Soul Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “The silver pendant, milady?”

  “I think so, yes,” Bernadette nodded. She felt the coolness of the metal as Amelia fastened the chain around her neck. It completed the outfit. She felt satisfied with her appearance as she stood, turned before the mirror and then headed to the door.

  “Thank you, Amelia,” she called.

  Her maid blushed and curtsied. “Of course, milady. A pleasure to have you back.”

  It's a pleasure to be back, Bernadette thought grimly. Hopefully, she could stay out of danger from now on. She was not going to let herself think about that problem tonight. She was going to enjoy herself.

  She was walking up the hallway toward the guest-chamber where Claudine was staying when she heard a soft footfall on the boards. “Claudine!”

  She stared at her friend. In a magnificent blue silk gown, she looked radiant, and she told her friend this.

  “Oh, Bernadette, thank you,” she said, looking down modestly. “You look ravishing.”

  Bernadette smiled. “I hope so.”

  “You do?” Claudine teased.

  They looked at each other. They were friends and Bernadette fancied that Claudine could guess her thoughts sometimes. She must have noticed the attraction between Bernadette and the count.

  Bernadette smiled at her. “Yes,” she said. She wasn't going to be more explicit than that.

  Claudine's smile stretched further, making it clear she'd guessed. “Well, this will be a merry ball tonight.”

  “I hope so,” Bernadette said in a small voice.

  She followed her friend to the stairwell and descended slowly. When she reached the bottom, she was surprised to find herself face to face with the count.

  “My lady,” he said. His eyes were wide and his face was radiant. Bernadette blushed and looked at her feet. She had never seen a look of such appreciation – certainly not directed at her!

  “My lord,” she said in a voice thick with emotion.

  “Allow me?” he said. He was looking hopeful and bent his elbow, allowing her to slide her hand into the crook of it.

  Bernadette frowned at him. It was no light gesture.

  If she appeared in the ballroom on his arm, it was as good as a declaration from the local priest that they'd married. He would be declaring himself the lord of Evreux, and her partner. She smiled at him.

  “I'll dance with you later,” she said firmly. He blinked, but nodded. She stepped ahead as he stood back for her and she led the group into the hall.

  I should not be so harsh, she thought wryly as her eyes drifted to Fraser's face. He looked crestfallen. However, he should know she was not free to express my affections in the way she wanted.

  “Lady Bernadette,” a man said, bowing extravagantly to her.

  “Ah, Lord Antoine,” she said, curtseying to welcome one of her guests from the local estates. “I'm so pleased you could be here.”

  “I thank you for arranging such a wonderful entertainment,” he said cheerily. “As Berthold does, too.”

  His wife smiled at Bernadette and she kissed her cheek in greeting.

  As the hall filled up, Bernadette found herself standing alone at the back, watching with not a little pride as her guests talked and sipped drinks and somewhere, a viol played a gentle, sweet melody. She had never imagined she'd one day be hosting events like this. It was a satisfying feeling. It was also a lonely one.

  It would be fun to organize balls and parties with someone else.

  She found herself wondering about Fraser. Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice at her shoulder.

  “My lady. If you would honor me with a dance?”

  Bernadette smiled. At this stage, she didn't even need to turn round. She knew who it was. Fraser. “I would be glad to.”

  He bowed and this time she took his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor.

  Bernadette was surprised, as the dance started up, by what a good dancer he was. He moved gracefully, his lithe, muscled body reined in like a horse to make his muscled strength a thing of savage beauty. She appreciated the way he timed things, too, graceful and perfectly in tune.

  “You're a good dancer,” she whispered to him.

  “Thank you, milady,” he said. His face flushed and Bernadette smiled.

  “It is strange to think we've never danced before,” she said. It was – somehow it felt like this was not the first time: as if they had known each other forever and always had done.

  “It is strange,” Fraser agreed.

  She blushed, recalling that they had already kissed and shared an intimacy that, had anyone known, would have scandalized them.

  They danced and her thoughts blended slowly, until she was aware only of the sweet proximity of him, the touch of a hand on hers, the sway of a body past hers, the feel of his hand on her waist.

  The sound of the viol was lilting and sweet, and wove into her body, making her feel as if time and space were melting away and all that existed was the two of them and the way he looked into her eyes.

  The music stopped. Bernadette stared up at him. He leaned forward. She tensed, knowing they couldn't kiss right here in the middle of the room. She looked down.

  “We should go, milord,” she said in a low voice. “The dance floor is emptying.”

  He blinked. “Oh!” he chuckled. “Yes.”

  Bernadette felt herself smile. Surely he had noticed?

  She walked off toward the refreshments in the back corner of the vast, vaulted hall. Impulsively, she walked to the door and out into the courtyard. The night was warm and she looked out over the flagstones, the space a soft, slate blue with dusk.

  “Milady?”

  She smiled, hearing him follow her. She didn't turn round. Instead, she let him come close, until he was standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder. “Mm?” she said. She turned around languidly and looked up into his eyes.

  He looked down into her eyes. His own were dilated with longing. She felt herself respond and reached up, letting a hand rest gently on his shoulder.

  “Milady,” he said softly. “Allow me to say how beautiful you look tonight.”

  Bernadette flushed. “Thank you, my lord. You look rather fine yourself.” She experienced the genuine pleasure of seeing him blush.

  “Thank you, milady.”

  She smiled into his eyes. “You know, you are rather bold, if I may say so.”

  “Bold? Why, milady?” She saw his eyes crinkle at the corners and knew he was perfectly aware of what she meant, that he was teasing her.

  “Well, for one thing, I'll have you know it's most improper for you to be here with me in the courtyard, alone.”

  He smiled. “I know it is, milady. And I do ask pardon.”

  She smiled warmly. “I am sure pardon could be granted,” she teased.

  “How so?”

  “Well,” she said, feeling her own hands tense on his shoulder as he rested a hand on her shoulder, drawing her closer. “For a start, I would expect you to behave yourself like a gentleman in future.”

  “Oh?” His eyes lit. “In which case, since I am forbidden from all improprieties hence, allow me to do them all now.”

  Bernadette gave a little shocked laugh and then she was silent as his mouth moved, warm and insistent, onto hers. She felt her body melt as he drew her into his embrace, his hands clutching at her waist. She knew she should stop him, but there was no way she could deny the sweet urgency that was calling out in her body, making her want to wrap her own arms around him and draw him closer. She felt him deepen the kiss and welcomed it, even as she felt her body crushed against his own.

  Then, all of a sudden, she felt her head start to drift, the whole world seeming to sway around her with a sickly, dizzying pace. “I...” she murmured, breaking the kiss. Then she felt the ground give way under her.

  She closed her eyes and fell, slowly, down through the blackness.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE HEART OF THE MATTER

  THE HEAR
T OF THE MATTER

  “Bernadette!”

  Fraser stared in horror as he watched her eyes close and her body sway back from his own. He grabbed her and caught her as she slumped back. He held her against his chest, her body an unconscious weight.

  “Oh my...Bernadette! Help!” he called. “Someone fetch a physician.”

  They were in the empty courtyard. The sentries, he guessed somewhere on the wall, did not hear. He felt frantic. He lifted her in his arms.

  “The mistress is ill,” he announced, carrying her into the golden-lit ballroom. “Someone fetch a physician! I'll carry her up to her chambers.”

  The party descended into chaos as all the guests talked at once.

  “What on...”

  “Bernadette!”

  “Who has done this?”

  “Someone, call Father Gerald!”

  “Help! My poor lady...”

  Fraser felt tired and resigned. “You,” he said to the nearest servant. “Fetch the physician. And you,” he added to the manservant who was headed toward him, “fetch the guards. You start clearing the hall,” he added to another servant. They would end the party.

  Fraser saw Francis and Claudine moving through the group toward him. He felt a weary relief at seeing their worried countenances.

  “Fraser,” Francis said. “You think it...”

  “I don't know,” he admitted grimly. “But it's worth considering. My Lady Claudine?”

  The lady in question was weeping in fright, her pale cheeks marked with the silvered traces of tears. “Yes?” she asked brokenly.

  “Have you seen anything like this before? When your uncle...I mean...?” He didn't know quite how to ask what he wished to say.

  She seemed to know for she shook her head mutely. “I haven't seen anything like this, no,” she admitted. “I'm so worried about her!”

  “I'll take her upstairs,” Fraser said gently. “Have someone send up the physician?”

  “We will,” Francis promised. “Is there aught we can do?” He looked concerned too.

  Fraser hadn't known just how cared for Bernadette was. The thought warmed his heart.

  “Well, if you could keep an eye out down here...clear the hall. In addition, make sure there aren't any intruders about. Get the servants to check the kitchen. We will uncover who is responsible for this.”

  “Yes, we will,” he nodded. Francis and Claudine left, casting worried glances behind them.

  Fraser cradled Bernadette against him and carried her up the stairs, her head on his chest.

  When he reached the bedchamber, he stopped. It was one thing to enter her rooms at the inn. It was another thing entirely to enter into Bernadette's private domain – her own bedchamber – alone with her. He hesitated. Then he sighed. “I need to let her rest.”

  He laid her gently on the bed and then sat down beside her. He couldn't stop staring at her. With those big eyes closed, lashes resting on her lids, she looked a little like the porcelain angels on altarpieces in churches. He found himself staring, entranced, at them.

  She is so beautiful.

  The soft brown gown brought out the reddish highlights in the sweet, rich curls of her hair, and, earlier, he had noticed how perfectly it matched her eyes, how the red of her lips showed up so well with it. In addition, the pale skin of her long neck and full bust showed in the neckline of her gown. His body tensed with longing.

  Before he could think about it, he bent down and planted a kiss on her soft, dark-red lips. He sighed. It felt so illicit, so wondrously wicked, to be kissing her when she lay supine like this. He let his tongue gently part her lips, his hand on her shoulder, feeling her cool, smooth skin below it.

  He sat back abruptly, finding that he was shivering with the intensity of his longing. He could almost not bear it. He stood and paced to the corner of the room, clenching his hands together.

  If I don't have her soon, I'll...

  He winced and squeezed his eyes shut, wrestling for control of himself. He heard feet in the corridor.

  The physician! He raced to the door, composing himself and hoping his face wasn't red.

  “My lord,” the physician said. A gaunt-faced priest, the man didn't show the slightest discomfort at finding Fraser in the lady's chamber, a fact which made Fraser instantly grateful to him.

  “Father,” he said quickly. “The patient is sleeping. I...”

  “Thank you, I'll examine her now,” the priest said loftily. “If you would kindly remove yourself now?”

  “Uh...yes! Yes, Father. I'll leave.”

  Fraser, flustered and blushing, headed out into the hallway. He paced there, anxious. When the physician appeared, he felt his heart thud. The man's face was grave.

  “Her ladyship is resting,” the man said. “I can detect no trace of poison. That doesn't mean she didn't imbibe any,” he added sharply. “It just means that whatever it is, I cannot smell it. Have someone keep watch over her. Call me if she starts to vomit or convulse.”

  “Uh, yes, Father,” Fraser blinked. “I'll send the maid to summon you. If you..?” He frowned.

  “I'll stay in the kitchens,” the man said succinctly.

  “Thank you, Father!” Fraser said gratefully.

  The man gave him a funny look, but nodded. “Have someone sit with her,” he repeated.

  “Yes, Father.”

  Fraser itched to go back into the room, though he knew it would be most irregular. He paced down the passage. “Hello?”

  He called out to try and locate the maidservant, but no reply was forthcoming, so he went back to the room himself. He stood in the doorway, watching her.

  “Hello?”

  He jumped when she called out. “Bernadette?”

  Her pale face was almost clear in the darkness of the room, and he saw her expression change from confusion to ease.

  “Fraser?”

  “I'm here, milady,” he reassured her. He came into the room and sat down slowly on the bed beside her. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired.”

  He held her hand. “Can I help?”

  She smiled then. “Fraser Moreau,” she said sternly. “I can think of plenty you might do to revive me, none of which would please my physician. If he came in, we'd be lucky not to both be burned in the town square as an example. You should go.”

  He flushed, laughing. “I agree, milady. Very well. But I do not like to leave you here alone...” he trailed off as she smiled.

  “Fraser, I am recovering. I think I shan't expire if you go to the door and call Amelia?”

  “Of course!” Flushing, feeling foolish, he headed to the door. “Amelia?”

  He called a few times before the maid appeared. He nodded to her. “The physician said to keep watch. Call me if she...does anything.”

  Behind him, he heard Bernadette laugh. The sound made his heart dance.

  “That is easily the worst advice I've heard. Thank you, though. Goodnight.”

  Fraser's heart twisted. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay here, sit beside her, and watch over her. He wanted to hold her hand, feel her warmth, and listen to her breathing. He wanted to kiss her.

  She was right, however. If the priest or anyone else saw them do such things, they'd both be condemned by everyone. He nodded. “Goodnight.”

  He walked down the hall, feeling as if he had left his heart with her in her chamber, watching over her.

  He returned to his rooms, but not to sleep – for he was too wired for that.

  To plan.

  “We need to go to Corron,” he decided. It was only if he actually went there, if he faced the count himself and threatened him so roundly that he never did anything to harm Bernadette again, that he would feel at peace. In truth, he would only feel at peace if he knew the count was somewhere else – somewhere out of the country, where he could never hurt her again.

  That man will never stop wishing her ill.

  Fraser disrobed and climbed into bed at last, letting his thought
s slowly find calm. He found his mind moving away from worry and toward the memories of before. How it had felt to dance with Bernadette. The feel of her in his arms. The kiss and how her lips felt when he touched them with his, his tongue probing her gently, her mouth warm and welcoming.

  “I'm never going to sleep,” he mumbled mournfully.

  He was possessed with such longing that he was sure it would never abate, not until he finally possessed her. If that wondrous thing occurred.

  Tossing and turning, his exhausted mind must eventually have found rest, because he woke up the next morning with the sun streaming through the windows and the sound of horses in the yard two floors below.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  RECOVERY AND PLANS

  RECOVERY AND PLANS

  Bernadette woke to the sound of birds singing in the pale sky beyond the windows. She opened her eyes slowly. Her head hurt.

  She lay back on the pillows and tried to recall the series of events that had led up to her being here in bed in her own chamber. The ball. The collapse. Waking here, to the touch of Fraser's hand on her arm and his sweet smile as he looked down at her.

  She stirred, turning sideways. Amelia was there, sitting by the bed. She was white with lack of sleep, bruised rings around her eyes.

  “Amelia!” Bernadette called. The woman jumped, evidently half-asleep.

  “Milady! Oh! The physician...” She sprang to her feet.

  Bernadette smiled. “I'm not unwell, Amelia. No need to call him. Just a headache,” she added, shifting herself to sit up in bed. “If you could help me dress?”

  “Of course, milady!”

  Amelia helped her out of bed and Bernadette sank down into a seat by the dressing table, looking at her reflection as Amelia made up the bed and rushed to the clothes-chest to find a gown for her.