Highland Daydreams (8 page)

Bram watched as the skin between Stephen’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Fergusson? Why would ye go so far west? And to that bastard’s land?” Stephen growled.

“I am traveling wit’ a lass. I have vowed to protect her and see her safely home to her family.”

“I am no’ allied wit’ the Fergussons and neither are ye. That bastard is the English King’s vassal. Why would ye want to help a Fergusson lass? Did prison turn ye into an eejit?”

“I ken they are not allies. But she saved my life. She dinna ken that our clans feud. She kens nothing of politics and nay about who their enemies are.”

“Well, she must be a clever lass fer ye to be so trustin’ of her. Either that or she is daft.”

“I made a promise, Stephen. I am no’ going to break it.”

Stephen’s eyes narrowed, “She must mean a great deal to ye for ye to risk traveling through the black forest and Fergusson land.”

Bram glared at him for his suggestion. The man thought to insult him and Lara. He would not stand there and let Lara’s honor be questioned. If he had to, he would toss Stephen on his arse until he minded his tongue.

In a deep growl, he replied, “As I said, I owe her my life and fer that, I am helping the lass. That is all.”

“I dinna mean any disrespect. If ye need safe passage I can have me men send a message to the Campbells on yer behalf. Take what supplies ye need,” Stephen offered. “We have been friends a long time, Bram, and I will help ye, but if it comes to war, I will no’ be a part of it.”

Bram nodded. “I thank ye fer yer hospitality. When I return home, I will make sure my brother pays ye in kind.”

Stephen gave him a grim look before responding.

“Take the road to the west and then north through the woods. The English troops have been spotted to the west. Ye should nay have any trouble if ye keep off the road.”

“Thank ye.”

Stephen bid him farewell and walked back inside the keep. Bram turned and headed in the opposite direction towards the casemate. There he found weapons, armor and a few logs of peat. Marg, one of the servants, came in and gave him extra clothing, a blanket, and food. Once he’d stored the supplies in the saddle bags, he left to head back to Dumfries.

Lara swirled the remaining wine in her cup before taking another sip. The taste of cloves and nutmeg lingered on her lips. It reminded her of her mother, Elsa. Elsa drank heavily and favored the wine. As much as Lara carried with her fond memories of her mother, she only remembered her mother’s unexplained sadness towards the end. She was a woman who could never be pleased, and would always fight and argue with Lara’s father, though Lara never knew why. On the night she passed, she had summoned Lara to her bed chamber. She spoke of mishaps and regrets but Lara did not understand any of it and by the time the fever came she was talking nonsense. Lara forced her thoughts back to the present, finished her cup of mulled wine, and returned to the market.

As she made her way through the carts of beautiful fabrics, she ran her hand across the rolls of silk and lace. Lara had missed the gowns and riding dresses she was forced to leave behind at Castle Foley when she fled. She was grateful that Rowena had given her a gown to wear, as her gown had been so badly damaged. But she couldn’t help thinking to herself that the wool fabric made her sweat more than a farmer working in the blistering sun.

As she admired the linen and lace, Lara saw from the corner of her eye someone following her. It was the woman who Bram had spoken to earlier. Her conspicuous behavior made it hard for Lara to ignore. Slowly, the woman approached.

“Good day to you, my lady. Tis good fortune that our paths have crossed. I know what is in your future,” the woman said.

The woman spoke with a French accent. Lara eyed her curiously.

“My future? And how do ye ken of such things?” Lara asked.

“Follow me into my tent and I can show you,” she said grabbing onto Lara’s upper arm and escorting her into a large tent with dark red linen walls.

“Ye are nay a merchant?” Lara asked as she vividly recalled her standing next to one of the carts in the market.

“Of sorts,” the woman replied.

Inside the tent was a small round table with two chairs sitting opposite each other. In the middle of the table were small stones with bizarre markings and a small stack of thick pieces of paper with painted pictures of exotic and unusual designs. Lara was hesitant for a moment but accepted the chair when the woman offered for her to sit.

“Ye are a gypsy!” Lara exclaimed, her voice louder than it had been before.

The woman laughed at Lara’s reaction.

“I am a woman of many talents. Telling futures is just one of them.”

Lara squinted her eyes in skepticism and waited for the woman to speak. She was curious as to how the woman would perform such a task, for no one, even Lara, could not know her future. She decided that this sort of activity was made for a good jest or wishful thinking but did not for a fleeting moment believe that this woman could predict the future.

Patiently, she sat and waited. The woman grasped the stack of paper and pulled out three pieces at random. The first card was flipped over, showing a picture of a man who looked as if he was in pain. He slumped over to one side and his face had a saddened look upon it.

“I see death. But this death is not in the future, but in the past.”

Lara swallowed hard. She did not know the meaning behind what the woman said. The only person who had died was her mother, but the woman could not have known that. However, it could have been said about anyone as the statement was vague and she did not mention to whom she referred. Lara continued to watch and listen.

Her eyes followed the woman’s hand as she flipped over the next one. The painting depicted a picture of a jeweled golden cup similar to one she imagined would be used for royalty. The drawing itself, Lara thought, was drawn by a very talented artist.

“You are searching for something. No’ a place, or a person. A treasure mayhap?” she said in a gravelly tone.

Lara took her eyes off the painted card and popped her head up. Suddenly, this fortune-telling was becoming all too real for her.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she murmured, “How can ye ken that?”

“I can only tell you what the cards say. I cannot explain why.”

“How can ye or yer cards ken that?”

“If my cards say tis real, than tis real,” the woman barked. “Perhaps it is not for you to find the treasure.”

Abruptly pushing herself from the chair, Lara stood. She was no longer going to subject herself to this woman’s insanity. She had learned nothing by this encounter and all it had done was aggravate her. She wished that she had never agreed to enter the tent with this foolish woman. And this experience was far from entertaining. The woman had said things, things she could not have known. Lara felt that her first instinct was correct; the woman was nothing more than a fraud with a silver tongue.

Noticing Lara had become upset, the woman said, “I can only tell you what the cards say, my lady. But I can tell you this. That whatever answers you are searching for will only lead you into danger. In truth, I know who you are, and I know that you are in more danger than you think.”

“Danger! From whom? How do ye ken me?”

“You are in danger from the men sent to find you. A group of them passed through here just last night. I do not know who they are, but they were to make certain that you do not return.”

“What makes ye think they search fer me?”

“Because, ye are Lady Moray, are ye not? Though their description of you does not do you justice.”

After a few silent moments between them, Lara turned and walked out of the tent and back into the sea of shoppers. After walking only a few steps, she became dizzy. Her stomach twisted in knots and she could not stop her hands from shaking.
Dermot
, she thought. Had he found out she’d escaped the English, he would have indeed sent men out to search for her.

She looked around at the faces of the people passing by to see if she recognized any of them. Once her stomach settled enough for her to walk, she quickly made her way back to the tavern to wait for Bram.

Bram returned to Dumfries just as people were beginning to close their shops and pack away the items stacked on the carts. He walked past a stall that had a variety of colored silk and linen dresses and other women’s wear. His thoughts turned to Lara and the oversized wool dress she had been wearing. The wool dress, he thought, must be hot and uncomfortable for her, though she had not complained once.

Interrupting a seamstress packing away her wares, he inquired about the cost of a dark blue gown that caught his eye. He thought the rich color would look beautiful on Lara with her dark hair. Not that he had much of a fashion sense about such things, but blue was his favorite color. He couldn’t deny his impulse to see Lara covered in such a fine fabric.

While he was there, he also thought to buy her a pair of boots. Traveling barefoot, especially in the woods, was never a good idea, even if one’s feet were as calloused as his. He imagined her feet to be small and delicate. Unsure of Lara’s size, he useds the seamstress’ size as a reference. It was a good thing that the woman was not plump, otherwise he would not have known how to describe the lass without insulting this one. Once he’d paid for the items and placed them in the saddle bags, he rode towards the tavern hoping to find Lara unharmed.

He found Lara inside the tavern at the far end of the room, sitting at a table surrounded by men. His hand went right to the hilt of his sword and he marched towards them. Listening to the drunken fools, he could tell they openly flirted with her. They asked to buy her drinks, or share a dance.

“Nay, thank ye. I am waiting here fer someone,” she said to them as they huddled around her.

“Ah, come on lassie. Just one wee dance. ‘Tis all I’m asking,” one of the men said, placing his hand upon her shoulder.

“Best ye remove yer hand Sir, if ye favor it,” Lara snapped and scooted away.

Bram grinned when he heard her sharp tongue but the fact that they were still trying to pursue her did not sit well with him. If anyone was going to pursue the lass, it was going to be him. He would not idly stand there and allow any other man the opportunity. If the need arose, he would fight off every one of these bastards, throw her over his shoulder, and walk out the door.

“I believe the lass said nay to yer advances,” Bram growled.

Four of the men that surrounded Lara turned their heads in his direction. Three of them were smaller than Bram and looked as if they were about to piss their trews. The fourth, however, was similar to Bram in size, and did not take Bram’s interruption too kindly. The man crossed his arms over his chest and stood in front of Lara; blocking her from Bram’s view.

“And who are ye to say that the lass willnae change her mind?”

“I am her escort,” Bram replied, trying to keep calm.

Clutching his free hand into a tight fist, Bram’s anger rose, and this man added fuel to the fire. The other men took a step back.

“Well, it seems she has a new escort now,” the man declared.

Chuckling, the man turned his attention back to Lara. With one foot up on a chair and the other planted on the ground, he leaned towards her. Bram could feel the heat of his anger rising. It was a force to be reckoned with. Like a wild beast protecting its young, Bram swung his fist and punched the man hard on the side of his head, causing him to flip over the table and go tumbling to the ground. Bram stood over him, waiting for the man to get up and continue to brawl, but the man did not move. His head lolled to the side, his eyes remained closed, and spittle dripped from the left corner of his mouth. Bram had knocked him out cold. As for the other three, Bram watched as they cowered, then took off running out the door. As mad as a raging storm, Bram stomped back to where Lara was still sitting at the table. She looked affright, but something inside of him knew that it wasn’t the men that frightened her, it was him. 

In a brash voice, he uttered, “It is time to go, lass.”  

As they walked out the door, Bram said nothing to her. He knew that she must have thought his actions were harsh and uncalled for, but he had good reason. It had driven him mad seeing those men huddled around her; flirting and making advances. He justified what he had done by his promise to protect her, but he knew that he would only be fooling himself.