“Oh, Patrick. Everything is lovely. Thank you for bringing me here.”
This was everything she wanted and more. Patrick being the more. Maybe she owed Caitrina thanks. Maybe there was such a thing as destiny.
“’Tis my pleasure, sweetling.” Patrick gazed at her with such tenderness, her eyes misted.
As they continued the descent, he held her hand firmly, ensuring she didn’t fall. They reached the beach to discover a small group of men waiting for them along with the MacLachlan warriors.
“We have company,” Stephen said from behind them.
Among the newcomers stood a finely dressed gentleman about the same age as Patrick, similarly built, but less muscular. To her mind, he looked like a peacock, his mannerisms almost feminine.
The multi-colors of his costume where anything but masculine. The tight queue holding back his black hair made his features hawk-like. His dark, calculating eyes narrowed when he caught her gaze and a chill slid along her spine.
Patrick grumbled something harsh under his breath she couldn’t make out. Must have been a Gaelic curse based on his sour expression. “I hoped to avoid this,” he whispered for only her ears and then strode forward and shook the man’s hand, signaling for Laurie and Elspeth to join him. “May I present my betrothed, Lady Laurie Bernard.”
She dipped into the curtsy she’d practiced after her first miserable attempt upon arriving at Castle Lachlan.
Patrick tucked her close to his side when she rose. “M’lady, I present Ninian Stewart, Sheriff of Bute, Keeper of Rothesay Castle and our host.”
The man’s eyes narrowed as he grasped Laurie’s hand. “’Tis a pleasure to greet you.” He grazed her knuckles with cold lips before releasing her hand, though continued to study her.
“My pleasure, sir.” Her skin crawled.
“Intriguing creature, MacLachlan. I congratulate you on your good fortune.” He kept his gaze on her overlong.
The man’s regard made her uncomfortable and she glanced at Patrick.
Patrick didn’t like the way the sheriff leered at Laurie. He draped his arm about her waist, plainly staking his claim. She was his betrothed. “You ken my wee sister, Lady Elspeth,” he said, his voice tight.
Ninian seemed to take the hint and turned his attention to Elspeth.
“Good morn to you, sir,” she said as she curtsied.
“Lady Elspeth, a pleasure as always.” He kissed her extended hand. “My sister, Lady Jonet, will be disappointed she missed you.”
“Will she be at the fair?”
“Nae, lass. She is in France, visiting.”
“Our brother Archibald is in France with Alexander Campbell,” Elspeth said.
“I did not realize they were still on the Continent.”
“They are, and they sent Lady Laurie to me as a companion. Patrick fell in love with her and they are going to be wed when we return from the fair.” She smiled brightly.
Patrick ground his teeth. He wished he could silence his sister.
“So you are to wed.” Ninian’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He slapped Patrick on the back. “Congratulations. Though I expected you to wed the Lamont lass.”
Extending an arm around his shoulder, he drew Patrick away from Laurie before he could retort. “Had I kenned you were traveling with such bonnie lasses, I would have insisted you stay at the castle this past eve.”
That was exactly what Patrick hoped to avoid by sleeping in the greenwood. He hadn’t wanted his future wife too near the scoundrel sheriff. He walked off to converse with Ninian, but kept his lady in sight.
“We did not wish to impose on your hospitality,” Laurie overheard Patrick say before his voice faded.
Elspeth giggled, leaned close and cupped a hand over her mouth as if to share a secret. “The old folk say Rothesay Castle is haunted by the ghost of a lady.”
“Really?”
“Aye. They say she stabbed herself after Norseman slaughtered her family, preferring death rather than submitting to a forced marriage with a barbarian.”
“Horrible story.” Laurie feigned revulsion. She’d decided to marry her barbarian.
“Aye ’tis. I heard the lady’s apparition often is seen on the stairs behind the chapel. And Jonet told me one time they found fresh blood on the stairs that couldn’t be explained.” Elspeth made a disgusted face. Then taking Laurie by the arm, she smiled broadly as if she hadn’t been talking about ghosts and blood and suicide.
They linked arms and strolled to the boats, chatting about the absurdity of the tale.
Laurie kept glancing to where Patrick and Ninian conversed. Finally, the peacock mounted his steed and trotted off with his men.
When Patrick returned to the boats, worry lines furrowed his forehead.
“Is anything wrong?”
“Naught to concern you.”
His tone set her teeth on edge. She lifted her chin. “Did I do something to displease you?”
“Nae.” He shook his head.
“Can you not share your troubles with me?”
“We still have Lamont country to pass.” He sighed. “’Tis always a worry.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze, pressed her face to his chest, listened to the even beat of his heart. He stiffened at first then hugged her in return, holding her tight before they broke apart.
Still, the morning’s events left her uneasy. Meeting Ninian made her realize she’d be required to meet more of Patrick’s contemporaries and pretend she really was from France, circa early sixteenth century. Too bad she hadn’t been an actress rather than a business consultant in her prior life.
The men quickly loaded the boats. Everyone boarded and the group pushed off from shore, the oarsmen rowing out into the Firth. They would make their way to Dunoon Castle where they planned to spend the night. Elspeth’s grandfather, Sir Robert Campbell, was in residence there, the Campbells being hereditary keepers of the royal castle.
Raising the sails, they made their way east, past the Isles of Cumbrae. Hugging the eastern shoreline of the Clyde, they managed to pass Toward Point and Lamont country without incident. They ate their mid-day meal while en route, a light meal of oatcakes and ale. The time was near to twilight when the three boats sailed west again.
Even in the dim light, the imposing shape of the stronghold perched on the rocky promontory inspired awe. They had arrived at Dunoon Castle.
Laurie held Patrick’s hand while Robert Campbell greeted them in the great hall. A gracious man of stature with graying hair and beard, he congratulated them on their betrothal and promised to attend the wedding.
The staff served a main course of freshly caught salmon from the nearby river for dinner. Afterward, Elspeth commanded her grandfather’s attention with animated anecdotes of everything that happened since her visit the previous year.
Finding it difficult to suppress her yawns, Laurie was glad to join Elspeth in a bedchamber on the second level though she would miss Patrick’s warm embrace during the chilly night. Morning arrived too quickly. After farewells, they headed to the boats. A steady drizzle fell, the kind that saturated clothing and left one feeling miserable. Laurie huddled on the bench next to Elspeth, wishing for the sun to appear.
It wasn’t to happen.
The rain still fell when they sighted their destination. Despite the wet weather, the small burgh bustled with many travelers stopping over on their way to the fair. Towering above the town—over two-hundred feet high on a massive twin-peaked hunk of volcanic rock above the River Leven where it merged with the Clyde—stood Dumbarton Castle. Unease settled on Laurie’s shoulders. The sight of the stronghold brought home the fact she was living in another time and place.
The oppressive, miserable gray day made her more susceptible to doubts. Had she made the right decision to stay in the past and marry Patrick? He must’ve noticed her agitation, for he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“You’ll feel better after we arrive at
the house I rented.”
“Of course.” She straightened her shoulders. How could she resist his gorgeous blue peepers, especially when he graced her with such a tender smile? Of course, she wanted to stay with him.
And she couldn’t wait to attend the fair.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Patrick shouted orders as the birlinns grounded on a stony beach where the boats would remain guarded by a few MacLachlan warriors until the return trip to Strathlachan
The retinue that set forth for Glasgow was large, fifty-five in all. Stephen, as captain of the Lèine-chneas, led Patrick’s elite bodyguard—his tail of fifteen proven warriors personally selected from the most trusted and loyal of MacLachlan and MacEwen men. Jamie, Duncan, the clan historian and the chief’s mouthpiece belonged to this esteemed group. Several young ghillies traveled with them. One of whom held the coveted honor of sword bearer, responsible for Patrick’s great claymore with its sparkling sapphire gemstone.
For additional safety, he brought an extra contingent of well-armed warriors, lads who were chosen for their battle skills from the buannachan—the ranks of MacLachlan professional fighting men. He planned for some of the lads to escort his steward, Lachlan, and the provisions back to the castle overland after the fair, while others would sail back in the birlinns. He wanted Laurie and Elspeth to remain safe.
A gentle rain fell throughout the day. The muddy track slowed their progress. Concern plagued him. He wanted to reach Glasgow before dark. As the day waned, he hurried them along, yelled orders up and down the line, prodded everyone to continue walking.
For a short time, he walked along side Laurie, doubting she was accustomed to walking such great distances. She must be tired and cold, yet she didn’t complain. She plodded on, making him proud. “How do you fare?”
“I’ll be fine once I find a bed to fall into.” She flicked a stray hair from her face. He would ensure her comfort when they reached their destination,
At gloaming, they neared the outskirts of the burgh. When Patrick feared Laurie would drop from exhaustion, she picked up the pace and followed the others through the darkening streets.
His people were weary and soaked to the skin when they finally reached the house Lachlan procured. Located on one of the nicer lanes, he’d hired this same lodging for the eight days of the fair for the past two years. Although the timber house was small, it met his needs. Each of the two floors consisted of three rooms, and with the additional space provided by the garret in the big barn, there was room enough for his entire party. Behind the residence, off the courtyard, several outbuildings and a cookhouse provided more space.
Lachlan greeted him when he banged on the heavy oak door. Patrick grasped Laurie’s cold hand and tugged her into the small hall where a crackling fire burned in the hearth against the far wall. His servants had prepared well. The cozy room was warm, clean and neat. Settling her on a bench before the fire he spoke briefly with Lachlan while his people settled. Stephen, Duncan and Jamie found a spot to huddle near the hearth, warming their hands and allowing their clothes to dry. Laurie stretched, moving her feet closer to the flames.
Laurie’s pale face concerned him. During a light meal, her eyes drifted shut on and off. He prayed she wouldn’t become ill from the wet or the chill of the day. When her eyelids finally closed, he gathered her in his arms and carried her up the stairs to the chamber she would share with Elspeth.
As much as he desired taking Laurie to his bed, he needed to keep up appearances. Some of the staff were not of his clan and might be prone to whispering rumors he didn’t wish spread. He didn’t want Lamont to catch wind of this betrothal.
Twining her arms around his neck, she gazed at him through sleepy eyes, filled with what he hoped was true love. Her soft, pink lips parted into the most glorious smile. His heartbeat sped and he gave her a quick peck on the cheek before depositing her on the bed and escaping the chamber. He needed to put some distance between them. She enticed him beyond his control.
Patrick returned to the hall and mused on the woman upstairs. His life had changed in many ways in the short time since he’d found her. He could almost say he was happy.
Yet doubts nagged.
There was much he didn’t know about her, or understand about her sudden appearance. Too many mysteries remained yet to solve.
She had wound her way around his heart, his passion for her overwhelming. He didn’t like his blindness to all else when his blood burned with fire, thinking only of his need for her. His burgeoning desire left him vulnerable.
He remained in the hall when the others went to find their beds. Staring into the flames, he thought of his father and stepmother, and his brother Archibald. He wished Archie had returned from the Continent. Patrick was in need of his brother’s quick mind.
Stephen joined him after a short while with two goblets. “Lachlan procured a delicious French wine to serve at your wedding celebration. Might you wish to sample it?”
“Aye.”
His cousin handed him one of the goblets full of the dark ruby liquid. “For a man who is about to wed the lass of his dreams, you look a wee bit glum.”
Patrick swirled the wine in his cup, taking only a tiny sip. He raised his head to glare at Stephen. His cousin but laughed.
“Care to unburden your soul?”
“I want the lass more than I should, yet I am unsure of where she came from, or the why of it. And I dinnae ken what happened to my parents.”
“Do you believe Lady Laurie is involved in your parent’s disappearance?”
“Nae. Yet I dinnae like the meddling of the faeries. And I am yet to learn more about my stepmother’s faerie Munn warned me of. He has been silent on the matter of late. That is, beyond warning me of dire consequences if I wed Laurie.”
“Mayhap you should bed the lass and forget the wedding.” Stephen’s lips curved into a wary smile.
“I made a promise. ’Tis only right I wed her. I am the only one who can protect her.” He massaged the back of his neck.
“Well, then, I will be at your back, protecting you.”
Patrick stared at his cousin for a long moment. “For that, I thank you.”
They sat quietly, comfortable with the silence, and with each other’s company.
Stephen finished his wine and left him to his thoughts. Several long hours passed before he went to find his own bed. Sleep wouldn’t come.
Hours passed before he drifted off, only to waken with his heart pounding against his ribs, fear twisting his gut, and a scream burning his throat.
* * *
Laurie stretched, enjoying the warmth of the sun shining on her face from the window. They’d arrived in Glasgow a day early. Although the bishop would proclaim the festival this evening, the fair wasn’t to begin until tomorrow.
Small as the town seemed, Elspeth assured her there were wondrous places to visit.
Stephen assembled the men, and Patrick’s tail encircled them. Laurie wasn’t used to bodyguards. Remembering an incident that happened to her in New York City, she laughed.
She’d been rushing home from the office one evening when she rounded a corner onto Fifth Avenue and collided with a famous celebrity’s personal guards, six big men surrounding the much shorter actor. One of the guys actually picked her up as if she weighed nothing and moved her to the side. She’d been insulted and furious for days.
She sized up the men who now surrounded her. They were definitely bigger and much fiercer than the actor’s bodyguards had appeared. It hadn’t been clear whether the twenty-first century guards carried concealed weapons. Her current escort did, along with large swords strapped to their backs.
They made their way up the High Street, above which towered a lofty stone spire.
“May we go to the cathedral?” she asked.
“Aye, we will go there now, if you wish, before we visit my wee brother.” Patrick placed her hand on his arm.
“Please.” Elspeth clapped her hands. “You will l
ove the cathedral and the bishop’s house.”
Patrick chuckled. Thank goodness. Earlier he’d admitted to having a nightmare, which had left him unsettled.
Laurie loved the gothic architecture of the magnificent cathedral. It stood majestically over the burgh. They visited the nave and the choir. What she loved most was the lower church and the series of chapels. The beautiful vaulted space inspired awe. She dropped to her knees on a padded cushion and prayed, thanking God for the marvelous man standing beside her.
The grandeur of the bishop’s tower house with its high wall and fortified gatehouse was equally impressive. Finding oneself surrounded by history had a sobering effect.
Many historians and authors would sell their soul to have this experience.
* * *
After spending the morning in and around the cathedral, they strolled back down the street and stopped before a large stone building. Patrick banged upon the wooden door and waited. Laurie knew he was impatient to see how his young brother fared.
A hunched over, elderly man in black robes answered the door and directed them inside. Patrick along with Laurie and Elspeth entered the small, sparsely furnished chamber. He explained to the man the reason for their visit. The man inclined his head then left the chamber through a darkened doorway.
A few short minutes passed before a solemn man appeared. Tall and thin, with a homely face, and gnarled long fingers.
“Edward Erskine, principal regent,” Patrick said softly.
“Laird MacLachlan.” The man crossed the room with a lanky gait and shook Patrick’s outstretched hand.
“Good day, Erskine.” Patrick waved his arm to Laurie. “My betrothed, Lady Bernard, and my sister.”
“M’ladies.” The man bowed.
They curtsied in-sync. Laurie wanted to crack-up. She was finally getting the knack of the etiquette bullshit.
The two men moved away from the women and spoke in hushed tones.
Highland Charm: First Fantasies Page 98