Highland Belle

by Patricia H. Grasso

  “Money's not the most important thin’ in life, honey,” Bucko chided.

  “And what, may I ask, is more important?"

  “Creatin’ a dozen healthy sons ta help us run the Rooster."

  Marianne opened her mouth to protest, but Bucko pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she was limp and dazed. The tavernkeeper glanced at Iain, who nodded supportively.

  Brigette eyed her husband, aware that the sudden change in Bucko's temperament coincided with his arrival. As if privy to her thoughts, Iain grinned wickedly. “Say yer farewells, hinny."

  “I can't thank you enough,” Brigette said, hugging Marianne. “If you're ever in need, come to Dunridge."

  “I will.” Marianne peeked at Iain. “If he doesn't treat ya like he should, ya've always got a home at the Rooster."

  12

  “Brie.” The husky, masculine voice floated through her mind like a sigh on a gentle breeze. Huddled against her husband's chest, Brigette murmured unintelligibly in her sleep.

  “We've arrived,” Iain whispered. “Shall I carry ye inside?"

  “Arrived?” Brigette's eyes flew open and she sat up.

  “I canna believe ye've slept the length of Edinburgh. Campbell Mansion is ahead of us."

  Inside the courtyard, Iain dismounted and lifted Brigette from the horse. She yawned and stretched in the most unladylike fashion, then took his arm. They turned toward the mansion.

  “Brigette MacBria,” a familiar voice called. Wearing his most charming smile, Magnus was hurrying toward them.

  “Magnus!” Brigette came to life. Releasing her husband's arm, she ran to Magnus, who laughed and hugged her. When he kissed her full on her lips, Iain frowned and wondered for the hundredth time what their accommodations had been along the road to London.

  “I'm glad ye've come to visit,” Magnus said, shaking Iain's hand. “Come inside."

  He led them into the great hall and the three sat in front of the hearth. A servant brought them wine.

  “I didna’ think ye'd accept my invitation,” Magnus remarked.

  “Some time ago I offered Brie a trip to Edinburgh,” Iain said. “Yer invitation was propitious."

  “Iain promised me a shopping spree,” Brigette interjected, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “My husband always keeps his promises—unlike others I know."

  “I'm verra sorry I couldna’ keep my silence,” Magnus apologized, an unrepentant grin appearing on his face. “When yer husband's bein’ thwarted, he's prone to violence. Besides, everythin's worked out for the best, did it no'?"

  “Yes.” A rosy blush stained Brigette's pale cheeks.

  “Greetin's to the future Earl and Countess of Dunridge,” a voice sounded behind them. Startled, Iain and Brigette whirled around.

  “What the hell are ye doin’ here?” Iain snapped at his brother.

  Percy grinned. “I couldna’ let ye have all the fun. I've a yearnin’ to attend the court and meet our bonnie queen."

  “Ye couldna’ properly take charge of Dunridge for a fortnight,” Iain said. “Are ye so intent, then, on bringin’ misfortune down on our family?"

  “It wasn't his fault I ran away.” Brigette smiled sheepishly at her brother-in-law. “Will you forgive me for causing so much trouble?"

  “I'll forgive ye if ye swear never to do it again—at least while I'm in charge."

  “I swear."

  “Damn it, Brigette,” Iain snapped. “Ye apologize to Percy but ye havena’ apologized to me!"

  “I've done nothing to you for which I should apologize."

  “Ye've done nothin'?"

  Brigette smiled sweetly. “You were the one kissing Antonia, not me."

  “I wasna’ kissin’ Antonia."

  “Pardon me,” she returned haughtily. “Antonia was kissing you.” Percy and Magnus burst out laughing, earning themselves a censorious glare from Iain.

  “Menzies is at court,” Percy informed his brother. “He's been politickin’ the queen against us."

  “Yes,” Magnus confirmed. “There are many unfamiliar faces gracin’ Holyrood Palace these days."

  “Such as?” Iain asked.

  “The Earl of Lennox and his son Lord Darnley recently arrived from London. Darnley has captured the queen's eye."

  “What sort of mon is he?"

  “Nae mon at all, I fear,” Magnus said, “and I'm regrettin’ the part I played in extendin’ the invitation. He's fair enough on the outside, almost too fair. Shallow, ye might say. He willna’ make the queen a good husband, nor will he be good for Scotland, especially we Highlanders."

  “Is she so enchanted wi’ him, then?"

  “She believes herself in love wi’ him.” At that, they lapsed into thoughtful silence.

  “Women are stubborn creatures,” Iain commented finally, “and a woman in love is doubly so. Hopefully, Darnley will ruin himself wi'out our help.” He turned to Brigette. “Ye'll need a suitable gown to wear at court."

  “I'm to accompany you?” Brigette asked, pleasantly surprised. “And meet the queen?"

  “Of course, lovey, what did ye think?"

  “When will we attend?"

  “As soon as we've purchased the proper attire, sweetie."

  “I'm too tired to shop today,” Brigette said, yawning. “I'd love a hot tub and soft bed."

  “Aggie will see ye to yer chamber,” Magnus said. After the housekeeper escorted Brigette out of the hall, he turned to Iain. “Brie doesna’ look well. Her skin has lost its healthy bloom."

  “She has purple smudges underneath her eyes,” Percy added.

  “Yes, I've noticed,” Iain agreed. “Brie's a fragile thin'. Travelin’ and toilin’ have weakened her delicate constitution."

  “Toilin'?"

  “When she left Dunridge, Brie didna’ return to Basildon,” Iain told his brother.

  “She found employment in London,” Magnus piped in, “at the Royal Rooster Tavern."

  “A tavern!” Percy shouted with laughter and Magnus joined him. Iain scowled blackly. He failed to see the humor in a countess posing as a tavern wench, especially when the countess was his wife.

  * * * *

  Iain opened his eyes. With her face pressed into his chest, Brigette was snuggled against him. One of her legs was entwined between his muscular thighs.

  His calloused hand slowly slid down the length of her spine, ending in a gentle caress to her buttocks. Brigette stirred but did not awaken. Gingerly, he shifted her onto her back and lowered his dark head to her breast. His tongue teased one of her nipples to aroused attention.

  “Mmmmm.” A murmur of pleasure escaped Brigette. She reached up to press his head tighter against her breast.

  “Take me,” she breathed, arching with desire.

  Drawing back, Iain's smile was pure love. He spread her thighs, then firmly grasped and lifted her hips. Forcefully, he thrust forward, and Brigette gasped.

  “Oh, no!” Dismayed frustration followed burning arousal at the sound of the door opening to admit the Campbell servants.

  Iain quickly pulled out, whispering, “Until tonight, lovey."

  The bedcurtain was drawn aside by a young maid holding a tray of food. Her face reddened with embarrassment when she realized they were naked. “Excuse m-me, m-my lord,” she stammered. “Lord M-Magnus b-bade us see to yer needs. He thought ye'd like to breakfast in bed while yer lady's bath is prepared."

  They sat up. Brigette tucked the coverlet beneath her arms, leaving only her smooth shoulders and the top of the tantalizing valley between her breasts exposed. She peered at the tray on her husband's lap.

  “I'll have that milk,” she said as the maids began preparing the bath in front of the hearth.

  Iain cocked a brow at her. “I thought ye didna’ care for milk?"

  “I don't, but I have a mind to drink it today."

  “Here.” Iain handed her the mug. “Eat somethin'."

  “I think not. My appetite's still sleeping."

  “Eat thi
s,” he ordered, passing her a piece of buttered bread, “and dinna give me any trouble aboot it. Ye slept through supper last night and yer bones are beginnin’ to show. I'm surprised I amna’ bruised from them pokin’ me while we sleep."

  “Very funny.” Brigette ate the bread.

  When the bath was ready, Brigette rose from the bed. With seductively swaying hips, she sauntered across the chamber, and Iain admired the delicate column of her back, her delectably rounded buttocks calling out to him to be fondled.

  Before stepping into the tub, Brigette cast him a blatantly flirtatious look, and Iain roared with laughter. Enthralled by his wife at her toilet, he set the breakfast tray aside and relaxed against the pillows to watch.

  While a maid scrubbed her back, Brigette washed one of her legs, raising its shapely length in the air so her husband could view it. The other was boldly exhibited in the same manner, and Iain felt his desire growing.

  Brigette slowly lathered her breasts and massaged them, then rinsed. She glanced sidelong at Iain and smiled inwardly. Her husband was mesmerized by a pair of titties.

  In dripping magnificence, Brigette rose from the tub. The maid patted her dry and enfolded her in a fresh towel, then plaited her coppery tresses into one long braid.

  “You may leave,” Brigette dismissed the maid when Iain started to rise, naked, from the bed. With a horrified squeak, the maid hurried out.

  “May I assist you, my lord?” Brigette offered.

  Sinking into the tub, Iain grinned wolfishly. “I canna think of anythin’ I'd desire more."

  First, Brigette lathered and soothingly massaged his back, marveling at its broad expanse and the powerful muscles relaxing beneath her hands. After rinsing it, she moved around to his front, and Iain chuckled at the look of anticipation on his wife's face. Brigette lathered his chest, then glided the tips of her fingers seductively across his nipples, which hardened with her teasing. Her hand slid down his rib cage, past his suddenly quivering stomach, and found the masculine appendage nestled at his groin.

  “Ahhh.” Iain's breath caught raggedly in his throat when her fingers began taunting his engorged manhood.

  “Shopping or bed?” she whispered. “The choice is yours."

  “Why no’ both?"

  “A wise choice.” She covered his lips with her own, forced them apart and plundered his mouth with her sweet kitten's tongue.

  Iain shuddered. He stood and stepped out of the tub, intending to carry her back to bed.

  Bang! The chamber door crashed open.

  “What a provocative picture,” Magnus remarked at their lack of clothing.

  Brigette giggled and blushed with embarrassment. Exasperated, Iain scowled, then asked, “Is there nae privacy in this house?"

  “Apparently not. Sorry.” Magnus spoiled his apology by grinning. “My coach is at yer disposal—if ye've a mind to leave this chamber today."

  Thinking they would be disturbed again if they tarried, Iain and Brigette reluctantly dressed and headed for the courtyard. “To the High Street,” Iain instructed the Campbell coachmen.

  In the Upper Bow, Brigette purchased several gowns suitable for court. Aware that the men at court dressed as Low-landers, Iain bought a dark blue suit in the English mode. Passing a goldsmith shop, he insisted on splurging and purchased several pieces of jewelry to complement Brigette's new gowns. Except for her wedding band, it was the first costly gift he'd given her, and Brigette was ecstatic.

  In the Lawnmarket, Brigette bought various fabrics, which she intended to share with Spring. With very little effort, she persuaded Iain to purchase a doll for Glenda, and at the leather craftsman's she wheedled him into buying Sly a new yellow collar.

  The furniture maker's was their final stop of the morning. Iain ordered a cot, of all things, crafted from the finest oak. Puzzled, Brigette asked him about it, but Iain only smiled and said it was a surprise.

  “Where to?” Brigette asked wearily.

  “Has yer appetite awakened?"

  “I'm famished."

  The MacArthurs were soon seated inside MacDonald's Tavern on Princes Street. They stuffed themselves with scones dipped in honey, boiled mussels and clams seasoned with herbs, and fruit tarts dressed with nuts and spices. To wash the meal down, there were ale for Iain and cider for Brigette.

  “Ye arena’ eatin',” he said, chuckling at his wife's miraculously recovered appetite. “Yer feedin'."

  “I don't want to injure you while we're sleeping,” she returned, unamused by his humor.

  At meal's end, Iain tossed several coins on the table and stood. Then he helped Brigette rise from her chair.

  “Are we bankrupt?” she asked.

  “Probably. Keepin’ a wife is more expensive than I realized."

  “But worth every gold piece?"

  “And then some.” Iain steered Brigette through the crowded tavern.

  As they reached the door, it flew open unexpectedly. Blocking their path were two expensively dressed men. Brigette sensed Iain tense and looked closely at them.

  One was of an age with Iain, just as tall but heavier. Marring his face was a long, angular scar running the length of one cheek. His eyes were dark, cold, menacing.

  His companion was at least ten years older than Iain. Not powerfully built, he exuded an air of quiet authority.

  Iain nodded deferentially to the older man. “Good day, my Lord Stewart."

  “MacArthur.” Stewart's eyes wandered speculatively to Brigette.

  “May I make known to ye my wife, Lady Brigette,” Iain introduced them. “Brie, this is the Earl of Moray, the queen's brother."

  “My lord.” Brigette smiled, then glanced at Moray's companion.

  “This is Lord Menzies,” Iain said. Brigette nodded, her expression remaining impassive. She recognized the hated Menzies name from bits and pieces of overheard conversations.

  “Lady MacArthur.” His smile did not quite reach his cold, black eyes. With that, Stewart and Menzies politely stepped aside.

  “Moray and Menzies together,” Iain mused aloud as he sat down beside Brigette in the coach. “How interestin'."

  “Will there be trouble?"

  “No.” Leaning closer, he brushed her lips with his. “Would ye be interested, lovey, in beddin’ a newly paupered mon?"

  Brigette's hand dipped to his groin. “With pleasure."

  * * * *

  “What could be keepin’ her?” Percy asked, pacing the foyer impatiently. The three of them had been waiting thirty minutes for Brigette to emerge from her chamber.

  “Relax,” Magnus advised. “Women always take longer to dress. It's a universal truth and small revenge against us men for rulin’ the world."

  “I'll get her.” Iain crossed to the bottom of the stairs.

  “It willna’ do ye any good,” his cousin predicted.

  “We'll see aboot that.” Iain started up the stairs, but halted abruptly when he saw the vision poised at the top. His chest swelled with pride.

  Brigette had chosen a gown of forest-green satin. Its neckline was squared and cut low to reveal the swell of her breasts, emphasized by the gold torque with which Iain had gifted her that day. Her shining copper hair had been drawn back and woven into an intricate love-knot at the nape of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her emerald eyes sparkled like jewels. Brigette was a woman any man would be proud to possess.

  As women have been known to do, Brigette seized the moment, making a grand entrance for the benefit of her masculine audience. Slowly and gracefully, she glided down the stairs, but nearing the bottom, swayed, a sudden dizziness sweeping over her. Iain's hand was there to steady her.

  “Are ye well?"

  “Yes,” she answered softly, “only giddy with excitement."

  “Ye look divine,” he whispered.

  Magnus rushed over and kissed her hand. “Ye remind me of a fairy princess."

  “Yes,” Percy agreed. “Well worth the wait."

  Brigette po
sitively glowed with happiness. “I believe the great clan Campbell has the handsomest, most gallant men in all of Christendom."

  * * * *

  The queen of Scotland was in love, and the court that swirled around her was gay. Dangerous undercurrents and bitter rivalries still abounded, but were not apparent. When the Campbell-MacArthur party entered the noisy chamber, Brigette gazed in wide-eyed wonder at the sea of vibrant colors adorning the many courtiers.

  A richly garbed, middle-aged man swooped down on them as soon as they entered. Magnus introduced him as the Earl of Lennox. “You're also a visitor from the English court?” he asked Brigette.

  “No, my lord,” she answered honestly, making Iain smile. “This is my very first time attending any court."

  “I mean, you are a fellow countryman,” Lennox explained. “An ally of sorts."

  Brigette blushed at her own stupidity. “My brother is the Earl of Basildon."

  “And now you're wed to young MacArthur,” Lennox continued. “It's an excellent blending, the English and the Scots. Wouldn't you say?"

  “A superior blending,” Brigette agreed, “but not without its frictions."

  Iain chuckled, but the Earl of Lennox lost his smile. He wanted his son to wed the Scots queen and considered such frictions unsuitable for discussion at court.

  “Damn,” Magnus swore. “Huntly's here and headed this way. I'll avoid him by payin’ my respects to the queen."

  “I'll join ye,” Percy said.

  “Lady MacArthur.” Lord James Stewart appeared from nowhere. “It's a pleasure to see yer fair face again."

  “My Lord Earl.” Brigette curtsyed to the queen's half brother.

  Stewart shook Iain's hand, then smiled coldly at Lennox. “I believe I'll steal the honor of presentin’ Lady MacArthur to the queen.” He turned to Brigette. “Would ye care to meet her now?"

  “Yes, but I'm quite nervous."

  “There's nothing to be nervous aboot.” Stewart captured Brigette's arm and led her away from a disgruntled Lennox. “My sister is young and enjoys meetin’ potential friends. Presently, she's thoroughly enchanted wi’ the English."