Highland Daydreams (18 page)

As they interlocked their fingers, Lara slowly started to calm herself as if she was descending from an imaginary summit.

“I ne’er want ye to leave,” she whispered against his lips.

With her eyes still closed, she rubbed her cheek against his stubble and breathed him in. Bram loosened his embrace just enough to smile down at her. Raising his hand, he gently rubbed the side of her cheek. Lara’s eyes were misty; not from sadness or anger, but from a sort of bliss she had never known. Reminiscing over the past few weeks, she knew her feelings were as certain as the moon and the stars that hung in the heavens. She loved him with her whole heart.

Startled by a loud pounding at the door, Lara was swept back into reality and jumped out of Bram’s embrace. Heaven knew what would happen if her father came upon them, only hours after the death of her husband, bastard though he was. Trying to gain composure, Lara patted down her hair and straightened her dress on her shoulders. With a deep breath, she opened the door.

“My lady, you have been summoned to meet in the library,” one of the royal guards informed.

“Summoned? By whom?”

“King Magnusson, my lady.”

Why would the king want to see her? She held no title or land and was no one of importance. Nervously, she looked back at Bram. Biting her bottom lip, Lara followed the guard down the long hallway, with Bram following closely behind.

Eric stood next to the windowsill, staring out into the valley below. Heated by his discussion with William, he was convinced that William had lied. His story did not make any sense and was full of holes, as if he purposely meant to keep out important details. Eric may have been old and his memory had been fading from time to time since his illness, but he was not daft enough to overlook such. He needed to be able to trust William and his son.

His decision to fabricate the relationship of John as his cousin’s son, allowing him to take the throne, had not come easy. But his hatred for his brother made the decision vital for his people and all of Norway. His brother did not support the war with Denmark, which was critical for Norway to maintain political power. He feared that if his brother became king, Norway would fall into the hands of either the English or the French.

William sat quietly across the room from where Eric was standing. Both of them waited for Lara to arrive. William tried to speak to defend himself, and tried to convince him that his daughter was daft and did not know how to present herself in front of royalty, but Eric would hear none of it. He would meet the lass and calm his wife’s worry.

Standing in front of the tall wooden door, Lara swallowed hard. It was nerve-wracking enough having to speak to the queen, but speaking to the King created an entirely different whirl of emotions. The doors to the library were carved with tiny spiral designs, and looked more like a work of art than just a door. Lara thought that even the handle was too fancy for such a simple object. Nervously, she grabbed onto Bram’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Bram returned the grip with equal pressure.

“Ye will be alright,” Bram said, as he placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

All Lara could do was smile. She had never been so nervous in her life. As the guard turned the handle, he pushed the door inward. The bright light from the room lit the dark corridor. Inside, Lara could see her father with King Magnusson, who was standing by the window with his back towards her.

Dropping Bram’s hand before her father could see their display of affection, Lara slowly crept inside the room. As she stood in the center of the room, the guard excused himself and closed the door behind him. Lara looked over at her father. Seeing the anger painted on his face, Lara looked down, feeling like the ungrateful daughter she had been over the past two days. She had openly dishonored and defied him, and knew that her actions could have severe consequences.

Lara did not realize what she had done by coming here. It was because of her that Dermot had followed her here, and it was because of her that he was dead. What made matters worse was that she brought dishonor to her family, and was sure that the king would punish her and her father for her disobedience. She could do only one thing - ask King Magnusson to spare her family and her family’s name, and she would accept whatever punishment he saw fit.

“Yer majesty, my Lord. It is me that ye have quarrel wit, no’ my father or my brother. Laird Moray came here fer me, and I alone am responsible fer his actions here today. Fer that I know that I must be punished,” Lara said bowing to him.

Staring down at the floor, she did not dare raise her gaze, for doing so would show as much insult as if she were to tell the King he smelled of horse dung.     

Eric kept his eyes fixed on the scenery below his window. He was taken aback by the girl’s words. Never would he have thought that William would have raised such an outspoken daughter. He took a sip of his whiskey and turned to face the bold lass standing in the middle of the room.

At the sight of her, he felt as if his heart stopped beating. His breath seized. Eric’s reaction caused him to loosen his grip on his tankard of whiskey. As if the room stood still, the mug crashed onto the floor and shattered. The sound of tiny fragments scattering across the wooden floor, echoed throughout the room. In the pit of his stomach, he felt an overwhelming sense of anger and sadness colliding within him like an angry storm. He felt cold, yet began to sweat profusely and suddenly found it hard to breathe.

In a trembling voice, he murmured, “Margaret? But you’re dead!”

“Nay, my Lord, my name is Lara Fergusson. I mean, Lara Moray,” Lara quickly corrected him, though curious why he would believe she was his dead daughter.

Eric turned and looked at William. Lara did not mistake the look in his eyes. She could have sworn they turned as black as coal. Lara believed that his building anger was so great that his eyes could have turned burning red while smoke exhaled from his nostrils like a mighty dragon. But rather than a dragon, this was a beast of another kind. A tormented man.

“What sort of black magic is this?” Eric questioned as he stood towering over William.

William sat quiet and turned his head from Eric. Grabbing his collar, Eric lifted him from his chair and dragged him across the floor until he was pinned up against the wall. Lara gasped as her father was attacked.

“Who is she?” Eric asked, as he pressed his hand tighter around William’s throat. “Answer me!” Eric roared.

Gasping for air, William choked out, “Margaret’s daughter.”

Eric stood still for a moment, soaking in what William had just said.

“Liar! Margaret’s children were all stillborn. Only Maid Margaret survived past infancy.”

William coughed as he struggled to breath, “Nay. The lads were stillborn. The lass survived. Ye were so blind and foolish ye dinna deserve her. I loved Margaret. And if ye were nay in the way, she would have run off wit’ me to Scotland, no’ her sister Elsa. Once Margaret found out she was wit’ child, she refused to leave ye. It was because of her,” he choked out. “Lara was the reason why Margaret stayed wit’ ye. I could nay have Margaret, so I took from ye what ye held most dear. Yer child.”

“Why? Why would you raise her as your own?”

“Because I knew ye would need an heir. I never thought ye would find out about her.”

“My throne! You did all of this because you were after my throne,” Eric stated, acknowledging William’s true purpose for offering John as his vassal.

Eric then turned to Lara. Feeling overwhelmed with pity for her, he realized that she too had been lied to. He could not imagine what the lass was feeling or thinking. All he knew was that she was his daughter, and would make William pay for what he had done to them both.

Lara shook her head. “It can nay be true,” she whispered so quietly that only she could hear. Lara wanted to cover her ears; she could not stand to hear any more of it. Her own family had betrayed her. Her father, her mother. She only wondered if John also knew the truth, or if he too had been just a pawn in this game.  

“William Fergusson,” Eric growled, “You have committed treason and kidnapping and are to be condemned to death. By sunset tomorrow you will be hanged by the neck until life has been taken from you. May God save your wicked soul, for ye are bound for hell!”

Lara stood stone silent for several moments as the guards carried her father out of the room. She felt as if her whole world had spun out of control. Everything had been a lie. What was she to do now? With teary eyes she glanced up to the king, her father. She could feel the weight of his stare. His eyes were the same silvery grey as hers, and he too had the raven-black hair that matched her own. It all made sense. She never questioned why she looked so different from her mother and father, both of whom had bright red hair. But it was all because her father - or the man she thought to be her father - had kidnapped her from her real parents. Had she known, had there been any clue, she would have… Lara’s mind went blank. In truth, she didn’t know what she would have done.

Without a word, Lara turned and ran out the door. Running past the guard and up the flight of stairs, she ran into John and Bram, who were sitting on the top step drinking a tankard of ale. Noticing her distress, Bram quickly stood and wrapped his arms around her before sitting down next to her on the top step.

“I heard what happened to yer father. Are ye alright?”

Lara said nothing, but shook her head. She was anything but alright. He was he only thing in her life that was real.

“I swear to ye, I dinna ken,” John said, lifting her chin to look at him. “How,for all this time, did he and mother keep that secret from us?”

“I dinna ken. Oh, Brother, it was all our father’s doing. He lied to everyone. The King has sentenced him to death.”

“I should have known. I am sorry, Lara. I should have protected you better. I should have been a better brother. He committed many crimes, and he deserves what is coming to him. His greed almost destroyed everything. He is a vicious mon, Lara. Do no’ pity him.”

“The treasure!” Lara exclaimed, and backed out of Bram’s embrace.

“What?” John curiously asked.

Suddenly, Lara began to pace back and forth murmuring to herself.

“It all makes sense. There was ne’er any treasure. Dinna ye see? It was me, all along. I am the treasure he received from the Norse King. It was me! That is why nay one had ever seen it. It was right before their eyes.”

Bram looked at Lara thoughtfully. Perhaps there was justice in the world. The treasure was not a chest of gold, as Dermot had believed. It was something more precious than any amount of coin or jewels. It was a beautiful, black-haired bairn with sterling grey eyes, the heiress to the Norwegian throne. Dermot had held the treasure, had unknowingly thrown it away, and then had died trying to get it back, still not realizing the truth of what he sought.

John’s face turned grim. “I want to see him.”

“Ye cannae see him. The king had him escorted to the dungeon. He said that father… William… was to hang by sunset tomorrow,” Lara cried out.

“Then I will ask the king myself,” John said, as he stood and began walking down the hall.

Lara ran to his side.

“What about yer coronation?”

“It will have to wait.”

“I would like to join ye,” she asked.

“Are ye sure ye want to do that, lass?” Bram asked.

“Aye. I must do this. I need to do this,” she responded.

The three of them walked down to the library. The door was open and there was no guard in sight. Inside, Eric was sitting at his desk, with Queen Isobel by his side. He looked up when John stepped inside the wooden door frame.

“Yes?” Eric said looking back and forth between them.

“Yer majesty. I wish to see my father. I want to hear from his own lips what he has done, to me, to my sister,” John asked in a sincere tone.

“Please,” Lara asked, stepping within view of the king.

Eric’s heart softened looking into Lara’s eyes. She looked so much like her mother. It had been almost ten years since his wife Margaret had passed. The good Lord had taken her the day their daughter Maid Margaret was born. Eric had thought that when the Lord took Maid Margaret home with him to heaven that the Lord was punishing him. He’d repented his sins every sermon, once a week during the holy day, though he feared God could not hear him. But now, here, standing in front of him, was proof that the Lord had listened to his prayers. No longer did he feel like Job, as the priest had taught him.