Love Saves A Highland Spy: Ladies of Dunmore Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Freya, Bridget

  For that reason, Arabella made her way in the direction she had seen him flee. It was the direction of the gardens, and it would make the most sense for him to go where he might be able to hide among beauty, even as the night sky had fallen.

  With so little of the light left and day long over, he would be difficult to find, but she searched anyway.

  Rounding through the topiaries and rose bushes, she checked for him where they had met earlier in the day when she was sewing. Francis was not at the bench. She proceeded onwards.

  Finally, she found him among the sunflowers, which had closed their blooms for the night. Francis sat on a stone wall, which separated the sunflowers from a small herb garden.

  She did not wish to take him by surprise, or incur the same wrath upon herself, so Arabella simply cleared her throat quietly and watched as Francis looked up at her. Immediately he looked back down in shame.

  She remained silent for a moment, wishing to give him a chance to speak first, but Francis remained quiet as well, so she went and sat beside him.

  In Arabella’s own mind, her thoughts swirled. She had just seen Francis nearly kill a man! It was still a bit of a shock to her. She thought perhaps she ought not to have come looking for Francis, but rather had remained alone to process what she had seen. Their courtyard was now stained in blood.

  Moreover, it had been done by a man she dearly cared for against her better judgment. Now he had only proven himself less of the good man she had been hoping him to be, but had not yet even shown himself.

  It really made no sense at all that she should care for him. He had not been kind to her, and now she saw what he was truly capable of.

  Her feelings toward him remained as valiant as ever.

  “Are ye going to tell me what exactly occurred in the courtyard?” she asked with quiet tones.

  Francis looked at her and even in the light coming only from the moon, she saw the sheen of wetness in his eyes.

  Immediately, his sadness turned into uncontrollable sobs as he broke down in his hurt and anguish. Arabella could not believe she was seeing this! A strong, brave, often callous soldier and future laird was crying before her. His pain was unbearable to him, she could see it so evidently.

  Arabella watched him, unsure if she should risk the wound to his pride by comforting him, or if she should allow herself to be as she was and show him the empathy she wished.

  Finally, she resolved to move closer and rest a hand upon his arm.

  “Dinnae worry, ye’ll be okay,” she said softly, unsure if her words meant anything at all.

  Francis tried to push her away, albeit gently. He moved his arm from under her fingers.

  Arabella felt a surge of emotions. Her pride was hurt that he would not be touched by her, she was infuriated by his inability to accept care from anymore, but more than anything, she felt determined to prove to him that he needed someone to care for him whether he was willing or not.

  “Dinnae push me away. Ye need someone. Ye have no idea what ye’re doing, that’s clear enough. But I’m going to sit here and I am going to listen to ye. Ye will tell me what’s on yer mind,” she informed him sternly.

  Francis turned his face away from her, as if unwilling to accept that.

  “Enough! I dinnae care what ye think of me. I dinnae care about yer low opinion of me. I am worried about ye and I am going to help ye. Yer sneers cannae hurt me. Do ye understand?” she said more firmly than even before.

  Francis looked at her with surprise in his eyes. Arabella didn’t know if he was simply shocked that she had been willing to speak so freely and harshly to him after what she had witnessed or if he was surprised by the words themselves. However, it was clear that something she had said had affected him in some way.

  “Me low opinion of ye?” he asked.

  Arabella gave him a sarcastic look as if he should know exactly what she meant.

  “I never had any low opinion of ye,” he said quietly, giving her a look of hurt.

  Arabella was surprised he should say something like that. She wondered why then he had always behaved so strangely around her.

  On the other hand, she knew that this was not the time for that conversation. She and Francis had to discuss their other matters. Such as why Francis would suddenly turn into such a cruel man and attack the guard like that.

  “And what of the young guard? Why did ye have such a low opinion of him? What was it that caused ye to beat him with such intense violence as that?” Arabella asked sternly.

  Francis sighed. Arabella could see that he was reluctant to speak. There was clearly something deeply troubling him, yet he would not be willing to admit his seeming failure or whatever it was that caused him to respond so harshly.

  Arabella was annoyed by this point. How was it that Francis could charm his way into everyone? That everyone wanted so badly to interact with him, to be around him, and yet he was hard, cold, and aloof toward all these fellow creatures of mankind.

  She was nearly ready to stand and leave when he finally began to speak.

  “I thank ye for yer thoughts and yer compassion toward me,” he said, still looking at the ground.

  “It’s nothing,” Arabella replied.

  “No, it is a great deal. Ye ken, it’s not always easy being here as a ward,” Francis confided.

  “I ken. Dinnae forget that I’m a ward as well,” Arabella replied.

  “Aye, but ye have so many people here. Ye’ve been here a long time and it has afforded you the means by which to call this place home. I ken that yer friends have gone and married and all that, but still. This is yer home now. It isnae like that for some of us,” Francis explained.

  “I suppose I understand the sentiment of that. But it doesnae mean that it always has to be that way. Ye can feel at home here. If ye really wish to,” Arabella said.

  “But can I? With what I’ve just done, how have I managed to carve out a place for me here? I suppose it doesnae matter entirely, as I’ll be leaving soon for Edinburgh, but I ken me faither’s intent is for me to return here after. But what am I as a man now?” Francis mused.

  “Ye’re still a man. Dinnae exchange that role for that of a fool,” Arabella warned.

  “I’ll not,” he replied.

  “But ye still havnae answered the most important question,” Arabella said.

  “And what’s that?” Francis asked.

  “Ye still havnae told me why ye attacked him like that. Ye still havnae said what it was that led ye to such violence,” she reminded him.

  “Ah, aye, that…” Francis sighed.

  “Well?”

  “Well, ye ken that, like I said, I’m a stranger here. And sometimes people will say things of me. Or maybe not even directly of me, but they suggest things of me that I’d rather not be suggested. And it wounds me soul deeply,” Francis answered.

  “Ye mean they say slurs against ye?” she asked for clarification.

  “Maybe. I mean, sometimes I suppose it’s slurs. For that lad, he just pushed me too far. He suggested things that I didnae want suggested. He didnae address the slurs, but he pushed me far enough that it was all I could think of. And with that came all my anger and rage. Things I’d rather leave behind me,” Francis responded.

  “So he hurt ye rather deeply?” she confirmed.

  “Rather, aye,” he said.

  “And do ye think that ye’ll ever find a way to explain to him that what he said was not in the least bit appropriate to say to ye?” she asked. “But still manage to make up for the fact that ye almost killed him?”

  Francis looked hesitant to reply. “In truth, what he said was not aimed as directly at me as I had taken it to be. He spoke to me at the wrong moment. His words reminded me of slurs that have been made against me at a time when I was already occupied by thoughts of those things.”

  Arabella nodded. She was trying to understand how Francis could be so violent with the boy, but so gentle here in his conversation with her. “Ye ken, ye arnae the
only man in this world to have had slurs said against him. Like ye said, it can be hard being a ward here. I ken that I’ve been here a long time, but it doesnae mean that I’ve forgotten some of what was said to me and about when I first arrived,” Arabella said.

  “What do ye mean?” he asked.

  “That some harsh words were spoken against me as well,” she replied.

  “Against ye? But ye’re such a kind lass. I cannae imagine anyone saying a word against ye,” Francis replied.

  Arabella felt herself blush at this compliment. “Aye, well they did. And they were quite rude, in fact. I had plenty of sneers spoken against me by the very women I came to call dear friends. Ye ken men and women are different. Men fight by reputation, but women fight by manipulation,” she explained.

  “How so?” he asked.

  “Well, ye fought because ye thought there was a sneer against ye in some way that wounded ye. But for women, we put one another down to build up ourselves. And I cannae tell ye how cruel some of the words against me were. Now dinnae get me wrong, I love the MacGowan women, but I didnae always,” Arabella said with a slight smile to herself.

  “Aye, that must have been very difficult for ye,” Francis acknowledged.

  “It was. And yet, it was not half so difficult as it has been when it’s come from others. They became me friends. But it doesnae mean that I’ve never had a word spoken against me by others. Nor rumors against me honor. We all deal with harsh words. But we dinnae all have to be harsh in return,” Arabella said, hoping that Francis would feel a small bit of comfort.

  She looked at him to try and read his face, but it was a moment before Francis raised his eyes to meet hers. In them, she saw that he understood exactly what she had been trying to say.

  “Well ye can rest assured that I’ll never speak a word against ye,” he promised.

  Arabella felt her heart leap a little. However, it was immediately overcome by a melting sensation when Francis moved his swollen hand to hers and his fingers wrapped around them.

  As he held her for that time, with the moon overhead, Arabella thought that life could scarcely get any sweeter.

  Chapter 8

  A Plan To Be Strong In Edinburgh

  The night had been a long one, but Francis had gone to bed feeling dreamy despite all that had come before. He sat with Arabella under the stars and moon for an hour and they acted as if the world had melted away and it was only their hands that connected anything.

  Soon the air had grown too cold and he had said goodnight to Arabella, who shivered without a blanket.

  After that, he slept peacefully, knowing that this day would bring the potential for something devastating as news of his behavior was heard around the castle.

  Nevertheless, he was up early and sitting in the gallery on his own. He wanted to be ready for any discipline the laird might bring against him as a poor sport and badly behaved guest currently living at Dunmore.

  At first he had paced back and forth across the length of the room, but his muscles still ached from the day previous and he had chosen to sit and remain still after making a fire. Here he could be at peace and think about all the matters at hand.

  What Arabella had said stayed with him. He knew that she was right. Whatever people said about him could do him no harm. What business of theirs was his life? He had done nothing to cause others to think poorly of him.

  Well, until the fight yesterday. Now, he could not blame others for speaking against him.

  Yet in terms of the slur of his birth, there was nothing that could be said. Nothing that could come against him as a man. He had done nothing and could do nothing about it in the future.

  It was something he had never allowed himself to believe before. It was far easier torturing himself with the truth and feeling ashamed by it than it would be to let go and trust that he could allow the comment to fade from his thoughts.

  Arabella had been so kind to him ever after everything. Even after all of his awkwardness and what had probably come across as rudeness. Even after he mysteriously vanished that day in the garden after receiving the letter from his faither. Even after seeing him beat a man nearly to death.

  Still she had shown him kindness and compassion. Still she had been gracious to him. Still she had been a woman that proved her worth. He was not deserving of such a woman as she. Not at all.

  He thought about her other remark. That she didn’t care what he thought of her. It had come as such a surprise for him to hear her say that. As if he didn’t think every good thing in the world about her!

  Did she really believe he thought bad things of her? Did she truly believe that he was viewing her through a negativity that he reserved only for the worst of people? Or that he judged her for her position as a ward when he, too, was that?

  Francis felt mortified by the thought. His awkwardness was continuing to cost him a great deal. He wished so badly that he could go back in time and re-communicate to her everything that he thought and felt. He wished he could present himself better, or at least more fit for the man he wished her to see in him.

  Desperately wishing that he could go find her, Francis wanted to find Arabella and tell her how he felt about her. He wanted her to know that he had no poor opinion of her. He wanted her to know fully that all of his words were never meant to hurt her, but only to grow closer to her.

  If only he had been more confident and comfortable around Arabella.

  He wondered how he might be able to make it all up to her.

  Just then, the sound of footsteps came into the gallery and Francis turned to see the Laird MacGowan and some of his men.

  Francis stood and gave a bow to greet the laird. His heart was beating quickly, knowing well that he was likely in grave trouble for his actions the previous evening.

  “Sit, lad,” the laird ordered.

  Francis returned to his chair and the laird sat across from him, by the fire. “I assume ye ken why I’m here just now?” the laird asked.

  “Aye, me laird. I ken why ye’re here,” Francis replied, casting down his eyes in shame. He had to be prepared no matter what it was that the laird would say to him.

  “What have ye to say for yerself?” the laird asked.

  “Only that I am utterly ashamed at having done such a cruel thing to the lad. I was not in me right mind when I allowed meself to behave in such a way. I ask yer forgiveness, me laird,” Francis said.

  “Mine only?” the Laird asked.

  “I would certainly appreciate the opportunity to speak with the young man and to apologize to him directly as well. I ken that I acted with terrible rage and inappropriate temper. I have little to say in me own defense. It was wrong and I am ashamed for having behaved such,” Francis continued.

  “As ye ought to be,” the laird agreed. He sighed and Francis looked up at him. “The lad has informed me that he pushed ye. He confessed that ye were kind but firm to begin with and it was only after he continued pressing that ye finally lost yer temper. However, we cannot allow for this sort of thing in me castle.

  “Considering the station of yer faither and the title ye will inherit, I am willing to overlook this behavior just this once. However, should it happen again, ye will be cast out of Dunmore with nothing and yer faither will be made aware of your actions,” the laird informed him.

  Francis considered all of this for a moment. He thought of the shame his faither would feel if he were made aware of what Francis had done. He also listened to how effortlessly the laird was using the word ‘faither’ and began to wonder if perhaps the rumor had not reached here after all.

  He was greatly relieved that he was not being punished further, as he knew he well deserved. The laird was being gracious for no other reason than that Francis was to be a future laird and an ally.

  “I thank ye for yer generosity, me laird,” Francis said, bowing his head again.

  “And I thank ye not to abuse it. Now, I would like for ye to speak with the lad. Ye have to do what ye can t
o make it right. I dinnae want any more of this nonsense and violence happening in me realm. Shall I bring him in now?” the laird asked.

  “As ye wish, me laird,” Francis replied.

  The laird signaled and the young guard was brought into the room.

  Francis saw the effects of his hands. The swollen face, split lip, cuts near the eyes that were puffy and barely open were mortifying to Francis. He knew that underneath the lad’s clothing were further black and blue bruises, evidence of Francis’ behavior.

  He stood and walked up to the young guard, then fell to his knees before him. “What is yer name, lad?” he asked.

  “Colin,” the young guard replied.

  “Colin. Colin, I ask that ye would be willing to forgive me. I ask that ye would allow me to find mercy in yer eyes even as I showed ye none. I ask that ye will allow me to be given a grace that I ought to have given ye when ye came to me last evening and asked merely for a lesson in fighting. I ask that ye forgive me for all the ways I chose to misinterpret yer words,” Francis begged from his knees.

  Colin looked at him without a hint of the forgiveness he asked for.

  “I confess that it is difficult for me to show ye the mercy and grace that ye withheld from me. But I also ken that ye are but a man and ye dinnae want to be the kind of man that ye proved yerself to be yesterday. So I give ye me forgiveness even as I so desperately want to withhold it from ye,” Colin replied.

  Francis inhaled deeply, accepting that this was the best he would get and was still utterly more than he deserved from Colin. “Then I am a fortunate man because I ken that this is more than I ever ought to be asking from ye,” he responded.

  “Aye. It is. And yet, I told ye that I would prove to be worthy of ten of ye and this is how I shall start me revenge. By choosing to let it go and being a greater, more merciful man than ye ken to be,” Colin spat.

  With that, he withdrew himself, turned on his heels, and left the gallery with Francis still on his knees.

  Francis heard the laird stand behind him so he did the same, turning to the man.