by B. J. Scott
“I will try, but canna promise,” she finally agreed.
“I live in hope, m’lady, and count the minutes.” He bowed, then stepped aside when Angus and Isla arrived.
“We must be on our way, Lady Laurel,” Angus said.
Laurel nodded and accompanied her friends. When Blair moved forward to assist her into the carriage, Angus stepped between them.
“That willna be necessary, laddie,” Angus grumbled. “I will see to the ladies and think it best you leave.”
Once seated, Laurel glanced down at Blair and smiled. “It was lovely seeing you. I pray we meet again.”
“Count on it, m’lady. You have my promise,” Blair replied with a grin. “Until then, I bid you farewell.”
Isla waved as the carriage pulled away, then quickly turned to Laurel. “What a braw young man.” She lowered her voice. “Did you have a nice visit?”
“Aye, he is verra handsome and we had a good chat.” Laurel peeked over her shoulder at the festival grounds. Blair had yet to move.
“Did he ask to see you again? Did he kiss you?” Isla badgered. “Your cheeks were flushed when we arrived. And the way he was looking at you . . .” She pressed her hand to her chest and released a deep sigh. “You must tell me everything.”
Laurel raised her finger to her lips, hoping to silence her friend. She was not ready to share what happened and did not want Angus to overhear. “It was nice to see him, but you are letting your imagination run wild. There is nothing between us.”
“If you say so.” Isla grinned and leaned back against the seat.
As with most journeys, the trip to the festival seemed to take forever, but the one home was over in the blink of an eye. As they entered through the raised portcullis, Laurel spotted Deirdre standing at the top of the castle steps. Her stomach twisted with dread at the thought of facing her cousin’s ire.
Angus brought the carriage to a halt, helped the ladies down, then retrieved their purchases and approached his mistress. “If it pleases you, m’lady, I will take these to the cook before feeding and watering the horses.” He bowed before Deirdre, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for her answer.
“It doesna please me. You’re late,” she snapped. “I gave specific orders that you were to return by noon and that time has come and gone. What have you to say for yourself?”
“It wasna Angus’ fault.” Laurel stepped around the carriage to confront Deirdre.
“And who is to blame?” Deirdre’s brow creased and her face reddened as she studied Laurel’s appearance. “Look at you! What in the name of St. Stephen happened to your gown?” She reached over and tugged at the ripped fabric, making the tear even worse. “Not only are your clothes ruined, you look like you have been rolling around in the dirt with swine? Is this the way you conduct yourself when I graciously grant you time in the village? How dare you disgrace the clan name?”
“I did nothing to be ashamed of or to disgrace the clan. I can explain if you would but give me the cha—”
Deirdre threw both arms in the air in a fit of anger. “I dinna want to hear another word from you,” she hissed, then whipped around to confront Angus. “If I recall correctly, your orders were to escort the ladies to the festival, to supervise their every move, and return as soon as they completed their errands. Obviously, none of you are to be trusted.” She stomped toward the castle. “Mairi! Gordon!” She shouted for two of the servants before continuing her tirade. “I refuse to discuss this any further at this time. You will each be dealt with accordingly, once I’ve decided how.”
“You called for us, m’lady?” Gordon asked.
“Aye. I want you to help Angus with the horses, then see that he returns to his room and stays there. I will deal with him and Isla later. Mairi, take Laurel to her chamber and make certain she cleans up. When she is presentable, bring her to the great hall. And be quick about it.”
Mairi bobbed a curtsy. “Aye, m’lady.”
“Please, I wish you would let me explain.” Laurel made a final attempt to get her cousin to listen, her plea falling on deaf hears. Frustrated and uncertain what sort of reprimand Deirdre had in mind, she held her tongue as the woman stormed away.
“I’m sorry, Isla. I hate to think you will be punished because of me.”
“There is no reason to apologize. The old witch has no heart and doesna need a reason to take her anger out on the servants. I do hope she is not too hard on you.”
“Isla is right, best we do as the mistress asked. There is no point in feeding her fury. If you’ll come with me, I will help you change,” Mairi offered.
Laurel agreed, but could not purge Deirdre’s threats from her mind. She was not worried about her own fate, but was concerned about what lay in store for Angus and Isla.
Chapter 5
Blair heaved a deep sigh as he skipped a smooth pebble across the loch, then watched it drop beneath the surface—similar to how his heart had sunk when he watched Laurel’s carriage pull away. While only a couple of hours had passed since he’d bid her farewell, it seemed like an eternity.
On the other hand, he could not believe his fortune. For years he had attended the festival hoping to speak to her, and was about to give up the quest when there she was. He was more determined than ever to honor his promise and make her his bride.
His pulse hammered and his groin stirred when he thought about her slender figure and feminine curves, her breathtaking features, and delicate scent. He’d often wondered if she’d be as beautiful as he imagined, dreamed about taking her to his bed and making love until they were both spent.
“There you are. We were beginning to think you’d met with bandits or mayhap were warming the bed of some serving wench.” James, his oldest brother, sauntered toward him.
“As you can see, I’m fine. There is no need to fash. I’m a grown man and can take care of myself,” Blair replied and patted the sword at his side.
James tended to fret like a mother hen when he, or his other two brothers, Ian and Keenan, strayed too far from his sight. Nor did he miss an opportunity to taunt his three younger siblings.
“Everyone knows you can handle a blade better than most, but you said you were going to fetch some ale over three hours ago and never returned.”
“I dinna need a nursemaid. And if you were that thirsty, you could have fetched it yourself,” Blair snapped, then picked up another stone and lobbed it into the water. “Can’t a man have some time to himself without his brothers fearing the worst?”
“Wait. Dinna tell me.” James took a step back and raised both hands. “You’ve been looking for Laurel MacClay again. When will you learn that she isna going to be at the festival? Nor will you ever be in a position to marry her. Like a fool, you’ve pined for her since the day her father died. About time you found another woman and settled down.”
“You are hardly the one to give me advice about courting, James. When do you plan to marry? As the oldest son, you will someday be laird of Clan Cameron and are the one expected to choose a bride and produce an heir.”
James spat on the ground and shook his head. “Da is a strong, virile man, and has a long life ahead of him. I have no desire to wed at this time. There are places I wish to visit and many things to do before I settle down. Right now, I have no time for a wife and bairns. Besides, I much prefer to sample the wares of many ladies. Those who dinna care about commitments.”
“You’re known to be a scoundrel when it comes to the ladies. It surprises me that no jealous husband or irate father has run you through,” Blair replied.
“And you my brother were cursed with the soul of a bard and are destined to follow your heart rather than your head. I still canna believe a lad of thirteen summers would fall for a lass of ten, then promise to marry her. Let alone expect her to still be wait
ing eight summers later.” James thumped Blair on the back. “Yet, every fall you come to the festival hoping to see her and leave disappointed. Take my advice, little brother, and forget about Laurel MacClay.”
“If you must know, I saw her today and she is neither married nor betrothed,” Blair blurted.
James placed his hand on Blair’s forehead. “Are you ill and seeing things? Where is she?” He glanced around, then shrugged.
Blair swatted his brother hand away and took a step back. “She was here, but had to leave. However, you can mark my words, we will marry,” Blair growled. Anger squeezed his chest. He wanted to prove his brother wrong, to tell him about his arrangements to meet with her again on the morrow, but decided it best not to reveal their plans to anyone.
“That may be, but I’ve heard rumors that her cousin Murray keeps her locked away, and some say he plans to see her marry his son so he can maintain control of the clan. The man wouldna let you get within a mile of Thistledown Castle.”
“I willna listen to you prattle on anymore. Rumors are for old women. Where are Ian and Keenan?” Blair changed the topic of discussion and headed toward the festival grounds in search of his brothers, anything to end the discussion with James.
“Look, the prodigal brother has returned,” Ian, the second oldest, said as he lumbered toward them. “Where did you find him?”
A bull of a man, he stood well over six-foot-tall, sported broad shoulders, arms as round as tree trunks, and a heavily muscled frame. A tangle of blond hair hung loose around his shoulders.
Blair rolled his eyes and braced for another inquisition, but luckily his other brother, Keenan, joined them.
“They are about to hold the finals in the stone throw. Are you coming or are you afraid you might lose to me?” Keenan puffed out his chest and planted his hands on his hips.
Both tall, strapping men, they had an equally good chance of taking home the prize. For the last five summers, Ian won the overall competition, coming first in all of the events he entered. But Keenan was determined to better him this time. Regardless of who won, there would be no living with the victor. But listening to them boast was preferable to being harassed about his love for Laurel.
Ian’s brows knit together and his face contorted with anger. “You dinna stand a chance of beating me,” he growled.
“That remains to be seen. I think you’re hiding so you dinna embarrass yourself.” Keenan threw back his head and laughed.
“The only one who will be red-faced is you. Let’s go. Loser buys the ale,” Ian said, then strode toward the festival grounds.
“You have a wager, brother. I hope you brought plenty of coins. I’m verra thirsty,” Keenan shouted after him.
“What could be taking her so long?” Laurel muttered aloud. After Mairi helped her to undress and brushed out her hair, she’d gone to retrieve a wooden tub and water for her bath. Worry knotted her gut as she awaited news of her friends’ fate. Her own punishment was of no concern, but she hated to think Isla and Angus would suffer because of her tardiness.
She anxiously paced her chamber. Pausing by the window, she peered into the bailey, surprised to see a steady stream of people enter through the portcullis. Guests attending the feast she surmised. She must have returned from the festival a lot later than she’d thought and likely the reason for Deirdre’s angry.
“Lady Laurel. I’ve brought the tub. May we enter?” Mairi asked.
Laurel secured a length of plaid around her shoulders. “Aye, come in.”
The door opened and Mairi stepped into the room. Three burly warriors placed the tub by the hearth, while several servants filled it with hot water from the buckets they carried.
Laurel waited for them to leave before approaching the maid. “What news do you have? I’ve been beside myself with worry.”
“Only rumors, m’lady.” She lowered her gaze.
Unable to contain her emotions, she grasped Mairi by the shoulders, forcing her to look at her. “Tell me what you’ve heard. I must know what punishment Deirdre has ordered. Maybe I can speak to her, explain that I am responsible.”
“It will make no difference. Once the mistress sets her mind to something, there is no changing it.”
“I could try.”
“You truly have a kind heart, m’lady, but best you hold your tongue. The mistress has yet to declare what she has in store for you.”
“I care not what she does to me, but canna bear the thought of my friends being punished because I dinna abide by Deirdre’s orders.” Laurel released Mairi and began to pace again.
“Neither Isla nor Uncle Angus would want you to shoulder the blame. They are adults and knew the consequences. I remember my mam telling me about the time that she broke Lady Deirdre’s favorite pitcher while cleaning the great hall, one she’d gotten from her mother. To protect her, Uncle Angus said he was at fault and took the reprimand. As her older brother, he always looked out for her. He thinks of you like a daughter and would never allow you to suffer.”
“My father always spoke highly of Angus. He not only considered him a fine warrior, but a dear friend as well. When I turn eighteen and take my place as lairdess, the first thing I will do is see him reinstated as captain of the guard. An honor he deserves.”
“That would be wonderful, But—” Mairi dropped her chin and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“But what?” Laurel asked. “Is there something I need to know?”
“Nay. I’ve heard the palver bandied about the keep, but wouldna set any store in it. Best we get you bathed and dressed for the feast. The guests are already arriving and the mistress wants you to join them as soon as possible. No point in feeding her ire.” With her head down, she moved to the tub, added some lavender oil to the water, then went to a shelf in the corner of the room.
“Get intae the tub before the water grows cold. I will fetch your gown and slippers,” Mairi said, but she did not turn to face Laurel.
While she wanted to pursue the questions, to learn what Mairi had overheard, she could tell by the maid’s slouching stance, inability to look her in the eye, and sudden uneasiness, this conversation made her uncomfortable. Uncertain if she wanted to know the answer, Laurel decided to let it drop for now. She’d find out soon enough.
She climbed into the tub and allowed the warm, fragrant bathwater to envelope her. She sighed and closed her eyes, determined to clear her head of all worry and the events of the day. Even if only for a few minutes. But the image of Blair’s handsome face and memories of his touch, the softness of his lips, and the way he made her feel, filled her mind.
She could never forget what they’d shared. Her heart clenched. Who was she fooling? They would never wed. Chances are they would not see each other again. Deirdre would forbid it, even if he did try.
But she’d worry about that later. Now she had to face what Murray had to share at the feast. An ache formed in the pit of her stomach. Something told her it would not be pleasant news.
Chapter 6
Preparing for the feast took longer than Laurel anticipated, and she was in enough trouble already. She quickened her pace. Being late again wouldn’t bode well with her cousins.
She entered the great hall, coming to an abrupt halt when she spied Deirdre, a scowl contorting the woman’s face. Since there was no point putting off the inevitable tongue lashing, she inhaled and squared her shoulders before approaching the dais.
“About time you made an appearance,” Murray grumbled.
“It wasna my intent to cause you any inconvenience. But it takes time to bathe and dress. I apologize if I have kept you waiting.”
“Well, you have. Again. Sit! We’ll deal with this later.” Deirdre pointed to an empty seat beside Allan.
Laurel rounded the corner of the table, the knot of dread t
ugging at the pit of her stomach tightening. Finding it impossible to ignore the overwhelming feeling that all eyes were upon her every move, or the dead silence that fell over the hall when she first arrived, she did her best to focus on her destination. Holding her head high, she walked toward her chair.
“Good evening, Allan. I hope you are well,” she said.
He grunted, but never looked up from his trencher.
Just as well. Beyond a simple greeting, she had no idea what to say to the man. They had nothing in common. While close in age, they’d never played together as bairns, and there was absolutely no physical attraction. But then again, nothing could rival the heat of passion she experienced with Blair.
She closed her eyes and sighed. If she tried hard enough, she could still feel the press of his lips, recalled his woodsy masculine scent, and the way his touch set her body ablaze.