Highland Daydreams

by April Holthaus

  “My Laird, there is something ye should ken which should be of great importance to ye. We have no’ consummated the marriage. I have tried to be tender wit’ the lass, but she is as stubborn as a horse. Ye do ken what this means, aye?”

  “Aye. If ye dinna consummate it, the union between our clans is null and void,” William said in a gruff tone, more angry with his daughter than anything.

  “Aye. That is why I have come here to collect my wife. If the neighboring clans learn we hold nay truce, they will rebel and war will break out. The lass has caused more trouble than she kens,” Dermot reminded him.

  Now, he had no choice but to return Lara to him.

  “I agree wit’ ye. I will fetch her, and ye will take her on the first boat back to Scotland. I trust that ye can manage no’ losing her again?”

  “Aye, of course, my Laird.”

  William walked back inside the courtyard and searched for Lara. John stayed behind and glowered at Dermot. Lara had run up the stairs to the top of the curtain wall and watched the scene below, though she could not hear the conversation they were having.

  “Why are ye really here? I ken it is no’ fer Lara.”

  “As ye must ken, besides my insolent bride, I have no’ received the other half of her dowry. Yer father promised me a treasure worth its weight in gold. And I expect to claim it.”

  John stared at him with icy blue eyes. Taking a step forward, he whispered, “I ken the truth. I ken what ye did.”

  Dermot held his breath, feeling threatened when John exposed his secret. As John continued to talk in his ear, Dermot, with precision and stealth, slid his dagger out of its sheath along his belt and slipped it into the sleeve of his tunic. Over time, the words John spoke were hazy and mumbled. With his mind focused on his surroundings, all Dermot could hear was the sound of his blood rushing and heart pounding in his ears. Each breath and exhale became louder and more distinct. Anger boiled in his veins when John spoke his last words.

  As fast as a lightning bolt strikes the ground, Dermot raised his dagger to John and lurched towards him. Within moments, the two of them were wrestling on the ground. John twisted from side to side, avoiding the dagger held in Dermot’s hand. Lara panicked and called out for help, but the commotion in the courtyard was so loud that no one heard her cries. Even the villagers outside the gates were too distracted to notice what was occurring.

  John successfully plunged Dermot’s own dagger through his heart. The color drained from Dermot’s face, and the irises of his eyes grew dark. Dermot staggered back, and with both hands pulled the dagger out of his chest. Blood seeped out of the side of his mouth. He took one step, then another, before crashing down onto the ground. His cold and lifeless body doubled over and stiffened. Lara’s panic caused her lungs to feel as if all of the air had escaped her, making it difficult to breathe. Through glistening eyes, Lara looked at John. He was standing over the dead man’s body. Lara ran down the steps to join him. Staggering towards her, John wrapped his arms around her. He escorted her away from the view of Dermot’s corpse.

  “Go to yer room. I will meet ye there soon. Dinna worry, dear sister, I promise ye everything will be alright,” John said, smiling down at her.

  By the time Bram reached the front gates, a crowd had gathered around a lifeless body lying on the ground. Blood oozed from his chest. Bram recognized his Highland colors and assumed that the man lying dead on the ground was none other than Laird Moray, but questions raced in his mind about who had killed him. Had Lara taken another man’s life? Had Dermot attacked her, hurt her? Dashing through the gates, he searched for Lara, but ran into her brother, John, instead.

  “Where is Lara? Is she alright? Is she hurt?” Bram asked, fearful of the man’s response.

  “Nay, she is fine. She is waiting in her room for my return.”

  “Thank ye,” Bram said, and dashed up the stairs towards Lara’s room.

  Chapter 21

  “Something is amiss, husband, and it has to do with that lass.” Queen Isobel spoke elegantly and her tone was smooth and soft as a gentle breeze.

  “What girl?” Eric asked, as he rummaged through a stack of papers on his desk.

  Isobel glided across the solar and placed her hand gently on her husband’s, lowering the papers in his hand from his view.

  “Heaven sakes, Eric. Why is it that you only hear half of what I tell you?”

  Eric breathed in deeply and set the papers back down onto the table. Settling back into his chair, he looked at her, giving her his full attention.

  “I do listen to you, you just happen to talk when I am busy, or eating, or sleeping, or…”

  Eric snickered at the unamused look displayed on Isobel’s face as she stood with arms crossed and foot tapping on the floor. “I am listening to you now, my love. Now, what were you trying to tell me?” he asked, as he reached out for his wife and pulled her down to sit in his lap.

  Isobel wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders and continued. “As I was saying, something is going on and it has to do wit’ that lass. That man who was killed at the gate, they say he was her husband. If William invited enemies or trouble into our midst, especially now…”

  “I will talk to William and John, and whoever this lass is,” Eric said cutting her off.

  “Thank you.”

  Eric helped Isobel down from his lap and stood. Walking to the door, he opened it and summoned his guard.

  “Gather William and the lass who is staying in the guest rooms upstairs, and meet me in the library.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” the guard replied.

  Eric would take care of this mess once and for all.

  Lara sat on the edge of her bed, her hands shaking and mind spinning. Dermot was dead. Lara felt a sense of relief and freedom, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was overjoyed. No longer was she bound to a loveless marriage. No longer did she have to fear him and what he would have done to her. No longer was she forced to bare his children, or be forced into warming his bed. She was a widow and free. Falling back onto the bed, she spread her arms out wide and breathed.

  A soft knock came from the door. Sitting up quickly, she hurried to the door. Opening it, she smiled widely at Bram, who was standing in the corridor. Today, of all days, he looked rather handsome, shedding his dirty brown shirt and worn-out kilt for a clean white tunic and a pair of dark brown trews. With her new sense of freedom, she felt the walls she’d erected around her heart soften. Now there were no more reasons or excuses for pushing him away. Looking at him now, a flood of emotions began to overwhelm her.

  “Are ye alright?” he asked.

  “Aye. I am more than alright. Come in. I have so much to tell ye,” she boasted, grabbing his hand and dragging him inside the chamber.

  Sitting down in opposite chairs next to the hearth, Lara retold the story of what had happened between John and Dermot. She told him everything except what truly mattered - how she felt towards him.

  “I have word that the boat for Scotland is leaving earlier than scheduled. So I have come to apologize that I have to break my promise. I will no’ be here to attend the coronation.

  Bram did not want to leave, though he knew it was time. He had fulfilled his promise, and every journey had to come to an end. Standing up, he quietly walked towards her. Leaning down, he grabbed her hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.

  “It has been a true pleasure, my lady,” he said as he lowered her hand and started towards the door. As he opened it, he heard Lara call out to him.

  “Bram,” Lara’s voice trembled as she looked at him with desperate need.

  Bram turned back to face her. “Aye.”

  “I…I dinna want ye to go,” she whispered, staring into his eyes.

  Bram could see the sadness in her eyes and a frown forming on her face. His heart skipped a beat. Hearing those words was all it took to change his mind. They were all he wanted to hear.

  Slamming the door shut, he ran back to her
. With great urgency, he grabbed her, pulling her into his arms, and tightly pressing her body against his. Lowering his lips, he kissed her firmly, with fervor, filled with want and need. Her lips were moist and tasted as sweet as nectar. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. He wanted to touch her; to feel her bare skin against his.

  Bram was completely lost in the moment. Had he been another man, he would have ripped the dress right off her and taken her right then and there. He kissed her again and again, rubbing his hands wildly through her hair and down the expanse of her back, keeping her body against his so that there was no distance between them.

  This was not meant to be a sweet and gentle kiss. This kiss was meant to ravish her, to breathe all of her in; her heart, her body, her soul. He kissed her as if his life depended on every touch, every breath; and when she pressed her body closer to his and deepened the kiss, he felt as if he was about to come completely undone. Emotions exploded through every chamber of his heart and each corner of his mind. In the back of his throat, he growled as his body ached with need. She was his, always and forever.

  Bram’s kiss caused Lara to become feverish. With each kiss, her desire and passion built higher than she had ever experienced or imagined. Sucking in sharp breaths of air, she felt as if she was about to swoon, but his grip kept her upright as she melted into him. She had been holding back for so long that this release of emotion and desire freed her from the inner torment she felt. She wanted Bram, all of him.

  As they interlocked their fingers, Lara slowly started to calm herself as if she was descending from an imaginary summit.

  “I ne’er want ye to leave,” she whispered against his lips.

  With her eyes still closed, she rubbed her cheek against his stubble and breathed him in. Bram loosened his embrace just enough to smile down at her. Raising his hand, he gently rubbed the side of her cheek. Lara’s eyes were misty; not from sadness or anger, but from a sort of bliss she had never known. Reminiscing over the past few weeks, she knew her feelings were as certain as the moon and the stars that hung in the heavens. She loved him with her whole heart.

  Startled by a loud pounding at the door, Lara was swept back into reality and jumped out of Bram’s embrace. Heaven knew what would happen if her father came upon them, only hours after the death of her husband, bastard though he was. Trying to gain composure, Lara patted down her hair and straightened her dress on her shoulders. With a deep breath, she opened the door.

  “My lady, you have been summoned to meet in the library,” one of the royal guards informed.

  “Summoned? By whom?”

  “King Magnusson, my lady.”

  Why would the king want to see her? She held no title or land and was no one of importance. Nervously, she looked back at Bram. Biting her bottom lip, Lara followed the guard down the long hallway, with Bram following closely behind.

  Eric stood next to the windowsill, staring out into the valley below. Heated by his discussion with William, he was convinced that William had lied. His story did not make any sense and was full of holes, as if he purposely meant to keep out important details. Eric may have been old and his memory had been fading from time to time since his illness, but he was not daft enough to overlook such. He needed to be able to trust William and his son.

  His decision to fabricate the relationship of John as his cousin’s son, allowing him to take the throne, had not come easy. But his hatred for his brother made the decision vital for his people and all of Norway. His brother did not support the war with Denmark, which was critical for Norway to maintain political power. He feared that if his brother became king, Norway would fall into the hands of either the English or the French.

  William sat quietly across the room from where Eric was standing. Both of them waited for Lara to arrive. William tried to speak to defend himself, and tried to convince him that his daughter was daft and did not know how to present herself in front of royalty, but Eric would hear none of it. He would meet the lass and calm his wife’s worry.

  Chapter 22

  Standing in front of the tall wooden door, Lara swallowed hard. It was nerve-wracking enough having to speak to the queen, but speaking to the King created an entirely different whirl of emotions. The doors to the library were carved with tiny spiral designs, and looked more like a work of art than just a door. Lara thought that even the handle was too fancy for such a simple object. Nervously, she grabbed onto Bram’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Bram returned the grip with equal pressure.

  “Ye will be alright,” Bram said, as he placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

  All Lara could do was smile. She had never been so nervous in her life. As the guard turned the handle, he pushed the door inward. The bright light from the room lit the dark corridor. Inside, Lara could see her father with King Magnusson, who was standing by the window with his back towards her.

  Dropping Bram’s hand before her father could see their display of affection, Lara slowly crept inside the room. As she stood in the center of the room, the guard excused himself and closed the door behind him. Lara looked over at her father. Seeing the anger painted on his face, Lara looked down, feeling like the ungrateful daughter she had been over the past two days. She had openly dishonored and defied him, and knew that her actions could have severe consequences.

  Lara did not realize what she had done by coming here. It was because of her that Dermot had followed her here, and it was because of her that he was dead. What made matters worse was that she brought dishonor to her family, and was sure that the king would punish her and her father for her disobedience. She could do only one thing - ask King Magnusson to spare her family and her family’s name, and she would accept whatever punishment he saw fit.

  “Yer majesty, my Lord. It is me that ye have quarrel wit, no’ my father or my brother. Laird Moray came here fer me, and I alone am responsible fer his actions here today. Fer that I know that I must be punished,” Lara said bowing to him.

  Staring down at the floor, she did not dare raise her gaze, for doing so would show as much insult as if she were to tell the King he smelled of horse dung.

  Eric kept his eyes fixed on the scenery below his window. He was taken aback by the girl’s words. Never would he have thought that William would have raised such an outspoken daughter. He took a sip of his whiskey and turned to face the bold lass standing in the middle of the room.

  At the sight of her, he felt as if his heart stopped beating. His breath seized. Eric’s reaction caused him to loosen his grip on his tankard of whiskey. As if the room stood still, the mug crashed onto the floor and shattered. The sound of tiny fragments scattering across the wooden floor, echoed throughout the room. In the pit of his stomach, he felt an overwhelming sense of anger and sadness colliding within him like an angry storm. He felt cold, yet began to sweat profusely and suddenly found it hard to breathe.

  In a trembling voice, he murmured, “Margaret? But you’re dead!”

  “Nay, my Lord, my name is Lara Fergusson. I mean, Lara Moray,” Lara quickly corrected him, though curious why he would believe she was his dead daughter.

  Eric turned and looked at William. Lara did not mistake the look in his eyes. She could have sworn they turned as black as coal. Lara believed that his building anger was so great that his eyes could have turned burning red while smoke exhaled from his nostrils like a mighty dragon. But rather than a dragon, this was a beast of another kind. A tormented man.

  “What sort of black magic is this?” Eric questioned as he stood towering over William.

  William sat quiet and turned his head from Eric. Grabbing his collar, Eric lifted him from his chair and dragged him across the floor until he was pinned up against the wall. Lara gasped as her father was attacked.

  “Who is she?” Eric asked, as he pressed his hand tighter around William’s throat. “Answer me!” Eric roared.

  Gasping for air, William choked out, “Margaret’s daughter.”

  Eric stood still for a moment, soaking in what
William had just said.

  “Liar! Margaret’s children were all stillborn. Only Maid Margaret survived past infancy.”

  William coughed as he struggled to breath, “Nay. The lads were stillborn. The lass survived. Ye were so blind and foolish ye dinna deserve her. I loved Margaret. And if ye were nay in the way, she would have run off wit’ me to Scotland, no’ her sister Elsa. Once Margaret found out she was wit’ child, she refused to leave ye. It was because of her,” he choked out. “Lara was the reason why Margaret stayed wit’ ye. I could nay have Margaret, so I took from ye what ye held most dear. Yer child.”

  “Why? Why would you raise her as your own?”

  “Because I knew ye would need an heir. I never thought ye would find out about her.”

  “My throne! You did all of this because you were after my throne,” Eric stated, acknowledging William’s true purpose for offering John as his vassal.

  Eric then turned to Lara. Feeling overwhelmed with pity for her, he realized that she too had been lied to. He could not imagine what the lass was feeling or thinking. All he knew was that she was his daughter, and would make William pay for what he had done to them both.

  Lara shook her head. “It can nay be true,” she whispered so quietly that only she could hear. Lara wanted to cover her ears; she could not stand to hear any more of it. Her own family had betrayed her. Her father, her mother. She only wondered if John also knew the truth, or if he too had been just a pawn in this game.

  “William Fergusson,” Eric growled, “You have committed treason and kidnapping and are to be condemned to death. By sunset tomorrow you will be hanged by the neck until life has been taken from you. May God save your wicked soul, for ye are bound for hell!”

  Lara stood stone silent for several moments as the guards carried her father out of the room. She felt as if her whole world had spun out of control. Everything had been a lie. What was she to do now? With teary eyes she glanced up to the king, her father. She could feel the weight of his stare. His eyes were the same silvery grey as hers, and he too had the raven-black hair that matched her own. It all made sense. She never questioned why she looked so different from her mother and father, both of whom had bright red hair. But it was all because her father - or the man she thought to be her father - had kidnapped her from her real parents. Had she known, had there been any clue, she would have… Lara’s mind went blank. In truth, she didn’t know what she would have done.