the thud and snap of twigs the animal’s body made. Lachlan nudged his horse forward as he hooked his bow back onto his saddle. He wasn’t interested in listening to the king’s foul temper since it was only making his own mood worse. His four guards followed him as he went to retrieve both the stag and the doe he’d shot.

  Sensing his mood, he and the Sutherlands worked in silence as they strung up the animals by their hooves, pushing a branch between the front and back feet that they used to carry the animals back to the castle. Lachlan felt much of his tension relax from between his shoulders. He looked forward to telling Arabella about his success and hoped that she would be impressed. He’d never felt compelled to impress her before, but he felt an overwhelming desire to know she was proud of him.

  “Well done, Lach,” King Robert beamed as he maneuvered his horse alongside Lachlan’s. “Certainly better than Baird. Eejit that he is. I never should have welcomed him to court after drawing and quartering his cousin for treason. The family isn’t right in the head.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Lachlan responded, ignoring the commentary. He knew the king didn’t expect him to acknowledge the derisive assessment, only listen to the lament.

  “What say you the kitchens prepare your catches for the evening meal tomorrow? There shall be a celebratory feast,” King Robert offered. Lachlan turned an angry glare at the king. He understood King Robert alluded to Belle’s betrothal announcement. He didn’t appreciate the thinly veiled reminder.

  “As you wish, Your Majesty,” Lachlan nodded.

  “I wish there was more I could do, Lach,” King Robert lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. “Your family is dear to me, but you keep putting me in tenuous positions when it comes to your marriage prospects. I did what I could as both King Robert and Uncle Robert for Maude and Blair, but Lady Arabella and Laird Gunn’s betrothal is too close to being settled. It’s too late.”

  Lachlan kept his eyes forward and counted to ten before he answered, but he still snapped, “It’s never too late when you’re king."

  “You may think that, but I prefer not to abuse my power. I like to keep my subjects loyal,” King Robert retorted. Lachlan didn’t answer. Antagonizing the king would get him nowhere. “Besides, Beathan will get a few bairns on her, then entertain himself elsewhere.”

  Lachlan’s head whipped around, his loathing so clear that King Robert jerked away. “Raping her isn’t the same as getting a few bairns on her. Even if she goes willingly to his bed, he will mistreat her simply because he enjoys abusing women. He’s had no power until recently, and he used his strength and size over women to compensate. Now he does it to impress his men, claiming no woman turns him away. Uncle Robert, King Robert, it matters not to me. I can’t forgive you for this. Even if I didn’t care about her, I would say no woman deserves that.”

  “It’s not rape when they’re married. You ken that,” King Robert condescended.

  “Ask Isabella MacDuff if she thinks the same.” Lachlan spurred his horse on, leaving the king and his entourage behind without a proper
dismissal. Isabella MacDuff had crowned King Robert at Scone Abbey, fulfilling her clan’s legacy. But the presumed mistress of the king had done it at the expense of forsaking her child and the safety the Buchans could have offered, even if only temporarily. King Edward of England captured her alongside the king’s sisters, daughter, and Queen Elizabeth, then ordered she’d be hung in a cage outside Berwick Castle for four years. She’d escaped an abusive husband and fulfilled her duty, but at a cost greater than anyone expected.

  Lachlan drummed his fingers on the table as he ignored the noon meal before him. The other ladies-in-waiting were seated, but Arabella was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t seen her all morning because he’d been on the hunt. He’d hoped to catch her in the Great Hall and pull her aside to at least say hello. He wondered where she was since Queen Elizabeth sat on the dais, and he could see her friends. Laurel Ross and Caitlyn Kennedy sat chatting together, and the woman he recognized as her roommate was engaged in a lively conversation with some other younger members of the queen’s attendants.

  The meal progressed, but Arabella never appeared. The queen rose, and the ladies followed before Lachlan could slip over to ask Laurel and Caitlyn about Arabella. He worried that she was unwell when he spied her guards seated at a table nearby. She hadn’t gone for a walk or a ride alone. Despite her ill-advised adventure to the Merry Widow, he trusted she wouldn’t leave the castle again unaccompanied.

  He forced himself to be patient and returned to his chamber, where he read a recently arrived missive from his father asking how the meeting went between King Robert and Blair, Hardi, and him. He drafted his response, which didn’t take long. He sealed the vellum and found a page to dispatch the correspondence. He laid down on his bed, wondering how he might while away the afternoon. He soon drifted off to sleep. He never napped, but exhaustion from spending two weeks traveling on horseback plus worry over his relationship with Arabella along with concern for her wellbeing, caught up to him. He was soon in a deep sleep.

  Fourteen

  Lachlan woke with a start from a deep sleep and immediately reached for the sword beside his bed. He blinked several times before he realized someone was pounding on his door. He glanced at the window embrasure and saw that early morning light was already streaming in. It was nearly time for him to rise, anyway. He wrapped his plaid around his waist and carried his sword with him. Generally, attackers wouldn’t knock, but he reasoned it would be best to be prepared for anything. He pulled the door open and found a young lady staring up at him. He recognized her as Arabella’s roommate. His heart raced.

  “What happened?” Lachlan demanded.

  “I don’t ken, but she wasn’t there when I woke in the middle of the night the night before last. I heard her slip out, but I assumed she was—ah—here,” the woman blushed. “When I woke yesterday morn, she was still gone. I assumed she slipped back into our chamber later and slept, but I didn’t see her all day. It’s nearly morning, and she still hasn’t returned. I’m scared.”

  “You did right to come to me, Lady—” Lachlan couldn’t remember the woman’s name for the life of him, and as he struggled to remember, he doubted they’d ever been introduced. She was fairly new.

  “Lady Rebekah,” she supplied.

  “Thank you. Please, don’t mention this to anyone. If someone asks, say Lady Arabella isn’t well.”

  “I will,” Rebekah agreed, nodding her head. But Lachlan felt uneasy about trusting her, and she must have been able to tell. “I won’t betray her. I’m a poor liar, but I will try. I haven’t been here long, and I’ve only been her roommate since your sister—err, Lady Blair—I mean, Lady Cameron, left. Arabella has been so generous and friendly since I arrived. Everything terrified me at first, and she’s helped me to fit in. I would never do aught to harm her.”

  “Good,” Lachlan answered, his deep voice filled with authority. Rebekah bobbed a curtsy before running back up the passageway and out of the bachelor quarters. Lachlan understood she risked a great deal coming to his door, so the lady-in-waiting must have been genuinely fearful for Arabella.

  What have you done, Belle? Where are you?

  Lachlan hurried to dress before rushing to the barracks. He shook his guards awake. One glance at his face and each man scrambled off his cot and pleated his plaid in record time. They left the barracks in less than five minutes, Lachlan not saying a word until he was certain they were alone.

  “Lady Arabella is missing. She left her chamber the night before last and hasn’t returned,” Lachlan whispered. He’d had a chance to think, and he suspected he knew where to look first. “We start at the Merry Widow.”

  The gates to the castle weren’t yet open, so it took Lachlan some negotiating and a few coins to grease the wheels that lifted the portcullis. He and his men set off on foot. Lachlan had them fan out since there was more than one route to the tavern, especially if Arabella had passed through the postern gate. He met his men at the front door of the tavern, but each one shook his head. The acid in his stomach felt as though it would eat a hole through his insides. His trepidation mounted with each moment she was missing.

  Lachlan reached out to open the tavern door but found it locked. He glanced at his men, and they appeared as puzzled as he did. Lachlan pounded on the door and waited. When there was no sound, let alone anyone opening the door, he pointed for one of his men to look through the window.

  “It’s empty, Lachlan. Nay one sleeping or aught. It looks like there was an almighty brouhaha. Tables turned over and chairs look smashed,” the Sutherland warrior noted. Lachlan stepped to the window. With no glass, it was easy to see in, and the panic that he’d been suppressing took hold. He returned to the door and banged with both fists. When there was still no answer, not even a sign of life, he stepped back, prepared to break the door down with his foot or his shoulder. He’d use both if he had to.

  “Lad,” a weak old man’s voice called out. Lachlan turned to find a shopkeeper standing in his doorway, a cane in his right hand. “You won’t be finding anyone there. Them been raided two nights past. MacStevens hasn’t paid his rents and fines, and the piper has come for him.”

  “There was a fight?” Lachlan asked.

  “Nay exactly. The sheriff and his men roughed up the men and women, but he only dragged the owner, his wife, the kitchen and serving wenches, and the tavern watchmen to the gaol. Been closed ever since.”

  Lachlan was prepared to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking Arabella must have gone elsewhere, but the old man raised his hand.

  “There was some talk of a lass claiming to be a lady. But thems figured she would say aught to be free. Others said she was a lady’s maid sent to buy whisky for her mistress. I don’t ken which it is, but they took her with the others.”

  “Where?” Lachlan demanded.

  “The castle’s gaol,” the man answered. Lachlan looked in the castle’s direction. While there was little to find reassuring about the news, at least Arabella was at the castle, in not in the town’s gaol.

  “How long ago did you say?”

  “Och, middle of the night two nights ago, it was. I’d say a wee after midnight. The kerfuffle woke the entire street, it did.”

  Lachlan crossed over and reached out to hand the man a coin, but the shopkeeper shook his head. “I’d venture you’re looking for the lady. If she was part of that, you’ll need every coin you have to get her out of the prison.”

  Lachlan nodded and mumbled a “thank you.” He was speechless. He was angrier than he’d ever been in his life. He was angry at Arabella for her foolish choices, for no longer being able to trust her, and for endangering her life. And he was petrified that she’d be dead by now. At the least, he expected her to have been assaulted at least once.

  Lachlan’s men wisely remained silent as they wound their way through the town and toward the castle. Lachlan’s mind reeled with how he would get Arabella released and what he would do to keep from throttling her. He was absorbed in his thoughts, so he didn�
�t notice the guard who tried to signal him.

  “Sutherland! Sutherland!”

  Lachlan looked up to find a royal guard running along the battlements. The man disappeared as he took the steps down to the bailey. The guard was out of breath when he came to a stop before Lachlan. He panted for a moment and swallowed as he caught his breath enough to speak.

  “Sutherland, I saw Lady Arabella the other night,” the guard whispered. “Sheriff Angus Stirling—he’s cousin to Lord John de Strivelyn, you ken—had her manacled and was dragging her by the arm. She was with the tavern owner from the MacStevens Inn and his lot. The Merry Widow,” the guard clarified when he saw Lachlan’s look of confusion.

  “And you didn’t think to come tell me a wee sooner?” Lachlan demanded.

  The guard raised his chin toward the battlements, then swung around to cast a glance at the gate. “I couldn’t very well abandon my post. Not for a lady who found herself in trouble for leaving the safety of the castle. Alone.”

  “Did you see her leave?” Lachlan snapped.

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Then how do you ken she was alone when she left?”

  “Sutherland, Harris—” the guard pointed to a man watching them from the wall walk. “He was posted at the postern gate when she left. He told me she was alone.”

  Lachlan gestured for the man to join them. It was clear it wasn’t a request. “Do you make a habit of letting ladies out of the castle with no protection?”