A Highlander’s Terror_A Medieval Scottish Romance Story Read online

  He was so happy.

  He slid out of bed and headed down to the great hall for breakfast. There, he was surprised with news.

  “You're summoned to the audience room.”

  Rufus frowned. “Me?” he asked. “Why?”

  His commander shrugged. “No good asking me, Rufus,” he said honestly. “Might as well ask me to dance a quatrain. Not going to happen either.”

  He yawned and Rufus laughed. He sat down to breakfast, and then hurried to the audience room.

  As he went up the stairs he heard footsteps coming down. He looked up. In a long blue gown with a wide skirt patterned with embroidery, her black hair a flag of darkness, was Amabel.

  He smiled uncertainly.

  “Hello,” he said.

  She grinned. “Well, this is unusual, isn't it?” she laughed. “Come. We have to see who's here!” she sounded excited and Rufus felt his tension give way to joy.

  In the audience chamber, he was surprised to see a tall man with black hair and a long, granite-hard face. Amabel looked at the man with complete joy in her eyes.

  “Rufus,” she said with delight. “Come and meet Father.”

  Rufus felt himself take root. This stern, imposing man with the black hair and the brooding physique was Amabel's father? He felt nervous. He swallowed hard.

  “My lord,” he stuttered, bowing low.

  When he looked up, the man's expression was the same, though his black eyes had a look of interest in them that had not been there before.

  “Come forward, Sir Rufus,” he said softly. “I have heard much about you. And may I say how pleased I am to meet you? I think I might have met a terrible fate without your help. To say nothing of my daughter's own escape. I shudder at my own part in endangering her now.”

  Rufus shook his head. “You didn't mean it, sir,” he said gruffly. “I'm glad to see you well. Amabel was so worried.”

  “I believe so,” he said with a thin-lipped smile that, for all its severity, reminded Rufus stupidly of his daughter. “I have already received much censure in that regard.”

  Rufus chuckled. “I believe you.”

  Amabel looked at him with big eyes, lips parted and cheeks flushed. Then she looked at her father. She laughed.

  “You two!” she said, shaking her head and still chuckling with mirth, though she was pretending to be cross with both of them. “Anyone would think I was the worst tempered person on earth. Stubborn and intransigent and impulsive and...” she shook her head.

  “Worst tempered? No,” her father said gently. “Intransigent? Not really. Stubborn and impulsive...” he gave a big grin that included Rufus in the merriment, gently.

  “Oh, Father,” Amabel said, laughing as she embraced him. “You are a tease. Both of you,” she added.

  Later, they talked. Amabel's father explained that he had been called away to Astmarsh, another fortress of the duke of Astley, a day and a half away. He had reached there to find no sign of insurrection on the border, and had sensed something was wrong. When he returned to the castle, the day after their own escape, he'd heard of matters from the steward.

  “Your grandfather is safe,” he said. “He never reached the port. His horse threw a shoe and he insisted on stopping at the inn the night to see his horse re-shod for the journey. We fetched him from the inn the next morning. He's safely ensconced at home, complaining bitterly about the lack of care paid to his horses.”

  Amabel laughed delightedly. Rufus watched her, feeling his heart glow with warmth. He was so pleased she was so happy.

  “Now,” her father said to him. “I understand you are my daughter's choice. She always had her own choice in this matter. I was deeply distressed to hear how the arrangement with Lord Callum was exaggerated. It was always meant to be a possibility only, never rigid as the man made out.”

  Rufus saw Amabel let out a long sigh. “I should have believed in you, Father,” she said softly.

  Her father grinned. “I don't blame you. I'm also a stubborn and impulsive creature, not that different from you. You thought I'd made up my mind overnight, suddenly. I am only sorry I wasn't here to tell the truth.”

  Amabel shook her head. “It wasn't your fault, Father. None of it is. I'm just so glad to know that at last. I should have trusted you.”

  “Well, now you can,” her father said with a twinkle in his eye. “And now, I think that, once we have taken luncheon here, we should be on our way. Your mother will want time to prepare Lochlann for the event. And you know her...we shall have to give her an advance warning.”

  Amabel chuckled and Rufus grinned, and then the three of them went down to luncheon together.

  Afterward, they left the castle. They rode in a long retinue. Amabel's father was at the head, with Amabel behind. Glenna, her maid, rode a palfrey beside her and Rufus rode on her other side. Seamus was behind him, and Brogan. They had five guards as escort on the road, courtesy of Lord Glendower, who insisted that they do their utmost to remain safe.

  “The journey will take five days,” Amabel informed Rufus as they rode. “When we reach Lochlann, you are of course invited to stay with us as long as you wish.” She looked down at her delicate-fingered hands on the reins.

  Rufus smiled. “I wish to stay with you as long as you'll have me, Lady Amabel,” he said sincerely.

  Amabel blushed and they rode on into the afternoon.

  The journey went faster than Rufus would have imagined possible and it did not feel like five days had passed by the time they were riding up a long cobbled pathway uphill toward a castle.

  Rufus watched as Lochlann approached. With its dark walls and high, severe towers, the place had a grim, imposing quality. He shivered as they rode, as much from the anticipation as the cool breeze that had risen with the late afternoon sunset.

  “My lord!” the sentry called out, sounding astonished. “Welcome home! Sean..! Open the gate.”

  The gate was drawn up and then they were in the courtyard. Rufus saw Amabel tense and then she slid out of her saddle, running up the stairs.

  “Mother!”

  He smiled as a tall woman with dark auburn hair and grave gray eyes embraced Amabel. Then she turned to Rufus.

  “Welcome,” she said, and it seemed as though there was no explanation necessary between this pair of mother and daughter. Rufus sensed she knew exactly who he was.

  “My lady,” he bowed.

  She smiled and turned again to Amabel, who was smiling breathlessly.

  “Well, then,” the lady of Lochlann said, turning to both of them. “I think we have some planning to do, yes, Amabel?”

  Amabel grinned, pale face flushed. “Yes, Mama.”

  Laughing, the three of them went inside together.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  A WEDDING AND A DINNER

  A WEDDING AND A DINNER

  The wedding was planned for a month after Amabel's return to Lochlann. It seemed too long to wait, but, with the preparations and demands – the dress, the bouquet, the guests – Amabel found it passing fast and could almost have wished they had a month longer.

  Almost. She woke on the morning of the wedding day with a fluttering in her stomach that made her overflow with joy. She knew she could not have waited a moment longer then.

  “Good morning, my lady,” Glenna said, appearing in her bedchamber.

  “Good morning, Glenna,” she smiled. She considered adding. “Mrs. MacGowan,” for Glenna had wed the handsome guard she danced with at the ball. Her wedding had been two weeks previously. Amabel was so happy for her.

  “I brought the gown in from the solar,” Glenna smiled. “I think your aunts finally agree on something – the work is finished on the skirt.”

  Amabel smiled. “Thank Heaven for that.”

  She and Glenna chuckled about how her great aunts from Dunkeld had fussed about the dress. She let Glenna help her into it, her heart soaring.

  Afterward, she stepped away from the mirror and stared at her reflection. Wit
h a bodice with the base cut in a “v”, the skirt full and long, covered in a layer of precious lace, the dress was elegant and stylish. The neckline was a low oval, the sleeves long and covering her hands. The fabric was pure white linen, so soft as to be silk, the fit perfect. She stared at the woman who looked back at her from the mirror.

  With her long black hair loose and brushed into a flowing mane, a wreath of orange blossoms on the curls, she looked at once striking and beautiful. She turned in front of the silver mirror, not quite believing the reflection was herself.

  “It's beautiful,” she said.

  Glenna chuckled. “You look beautiful, my lady. Now, I think it's time.”

  She handed Amabel the bouquet of irises and daisies and Amabel embraced her, her face stretched by a grin.

  “Oh, thank you, Glenna,” she sniffed.

  Her companion grinned. “Nothing to it,” she said. “Now, off we go.”

  She stood back for Amabel to walk out of the door and down the steps. She did so slowly, feeling slightly surreal. Her dress trailed behind her, the soft whisper of the lace on stone the only sound as she headed slowly down the stairs. Then she was facing her father, who stood there, waiting to lead her to the chapel in the castle's own courtyard. She swallowed hard.

  This was her wedding day.

  She walked across the courtyard, seeing throngs of smiling guards and serving men and women, and felt her heart soaring above the scene, her whole body filled with happiness.

  The short walk complete, she was walking into the green lit gloom of the chapel, the place lit from the clerestory windows high above the aisle. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the dark in the small, quiet space.

  Then she saw Rufus. His tall, straight back firm and his brown hair brushed so that it glowed softly in the greenish light from the windows, Rufus looked imposing and handsome. She found she could look nowhere else.

  She walked up the steps to the altar and took her place beside him.

  As the priest stepped forward to begin the ceremony, Rufus looked sideways and Amabel saw his cheek lift in a grin. She was wearing a chiffon veil, but she could still see the smile. She grinned back and hoped he could see it too.

  The ceremony was surprisingly short. Amabel had expected to feel as if she stood there for an age while the Latin phrases swelled and flowed around her, but it seemed to her as if it passed almost too fast.

  Then the priest was looking to her, waiting for her response.

  “Volo,” she said, very distinctly, very sure.

  The priest repeated the question to Rufus, and his reply was just as clear, just as firm.

  “Volo.” I do.

  The priest said more words and then, abruptly, it was over. Amabel felt Rufus turn to face her. Then he was gently lifting her veil. She felt her heart thump in her chest as he drew it carefully over her hair and folded it back. He smiled down into her eyes.

  Then, tenderly, carefully, with the same tenderness that was in his gaze when he had been with her in the field hospital, when he had hidden in the woods with her, when they fled the castle, he kissed her.

  Amabel closed her eyes. His lips moved softly over hers and she felt herself draw breath with the wonder of it. The kiss was so tentative, so gently placed, that she felt as if it was an act of adoration. She let him hold her close and held him back and their bodies pressed close together. Amabel shivered as she felt his heartbeat, slow and steady, firm against her own. She let her lips part gently, allowing his tongue to enter.

  They stood like that, arms around each other, lips touching, eyes shut.

  Then, just as carefully as he had placed the kiss, Rufus was leaning back and they were turning to face the chapel again, congratulations raining down on them.

  Amabel swallowed hard as they walked slowly down the aisle and to the doors. Her heart was thudding in her chest and she felt wonderful inside. Joy bubbled over within her and her cheeks hurt from smiling a happy, secret smile. She could feel the warmth of Rufus' touch on her fingers and her soul soared as they walked together down the aisle and out into the courtyard to receive the congratulations of the clan and of the household.

  Then, slowly, with her head high and smile radiant, they were walking into the great hall, arm in arm.

  Amabel let Rufus lead her to the dais and they sat together, she on her father's right, he on his left. She sat beside her mother and she could feel Rufus' knee against hers under the table. Her heart was full of warmth and she flushed.

  Rufus looked across at her innocently. Amabel smiled. She knew he was teasing and she let her foot rest gently on his, and then moved it, feeling her whole body heat with longing.

  As her father proposed a toast and the clan, serving staff, guards, cottagers, townsfolk and traders all shouted it out from the many other tables in the hall, she found her own thoughts slipping to the part of the day that would follow. The bedding ceremony.

  She saw Rufus flush as she looked across at him, and knew he was thinking of it too. Her heart beat slowly in her chest, a pulsing intensity that made the blood sing in her ears. She found her mind was filled with thoughts of other times together – the kisses at the ball, the touches on the battlefield, the sweet closeness when sleeping in the miller's barn. That night in the inn together.

  What would it be like? What would bedding Rufus Invermore feel like? Just thinking of it made her heart beat faster and her belly flutter with wonder.

  She felt his leg pressing on hers under the table and guessed he was thinking the same thing. She blushed.

  The dancing was starting on the floor – the townsfolk cheering and stamping as they leaped up to dance a reel. Amabel took a mouthful of the delicious roast fish and chewed, letting the intense flavor spread through her mouth. She saw Rufus smiling at her. He wore a teasing grin.

  “What?” she asked.

  He lifted a linen square from beside his place. “You have sauce on your chin.”

  She blushed and, to her surprise, he deftly reached across and dabbed it away. Even that contact made her blood sing in her ears. She had no idea, with that gaze on her and with her heart thumping in her chest like this, how she was going to sit through this dinner.

  It seemed Rufus was having similar difficulties. He looked at her, flushed and with his eyes dancing.

  “Amabel,” he whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think we should...” he started. He saw Lady Joanna turn from where she sat beside Amabel and stopped abruptly. Amabel bit her lip, trying not to smile. It was a delicious excitement to plan an escape. All things considered, they had practice.

  “Yes,” she whispered. She rolled her eyes in the direction of the door that led off the dais. Rufus nodded.

  They sat quietly a while. Amabel nibbled on a bannock carefully, trying to quell the rising excitement inside her. At length, she heard Rufus cough.

  “My lord?” he said, turning to her father. “Please excuse me a moment.”

  “Of course, son. Of course,” he said and bent down to take another mouthful of his dinner, asking Amabel if she could pass him the salt.

  “Of course,” she said. She did so, and then waited five minutes.

  “Oh!” she said with false brightness. “I see Glenna over there, calling me on the dance floor. Do excuse me a moment while I go to find out what's amiss?” she asked.

  “Of course, daughter,” Lady Joanna said softly. “I'll see you in a moment.”

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  Feeling her heart thump with excitement, feeling sweetly wicked, Amabel slipped out of the doors into the courtyard.

  “Rufus?” she whispered.

  He stepped out of the shadows and she felt a pair of warm, strong arms enfold her. His lips on hers were hard and passionate and the depth of their longing drove the breath from her. Then, heart pounding in her chest, he stepped to her side and took her hand.

  “Shall we go upstairs?” he whispered. His voice was as tense as Amabel felt.
r />   “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, please.”

  They headed across the courtyard and up the long, carved stairway, heading to their bedchamber.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  WEDDING NIGHT

  WEDDING NIGHT

  The light in the bedchamber burned low. The fire had all but burned down and the room was filled with a rich golden haze. The air smelled sweetly of lavender and the warm scent of flowers. Rufus, breathing in, felt his heart pounding in his chest with a steady, rising excitement.

  He bent down and kissed Amabel again. His tongue probed her lips gently and he felt his whole body throb with rising longing as it pushed between her soft lips, plundering the warm well of her mouth. He held her against his chest and tried to control himself.

  He could feel her breasts pressing on his chest and his hands enfolded her soft waist, fitting perfectly in the sweet curve there. He wanted to throw her on the bed and strip her of the fine linen gown, to let his body thrust in her and thrust again, letting her overflow with his need. However, he wouldn't. This was her night as well as his.

  He stroked her hair gently and breathed in the sweet, soft scent of it. Her body was curved and sweet, and pressed against him as he kissed her again, this time more slowly and tenderly.

  She moaned as his tongue explored her and he tensed, unable to hold back any longer. He wrapped his arms around her and walked back a little, until they stood beside the soft, linen-canopied bed. Then he pushed her back.

  She let out a little giggle and fell onto the bed, her sweet curves so perfect on the cream linen of the coverlet. Rufus stood back and looked at her where she lay, her hair a cloud around her, breasts pointing and thrusting out from her sweet form in a way that fired his loins with aching longing.

  He stretched the length of his body beside her on the covers and his mouth moved over hers. He held her in his arms, her breasts pressing against his chest and he shivered with the intensity of his longing.