The Laird of Stonehaven (36 page)

Blair dropped to her knees and grasped the king’s hand. “Thank you, sire. I will name my son James in your honor.”

“Douglas James,” Graeme amended. “I would honor Blair’s father for giving her to me.”

“So it should be,” James said, hiding a smile behind his hand.

“Sire, I protest!” Niall said. “Ye’re making a big mistake.”

“Return to your home, Niall MacArthur, and be glad I do not impose a punishment for attempting to keep your sister’s dowry for yourself. If you do not release Lady Blair’s dowry into her husband’s keeping, I will call you to task.

“And you, MacKay,” James continued. “You are guilty of making false accusations, even though you rescind them now. I traveled here for naught when I am needed elsewhere. Return to your keep and do not let me hear of any more trouble between the MacKays and the Campbells.”

“Aye, sire, thank you, sire,” MacKay said, anxious to escape the king’s wrath. He owed Campbell a great deal for keeping his secret and planned no more raids on his neighbor. As for Blair, Campbell was welcome to the witch.

The king rose and waved his hand dismissively. “You may all return to your homes.”

Graeme extended his hand to Blair, and she started toward him. She took but two steps when alarm bells reverberated inside her head. She spun around, searching for the source of danger. A cry caught in her throat when she saw a wild-eyed Gunna rushing toward her, a slash of sunlight glinting off the dirk she held in her hand.

Blair’s legs felt as if they were rooted to the ground. She glanced at Graeme and saw that his attention had been momentarily diverted by the king and he was leaning close to hear what James was saying. No one else was close enough to stop Gunna. The king’s men-at-arms were busy ushering people from the hall, and Graeme’s guardsmen were making their way to the tables piled high with food and drink.

Gunna’s crazed screech did what Blair had been unable to do. It brought everyone’s attention to Blair and what was happening, but Blair held scant hope that anyone could reach her in time to prevent her death.

“Die, witch!” Gunna screamed. “May the devil take yer soul.”

Blair heard Graeme call her name, bringing her out of her trancelike state. Gunna was almost upon her; Blair didn’t know which way to turn to escape, and Graeme was still too far away to help her.

Then something strange happened. Gunna was but steps away when she tripped over an unseen obstacle. Blair watched in morbid fascination as Gunna crashed to the floor. Graeme reached Blair a moment later, gathering her into the protective circle of his arms. She buried her face against his chest, striving to control her trembling.

Father Lachlan knelt beside Gunna and turned her over. Then he hastily crossed himself and shook his head. “Gunna is dead. God rest her soul.”

Blair spun out of Graeme’s arms. “How did she die?”

“She fell on her own dirk, lass,” Father Lachlan explained. “The blade embedded itself in her heart. She died instantly.”

“I saw her fall and still don’t understand how it happened,” the king said as he joined them. His probing gaze went from Blair to Gunna and back to Blair. “And I don’t want to know. Take the dead woman away.”

“I will take care of everything,” Father Lachlan said.

Blair felt utterly drained. She couldn’t believe it was finally over. Graeme’s clansmen hadn’t turned against her, the king had declared her innocent of witchcraft, and the spirits still protected her.

“Laird Campbell,” the king called, beckoning to Graeme.

Clasping Blair to his side, Graeme approached the king.

“Aye, sire. What is your desire?”

“I intend to leave immediately for Edinburgh. I’ve wasted enough time here. I’ve already instructed my entourage to prepare for departure. I have been long gone, and my wife is most anxious for my return.”

“I wish you Godspeed, sire,” Graeme said. “Take whatever provisions from the kitchens you need for your journey.”

King James nodded. “So I shall.” He turned to Blair. “May your bairn arrive healthy and live a long life. Apprise me of the birth and I will stand godfather.”

“You do us great honor, sire,” Blair said, dropping into a curtsey.

“ ’Tis the least I can do for what you have been put through.” He searched her face, his eyes narrowed in speculation. “I still don’t understand how Gunna came to such a sad end. Is there aught you wish to tell me?”

“I’m as puzzled as you are, sire,” Blair replied truthfully. Had her spirits intervened to save her? She might have her suspicions, but it was not something she could share with the king.

“Well, then”—James waved airily—“I see my men are ready and so I must depart.”

“Should you ever have need of the Campbells, sire, you have but to summon us. We are ever ready to defend our king and country.”

Blair and Graeme stood outside on the stairs until the king and his entourage rode through the gate. Then they returned to the keep and mounted the staircase to the solar, unaware of the smiles they left in their wake.

When they reached the top landing, Graeme swept Blair into his arms and carried her to their bedchamber. She clung to him with desperate need. If her brother had had his way, she and Graeme would have been separated forever. Worse, she would have been convicted of witchcraft and burned at the stake.

“It’s over, love,” Graeme said as he set Blair down on the bed and settled beside her. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

“ ’Twas MacKay’s retraction that convinced the king,” Blair mused.

“Aye. I bargained with MacKay for your life. I didna tell you because I feared MacKay wouldna betray his pact with Niall.”

“What kind of bargain?”

“I simply promised MacKay I wouldna tell James about the treasure if he would retract his charges against you. He knew the king would confiscate a large share of his wealth if he was made aware of its existence, and that must have decided him in our favor.”

“ ’Tis a shame MacKay will get to keep all the treasure for himself when the king is in desperate need of money.”

Graeme grinned. “Methinks the treasure willna remain a secret long. MacKay’s kinsmen know about it, and rumors will soon reach the king. Forget MacKay and your evil brother, lass. You’ll never have to see them again.”

Blair sent him a wary look. “You’ll not stop me from using my healing skills?”

“I could no more prevent you from using your gift of healing than I could stop rain from falling. As for the voices you hear and the spirits that visit you, I canna stop that either, though I will remain watchful of those who would harm you because of them. I agree with Father Lachlan. You are blessed by God . . . and you are mine.”

Blair sighed. “I have always been yours, Graeme.”

“I know. You said I came to you in your dreams. Tell me how I came to you.”

She snuggled against him. “You came to me naked,” she confided. “Though you came to me many times, I didna see your face until the night before you arrived at Gairloch. Even then I knew not your identity.”

“I came to you naked?” Graeme said, clearly intrigued.

“Aye, you were my phantom lover. I felt your body against mine, felt your heat and virility. I was told you were my future and never doubted it. But I knew I couldna love you.”

“But you did.”

“Oh, aye, I most certainly did . . . do.” She lifted her face for his kiss and he gladly obliged.

One kiss led to another and soon they were tearing off each other’s clothing. Graeme bore her down onto the bed, then hesitated.

“You’re tired, lass. You’ve been through a harrowing experience and should rest.”

“I’ll rest later. I need you to love me. I’ve never needed anything more in my life. I cringe to think how close we came to being parted forever.”

His mouth claimed hers, but his kiss didn’t demand. His lips settled tenderly over hers; the tip of his tongue teased as lightly as butterfly wings. Her lips opened; the sensual stroke of his tongue filled her senses. His hand moved over her breast, cupping and cradling the weight of it, massaging her distended nipple with his palm.

His weight shifted down her body. His mouth closed over her breast, his tongue stroking her nipple. She moaned as honeyed warmth spread downward. Urgency seized her, and her knees fell apart invitingly, waiting for him to come inside her. Instead he made his way down her body, parted the golden fleece at the juncture of her thighs and kissed her intimately.

She undulated sensuously beneath his tender assault, her cries filling the chamber. Overcome by turbulent emotions, she gasped out a ragged breath, her fingers tearing into the bedclothes as pleasure seared through her. Then she exploded, straining against him as anguished joy filled her senses.

“I love you, Blair,” Graeme said as he shifted upward and filled her with himself.

Beyond speech, Blair let her body speak for her. Winding her legs around his waist, she raised her hips to meet his downward thrust. They moved together, her inner muscles clutching his hard flesh as his hot, slick strokes drove her toward another climax.

She screamed. His mouth caught her sobs of ecstasy. Then she felt his body wrench in a massive shudder, and she knew his pleasure matched hers in intensity. Moments later he collapsed against her, spent, his breath rasping harshly in her ear. Then, as if suddenly aware of the baby she carried, he rose up and peered down at her, his expression anxious.

“Did I hurt you, lass?” He shifted away from her and brought her into his arms.

“You would never hurt me, Graeme. The bairn and I are fine. I promise that wee Douglas James will come into this world hale and hearty.”

Douglas James was born six months later, as hale and hearty as Blair had predicted. A great celebration was planned in honor of his birth. When the king was notified, he and his queen honored Graeme and his clansmen by traveling to Stonehaven for the baptism.

During the week-long celebration, Stuart and Alyce announced their intention to wed. When the king suggested that they wed before he returned to Edinburgh, an impromptu ceremony, officiated by Father Lachlan, was held.

The night following the king’s departure, Graeme and Blair made love for the first time since their son’s birth. Afterward, as she lay sleeping in Graeme’s arms, she dreamed of the king’s death . . . and woke up screaming.

Graeme held her until she was coherent enough to explain her dream.

“I saw the king’s death,” she whispered.

Graeme started violently. “Did he die of natural causes?”

Blair shook her head. “Nay. The king will die at the hands of conspirators who hope to win the throne.”

“Who are the conspirators?”

“I dinna ken. I saw his assassination but little else. I dinna know when or where it will occur. It could happen tomorrow, next year, or years from now.”

“Nevertheless, I must warn him.”

Blair shook her head. “Nay, my love. ’Tis the king’s fate. It’s not our place to interfere.” She paused. “That’s not all. I also saw MacKay’s death. ’Twas the curse. It wasna a pretty end.”

Graeme shuddered and held her closer. “What about our future, lass?”

She smiled dreamily. “We are fated to be together always. There are more children and years of peace and prosperity in our future. We will love one another until the end of our days and beyond.”

“And so we will,” Graeme concurred. “Until the end of our days and beyond.”

And so they did.

I hope you enjoyed
Laird of Stonehaven
. It’s a departure from my usual historical, but I believe that changing direction from time to time keeps my writing fresh. One thing I don’t want to do is bore my readers.

King James was murdered at Perth in 1437 by conspirators who hoped to win the throne for Walter, earl of Athol. James’s six-year-old son was crowned in 1437 at Holyrood Abby, Edinburgh.

My next release,
The Last Rogue
, will return to 1815 England. Unrepentant rogue Lucas, Viscount Westmore, has no problem maintaining his reputation without his two recently wed friends, Bathurst and Braxton. But an unforeseen tragedy causes Westmore to renounce sex. And he takes his vow of celibacy so seriously that he leaves the temptations of London behind for the wilds of Cornwall.

Can a scandalous rogue change his ways? Can Luc give up sex and live like a monk? The smuggling operation he discovers brings him into contact with the kind of woman he’s never met before. Can Bliss make him rediscover his lost sexuality? You’ll have to read
The Last Rogue
to find out.

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[email protected]
. To read preview chapters, view covers and find a complete listing of my books, visit my Web site at www.conniemason.com.