Laurie scanned the room, a musty, dark and dreary chamber. The odor reminded her of some of the shops she once frequented in Paris, the establishments dealing in books of antiquity.
Elspeth leaned toward Laurie and whispered, “I cannae wait to see my brother.”
The regent left, and Patrick returned to Laurie’s side. “Master Erskine has gone to retrieve Suibhne.”
After a few minutes, Patrick’s younger brother appeared in the doorway, his head held high, proudly wearing his university scholar’s black gown. Clutched in his stiff arms was a leather bound book.
Suibhne hesitated. He seemed to brace himself before walking forward to join his family.
Laurie sympathized with the boy’s discomfort. Patrick had told her the boy was a bookworm. Suibhne preferred his studies to the manly pursuits his older brothers reveled in. She could relate. She’d always preferred reading to the uncomfortable social gatherings expected of a debutante.
Her foolish husband-to-be had assured her his brother wasn’t a lass. The lad had the ability to fight and hunt, Patrick had said. Being the son of a Highland chief, Suibhne had trained in fighting with the sword, shooting with bow and arrows, and seamanship. Yet the boy chose instead to study the arts. She suspected Patrick and his brother Archibald intimidated Suibhne. And the young man’s timid ways certainly rankled her fiancé.
Suibhne nodded to Elspeth before his eyes widened at the sight of Patrick’s arm draped around Laurie. The boy recovered quickly and awkwardly kissed his sister’s cheek. Then he turned to Patrick and greeted him with a formal bow. Patrick wasn’t so formal. He grabbed his brother, wrapped his arms around the lad, and pounded him hard on the back several times.
Red in the face, Suibhne stiffened in Patrick’s embrace, clearly embarrassed by his older brother’s display of familial affection. Patrick didn’t seem to notice the young man’s restraint. He released him and pulled her to his side. “Brother, this is the Lady Laurie Bernard, my betrothed.”
A tingling thrill rushed through Laurie when he introduced her as his betrothed. Curiosity burned in Suibhne’s blue eyes—eyes so similar to Patrick’s. Reminding her of someone else. But who? She couldn’t remember.
The boy bowed to her.
After exchanging more pleasantries, Suibhne excused himself to return to his lessons, having agreed to meet them later for the evening meal.
Patrick, Laurie and Elspeth left the university building, joined the guard waiting outside, and returned to their lodging for their mid-day meal. Afterward, Patrick requested the women spend the afternoon resting. He explained there would be much excitement over the next sennight and didn’t want them to overtire or become ill.
Laurie wasn’t so sure she liked the way he dictated her actions. What would Patrick think if she defied him and went out to explore?
* * *
During the evening meal, Patrick observed Laurie and Suibhne from his seat at the head of the table. His brother sat next to Laurie and seemed comfortable speaking with her.
“What do you study at University?” she asked.
“Robert Leslie is the regent. He instructs us in the works of Aristotle, among other subjects.”
“In Latin, I presume.”
“Aye.” Suibhne smiled. “Do you understand Latin?”
“I do.”
“I kenned you would.” His smile widened. “The university’s program covers many other fields of study—logic, rhetoric, mathematics, physics, ethics, politics, psychology and even metaphysics.” His voice rose with excitement.
“So many topics.” Laurie inclined her head to the book on the table next to Suibhne’s plate. “You must enjoy reading.”
Suibhne glanced at Patrick then lowered his eyes. “A bit too much, I fear.”
“Never too much.” She patted the book.
Hopefully, with Laurie’s encouragement, Suibhne would feel a sense of achievement. The lad was most often too reserved and lacked confidence. Especially on the field. Patrick inhaled a disappointed breath. At least, the lad excelled at his studies.
Laurie was good with his family. Patrick was well pleased yet the terror-filled dream he’d had during the night left him uneasy.
* * *
Come morning, the small group moved with the flow of people along the High Street. Laurie gawked at the other fairgoers. Some finely dressed attended by guards, while others wore no more than rags. Patrick’s lads kept the throng back, ensuring no one jostled them.
Laurie hadn’t seen crowds like this since she’d attended the San Gennaro Festival in Little Italy many years before. Years that had taken place in the twenty-first century. Now here she was, observing history, up close and personal. Goosebumps prickled her arms when she thought about her time traveling experience.
The entourage made its way along the street toward the Market Cross, the marketplace downhill from the cathedral.
If the crowds of people weren’t interesting enough, surely the colorful stalls full of all kinds of merchandise were. She tried to see everything, look in all directions at once.
Stalls and carts were set up along the course of the street. Displayed before her was every medieval item she could imagine. There were food stalls, some with baked goods, and others with produce and cheese, some with fruits, nuts and honey, and still others with spices. There were fishmongers and butchers. Even a merchant from France selling fine wines.
The calls of the merchants hawking their wares added to the chatter of the excited crowds. Patrick stopped before a cart of sweets and purchased treats for her and Elspeth.
As the candied fruit melted on Laurie’s tongue, she closed her eyes in pure ecstasy. When she opened her eyes, Patrick studied her, his eyes dark with desire. Her heartbeat quickened in response. Their marriage couldn’t come soon enough.
The MacLachlans moved on.
They passed booths containing cloth and other textiles. Stalls with leather. Others with animal skins and still others with goods made from leather. They passed booths with high quality metalwork—swords, knives and armor—while others displayed more domestic items. With so much to see, Laurie couldn’t decide where to visit first.
Elspeth stopped before a goldsmith’s booth and rummaged through the displayed goods.
“Show us your finest blue sapphires,” Patrick ordered of the smith.
The man laid a selection of gems on a black velvet cloth before him. The quality was suburb. Patrick picked up a large, clear stone and presented it to her. “Do you like this one?”
“Lovely.” The sapphire he chose was the most beautiful gem she’d ever seen.
Patrick held out his hand and she placed the stone on his palm. Then he returned it to the smith. “Make this into a betrothal ring.”
“No!” The gemstone would cost Patrick a small fortune. She’d studied enough history to know times in the Highlands had been difficult. She couldn’t allow him to squander his gold on her. “A plain gold band will be enough.”
“You refuse my gift?” A peeved expression clouded his features.
“I don’t want you to spend too much money on me.”
His features iced over, and Laurie’s stomach dropped. “We return to the house for the mid-day repast,” Patrick bellowed, ignoring her.
She couldn’t believe she pissed him off. He didn’t even bother looking at what else the smith had to offer. She bit her lip. Had he changed his mind about marrying her?
He glowered throughout the meal then stormed off after ordering her and Elspeth to stay at the house. His domineering manners were beginning to piss her off. She was tempted to go out, just to spite him. The rebellious impulse made her smile and she returned her attention to her embroidery. He’d get over his huff and so would she.
As she’d anticipated, Patrick recovered from his grouchy mood, and the remaining days of the fair were full of fun and merriment. They shopped and sampled the marvelous foods, often stopping along the way to view jugglers and tumblers or singers and dancers.
Late one afternoon, they watched a puppeteer and laughed aloud with the children. When the show ended, they walked along the thoroughfare. Laurie smiled, looking this way and that, her hand poised on Patrick’s arm.
He stiffened and stopped short, the entire entourage coming to a halt. In front of them, a group of armed warriors blocked their way.
Patrick wore a cold expression. Chills ran down her spine as she stared into the face of a fearless warrior.
“Patrick—”
“Whist!” He shoved her behind him. “’Tis Lamont.”
Stephen stepped close to Patrick’s side.
Laurie peeked from behind his broad back, peering between the two huge men. The warriors who stood before them looked more ruthless than the MacLachlans. She shuddered. Then she glimpsed the girl.
In the midst of the warriors stood a beautiful young girl, a woman-child, with hair the color of ebony, skin like fine ivory porcelain, and almond-shaped eyes, the deep blue color almost violet. She looked to be about sixteen, possibly younger, yet striking. An unwanted pang of jealousy surprised Laurie when the girl’s identity dawned on her. The infamous Isobell.
The girl was a teenager, for God’s sake.
Two men stepped forward from the group of Lamonts. The short, stout man with gray stringy hair, heavy eyebrows and a heavy beard, must be Iain Lamont. Laurie guessed the other, who stood to his right, was his henchman. The man was huge, tall and broad, cruel looking, ugly with horrible scars on his face. One scar—pink and puffy—stretched jagged from his lip to his right ear. Both men wore mean expressions.
“Ninian Stewart told the truth,” the older man shouted. “You have broken the agreement and plan to wed the outlander.” His voice dripped insult.
Laurie tensed. This was about her.
“There was never an agreement,” Patrick retorted. “And well you ken it.”
Both groups of warriors pressed forward. Patrick thrust Laurie at Duncan and Jamie grabbed hold of Elspeth. They rushed the women to the back of the guard.
“Thus you have said. Yet your father agreed to the match.” Though the MacLachlan warriors blocked Laurie’s view, she still heard Lamont’s angry voice.
“I have not seen an agreement. You cannae show me proof.” Patrick’s tone was strong and impassioned. Shoving and jostling broke out among the warriors.
“Is your father’s promise not enough?” Lamont snarled.
“Again. I say, I have nae proof. And ’tis not your business to whom I chose to wed.”
Swords were unsheathed. The clink of steel against steel rang out as Duncan and Jamie hurried Laurie and Elspeth down an alleyway toward their hired residence and safety.
“Stop.” Laurie stubbornly held onto Duncan’s arm, trying to halt him. “We can’t leave them. What if Patrick gets hurt?”
“Go!” Duncan pushed her along. “I will be the one hurt if we get caught in the fray and the chief does not find you and Lady Elspeth safe at the house when he returns.”
“I don’t want to leave him,” Laurie shouted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Pacing from one end of the hall to the other, Laurie worried her bottom lip.
“Sit,” Elspeth said. “Nae harm will come to my brother.”
Laurie stopped and frowned at her companion. “That child with the Lamont warriors, was she Isobell?”
“Aye. Though she is not a child. She is eight and ten summers.”
Laurie gaped. Catching herself, she closed her mouth. She walked away, then back. “Too young, I think, to be expected to wed Patrick.”
“I am the same age and am betrothed to Alexander.”
“Different.” Laurie waved her hand, dismissing the comparison. “You’re not to wed until your twenty-first birthday.”
“’Tis unusual and only because we must wait until Alexander receives keepership of Skipness.”
“So what of Isobell?”
“She was meant for our elder brother Donald. They were to wed when Isobell turned four and ten, but he died five summers ago. That is when her father claimed Patrick should wed her since he was next in line as our father’s heir. My brother refused, and my father agreed. Patrick went to the Continent and did not return until he received word from our father that trouble brewed. By the time Patrick returned, our parents had disappeared. Only their horses were found near the faerie knoll at Fir-wood. You have heard most of the rest of the tale.”
“Does she wish to wed Patrick?”
“That I dinnae ken. She lost her mother when she was verra young. Her father dotes upon her.” Elspeth shook her head. “She is verra spoiled and not pleasant to be with.”
Laurie contemplated that bit of information as she resumed pacing.
After what seemed like an eternity, a loud disturbance came from the street. Laurie bolted to the window to peer out.
Patrick burst into the room with Stephen on his heels. Stepping backward until she hit the table, she rushed her gaze over both men. They appeared to be fine, only a few cuts and bruises.
Patrick barked out orders, sending Aine scurrying out to the barn to care for a couple of men who’d been injured. Angus came in from the back and handed Patrick a mug of ale, which he accepted. Their gazes met over the lip of the mug.
Patrick took a long pull of ale. Laurie stood with her back against the table, watching him, her soft, blue eyes filled with concern, her lips plump and inviting. Battle lust rode him hard. He strode to her and slammed the mug down beside her, splashing liquid on the table. Hauling her into a bear hug of an embrace, his lips claimed hers, hard and rough until he tasted her sweetness, and softened the kiss.
Wild with his yearning for her, he wanted to throw her across the table, toss up her skirt, bury his shaft within her, and end his torment.
He inhaled a deep breath. Although he craved her beyond all reason, he wouldn’t shame her. He ended the kiss.
She stiffened in his arms and looked away. “Maybe we shouldn’t wed.”
“Why?” With a growl, he released her and strode across the chamber, keeping his back to her. Anger clawed the walls of his stomach. He didn’t want her to see his snarling grimace.
“I don’t want to be the reason your men are injured fighting with Lamont warriors.”
He spun and faced her. “We will wed as planned.” He’d accept no argument. Without another word, he left the house with Stephen chasing after him.
The flicker of defiance he’d seen in Laurie’s eyes bothered him for the remainder of the day. He’d need to smother that spark. Then he’d soften her resentment with a special surprise.
* * *
The next day, Laurie waved goodbye to Patrick.
He strode away with several of his men to trade for cattle and horses. Elspeth left earlier, having talked Jamie into taking her to a merchant stall where she’d seen some pretty hair ribbons. Laurie was stuck in the little house alone.
She fanned herself. The hall was stifling. Patrick told her not to leave the house, but surely, he wouldn’t mind if she got a bit of fresh air. In the courtyard, she found little in the way of relief, the air muggy and still. The stench of rotting garbage making her want to cover her nose and mouth. The burgh smelled worse than the castle.
Duncan stood near the barn conversing with some of the other men. None of them paid any notice when she crossed the courtyard and rounded the side of the house, slipped down the alley and into the street, hoping to find a sweet breeze.
Strolling along the narrow way, heading toward the water, Laurie hummed, glad to be free of the confines of the house. Though after a short distance, the hair on the back of her neck tingled. She glanced around.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The street was quiet with most of the residents still attending the fair. Ignoring her apprehension as foolish, she walked farther. Around the corner, the air should be fresher.
Without warning, an arm wrapped around her waist from behind while a dirty hand clamped over her mouth, muffling
her scream. Her hair fell from its knot into her face, blinding her. The attacker dragged her from the street into the shadows of a narrow, dark alley.
Her breath left her lungs when he slammed her hard against a stone wall. Adrenaline and fear raced through her veins. Fighting her assailant, she tugged on the dark hood covering his face, but it held in place. She scratched him. Kicked.
He used his massive body to press her hard against the wall where he grabbed her arms and held them over her head in one of his large hands. “You are a wild one.” His foul breath burned her nostrils. “I will enjoy taming you.”
Laurie screamed until his wet mouth crushed hers, silencing her. She tried to break the contact. His teeth bit into her flesh. Pain sent her into a frenzy. She bucked. Tried to throw him off.
Heavy footfalls came from the street, people running. A battle cry pierced her ears.
Her attacker abruptly dropped her to the ground and disappeared into the shadows. She pushed the hair from her eyes. Patrick ran toward her, sword in hand, his face contorted in a snarl.
Patrick’s heart slammed against his ribs and his blood raged. Laurie huddled on the ground, her beautiful blue gown gaping open to the waist. Dirt streaked her face. He picked her up and held her against his chest. His fear and anger combined, simmered just below the surface. He couldn’t remember having been this frightened or this furious.
Some of his men ran farther along the alley, searching for the attacker, but returned empty handed.
“Who did this?” he demanded. “Who attacked you?” His voice sounded harsh from the terror in his gut.
Laurie hung like a child’s rag doll, limp in his arms.
He shook her. “Answer me!”
Her head fell back. She stared at him through moisture-filled eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Was it one of Lamont’s men? One of those we met in the street yestereve?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t see his face. He was big and strong. That’s all I could discern.”
“Why were you in the streets alone?”
Highland Charm: First Fantasies Page 99