Highland Daydreams (15 page)

“Oh lass. Dinna worry. Tomorrow yer father will be here, and everything will work out,” he said, as he gathered her in his arms.

Lara snuggled herself deeper into his hold. Sucking in a quick breath of air, she looked up at him and gazed into his eyes. Bram placed a hand on her cheek and rubbed his thumb across her jawline. Sensing no resistance to his touch, he continued to run his fingers through her long hair stopping at the base of her neck. Scooping her hair to the side, he let it fall through his fingers leaving her neck exposed. Bringing his hand back to her cheek, he placed his fingers under her chin and lowered his head towards her, until he was but a breath away. Barely touching his lips to hers, he savored the moment and waited for her to push him away, but she didn’t. Instead, to his surprise, Lara raised her head towards him, closing the space between them.

Bram’s kiss was urgent and demanding. All thought and reason left Lara’s mind. She felt her spirit lifted as if she soared through the heavens. His touch, his kiss, unlocked desires within her she never knew she had, or even thought possible. This, she knew, would change everything; but for that moment, she did not care. She did not care whether she angered her father, or if Dermot found her, for she felt the courage to face both of them.

Bram firmly pressed his tongue against her lips encouraging her to open. Once Lara submitted to him, Bram deepened the kiss. As Bram’s hands vigorously moved up and down her back, he pressed her tighter against him, causing a flood of uncertain sensations. Lara could feel awareness of her body’s need as she felt an aching desire in the most secret parts of her body.

As their lips pulled apart, they both gasped for air. Lara drew in a long and shaky breath. She did not want to fight her feelings any longer and she did not want to push him away. She welcomed his kisses, though she knew it was wrong of her to do so.

Before he lost all of his dignity and righteousness, Bram had to break the kiss. His need for her had become unnerving, and the swell of his groin had been urging him on, but he forced himself to stop. He would not tarnish her name or her honor. These feelings were a whole new experience for him. Was he not the man who just months ago bedded down with willing whores? Had he not been one to talk about marriage as if it was a fool’s game? How did one lass change all of that? Bram never thought of himself as righteous or honorable when it came to women, but he would do right by Lara.

“The hour is late and ye need yer rest,” he told her as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Are ye leaving?”

Bram kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips.

“Nay, lass,” he smiled down at her. “I am no’ leaving ye, but I must return to the other room before the sun rises and we are caught in bed together. I dinna want anyone to think that something had happened between us, as that would no’ be good for either of us.”

“Will ye come back in the morning?” Lara anxiously asked wanting him to be there by her side when her father arrived.

“Aye, lass. I will.”

Lara’s eyes fluttered closed, and she quickly faded into a deep sleep. When Bram was certain Lara was fast asleep, he rolled out of bed, snatched his tunic from the floor, and headed to the room down the hall for the remainder of the night. He was in awe of what had transpired between them, and looked forward to tomorrow, when he could kiss her again.

A loud commotion outside the window woke Lara out of a deep sleep. She jumped out of bed and ran to the window to see what was occurring just outside. More than fifty horses came barreling across the drawbridge and emerged into the courtyard.

The horses were draped in red and blue royal trappings while their riders were dressed in armor. In the center of the assembly of riders, a large man with black hair stood out from the rest. He sat high upon his horse and wore fine furs around his wide shoulders. Next to him, sitting atop their horses, were John and heather. So anxious was she to see them, Lara could have leapt from the window.

She quickly turned and left the room, running down the hall to where Bram was sleeping. Without knocking, she burst through the door to announce her father’s arrival, but the room was empty. The bed was made, and there showed no sign that anyone had even slept in the room. Lara’s heart dropped in her chest. She worried if Bram had been caught wandering the hall while he was walking between the two rooms, or if he had left and headed back to Scotland. Lara refused to believe the latter, as he had made her a promise. He may have been a wretched Highlander, but she believed him to be honorable.

She quickly slipped her dress on over her chemise, then pulled on her boots, not even having the time or patience to tie the leather straps. She left the room running: down the hallway, then down the stairs into the great hall. In the great hall, a large crowd filled the room, making it impossible to find her brother and father amongst all of the people. Lara was short, and most of the men in the room seemed to be double her height and size. As she squeezed past them, she found her brother and father talking privately in the back corner.

“John, Father,” Lara cried out and ran towards them.

John noticed Lara first as she bumped past a group of men trying to reach them. Giving her a smile, he held his arms out to the crying lass.

“Lara!” he said, as she fell into his embrace. “What are ye doing here?”

“I must talk to both of ye in private. It is of great importance,” she said, looking at both her brother and her father.

William nervously looked about the room and grabbed onto Lara’s arm, escorting her into an adjacent chamber. The room was small, with four chairs around a circular table. Hung on the walls were portraits of the Magnusson Royal family, and books were stacked high on shelves around the room. Lara was amazed; she had never seen so many books.

In a demanding and angered tone, her father asked, “Why are ye here, and where is yer husband?”

“He is no’ here, Father. I traveled here wit’ an escort.”

Lara had never seen such anger in her father’s eyes before. She tried to continue, but he immediately stopped her.

“Ye have nay business here. Ye will return to Scotland on the first boat.”

“But Father, ye must listen.”

“Nay, ye listen! I married ye off to Laird Moray. Ye are nay longer my responsibility. We have a contract with their clan fer this union,” he yelled and slammed his fist on the table.

Lara’s bottom lip trembled, and her eyes grew misty. Talking to him was useless. He truly had cast her to the wolves. But why? Why did he hate her so much? Lara ran out the door in tears, and John followed.

“Damnation, if that lass ruins everything I have worked for,” William muttered to himself.

John caught up with Lara in the garden. She had been sitting on the bench, crying with her head in her hands. Slowly, he approached her, not wanting to frighten her.

“Lara. Ye can no’ run away every time he yells at ye,” he said, sitting down next to her and placing his hand on her shoulder for comfort.

“I dinna understand him, John. Why does he hate me?”

“I dinna ken. He is tough on me too. What are ye doing here?”

“Dermot…he is a treacherous mon, John. He lied about his wealth. He is nay richer than a lone peasant. English soldiers came to our keep, and when he could no’ pay, he gave them me in exchange for his debt. I spent weeks in a dungeon, was treated cruelly. They barely fed me or allowed me to sleep.” She sputtered, trying to catch her breath.

John’s look of concern was etched on his face. “How did ye escape and travel this far all on yer own?”

“I killed the guard. And I have no’ travelled alone. My escort is a Highland warrior. He is a verra brave and honorable mon.”

“A Highlander!” John looked astonished.

“Aye. John, I can nay go back to Foley Castle. I believe Dermot may already ken I escaped the dungeon; he sent men to search fer me. I fear if he finds me, he will kill me. Please dinna let Father make me go back to him,” Lara pleaded through tears.

“Lass, I am yer brother. I will protect ye. Have ye told anyone else this story since ye have been here?”

“Nay.”

“Good. I dinna ken if ye ken this but many great things are happening. The King is dying. It is a secret even to his own men. Because his daughter Lady Margaret died many years ago, and his new babe is just a wee bairn, I have been chosen to be his successor. The only heir to the throne is his brother, and King Magnusson will do anything to keep him from the throne.”

“But how can ye be king if ye are of nay royal blood?”

John wickedly smiled and explained, “Because we told his people that I am his cousin. My coronation is tomorrow evening. Once I am king, I promise ye that ye will have nothing to worry about again. Ye must tell nay one of this secret. Nay e’en yer Highland companion. Ye must promise me.”

“Nay, of course, Brother.”

Lara drew in a comforting deep breath. She knew that if Dermot did arrive, she had both Bram and now her brother to protect her. She smiled and gave her brother a bear-sized hug.

Bram mingled in the great hall with the crowd of men after he found Lara’s room empty. He had checked on her in the wee hours of the morning, but she lay asleep, and he did not wish to wake her. Instead of returning to his own room, he had gone downstairs to break his fast. Before he knew it, alarms sounded announcing the king’s arrival, and several dozen riders rode through the gates.

When Bram could not find Lara in her room, he assumed she had found her father and was somewhere in the castle speaking to him. He only hoped that her father would listen. From what Lara told him, he was not too sure the man could be trusted.

All night, Bram could think of nothing but the passionate kiss he’d shared with Lara. It was anything but innocent. When he felt her kiss him back, he knew that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, though she refused to admit it. Still, he needed to keep his feelings to himself for now. He had no idea what today would bring. Whether he would send her back to her husband or get the marriage annulled lay in the hands of her father. Bram knew that if there was an annulment, he would ask for her hand. But would she accept? Bram’s palms began to sweat when the thought entered his mind. His chest tightened with both anticipation and anxiety.

The King of Norway came bursting through the tall double doors, greeting several of the men in the room. Bram had never met King Eric Magnusson, but had heard that the man was fierce in battle. He overheard a group of men talking about the King’s recent campaign battling the Danish army and the success it had brought to his people.

King Eric was a tall man, with long, wild black hair and a pale complexion. He looked exactly as one would imagine a Norse Viking would. There was something particularly odd about him. He walked with a proud gait but seemed to favor his right leg over his left, and he appeared to be clutching onto his left arm. There was also something oddly familiar about him, though Bram had never seen the man before.

As a man experienced in battle and a warrior since childhood, Bram sensed that the King’s injuries were far greater than he displayed. He knew how a man looked when trying to hide battle wounds. Bram observed the other men in the room. Not one of them seemed to have taken notice of the King’s condition. Bram assumed that King Eric was either too proud or too stubborn to admit his health was declining.

King Eric raised a cloth to his lips and coughed profusely against it. Before he slipped it back into his pocket, Bram noticed the blood stain upon it. It became all too clear to him. The King wasn’t just injured, he truly was dying. That much had not been a lie.