Highland Daydreams (20 page)

Much like a rabbit, Lara nervously began eating a slice of apple, taking several tiny bites at a time. She wasn’t even hungry, but she needed to fidget with something to distract herself, and the apple was the only object she could find. Had she her needles and thread, she could have stitched an entire tapestry in the time that she waited. Finally, Lara stood and thought it best to wait upstairs in her chamber. Perhaps they would come for her there.

With his eyes closed, Bram examined the bump on the top of his head. His hair felt wet. Was he bleeding?

“Bloody hell,” he said out loud, as he opened his eyes and looked down at his hand. The liquid was bright red, but did not ooze like blood. Bringing his hand up to his noise, he smelled the sweet smell of red wine. Someone had hit him over the head with one of the bottles, he presumed, continuing to rub the lump on the side of his head.

Remembering that he was not alone, he called out, “John,” hoping to hear his friend, but no one responded. Bram staggered to his feet. Had someone tried to kill him and take John prisoner? Bram searched every nook and corner of the room from which he thought the attacker had come. Bram felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach, and his nerves felt like pins and needles. He ran out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time. He was desperate to get to Lara, for he knew now that she was still in grave danger.

Lara stepped inside her room and closed the door behind her. She hoped that her brother and Bram would return soon. As she began to turn around, someone grabbed her from behind and firmly pressed a dagger to her throat. Lara was too afraid to scream or struggle with the sharp end of the blade pressed so close to her throat. If this person wanted her dead, they easily could have killed her. The hold on her was strong and almost painful as he pressed his arm tightly against her stomach. Pulling her away from the light of the window, he turned her around and pushed her up against the wall, keeping the dagger against her throat.

Lara stared into the familiarity of his icy blue eyes. So stricken with fear, she struggled to breathe. Her stomach felt sick and for a moment, she thought she would collapse to the ground. After all this time, she was certain that it was Dermot and her father who had betrayed her, but neither stood before her, holding a dagger to her throat. It was John.

“It was ye! The French gypsy woman, the men hunting me in the village, the English guards at Cumberland, ye planned this whole thing. Why?” Lara bellowed.

“Because ye were the true royal heir to the crown.”

His words crushed her like boulders. She could barely breathe enough to form a sentence or two. Lara felt bile rising in her throat.

“So all of this, the lies, the deceit, it was about the crown?”

John chuckled.

“Ye poor silly lass. Ye ken nothing of what power can bring ye. With me as King, I can now lead a great army, more powerful than England or France.”

“Did father ken?”

“Nay, the foolish ol’ mon. He was just as daft and ignorant as ye are. Would have killed him myself, had he no’ already gotten himself at the end of the noose.”

“Ye will no’ get away wit’ this, John.”

Whispering in her ear, his voice became chilling. “I already have. And now that I got rid of Laird Moray and that Highland friend of yers, there is no one to stand in me way.”

“Bram,” Lara’s voice weakened. “What have ye done?”

“Only the same thing I am going to do to ye. My wee sister; so upset that her Highland warrior left that she could no’ go on living. ‘Tis a shame, yer death. I promise ye will be mourned and will have a Christian burial.”

“Ye sick and wicked mon,” Lara yelled, and tried to break free from his grasp.       

As John tilted his head back and laughed, Lara kicked him in the groin, causing him to drop the dagger. Lara successfully jerked herself out of his hold, ran to the door, and tried to open it, but it was locked from the inside. Lara ran to the corner of the room, searching for something to use as a weapon. She was trapped like a mouse. She began picking up random objects around the room, throwing them in John’s direction and aiming for his head. But he kept stalking towards her.

Before Lara could scream, John had her pinned down to the ground, bumping the back of her head on the floor. She tried to break free, she tried to push him off of her, but it was no use. John was too big and too heavy.

Bram jiggled the locked door handle to Lara’s room, hearing the commotion going on behind it. With one powerful kick, he burst through the door and immediately tackled John to the ground. Within moments, John had Bram pinned down, his hands wrapped around his throat. As Bram struggled to kick John off of him, he noticed the dagger on the floor just a few feet away from him. Bram reached as far as he could to grab the dagger. With the tips of his fingers, he dragged it closer to him until he could firmly grip the handle. Bringing the dagger up, he plunged it into John’s back. John’s lifeless body collapsed to the floor. Bram pulled his legs from where they were buried underneath the dead man’s body, freeing himself.

On his knees, he crawled over to where Lara was lying on the floor. He began assessing her wounds, even though Lara protested. Never had he been so scared of losing someone before, and he never wanted to feel that way again. Still lying on the floor, Bram hovered over her. Lara’s sterling eyes sparkled like the sun reflecting off polished metal. His feelings for her were as strong as steel. Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her with all his heart and soul.

“Ach, what is the meaning of this?” a guard said, standing in the doorway with mouth agape. “You, you killed the young King.” In a high pitched voice the man yelled out, “Guards, guards.”

Suddenly, a group of armed men came running from down the hallway and piled into the bedchamber. Grabbing Bram by his arm pits, lifting him to his feet, two of the guards held him firmly while the other two grabbed onto Lara.

“Dinna hurt her,” Bram roared, trying to break free.

“You just wait until King Eric hears about your treachery, you murderous bastard,” one of the guards holding him stated in a deep and stern, tone as he punched Bram square in the stomach, hoping to weaken him further.

“Bram!” Lara yelled out.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Eric bellowed, his voice booming so loud everyone fell silent.

“This man killed King John,” a guard replied.

Eric looked beyond the group of them to John’s lifeless body. His face showed no expression, but when he turned to see the two guards who had apprehended Lara, Eric’s heavy-lidded eyes narrowed.

With his brow furrowed and lips pursed, he demanded, “Release my daughter. That is an order.”

The guards looked at each other as if the King had gone daft. For what they knew, the King’s only daughter was a bairn of no more than one year old. They stood as if they were frozen like a statue. They simply just did not know what to think.

“I said release her,” Eric roared louder.

The two guards holding Lara quickly let go.

“And you can release him as well,” he said, nodding his head in Bram’s direction.

“But Sir,” one of the other guards said, but snapped his mouth shut at the dark expression Eric turned on him.

“I will settle this mess. Now leave us.”

The four guards looked at each other before leaving the room, clearly confused by their king’s behavior.

As they left, Eric closed the door and asked, “What happened here?” His question was directed to Bram, but it was Lara who spoke up first.

“Father, dinna blame Bram. John tried to kill me. He knew all along that I was yer daughter but wanted the throne fer himself. He was the one behind all of the lies and deception. I fear that if Bram had not stopped him, he would have killed ye and Queen Isobel as well.”

Eric searched her eyes and knew she spoke the truth. “Then, you have done me and my country a great service. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for saving my daughter.”

Bram stepped forward and kneeled down before him.

“I only ask one thing, my Lord. I wish fer yer daughter’s hand in marriage. If she will have me,” Bram asked, more nervous than he had ever felt before.

Knots formed in his stomach and his mouth felt dry. Wringing his hands together he anxiously waited for a reply.

“Will ye marry me, lass,” he asked looking back over to a stunned, wide-eyed Lara.

“Nay,” she whispered.

Bram’s sweet demeanor was quickly replaced by bitter rejection. That was not the response he had expected.

“I want to, but I can no’ marry ye. If I were to marry ye, I would have to leave here. I have just only met my father two days ago and with his illness, I may no’ have much time left wit’ him.”

Bram’s heart ached. He wanted Lara more than anything he had ever wanted.

“Then I guess ye leave me nay choice,” he responded.

Both Eric and Lara looked at him in utter confusion. Lara could feel a lump beginning to form in the back of her throat. She truly wanted to marry Bram, but her heart was pulled in two different directions. Lara felt as if he had just ripped her heart right out of her chest. But she wanted him to have it, to take it with him and know that she would forever and always love him.

“I will just have to stay here, then. But ye will marry me, that is, of course, if I may have yer blessing,” he said turning to Eric, trying to hold back his smile.

“I would be most honored, Bram MacKinnon, to call you my son,” Eric replied.

Lara leaped towards Bram and jumped into his arms. Bram lifted her up and swung her around, as Eric laughed at their youthful affectionate display.

In a private ceremony, Lara and Bram exchanged vows. Bram did not want a wedding with many guests he did not know. Plus, it did not feel right without his brother or mother being there. He rather preferred the quiet intimacy of a small wedding with only those who needed to be there present, though he did consent to the Queen and King joining them in their celebration. Bram found it hard to say no to her, which was something he promised himself he would work on. He most certainly couldn’t have a lass ordering him around as though he were a lovesick puppy, obeying her every command.

As the priest announced them man and wife, Bram kissed her quickly, eager to take his new bride to their bedchamber. He did not want to wait any longer. Disappointment shot threw him like a kick to the groin, as Queen Isobel announced she had planned a celebratory meal. On the table within the great hall were platters full of roasted lamb and venison.

King Eric made a toast. “May the light find you in your darkest hours, may your home be filled with love and laughter, and may your life be full of many sweet babes. Let us eat and rejoice at this delightful celebration.”    

The four of them raised their mugs and drank their bittersweet wine. As quickly as he could, Bram cleared his plate. Having a quick bite would only help increase his stamina. He knew that he was going to need all of the energy he had this night, for he planned on taking his wife more than once before the night was through.

As they finished their meal, Bram held out his arm to Lara. Excusing their early departure, they walked out of the great hall hand in hand.

“By the saints, if that damn room was no’ three flights up the stairs,” Bram growled as he picked Lara up in his arms and ran up the stairs two steps at a time. He did not want to wait another minute.

Bram carried Lara over the threshold and into their bedchamber. Tonight, he would show her pleasures she never thought possible, and he couldn’t get her into the room fast enough. His body ached with need, and though he did not know how long this night would last, he would take his time with her, to kiss and explore every inch of her soft creamy body.

As they entered the room, Bram closed the door behind him and set her down gently onto the floor. Forcefully, he pushed her up against the back of the door. Pressing his body against hers, he lowered his head and caught her lips. As he swept his tongue inside her mouth, Lara moaned.

Dropping to one bent knee, Bram slid he hands down her sides, around her hips and the full length of her legs. The fingers of one hand crawled up her leg under her skirt. He could hear the sound of Lara’s breath increase as his hand glided further north. With one hand firmly pressing on the back of her rump, he moved the other to the crevice between her legs. His fingers pushed past the apex of her thighs and slid one finger inside of her velvety wet skin.