“You don’t have to do that,” Arabella murmured. “I mean, you don’t have to be in such a rush to clean my hand. I’m not bothered by it. It’s rather a sense of accomplishment.”
“Sense of accomplishment? I shall show ye an accomplishment,” Lachlan teased as he crawled down the bed to lie on his belly between her legs. He lowered his head and was about to lick Arabella when banging sounded on his door. “Bluidy hell. Havenae enough people come to ma door today?”
Arabella’s frightened eyes made Lachlan regret his grumbling. He slipped from the bed and gathered her soiled and fresh clothes before pointing beneath the bed. He gave her a rueful expression, but they both suspected it was her father at the door. He pushed the wad of clothing underneath as Arabella scouted herself under the frame. The knocking continued as Lachlan pulled his belt loose and let it drop to the floor. It reminded him that he would need to collect his weapons from his men. He was certain they retrieved them after he stormed out of the Privy Council chamber with Arabella in his arms. He let his plaid drop; the pleats falling out as he dunked his head in the now tepid bath water. He shook it out before moving toward the door while wrapping his loose plaid around his waist.
Arabella could see Lachlan’s calves as he walked toward the tub. When she watched his plaid slip toward the ground, she angled herself to look up from under the bed. She briefly glimpsed the taut backside she’d enjoyed fondling in the alcove. She regretted not having done that while they were still alone. He momentarily confused her when he dunked his head, but she soon realized he had to look like the one who had bathed to explain why the tub was there. She glanced around, ensuring she had all her belongings. Her eyes widened as her hand whipped forward to pull her boots under the bed. She watched Lachlan’s bare feet pad to the door, then heard her father’s voice when he opened the door.
“Where the bluidy hell is my useless daughter?”
Eighteen
Lachlan stepped out of the way before Mitcholm barreled into the chamber, but he blocked the doorway when Beathan tried to enter. If Mitcholm discovered Arabella under the bed, he wouldn’t let Beathan spy her in only his leine. The thought that it would incriminate them enough that they would have to marry crossed his mind, but that wasn’t how he wanted to begin the partnership he swore to Arabella they would have—with her disgraced and forced. When he swore never to force her, he’d meant more than just into his bed.
“I asked you a question,” Mitcholm demanded.
“Do you see her here?” Lachlan answered with a sweeping gesture around the room, his courtly accent back in place. He would do his best not to tell any overt lies, but he would if backed into a corner.
“She’s not in her chamber, and we all witnessed you carrying her away,” Beathan said from the passageway while Lachlan continued to keep him outside the bedchamber. Lachlan didn’t spare him a glance as he watched Mitcholm stalk around the chamber.
“I suppose she’s run off to find her whisky,” Mitcholm grumbled. “Which mon is giving it to her? For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s you. After all, if it was you, she wouldn’t have been out that night.”
“Thank you.” Lachlan infused all the sarcasm he could muster into his tone. He hoped that keeping Mitcholm talking would distract him from his search. He slipped into his brogue on purpose to draw the man’s attention to him. “Ye can see the lass isnae here. Dinna ye have better places to look? Mayhap she ran to Beathan’s chamber to plead forgiveness.”
Arabella nearly bit through her tongue as she fought not to make a sound. She barely breathed for fear that a floorboard would squeak, or that her breath would rattle from her lungs. She could only see three sets of feet having shrunk as far back into the shadows as she could while Lachlan answered the door. Her feet touched the wall beneath the headboard.
“I wouldn’t have her,” Beathan sneered, his court accent more pronounced against Lachlan’s burr. Lachlan knew at least one man bought his diversion. He would keep talking with his brogue if it made Beathan focus more on speaking without his.
“Dinna fash. She’s sure to turn up somewhere. And I made sure the guards ken the dungeon had better nae be where.”
“The dungeon! Christ on the cross, I didn’t even realize that’s who you were talking aboot. When she appeared, I wasn’t thinking aboot what you’d said. I just noticed how appalling she was,” Mitcholm declared.
“Where did ye think she’d been looking as bedraggled as she did? She looked like she’d been dragged through a bush backwards. That’s why I was so concerned. I cared enough to make sure she was hale.”
“I care aboot my daughter, and I don’t appreciate you insinuating otherwise.” Mitcholm came to stand before Lachlan.
“Och aye, that’s why ye go a year at a time without seeing her. That’s why ye’d marry her off to this dung heap, even though ye ken his reputation. That’s a mile of tripe,” Lachlan kept the sarcasm and added disgust to his tone.
“Sutherland,” Mitcholm warned.
“Aye?” Lachlan patronized. “Ye dinna have to stay if ye dinna care for ma company. Laird.” He added the title as an afterthought, his tone mocking.
“Ye bastard,” Beathan grumbled, letting his natural accent flavor his words.
“I’m nae the one in question,” Lachlan taunted. Beathan looked nothing like his older brother or sister. There were rumors that his mother, the former laird’s second wife, came to the marriage already pregnant, since she got with child suspiciously quickly after the wedding. Beathan raised his hand, but Lachlan stepped away, leaving the angry Highlander to land his blow on the irate Lowlander. “None of that. Out ye both trot.”
Lachlan shoved the stunned Laird Johnstone out of his chamber and swung the door shut. Locking and barring it behind them. One of the two pounded on the door, and both called his name. He turned his back to the door and went to the side of the bed. He stuck his hand out to a dazed Arabella, who shoved her clothes at him before scooting forward and out from under the frame.
“Are ye hale?” Lachlan didn’t bother to try to return to his phony accent. He was too concerned about Arabella to try.
“I’m well,” she reassured him, but fell into his arms when he opened them to her. “I was so frightened he would look under the bed.” Arabella whispered against his chest, terrified her voice would carry. She appreciated that Lachlan had done the same.
“We’ll wait awhile until there’s been silence in the passageway before I take ye back to yer chamber. Ye should dress, though. As much as I dislike suggesting that.” He offered her a rakish grin. “Do ye need help with the laces? I did promise to be yer lady’s maid.”
“I do. Eliza chose a gown she assumed she’d help me with.” Arabella blushed as she looked at the clothes Lachlan tossed onto the bed before embracing her. He’d already seen her undressed, but she suddenly felt embarrassed that she would have to strip naked to switch from his leine to her chemise. Sensing her discomfort, Lachlan turned his back and gave her space. She whispered, “Thank you.”
Arabella hurried to don her chemise and stockings, then tapped Lachlan’s shoulder as she pulled her skirts down over her hips. It was her turn to face away. Lachlan took advantage of the bare skin still revealed at her shoulders and upper back. He kissed one spot after another. Arabella tilted her head to the side and leaned back, appreciating his solid physique. She sighed as the kisses moved up her neck to her chin. She turned her head and canted her body so their mouths could come together. It was only the space of a heartbeat before Arabella turned to face him and pressed the length of her body against his.
Lachlan’s hands found his now-favorite part of her, besides her lips and sheath. He laughed to himself as he admitted there wasn’t a single part of Arabella’s body that wasn’t his favorite. He lifted her off her feet, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Even though they stood beside the bed, he walked them to the far wall. His excuse, if she questioned him, would be fear that the bed would creak.
&nbs
p; Their kisses enthralled Arabella too much to care where Lachlan carried her. When her back grazed the wall, she finally opened her eyes. She’d tunneled her hands into his hair as her ankles locked around his waist. She squeezed her thighs, encouraging him to continue kissing.
“I told ye I would take nay other woman to bed, a wall, or the stables. But I will take ye any place I can, mo chridhe.” It was the second time he’d used the endearment, but the first when Arabella was awake.
“I don’t speak Gaelic. Yet,” Arabella admitted sheepishly.
Lachlan’s smile was so filled with tenderness that her heart surely melted. “Why would ma Lowland lass ken? Yet.” He winked at her, proud that she intended to learn the language of her future clan. “It means my heart.”
Arabella swallowed several times, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat so she could speak. Her voice came out a hoarse whisper. “How do you say 'my love’?”
“Mo ghaol. Mo leannan is my sweetheart. My darling is mo ghràidh.”
“And I can say that to a mon? I mean, those are terms that wouldn’t be too feminine for you.” She rushed to clarify. Lachlan beamed at her again, having understood what she meant from the start.
“Your first phrase can be an duine bòidheach agam.”
“Pardon? I’ll never be able to say that. It’s a tongue twister. I don’t even ken what it means.” Arabella felt defeated before she’d started. Gaelic was more guttural than Scots, and sounds were swallowed.
“Aye, ye will with practice.” Lachlan pinched her bottom. “And it means my handsome husband.”
“An dun bwahay am,” Arabella tried, but she knew she sounded nothing like Lachlan. But once more the expression of pride encompassed his visage. It filled his eyes and his smile.
“Nearly,” he said ruefully.
“Nae even close, lad,” Arabella tried to imitate his burr, which made Lachlan chuckle loud enough for them to both look at the door.
“Mayhap we start with those shorter phrases for now,” Lachlan suggested before kissing the tip of her nose. “Belle, I dinna want to put ye down, but I ken I should before ye tempt me into sin.” Lachlan’s rakish grin returned.
“I tempt you? The devil comes in a handsome form.”
“That may be.” Lachlan pressed a quick kiss to her lips and pinched her backside again. “But I havenae heard aught coming from outside for some time. I need to get ye either to yer chamber or to the queen.”
“My chamber,” Arabella blurted. “I can’t face the queen or the others. Surely, everyone in the castle kens of my fall from grace by now.”
“We dinna ken that. Yer father and Beathan willna want to share that to save face. The king and his guards certainly willna. The guard in the dungeon willna speak aught again. Dinna ye trust yer maid? And she doesnae ken where ye were, just that ye needed clothes.”
“You have more faith than I if you believe that. The walls have eyes and ears. People will ken, Lach.”
“Then ye stay by ma side, and we make the scandal aboot us and nae where ye’ve been.”
“I can’t flaunt that before my father and Beathan!”
“Do ye wish to marry him now?” Lachlan asked pointedly.
“You ken I don’t,” Arabella shook her head.
“Then the talk must be aboot us carrying on together. Belle, I will take ye home to Sutherland tomorrow if I must. I hate saying this, but nay matter where ye are, yer father willna forgive ye for this for a long time. Beathan willna take a wife with a tainted reputation. He’s too busy trying to prove himself as a powerful laird. He willna risk anyone mocking him. This is the only way yer father willna try to force Beathan. And it’s the only way to keep Beathan from telling everyone hither and thither what really happened.”
“This isn’t how I wanted our courtship to go,” Arabella said miserably.
“This is but a moment in time, Belle. I’ve been courting ye for five years. Mayhap it’s time I shake a leg and make ma intentions clear. Clear enough nay one can doubt what I want.”
Arabella nodded her head. She closed her eyes as another wave of exhaustion and withdrawal washed over her.
I still wish I could have a dram or ten. It would make all of this so much easier. I can ease myself off of it if I can just have one or two more drinks.
Arabella tried to convince herself that her idea was reasonable, but she knew even as she thought it, one or two sips would never be enough. She opened her eyes and looked at Lachlan. She held his gaze for a moment before it became too hard, and she feared he would suspect something. She lowered her legs, and when her feet touched the floor, she stepped around him. Once more she presented her back to him, and he quickly hurried to lace her gown. He felt her tense posture and suspected what put her at unease.
“I travel often with ma sisters, and they havenae always been together. Who do ye think they come to?” Lachlan explained. He watched her shoulders lower as she exhaled her breath. He kissed her cheek as he tapped her waist when he finished. “I love ye.”
“I love you too, mo ghaol,” she laughed at her attempt, but it earned her a smacking kiss. As they walked to the door, Arabella released a silent sigh. While Lachlan had been fastening her gown, she’d resolved to find Edwin and plead with him to go out for her whisky again. She wouldn’t admit to what she was doing, and she prayed no one asked, because she realized she would lie if she had to. And that made her feel more wretched than the hours spent in the oubliette.
Nineteen
As Arabella and Lachlan left his chamber, the bells for the noon meal rang. It was later in the day than either realized. Arabella begged to have a tray in her chamber, citing exhaustion. She wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep before she had to prepare for the evening meal. Lachlan agreed without hesitation, concerned about the deep shadows forming beneath her eyes. He hadn’t asked for any specifics about her time in the dungeon, but he knew she was bone weary. There would be time later to learn what happened during the raid and her imprisonment.
Lachlan knocked on Arabella’s door several hours later, looking around as he waited for the door to open. If anyone spotted him outside her door, the scandal would begin sooner than they planned. They’d agreed that Lachlan would escort Arabella to the Great Hall, and she would sit with him and his men rather than with the other ladies, her father, or Beathan. There was little chance people would overlook them sharing a meal at the same table. Beathan and Mitcholm wouldn’t want to create a public scene, and the silent declaration would ensure Beathan refused to move forward with the betrothal. The man was too prideful to accept a bride who made it clear she wanted someone else.
Rebekah’s maid opened the door, her mouth hanging open as she blinked rapidly. Arabella tapped the woman on the shoulder and waited for her to move aside. Arabella stepped through the doorway, Rebekah on her heels. Lachlan bowed to the other lady-in-waiting before taking Arabella’s arm and wrapping it around his. Rebekah served as an unexpected chaperone while they traversed the ladies’-in-waiting passageway, chamber doors opening as women filed out.
Arabella and Lachlan reached the Great Hall, but before stepping inside, Lachlan pulled Arabella toward the wall, and whispered, “No matter what happens, I will be by your side as long as you want me there.”
“Always,” Arabella blurted. Lachlan smiled down at her before chucking her chin.
“We’ll get through this together, Belle.”
“Thank you.” Arabella breathed easier, some of her confidence returning with Lachlan’s presence bolstering her courage. They entered the Great Hall, but they had barely taken a step before Arabella noticed the whispers and tittering. Some even went so far as to point at her. She kept her eyes straight ahead, but her fingers bit into Lachlan’s arm. She’d guessed correctly. People were already gossiping about her. Lachlan navigated them to where his guards sat. He pulled back the bench, and Arabella eased onto it before Lachlan climbed over it. Lachlan had told his men to pick a table where they could be seen without b
eing in the center.
Arabella placed her hands on the bench beside her, gripping the edges. The stares were making her grow anxious, and she felt her heart racing, as though it were a stallion trying to break free. Sweat formed on her brow, and she found it difficult to breathe. Nervous energy made her feel jumpy. It was only when Lachlan’s hand covered hers that she felt her heartbeat slow, and the fingers of the hand he covered relaxed. But her other hand still clenched the bench. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her temple, but she didn’t dare wipe it away. She didn’t want to move lest she draw more attention. She wanted to take a sip of the wine before her, but she feared it would make people talk even more. She realized she feared everything. She feared eating. She feared drinking. She feared talking. She feared moving. She feared breathing. The weight of her anxiety as she looked at the judgmental faces made her feel as though the walls were closing in on her.
“I’m here, mo chridhe. I’m not going anywhere. You look particularly fetching. You are the envy of every woman, and I am the envy of every mon. That’s all.”
“Neither you nor I believe that,” Arabella muttered. “They all ken.”
“Even if they do, no one will say aught.”
“How can you be sure of that? They’re saying plenty already,” Arabella’s temper fired. “I knew I shouldn’t have come down. I never should have listened to you.”
A Beauty at the Highland Court: A Star-Crossed Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 7) Page 14