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

by Celeste Barclay

  “Vera well. She’s disgusting anyway. Take her and make her presentable,” Beathan ordered. When it was Cathal who took a menacing step forward, Beathan turned his attention away from Enid and Arabella.

  “Ye’re mother did a lousy job of teaching ye yer p’s and q’s, Try again, lad.”

  Beathan cast him a scathing look as he muttered, “Please.”

  Enid called back over her shoulder, “I’m doing it for the lass. I hope you choke on your own tongue.”

  Thirty

  Lachlan scrambled to crawl back into the chamber and shut the door without a sound. He stood behind the door with a dirk drawn in case a threat crossed the threshold rather than Enid and Arabella. Now shut in the chamber, he couldn’t be sure whose hand moved the handle. The air whooshed from his lungs as Arabella stepped into the chamber, but she froze.

  “Lachlan?” She whispered with desperation. “Lach? You said…” Arabella sobbed and fell to her knees before Lachlan could catch her. He stepped around Enid and helped Arabella to her feet. She fell against him as tears streamed down her face. She clung to him; his scent recognizable even as she cried inconsolably. Lachlan lifted her into his arms and carried her to a chair before the fire.

  “The bath will be here shortly along with food,” Enid whispered before slipping from the chamber. As the door closed behind the woman, Lachlan brushed the hair back from Arabella’s face.

  “Shh, little one. I’m here, and I’m going nay where,” Lachlan soothed.

  “You promised that before,” Arabella stammered.

  “Aye. And so I came after ye. But ye arenae leaving ma side again, Belle. Nae to sleep in another chamber, nae to ride another horse, nae aught.” Lachlan kissed her forehead then each cheek, before lifting her chin to kiss her mouth. Arabella tried to pull away.

  “I’m filthy, Lach. You don’t want to do that,” Arabella mumbled. But Lachlan disregarded her warning and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

  “We shall have ye right as rain soon enough. Then ye will climb into that big bed and sleep the rest of the day away.” Lachlan didn’t wish to make such a promise. He wanted to get Arabella away from Comrie Castle and Beathan as soon as he could, but she was in no condition to travel anywhere until she ate and rested. A knock on the door made them both look toward the portal, and Arabella felt herself grow more sober by the minute as she struggled to appear less intoxicated than she was. Lachlan set Arabella on her feet, taking her hand. He led them to the door and pressed himself against the wall beside it before nodding his head.

  Arabella opened the door and allowed a wave of servants into the chamber. She stood beside the open door, blocking Lachlan from sight and keeping anyone from trying to close it. Men carried a tub into the chamber with women following with several buckets of hot water and one with tepid water. A tray of food also arrived and was set on the bed. No one spoke as the servants worked, but Arabella thanked them as they left.

  Once the door was shut, Lachlan wrapped his arms around Arabella’s waist, and she leaned her back against his chest. Her head fell back against his shoulder as her hands covered his. The solace she found after her ordeal was immeasurable. She found she had hope again simply by being in Lachlan’s arms. She grumbled when he pulled one hand away, but he moved her hair aside and kissed her neck. Her head fell to the side as Lachlan brushed his lips along the column of her neck. Her hands fell away and gripped his plaid. Lachlan’s hand settled on her breast, kneading the firm mound. Arabella moaned softly as she pressed her bottom against Lachlan’s sporran. She fumbled behind her to move it aside before pressing the cleft of her backside against the ridge beneath his plaid.

  “I told ye the last time we did this that we would be married the next time. And I promised to bury myself in ye,” Lachlan whispered against her skin, his warm breath tickling her.

  “I remember,” Arabella breathed. Lachlan turned her in his arms and pulled her into his embrace. It wasn’t a passionate hold, but rather tender and loving. Arabella sighed as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “I love you, Lachlan. All I could think aboot, when I could think at all, was how to get back to you. That I wasn’t aboot to give up our future together.”

  “We were of a like mind. I love ye, and there isnae aught I willna do to be with ye, Belle. I would have ye as ma wife before the moon rises. Tell me true, Arabella, do ye wish to marry?” Lachlan held his breath as Arabella leaned back.

  “I have never wanted aught more than to marry you, Lachlan. I’ve dreamed of it, wished for it, prayed for it for years. We don’t have a priest though, and I’m afraid to leave this chamber, Lach.”

  “We dinna have to have a priest to marry, Belle. Mayhap ye dinna do it this way in the Lowlands, but we have two choices. We can handfast, but would have to marry in a kirk within a year. Or we can have an irregular wedding and marry by declaration. That is binding, just like at a kirk.”

  “Then by declaration. I won’t choose aught that could let someone take me from you ever again. If declaring it is all that needs to happen, aren’t we married already? We’ve said we wish to marry more than once,” Arabella reasoned.

  Lachlan grinned and shook his head. “Were that it was so easy. We must have two witnesses to bear testimony that we married, and that the bride did so willingly.”

  “Lady Menzies,” Arabella suggested.

  “Aye, and either Cathal or their daughter Millicent,” Lachlan added.

  “Is that really all that it will take?” Arabella asked skeptically.

  “In the eyes of the law, aye. In the Highlands, there’s nae always a priest available because of distance or weather, so we’ve come up with solutions over the generations. But I would like to say our own vows before God.” Arabella could hear the hope in Lachlan’s hushed tones. She nodded her head enthusiastically and threw her arms around his, squeezing so hard that she pinned them to his side. “For a wee lass, ye are stronger than ye look. Stronger than anyone could imagine.”

  Lachlan tucked hair behind her ear, but wrapped the lock around his finger, mesmerized by the different hues of red, orange, and gold that shone in the light coming from the window embrasure and the fire. He considered all that Arabella endured from her father’s abusive words, to life at court, her addiction to alcohol, and her time with Beathan. He pressed her chin up and looked into her emerald eyes.

  “Nay one can ever deny ye are beautiful beyond compare, but that is such a small part of who ye are, Belle. Ye can be reckless and daring, but ye are also brave and resilient. I am proud to ken I’ll be yer husband. There is nay mon luckier than me. Ye have a kindness and strength our people will need.”

  “Our people?” Arabella whispered. “You think of me as a Sutherland already?”

  “I think a part of me has since the day I met ye. It’s grown with each visit, each time we’ve talked, each time we’ve danced, every minute of missing ye when we were apart. I pray I willna become laird until I have gray hair, but one day I will. Ye are who I need and want at ma side.”

  “I wish I could wipe away all that I’ve put you through in the past moon. I don’t ken if my conscience will ever let go of all my guilt, but I want naught more than to marry you. I will stand behind you no matter what, Lachlan.”

  “Never behind. Always at my side,” Lachlan corrected. “It’s as partners that we will get through this.”

  Arabella nodded and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “Then it’s as partners that we enter this marriage.”

  Even with their mouths sealed, love and passion filled the kiss they exchanged. Lachlan plucked at the habit’s ties at Arabella’s neck, loosening it until the robe nearly slipped from her shoulders. He gathered the material in his hands and drew it up her body and over her head. He’d ignored the bruise on her cheek, not wanting to draw attention to it or grow any angrier than he’d been when he first spotted it. But as he took in the magnificence of her body, he looked for any sign that Beathan had manhandled her. Th
ere were a few light bruises, but nothing spoke to abuse.

  “He did naught to me,” Arabella whispered. “No mon has.”

  Lachlan took her hand and as they walked to the tub, he told her, “That is far from important to me. Ye are with me, and ye are safe. That is all that matters. There is naught that would ever turn me away from ye. Whatever state ye came to me in, as long as ye came, I would’ve welcomed ye with the fullness of ma heart.”

  Arabella cupped his cheek as she looked into the chocolate-colored eyes she loved gazing into. “You are a good mon, Lachlan. I am blessed we found one another. It’s your eyes I hope to look into every night as I fall asleep, and it’s your eyes that I hope to see when I open mine each morn.”

  Lachlan helped Arabella into the tub, and she slid beneath the surface of the water. The water was still hot, and she wondered if it would have scalded her had she gotten in sooner. She’d feared it would be cold, but it was just right as it eased her aches. She pushed her head to the surface and leaned back, recalling the last time Lachlan helped her bathe. He kneeled beside the tub with a bar of soap in one hand and a lathered linen square in the other. He began at her neck, drawing the cloth over her as his hands rubbed away the tension from her shoulders. He lifted her left arm and wiped the soapy material over it. Then he repeated the process with her left leg, her right arm, and finally her right leg. With the soap in his hand, he washed her chest, moving unhurriedly over her breasts, his free hand trailing the one with the soap. He massaged the small globes, his tongue peeking out between his lips. His hands ran down her ribs and over her belly. He placed the soap in the dish beside him before he used the cloth to wash between her legs.

  Arabella watched as the linen floated to the surface just before his fingers slipped inside her. His movement surprised her even though she anticipated it. A moan slipped from her as she flexed her hips, inviting him to give her more. His thumb swirled around her nub, as three fingers worked her sheath. He cupped her breast, massaging it as Arabella arched her back. Her nipples puckered in the chamber’s cool air. Free from the water covering them, Lachlan lowered his head and suckled. His tongue rasped over the sensitive bud before his teeth grazed it and bit down with just enough pressure to make Arabella’s hand press his head closer. He opened his mouth wider, appearing to consume her entire breast. His groan was purely masculine, and Arabella purred as he continued to work her body.

  “Come for me, Belle,” Lachlan whispered.

  “Come?”

  “Find yer release, mo chridhe,” Lachlan clarified.

  Arabella’s eyes drifted closed, even though she was more sober than she had been in days. She realized she’d barely felt the effects of the whisky once she reunited with Lachlan. Her hips undulated in the water as she struggled to leash the sensations within her core, so she could climax as Lachlan asked. She knew seeing her pleasured aroused him as much as it did her. She reached over the side of the tub and fumbled with the buckle to Lachlan’s belt. He didn’t stop her, so she twisted to use both hands. When it fell free, she tugged at his plaid. It took more than one yank to release the yards of wool. But when Lachlan kneeled naked beside the tub, her breath caught. The muscles in his arms, chest, and abdomen flexed and strained as he continued his ministrations. Arabella’s hand run over his biceps to his shoulder before trailing down his chest. His abdomen twitched as her fingernails grazed the taut skin. She wrapped her hand around his length, stroking him as he’d shown her all that time ago in the alcove.

  Arabella couldn’t help staring. She reveled in the glorious sight of his naked body. He brought to mind drawings she’d seen of Romans and Greeks in bathhouses in a book she’d been forced to read to the queen. The images had seemed so scandalous at the time. Now she had her very own god whose body she had free roam of. Lachlan’s hips rocked as her hand moved over his shaft.

  “Belle, I canna last much longer. I’ve craved yer touch too much, too often. I want ye to fin—” Lachlan groaned, unable to finish as jets of his seed splashed against the side of the tub. Watching his cock pulse then trailing her eyes over his straining body up to the ecstasy on his face, Belle’s body exploded as her core spasmed, and her body went rigid. Lachlan fell forward, resting his body on the edge of the tub. He ran a soothing hand over her body and thighs before once more massaging her breast. He’d once thought he preferred her backside the most of her attributes, but he couldn’t get enough of her front side.

  Feeling boneless and suddenly sleepy once more, Arabella leaned forward with Lachlan’s guidance as he scrubbed her back and then washed her hair. When she was clean, Lachlan helped her from the tub and wrapped her in drying cloths and handed her three sprigs of mint. He chewed one too. He’d brought the satchel Madeline packed with him, so he withdrew a clean chemise, and slipped it over Arabella’s head. She struggled not to yawn as she sat before the fire and Lachlan combed her tangled hair. Every so often, her hands reached behind her, enjoying the feel of his still-naked body. When her hair was mostly dry, Lachlan carried her to the bed. He tucked her in before retrieving a clean leine from his own satchel. He climbed onto the bed, laying on top of the covers. Arabella snuggled closer, even though she’d already fallen asleep. Even in her sleep, she sought him. He wrapped her in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over as he shut his eyes but didn’t dare fall asleep. It would be a long time before he let his guard down and risked losing her again.

  Thirty-One

  The weak late summer light cast thin beams through the window embrasure as Arabella continued to sleep. She’d had a few restless moments, but Lachlan’s soothing voice and gentle touch soon calmed her. She’d mutter “I love you” in her sleep before her breathing deepened again. Lachlan rested with his eyes closed, but his ears strained for any sounds that would warn him of someone entering the chamber or lurking in the passageway. Once Arabella had fallen asleep, he’d peeled his arm out from beneath her and retrieved two dirks that now laid beside him.

  When a light tap came at the door, he grasped the hilt of one. He was positioned on the side of the bed closer to the door to protect Arabella, but he once again had to slide himself away from her, so no part of his back was to the door. It opened a crack, but Enid’s smiling face quickly peered around it. She crept into the chamber with her daughter Millicent behind her.

  Enid nodded at the blade in Lachlan’s hand. “Didn’t want that coming whizzing at my head but didn’t want to intrude either. How’s the lass?”

  “She’s well,” Arabella rasped as she sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes. She blinked several times at Enid, as if she tried to recall where she knew the woman from. As her memory from the morning fell into place, she blurted, “You speak French.”

  “Aye, Lady Arabella. My mother insisted upon it before I went to court as a lady-in-waiting many moons ago,” Enid explained.

  “You told me Lachlan was here,” Arabella said it as if to clear her memory rather than make a statement. “I remember wanting to run to find him, but my body barely felt like my own.”

  “It wasnae. The bastard must have nearly killed ye with whisky. Ye’re a slight thing, but ye swayed like a drunken sailor,” Millicent grinned. At Arabella’s surprise, then scowl, Millicent laughed. “I didna mean offense, ma lady. Ye just appeared a wee off-kilter. I dinna think ye saw me, but I was by the doors to the kitchens. Saw all of it. I’m glad ye’re away from him.”

  “Millie, tait toi,” Enid snapped as she told her daughter to be quiet.

  “C’est bon.” Arabella reassured that it was all right.

  “Mieux trouver l’humour que la tristesse,” Lachlan said philosophically as he told them, “it’s better to find humor than sadness.”

  “C’est vrai. That’s true,” Enid nodded. She walked to the foot of the bed and looked at the tray that remained untouched. She raised a scolding eyebrow at Lachlan, but Arabella waved her hand.

  “It’s not his fault. After I bathed, I was too tired to do aught but sleep. But I’m famish
ed and could eat a leg of mutton, then the rest of it.” Arabella looked at the tray for the first time, and her eyes widened as she noticed the array of food. There was enough that it should have fed them both, but she suspected she could eat all of it herself. But before she made a move toward it, she recalled what she and Lachlan discussed before her bath. She looked at him expectantly and nodded when he returned her expression.

  “Lady Enid, we would like to marry this eve,” Lachlan said cautiously.

  “Aye. That would be for the best. You ken we’re in the Highlands. You only need two of us,” Enid replied.

  “You knew we’d want to marry by—” Arabella looked at Lachlan. “What did you call it? Declaration? You knew we’d want to marry by declaration?”

  “If neither of you mentioned it, we would have,” Millicent interjected.

  Lachlan slipped from the bed and went to one of the satchels. He pulled Arabella’s gown out. It was hopelessly wrinkled, but still serviceable. Arabella slid off the bed and took the kirtle Lachlan held out.

  “I would have married you in my chemise, but I admit I would prefer looking a bit more presentable,” Arabella smiled.

  “We’ll help you while your mon dresses. I don’t think he wishes to marry in his leine either,” Enid chuckled. She, Millicent, and Arabella ducked behind the screen while Lachlan hurried to pleat his plaid. A thought occurred to him when the women reappeared.

  “We havenae seen hide nor hair of Beathan. I’m surprised he hasnae come storming in yet,” Lachlan mused.

  “Cathal has him spinning tales as he drinks our buttery dry. The bluidy mon has hollow legs, but he’s been in his cups for a few hours. Told Cathal his entire life story and just aboot every secret his clan has. Lucky for the toad, Cathal has him in his solar rather than blaring his business like a town crier,” Enid explained.

  “But his voice carries,” Millicent added. “Mama and I could hear him from outside Father’s door. I learned words today that I didna ken existed.”