Highland Daydreams Page 9

  Lara looked over the side of the hull. The inland waters were as blue as the brightest bluebells she had ever seen. The water reflected the land above the shore like a perfect mirror. The pine-covered, hilly land looked much different than the rocky terrain she was accustomed to. But it was the thought of standing on solid land that brought her the most joy.

  Heading into the channel, the crew lowered the sail and dropped anchor. After they’d docked and the passengers had disembarked, the captain and his entourage went barreling down the boarding plank, carrying with them barrels and boxes of fresh supplies.

  “How long do ye think it will take us to get to Bergen?” Lara asked Bram, hoping to reach her father soon.

  “By tomorrow evening, if all goes well,” Bram replied.

  Lara was elated by his answer. Finally, after several weeks, she could seek justice for Dermot’s treachery.

  Chapter 14

  “Where is he?” Dermot hollered at the guard.

  Dermot and five of his guards had ridden four days from Foley Castle to Stearns to demand an audience with Laird Fergusson for the rights to Lara’s dowry. Upon their departure after the wedding ceremony, he had only been given a trunk full of worthless trinkets. Laird Fergusson had told him about the treasure, and promised that Dermot would possess it in due time. But Dermot was determined not to wait any longer.

  Now, with Lara’s unexpected disappearance from the English prison, he found it necessary to retrieve the remainder of her belongings before the truth got out. Of course, if the Fergussons knew the truth of it, they would surely deny him his percentage of the treasure and kill him on the spot.

  “I am afraid, my Laird, that Laird Fergusson is nay here. He has gone to Norway,” the guard stuttered and shrunk in fear.

  At that moment, so consumed by rage, Dermot wanted nothing more than to pull out his dirk and put it through the man’s throat. He struggled for restraint.

  Dermot knew that he needed to get to Norway and get his hands on that treasure before they found out the truth about Lara. He started to regret his hasty decision to send her off with the English guards. Dermot had not thought what to do if Alban, Lara’s father, demanded to see her.

  “I am sure, my Laird, that if ye make haste, ye can catch up wit’ yer wife.”

  Dermot’s eyes narrowed. Grabbing the guard’s collar with both hands, he forcefully pushed him against the wall and lifted him into the air.

  “What do ye mean catch up wit’ my wife?” he demanded.

  “To…to Norway, my Laird. She left here two days ago,” the guard said as he began to shake.

  “Lara! Lara was here? Impossible!” Dermot roared.

  “I speak the truth, my Laird. Saw her wit’ my own eyes.”

  Dermot thought on the man’s words. How could she have escaped? Was someone helping her? Did her father already know what he’d done?

  “Was she traveling by herself?” he growled.

  “Nay, my Laird. She had a mon accompanying her.”

  “What did she say?” Dermot asked.

  “Nothing, my Laird. I did no’ speak to her. Moira the housemaid did.”

  Worry came over Dermot that she’d already revealed what he had done. He did not trust the guard and believed he was lying to protect her. He tightened his hold on the man for a moment longer before suddenly letting go. The guard fell to the ground, holding his arm up over his head, waiting for a blow, but Dermot just stared at the man.

  He needed to leave, and fast. If Lara was two days ahead of him, he had little time. He would either have to catch up with her in Aberdeen or reach Norway before she arrived. If she did arrive before him, all would be lost.

  Dermot ordered his guards back to the horses. Jumping into the saddle, he kicked his horse’s sides hard, forcing it to take off at a full gallop.

  Looking out the window slit, Moira watched as Laird Moray and his men threatened the guard, Adrian, in front of the gate. Pacing back and forth inside the kitchen, she prayed that Adrian did not reveal too much information. If he did, he would surely lead Dermot right to Lara. If that happened, Moira knew, something terrible would happen to her. She cursed herself for not saying anything to Adrian about keeping Lara’s arrival secret, but she’d had no cause to believe that Dermot would be following.

  “Damn that mon,” she said to herself, as she watched Laird Moray and his men mount their horses and take off in a northerly direction. She feared the worst. She quickly left the kitchen and scurried out the door towards the battlement.

  “Adrian,” Moira called out to him. “Was that Laird Moray?” she asked, wanting to verify what she had seen.

  “Aye. He came to see Laird Fergusson.”

  “Ye dinna tell him about Lara, did ye?” Moira asked with pleading eyes.

  “Aye. Tis his wife. Why shouldnae he ken?”

  “Oh Adrian, what have ye done, ye daft fool?” Moira bellowed, and looked out the gates.

  Her heart squeezed with angst. She worried deeply for her mistress. Moira sent up silent prayers, that God would watch over Lara and offer His guidance and protection.

  Chapter 15

  In Lara’s weakened condition, Bram held onto her arm as they walked down the gangplank and onto the sandy shore. Her legs wobbled as she walked. Slightly hunched over, she held her stomach with her arms. Bram found a slab of rock upon which she could sit while he ran over to the shops across the dirt road from the docks to inquire about food and an inn where Lara could rest.

  The port city was still several miles south of the castle, and Bram knew they would never make it before nightfall; certainly not with Lara in her current condition.

  “Here, drink this. It will make ye feel better,” he said as he handed her a tankard of ale. “I secured a room fer us tonight so ye can rest. We can leave for Bergen first thing when ye feel better.”

  “Nay. I am fine. I wish to go now,” she protested.

  “Lass, ye will do as I say. Ye are no’ well, ye stubborn lass, and I refuse to travel wit’ ye any further while ye are sick. Ye will eat and sleep, and until ye do so, we will no’ be leaving.”

  “Bram, I did no’ come this far to wait another day. I am going wit or wit out ye.”

  “And how will ye get there? Walk?”

  “Aye. If I must.”

  “Ye are the most infuriating, irrational woman in all of Scotland!”

  “Well, then it is a good thing we are no’ in Scotland,” she retorted.

  “Lass, I will no’ say it again. Ye are no’ going anywhere until ye get better, even if I have to tie ye to the bed,” Bram said clenching his teeth.

  “Ye thick-headed barbarian! Ye can no’ chain me like chattel and order me around.”

  “Dinna tempt me, lass.”

  Lara struck him a fierce look. In a fit of anger, Lara stood, but quickly plopped back down onto the bench trying to regain her bearings.

  “See, ye are too weak to even stand. Now stay here. I will get us the room. A fine meal and a hot bath will make ye feel better,” he said as he walked away.

  The thought of a nice hot bath did sound appealing in her current state. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew Bram was right; but she had been traveling for almost a week, and she needed rest. If Dermot and his men had set sail towards Norway, they would most certainly catch up to them before arriving in Bergen. That fact frightened her more than anything.

  She realized then that her anger towards Bram helped shield her fear. She wanted to show bravery, but it was a ruse. Not only was Lara frightened of what would transpire at Bergen, but also of her feelings towards Bram. With each passing day, they grew stronger and harder to resist.

  After obtaining a room for the night, Bram walked to the stables within the small town to see if he could acquire a horse. Inside the stable was a small lad who was tending to the horses. At that moment, Bram was grateful to his mother for the hours she made him spend studying the Old Norse language, as the lad spoke little Gaelic.

  Afte
r bargaining with the lad, he managed to acquire a fine stallion. Handing the lad a few coins, Bram instructed him to have the horse fed and ready for travel by morning. Once he’d completed his business, he returned to Lara’s side on the rock.

  Even sick, she was beautiful. Her hair flowed down her back and looked as soft as silk. And the curves under her dress made his skin crawl wanting to touch her. Bram could not ignore the pounding in his chest as he drew closer to her. His palms began to sweat, and he could feel a dull ache in his groin.

  “The lad at the stables mentioned the castle was no’ too far from here; only a days’ ride.”

  “Have ye found us a room?”

  “Aye. We can go there now if ye like,” he said as he held his arm out for her.

  As Lara stood, Bram paused and turned to her. As much as she drove him mad, he knew that he could never stay angry with her. Holding her in his arms, his desire for her burned within his veins, and for once he saw her look to him with the same yearning.

  “Ye are so beautiful,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her, but at the very last moment, Lara turned her head to the side.

  Lara felt stunned by his comment, even though his words made her heart beat fast and hard in her chest. She did not know how to respond. She never believed herself to be beautiful, and no man had ever told her that before. Dermot had told her that she was plain, and Lara easily believed him. But now, looking into Bram’s eyes, she could tell that he’d believed what he’d said.

  More than anything, she wanted to tell him that over the past week she had fallen deeply and passionately in love with him, but she could not bring herself to say the words. It would only make the pain greater, knowing they could never be together. And to make matters worse, he had tried to kiss her. As much as she wanted his lips on hers, she had to deny her feelings, and him. What she said next, she knew, she would certainly regret for the rest of her life.

  “Please dinna say things like that to me. If ye think I have any sort of romantic feelings fer ye, ye are surely mistaken.”

  “I dinna mean to offend ye, lass. I only speak the truth.”

  “Ye should nay talk that way to a married woman. Ye and I can ne’er be together, cannae ye see that?”

  Bram had thought that over the past week he had softened her heart towards him, but in truth, her actions and words indicated that she wanted nothing to do with him. He felt like a fool for thinking otherwise. Nodding his head to acknowledge her rejection, he suggested heading to the inn.

  Once inside the room, Lara and Bram moved about, each doing what they could to ignore the other. Lara felt that if she did not say something soon she would implode. She felt more uncomfortable with his ignoring her than his attempt to kiss her.

  “Will food and hot water be brought up to the room?” she asked, wanting the break the silence between them.

  “Aye. It should be here soon. Ye can take the first bath.”

  “And where will ye be?”

  “I will wait down in the tavern. I could use a drink or two,” he said, thinking that it would take more than a tankard or two to rid himself of his utter humiliation.

  At a knock on the door, Bram crossed the room and allowed two maids to enter. Each one of them carried a steaming bucket of hot water in each hand. A third maid followed close behind with a tray of meat and bread. Bram snatched up a few pieces of meat and a slice of the bread and headed down to the tavern to give Lara her privacy.

  Lara waited until the maids had gone before removing her dress and stepping into the bath. Once inside, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. If heaven existed, at this very moment, this was it.

  Bram sat at a table in the corner of the tavern staring into his mug. He thought about what tomorrow would bring. After he delivered Lara to her father, he would head back to Dunakin. He was anxious to see his family and his boys. While thinking about Lara, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong with this whole situation. He was curious why her father was so eager for his son to become king, knowing that his son had no royal blood. Should the people of Norway learn their king was a fraud, they could abandon their loyalty for Norway and might seek a new alliance with Denmark, which would cause the English to intervene and take control of the country. Any further English power, and King Edward would double his army and be able to kill every Scot in the Highlands. What bothered him the most about this situation was why so many secrets were kept from Lara.

  It came to him suddenly, like being hit in the head with a rock. The English threat must have been the reason for keeping Lara in the dark. Her father must not have wanted her caught in the middle of a battle if it came to that, but Dermot’s role made no sense. What was Lara’s dowry, and was it really worth killing for?

  Too many unanswered questions clouded Bram’s mind. He feared that whatever Lara’s father was keeping from her put her in grave danger. He figured that Dermot must have found out his secret, and that was the reason he tried to rid himself of her. That would explain why he had sent men out after her. With no plan or army to help protect them, Bram and Lara were on their own and they could very well be heading right into the mouth of a dragon.

  Chapter 16

  Lara took a deep breath as she and Bram stood just outside the gates that led into the bailey of the Norse Castle. People rushed to and from the open courtyard as the gate guards stood watch. As they stepped under the portcullis and past the gate house, they entered into the heart of the courtyard.

  Around them were a mass of buildings; storage rooms, stables, and a tall standing keep, the heart of the castle. With sculpted masonry and statues, the keep was a magnificent sight.

  A man stood just outside the doorway as Lara approached the main entrance of the keep. She curtsied before speaking.

  “Pardon my ignorance, Sir, but my name is Lara Fergusson Moray, and I have come to see my father, William Fergusson. I was told that he had journeyed here several weeks ago. Do ye ken how I could find him?”

  “Lady Moray,” he said and bowed to her in return. “I am Godfrey, King Magnusson’s chancellor. I am afraid yer father is away with the king. He shall return tomorrow. For now, I am sure Queen Isobel would not mind yer presence until he returns. And who do ye be?”

  “My name is Bram MacKinnon, brother to Laird MacKinnon of the Highlands.”

  “Verra well. Follow me.”

  Bram kept a keen eye on his surroundings for any sign of danger as they walked into the great hall. Bram had never been inside a royal place. The walls were draped in luxurious tapestries, and sconces lit up the room. Instead of fresh rushes, the floor was made of polished wood, and behind the tapestries the walls were painted a soft cream color. Similar to a church, the windows were covered with figured stained glass and created a rainbow of colors from the sunlight shining through them. It felt too rich for his blood. He was better off in the Highlands.

  At the head of a very long table sat a woman holding her bairn and a guard standing on each side of her. Seeing that she was dressed in a fine garment with jewels dangling across her neck, it took Bram only moments to realize that the woman holding the babe was none other than the Queen of Norway.

  “Your Highness, may I present Lara Fergusson Moray, daughter of William Fergusson and her escort Bram MacKinnon.”

  “My lady, sir, I present to you Queen Isobel,” the chancellor announced.

  Her dark green eyes went directly to Lara and widened as if she had seen a ghost. Her face turned grim as she pursed her lips together.

  “Fergusson?”

  “Aye, my lady,” Lara replied feeling the Queen’s cold gaze.

  “I wish to speak to the lass. Leave us. Both of you,” Queen Isobel ordered, without taking her eyes off Lara. Suddenly, the room felt cold.

  Before he could voice a dispute, the chancellor stood in front of Bram, blocking him from both the queen’s and Lara’s views. Leaving her was foolish and he would do no such thing. He was about to object when Lara looked over the chancel
lor’s shoulder and said, “I will nay be too long Bram, I promise.”

  Lara looked back at the queen, whose sharp gaze bore down on her like a dagger. The queen continued to watch her until Bram and the chancellor left the room and closed the door.

  Still holding the sleeping bairn, Queen Isobel asked, “You say William Fergusson is your father?”

  “Aye, my Lady.”

  “That is a very clever story. But I do no’ see why you had to lie to enter these gates. Were you sent here as a spy, or to help one of our enemies lay siege to our castle?”

  The insult was overwhelming. Why would Lara lie about who she was? “William Fergusson is my father, yer Grace,” Lara argued.

  “I dinna know how that could be, lass, for William only has one child, a son. If you truly are his daughter, then may I ask who your mother is?”

  “My mother was Elsa, but she died when I was ten and two, my Lady.”

  Queen Isobel continued to look at her in disbelief. “How old are ye?” she asked.

  “Ten and seven.”

  Lara had no idea what to think of her questions, or where they would lead, but they caused the pit of her stomach to ache. Why would she lie? Why wouldn’t her father mention that he had a daughter? It made no sense. Clearly, she did not trust Lara’s claim to be a Fergusson. She wanted to run away from this moment, from this place; but she had little choice in the matter until she spoke with her father. She wished Bram had not been escorted out of the room. She needed his strength.

  “If you are who you say you are, we will find out in due time. For now, you can stay in one of our guest rooms until William and my husband return. You will not be allowed to wander freely around the castle. If you need something, I will have one of my maids tend to it, and a guard to escort you when needed. I expect my husband to arrive in the early hours of the morning. At that time we will meet again.” Speaking louder, she called out to a guard positioned just outside the door. “Take Lady Moray and her escort to the guest rooms on the third floor. Make sure Alba tends to their needs.”