Courage Of A Highlander_Lairds of Dunkeld Series Page 9

  Then, the music was starting. He glanced quickly to his right, watching what the man beside him was doing. With a fervent hope that he could remember anything at all from the rudimentary instruction in dance he'd received, he sallied out.

  “That way,” Rubina whispered as he reached her.

  “What?”

  “Step left.”

  He felt himself go red and stepped hastily to his left as another gentleman came and stood beside him, his hand, Rubina's, the gentleman and the lady beside her all joining to form an arch between them. The quatrain was a dance for four people, easily one of the hardest courtly measures to enact.

  Gripping his lip in his teeth in a grimace of conversation, Camden counted in his head. One, two three. Back. One, two, three, Up. Now to the side, and...Left, two three...

  After a moment, he felt the tension ease. He was doing it! He floated beside Rubina and it seemed, just then, like only they were present. He held her hand in his and the music wove round them, making a net that bound him to her flowing, lilting form.

  They were standing still, eyes fixed on each other, when Camden realized with a jolt of surprise the dance ended.

  He blinked in amazement, looking about as the rest of the couples bowed and left the floor. He cleared his throat and stepped back, bowing.

  Rubina bobbed a curtsy. Still they stood.

  “My lord?”

  Camden shook himself and nodded. “Uh, my lady. Yes.” He followed her off the floor and into the hall.

  When they had melted back into the crowd again, Rubina looked up at him with a solemn expression on her lovely face.

  “You dance very well,” she told him.

  Camden chuckled, a wry smile curving his well-carved lips. “I do?”

  “Indeed,” Rubina murmured. “Very well.”

  “You are as graceful as you're beautiful,” Camden murmured. He surprised himself with his poetic bent. She went red.

  “My lord is too kind.”

  He smiled. She smiled back and their eyes met. They were on the edge of the crowd and Camden felt her shift, saw her eyes go sideways just as his own did. He squeezed her hand. Without having to say it, they walked out of the hall and into the grounds outside.

  Outside, the air was warm and smelt of dust and, more distantly, of dew. The sky was sapphire and, somewhere, the first stars shone out.

  “A lovely evening,” Camden murmured. His pulse was shivering and his throat had closed. He was so, so nervous.

  “It is,” she said softly. She was standing just in front of him, the muted light shivering down the length of that flame-colored hair.

  Camden drew in a breath. Struggling to control himself, to make his motion slow and regular, he reached out and stroked her hair. It was spun silk under his hand. He inhaled, gasping, and felt his loins ache painfully.

  Rubina smiled up at him from below the fall of hair. She turned and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. Looked up into his eyes. He shuddered.

  “Rubina...” he murmured.

  She leaned forward. He did too and his lips met hers.

  He held her close, feeling his body respond and the wildfire of longing roar through his veins, overwhelming. He drew her to his chest and kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her with wild, passionate urgency.

  She gasped and her arms wrapped round him and they stood there, her held tight against him, his lips plying hers.

  When they moved apart, her eyes were hazy with longing. The look in them matched his own feeling so exactly that Camden had to make fists of his hands to prevent reaching out to grasp her.

  “My lady,” he gulped. “We should not. We ought to...” he shook his head. He wanted to say that they shouldn't do this; that they should go back. That he ought to walk inside before he did something extreme that they might both regret.

  No words came.

  She looked up at him, brown eyes sad.

  “I know,” she murmured. “We shouldn't do this.” She bit her lip, those small white teeth twisting it in a way that made his loins thrust with desire.

  “My lady. I should go,” he said insistently. She nodded.

  “We should go inside.”

  He stood back for her, wordless, as she slipped in front of him and headed into the hall.

  When they reached it, the murmur of conversing had increased. He breathed in, noticing the scents of dinner had increased somewhat, too. His stomach clenched with a more immediate sort of longing.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She grinned. “I am.”

  He took a shuddering breath. With the candlelight reflecting in her gaze, she looked so beautiful that he couldn't resist gently leaning in to kiss her cheek. She blushed.

  “One more dance?”

  He swallowed, apprehension knotting his insides. “Only if it's not difficult.”

  She stared at him, cheeks twitching as she tried not to smile. She couldn't help it, clearly. A big grin escaped. They both started laughing. A few courtiers looked in their direction, casting suspicious glances their way. They paid them no mind.

  “That wasn't so hard, was it?” Rubina asked, shoulders lifting with mirth.

  “My lady, it was frightening.”

  She started laughing again and he laughed too.

  “I promise,” she said, sighing as the mirth retreated, “that the next dance won't be so hard.”

  “You do?” he asked, one brow twisted in a teasing expression,

  “I do promise.”

  “Good.”

  They danced a roundelay, which wasn't as hard. Again, it felt as though it was just the two of them there on the floor as he lost himself in her eyes.

  At the edge of the ballroom there was a space where no one yet stood and they headed there without discussing it. Camden stood beside her, breathing in the floral scent of her, and realized he had to ask a question that was bothering him.

  “My lady?”

  “Yes?”

  She was holding a pewter drinking cup and the cordial in it had wet her lips, sticky and delicious. Camden's whole body fought the urge to lick it up. He closed his hands into fists, ruthlessly focusing his mind.

  “My lady? You...when does your party leave Court?”

  He saw her close her eyes as if she staved off a bad thought. “Next week,” she murmured softly. He let out a ragged sigh of relief.

  “Whew.”

  She frowned. “Why, sir?”

  “Well,” he smiled, lips twitching in amusement at his own eagerness, “the good physician said I should mayhap remain here a week further.”

  “Oh.”

  She didn't say any more, but the way she said it let him know she was pleased. Almost as pleased, it seemed, as I was.

  “You know,” he began slowly. He stopped, not sure if he should complete that thought.

  “Yes...what?”

  “I am so glad I had my ribs broken.”

  She giggled, a happy, delighted sound. She toasted him in cordial.

  “I am too, sir.”

  They both laughed.

  As the music died away, the master of ceremonies came out to announce that dinner was served. Camden felt a moment of panic.

  “What?” Rubina asked, frowning up inquisitively. “You look troubled.”

  “I'm not supposed to be here. There'll be no place for me.” His voice was tight.

  Her face fell a second, and then she smiled again.

  “There's always places on the benches. Will you join us?”

  “What?” Camden felt his heart skip a beat.

  “Will you join us at the high table?” Rubina asked, eyes dancing with mischievous fun. Camden gulped. If he did, he'd be seated with dukes, earls and thanes. I don't think we could do that. Besides, he didn't want to make anyone be angry with her.

  “My lady...I shouldn't. I...”

  At that moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped, ready to defend himself against the big, inscrutable doorman. He found himself staring at S
ean.

  “What the..?”

  Sean laughed softly. “Camden? What's the matter?”

  “Whew,” Camden breathed out, relieved. “I thought you were someone else.”

  “I should think so,” Sean said, smiling. “I'd wonder at you jumping like that at me. Come on.”

  “Come on where?”

  “There's place at that table over there. Lord Aberfirth and his lady couldn't attend today. We'll sit where they were. Milady suggested so.”

  “Oh?”

  Camden felt relieved. He glanced at the table his friend suggested. The two seats afforded a clear view of the high table and he could just spot the dark haired lady who was Rubina's mother. He nodded.

  “We'll go, then.” He turned to Rubina. She nodded.

  “I understand,” she said softly.

  “Thank you.”

  He bowed and took her hand. Just holding it made his heart grow tight and his body grow hot. He let go reluctantly and went with Sean.

  Their place at one of the lesser tables was comfortable and safer. From here Camden could clearly see Rubina's sleek-haired head, watch her as she lifted her goblet and drank to some oath. She licked her lips and he had to shut his eyes.

  I think I will die of longing for that woman.

  “Hey, Camden?” a voice said harshly. He jumped.

  “What, Sean?”

  “I'm glad we came along.”

  Camden nodded. His heart was racing with a mix of apprehension and hopeless arousal. His tongue was bruised with her kisses. His body ached with longing. However, he was so, so glad.

  “I am too.”

  Sean chuckled. “For a happy fellow, you certainly look worried.”

  Camden pulled a face. Then he grinned. “You're right, Sean. I think too hard.”

  “You do,” Sean agreed. “Feed me, take me out dancing and I'm content not to think at all.”

  Camden chuckled warmly. Someone had filled his goblet and he lifted it, letting it click with a gentle resonance against his friend's own. “I think,” he said smiling, “that's a sensible way to live.”

  Sean lifted his glass and drank, saluting him. “It works for me.”

  They laughed.

  The music filled the hall, swelling with the sound of laughter, the click of glasses and salvers and the warmth of firelight. Whether or not the place was on the cusp of war, Camden thought, leaning back in the seat, comfortable in his borrowed doublet and trews, for the moment everything was just right.

  His eye lingered on the red gleam of Rubina's long hair. He watched her and in that moment she caught his glance. Her eyes locked with his.

  He raised his glass, a surreptitious gesture.

  She went red. Then, to his surprise, she reached for hers. Raised it and drank.

  He closed his eyes and drank a big sip, letting the rich claret warm his throat. It felt solemn, like an oath. Like a promise. Whatever happened, that would endure lifelong.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A DANGEROUS DISCOVERY

  A DANGEROUS DISCOVERY

  The next morning dawned pale beyond the screen across the window. Rubina, in her bed, felt the light touch her eyelids. She stretched and smiled.

  She was deliciously warm. Her body was revitalized with a long rest and her mind was full of dreams of Camden. She stretched again and sat up.

  “Breakfast.”

  As she combed her hair, sitting at the oak dressing table by the bed, she heard someone stir behind the screen.

  Marguerite appeared, pale hair tousled, rubbing her eyes.

  “Good morning.”

  Rubina smiled. “Good morning.”

  Marguerite flopped down onto the bed, a tired grin on her face.

  “How was the ball?” Rubina asked, though she could see from her friend's contented air that the evening had been a pleasant adventure.

  “Good,” Marguerite said, giving a big stretch. “Beautiful. And yours?”

  Rubina felt color flood her cheeks. “Wonderful.”

  “Mm.” Marguerite smiled and leaned back, supported on a slender arm. “Any plans today?”

  Rubina shook her head, threading a russet curl behind one ear. “Not really. Yourself? I thought maybe a long ride might be quite nice.”

  “Oh, yes,” Marguerite yawned comfortably. “A ride would be nice.”

  Rubina nodded. “Well, then. How about breakfast?”

  “Yes!” Marguerite looked decidedly enthused. “Breakfast. The best moment of the day.”

  They both laughed. Rubina stood and moved the screen back from the window, letting in the light. She felt such contentment, such excitement to begin the day. Every morning while she was here at court was another chance to see Camden.

  The breakfast was a quiet time – most of the gentlefolk were, it seemed, still asleep after the party. Rubina and her companion were alone at the top end of the table, a few small groups chattering among themselves over at the further side.

  Rubina ate her oat bannock slowly. The delicious, crumbling warmth filled her mouth and she closed her eyes, savoring the peace, the taste, the moment.

  “Ready to go?” Marguerite asked after a while.

  “Yes,” Rubina said briskly. “Let's go riding.”

  Marguerite stretched and then yawned. “I feel a bit tired,” she said. “Would you mind terribly, my dear, if I stayed on here awhile?”

  Rubina shrugged lightly. “Of course not,” she said easily. “I'm quite happy to go alone.”

  She would take an escort, of course – even the woods around the castle could be the lair of vagabonds or fugitives. With one or two guardsmen with her, she was sure she'd be safe enough.

  Twenty minutes later, dressed in a long dark brown dress, she walked lightly down to the stables.

  Two guards followed her. She accepted a hand up into the saddle, waited for her guardsmen to be ready and set off.

  The morning was warm and sunny, though a cool breeze blew that might just bring rain later. She breathed in the wild, exciting scents of leaf mold and woodland and damp and let the wind tangle her hair.

  “Come on, Merryweather,” she whispered to her horse. She felt her nudge into a canter.

  It was a beautiful morning, the leaves dancing in the breeze, and Rubina felt a little impatient with having to keep pace always with the guards. She glanced about.

  “Come on,” she whispered.

  Her horse seemed to feel her excitement and she snorted and then stretched her legs, speeding up into a gallop. It was quite risky to be going at this speed in the forest, but Rubina felt as if she wanted a good ride. Her heart was full of excitement, her mind of memories that made her glow with happiness. She breathed fresh air into her chest and sped off.

  “Merryweather?” she said.

  They had been going for about ten minutes when Rubina felt a sudden thread of discomfort. They were in a region of the forest she did not recognize. As a regular guest at the court, Rubina had ridden in these woods since her childhood. The fact that she was in unknown woodlands was strange. She shivered.

  A glance over her shoulder showed her that the guardsmen were out of earshot. She felt a momentary stab of danger. She regretted her reckless decision.

  “Not much we can do, eh, dear?” she asked her horse gently. “We can just wait here.”

  Her horse snorted. The woods were quiet, a breeze just shaking the broad-leafed tree branches above. The air smelled of loam. A bird called.

  Rubina closed her eyes, seeking out calm. The day was going slowly darker, the breeze drawing clouds in from the coastline. She shivered.

  “No reason to worry,” she said mildly. “I can just go back the way I came. I wonder where those guards are.”

  Frowning, wondering what use it was to take an escort when they lost themselves the moment she got lost, she headed off.

  Something slithered past a tree trunk. She was riding slowly now, heading back down the path at a walk, hoping she would spot the turnoff she had ta
ken. The noise was loud in the silence, though in truth it must have been a gentle whisper; the sound of mail, perhaps, rasping against bark.

  “Whist,” she said under her breath. “Who goes there?”

  Nothing. No reply. She laughed, nervous.

  “Of course no one replied,” she said ironically. If it was no one, just twigs rattling, no one would of course. If it was an outlaw, why would they?

  Rubina realized she had halted Merryweather. They went on ahead.

  Crack. Rustle.

  She drew in a long, shaky breath. Strove for calm.

  “Who is there?” she called, seeking an authoritative note and finding it. She was the daughter of the duke of Buccleigh. Whoever was trespassing had best explain it.

  Nothing. No sound.

  She breathed out. I must be going mad.

  Maybe there was no one in the woods. Maybe it was just some innocent woodland creature. Only her imagination.

  They set off again, more slowly. Where was the turning? It was somewhere close...

  Crack.

  This time, Rubina jumped, spinning round. That was a twig cracking. Not imagination.

  She found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes.

  She wanted to scream. She found she couldn't make a noise. Her eyes locked with the man's. He was tall, with chin-length hair and a long face. He was dressed in mail. Armed with a long-sword. He held a helm cradled at his elbow. He also had a red cross sewn onto his tunic.

  Rubina's heart stopped. The emblem of England. The man was not Scots, that much was clear just from his appearance. The armaments too were wrong – she had seen enough Scotsmen dressed for warfare to know they would not have a long, square shield with them.

  She drew in a breath to scream.

  The man's eyes darkened. Cold, slate-dark and implacable, at the distance between them – perhaps six paces – Rubina could read the expression in them. They were flat with indifference but, as they focused on her face, they gleamed with an interest she understood altogether too well.

  “No!” she screamed.

  She moved her knees, squeezing her horse's flanks. Her horse shot forward. She turned her head abruptly and regretted how hard she had to turn her mount to move them out of the clearing which was suddenly full of men.