The Beast

by McQueen, Hildie

  She was flushed from the ride, her cheeks bright pink and her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she took in the surroundings.

  “Yer sister told me ye would be here because ye rarely go anywhere. So, I took a chance to come and speak to ye. Now that I consider it, I should have asked for an escort. However, everyone is so busy at the keep. I hate to be a bother…” She stopped talking and met his gaze.

  “I am interrupting yer meal. Please sit. Eat. I already ate before leaving.”

  In truth he was hungry, so after motioning for Beatrice to sit, he poured more ale for her and lowered to his chair.

  “What brings ye here?” he asked and began to eat again.

  Beatrice let out a long sigh. “First of all, I wish to apologize to ye for writing to Mother and stating ye were courting me.”

  “Why did ye?”

  Seeming to realize that perhaps her hair was out of place, she brushed her hands over the strands, attempting to smooth them. “I had to come up with an excuse to remain longer. It was the only thing that occurred to me.”

  “Why me?”

  The question seemed to surprise Beatrice, her brows lowering as she considered how to reply. “Ye are never at the keep and I figured Mother would find ye too intimidating to question.”

  Duncan gave her a dubious look. “Ye do not seem to have any hesitance to approach me.”

  Lifting the cup and holding it with both hands, it was as if she tried to hide her expression from him. “I do. In a way find ye a bit… unapproachable.”

  “I see.”

  When he continued eating in silence, Duncan could feel her studying him. He had to admit it was a bit enjoyable to keep the mischievous lass wondering what he’d say next. “Yer mother asked my intentions.”

  Duncan met her wide gaze, purposely not saying anything else. Her plump lips parted while she waited for him to continue.

  “I told her ye were someone I’d be proud to court.”

  “What?” Beatrice leaned forward. “She believed it then?”

  “I could not very well tell yer mother, ye were lying.”

  Her bottom lip disappeared when she bit it. “Oh, dear. Thank ye. Again, I apologize.”

  Duncan nodded. “Now we must discuss how ye will return to Dún Láidir. Ye cannot go alone, and I do not have time to take ye.”

  “I do not require an escort. I am an able rider. I will ride there directly. Do not bother yerself.”

  The only plans he had was to work on the wall at the back of the property. Lifting and stacking the heavy stones not only kept him fit and strong, but also seemed to keep his mind away from dark things.

  Not in the mood to travel to Keep Ross, he wondered if he should ask the stableman to escort Beatrice back.

  “Would ye mind showing me about?” Beatrice asked. “This is a most beautiful home.”

  If the minx was up to something, he did not detect it. She seemed genuinely interested in the house.

  “Of course,” he said pushing his empty plate away.

  They walked side-by-side from the main hall to the opposite side, where he showed her Caelan’s study and across the hall, a small parlor. Just down the corridor was two small bedchambers that were rarely used.

  Next, he guided her up a stairwell where his and Caelan’s bedchambers were as well as a large room that their mother used when visiting. There was another guest room and a small chamber that could be used as a sitting room. Currently, there were only a pair of chairs in there.

  Beatrice went to a window and peered out. “I find it interesting that ye do not live with a view of the sea. I do adore the views from the keep.”

  It was best for him to not have such a view. The memories of time at sea were not ones he cherished. Unfortunately, many times his family business forced him to travel to other Isles, which meant going by bìrlinn. If he had his way, he would remain landside.

  “I prefer the view of forests and land.”

  Beatrice turned from the window and looked at a painting on the wall. It was a small depiction of a field. “Who did this? It is beautiful.”

  “My mother.”

  A wide smile spread over her pretty face almost making him smile in return. “I was not aware she was so talented.”

  He looked at the painting, seeing it through her eyes. Flowers grew wildly in a field that had a cusp of trees in the distance. In the sky a pair of birds flew across the expanse, giving the illusion of unending space.

  “Would ye like to see the outdoors?”

  “I would,” Beatrice replied, tearing her eyes away from the painting.

  He led her down the stairs and out the side door by the kitchens.

  Gara and Firtha straightened, from their gardening, with shocked looks when seeing him with Beatrice. The housekeeper jumped to her feet and rushed to them. “I apologize Mister Duncan. I wasn’t aware there was a visitor. I will brew some tea…”

  “Do not worry yerself,” Beatrice said with a soft smile. “I have already partaken of Mister Duncan’s ale.”

  The housekeeper looked to Duncan. “Would ye like me to prepare a meal?”

  “No, we are going for a short walk and then Miss Beatrice is leaving,” he replied.

  The women remained still as statues, watching them as they walked away.

  “Ye only have two servants?” Beatrice asked.

  “There are two more. Creagh, a man who looks after the horses, and sometimes a lad comes and helps him.”

  She looked up at him with curiosity. “I suppose ye and Caelan do not require much then?”

  “My brother would have a much larger staff, if given the choice. However, he agrees with me that we do not have a need for so many people about.”

  Duncan had to admit to feeling at ease as he walked Beatrice around the sides and back of the house to show her the land. Something about her was different than other women. She didn’t seem to want anything from him other than company. Her curiosity was genuine as she gazed across the area, leaning forward, and rising to her toes, she pointed to the wall he’d been working on for over a year.

  “Why is there a partial wall there?” She looked up to him, her clear gaze seeming to see much deeper than he would prefer.

  Uneven, some portions higher than others, the wall was not exactly a work of art. If anything, it was an eyesore, with its haphazard shape and piles of stones around it.

  “I work on it for exercise. To keep in shape for the games. As ye may have seen, I compete in the caber toss and stone throw.”

  Intelligent eyes scanned his face for a moment and then she turned to the wall. “I see. Ye should at least make it look somewhat straight. It is visible from the house is it not?”

  He almost laughed. Only a woman would care how a stone wall looked. Especially one that did not serve any true purpose.

  “I may actually move it to over there,” he pointed to an area to the left. “Use the stones to wall in the space so it can be an enclosed garden.”

  Beatrice shrugged. “I suppose if ye use it for training, then it matters not where ye build it.” Moving away, she turned back to the house. “It is a pity ye do not have a larger staff and entertain. The house is beautiful. The land flat and perfect for a gathering.”

  A shudder ran through him at the thought of having groups of people about. Even before he’d become reclusive, he’d never been one for crowds. As a lad, he’d been shy and not as boisterous as his brothers.

  “Ye are not one for company are ye?” Beatrice asked. “Some people prefer solitude. Although I have a hard time understanding it, I accept that not everyone wants the company of others.”

  She then looked up to the sky. “Goodness, I best be heading back. Clouds are gathering and I do not wish to be caught in a storm.”

  “I will escort ye back,” Duncan said not quite happy about going back to the keep. He’d be forced to remain the night by the way the clouds were gathering.

  “Ye will not. I have already put ye out. I assure ye to be
fine. I will ride fast and be back at the keep before very long.” Beatrice lifted her skirts and hurried back toward the house, every so often looking up at the sky.

  He followed walking slower and wondering why she found it necessary to come in the first place. He’d told Stuart to inform her he’d come there so they could speak prior to her mother coming and demanding he marry her.

  Had they even come up with a plan? He couldn’t remember much as he studied the woman in front of him. She was beautiful. In all probability the loveliest creature he’d ever seen.

  It only took a few moments to saddle his horse and by the time Beatrice emerged from the house with her cloak on, he waited for her.

  Her eyes widened. “I keep telling myself to stop being so impulsive, but then I do something without thinking it through. Now I am infringing on yer time.”

  “We have not discussed what we will do when yer mother comes,” Duncan said as he took her by the waist and lifted the woman to her horse. It was hard to ignore the feel of her body under his hands and the soft fragrance from her clothing as she arranged herself atop the horse.

  Once he mounted, they began riding toward his family home. With each moment that passed, the clouds became darker and soon he realized they would not be able to outride the storm.

  There were two options: attempt to ride through a downpour; or find shelter.

  Duncan looked to Beatrice, who gave him a worried look. “There is a place just over the bend where we can find shelter from the rain. Hopefully, it will not last too long.”

  They rode to an abandoned place that had often been used by men to gather or hide. He prayed there was nothing too unfavorable in the place when they entered.

  The skies rumbled and as soon as they reached the empty building, a downpour began.

  Chapter Four

  Despite not having to ride far in the rain, by the time they came to the dilapidated house, Beatrice was soaked through and shivering.

  After pulling the horses to a covered area, Beatrice watched as Duncan pushed a door open. Thankfully with him along, she felt safe to enter what looked to be a rather intimidating place.

  The air was musty, but thankfully the room was dry. There was a fireplace, and Duncan hurried out to find some kindling to build a fire to warm up and dry their clothes with.

  It was only a few moments later that a cheery fire burned in the hearth and both Beatrice and Duncan hovered close to it, holding their hands out. He’d taken a branch and cut off the smaller twigs and leaves then fashioned it between a broken chair and a table so that Beatrice could hang her cloak on it to dry. Unfortunately, her dress was wet as well, so she stood by the fire hoping the heat would dry most of the wetness away.

  “I am not sure how long the rain will continue,” Duncan said unfolding a plaid he’d brought and kept in a bag on his saddle. “Ye can undress and wrap in this so that we can attempt to dry yer clothes. I will go see about the horses.”

  He handed her the plaid and walked out into the rain before Beatrice could stop him. He could have just gone to the opposite side of the room and turned his back, now the man would return soaked.

  It was best to hurry, so she removed her wet dress and shift and wrapped the plaid around her waist, and expertly pulled the front and back up to tie at the shoulders making a dress that covered her well. The fabric fell from the knots to cover her arms and the bottom of it fell to her ankles.

  Makeshift dress completed, she rushed to the door. “Duncan, please come inside.” Her voice got lost with the storm. But just a moment later, he appeared from the back of the house drenched.

  “I pulled the horses into a back room. They will be dry there.” He took in her appearance with a look of approval that made her insides giddy. “This is not the first time ye have had to wear a plaid to cover up.”

  Beatrice huffed at the implication. “My mother taught us how after trips to the seaside. Often our clothing ended up wet or dirty. It is a necessary trick for women of the isles.”

  With a nod, he brushed past to near the fire. Beatrice did her best to ignore how the wet tunic clung to his muscular back and arms.

  After draping her gown and other clothes to dry, Beatrice settled on the floor on a makeshift pallet that had already been in the room that Duncan draped his bag from the saddle atop. He sat on a stool and stared into the fire in silence.

  Beatrice wasn’t sure what she could say about the situation. It was all her fault of course and now if someone found out they were alone, in a building with her undressed, the consequences could be high. She studied the quiet man for a moment, unsure how to begin the uncomfortable conversation.

  Seeming to sense her regard he looked to her. “Ye want to say something, but struggle? Somehow I find it hard to believe.”

  He joked. At a time like this. It could be he had not realized the predicament she’d put them in. Yes, that had to be it. If she brought it up, then how would he react?

  “It is just that… well, I have put ye into yet another situation.” Beatrice let out a breath. “Please forgive me.”

  He frowned. “The storm will pass, and we will be on our way. It is still early in the day. I am sure it will stop raining before dark.”

  Did he think her scared of the storm? “Ye are aware that if it does not, and it is found out we spent time here alone, the consequences could be dire?”

  “No one will ever dictate to me what I must do,” he replied with nonchalance. “Ye should stop worrying yerself and rest.”

  Beatrice huffed. “I do not need to rest. I am perfectly rested, I assure ye. I will have to insist that ye take our situation with more seriousness.”

  A soft sound stirred Beatrice and she woke with a start. She’d fallen asleep curled up on the pallet. With a gasp, she sat up. Outside the rain continued and it was quite worrisome. However, what was worse was that it was dark outside.

  Night had come and they were still in the abandoned house.

  Alone. Together.

  “Duncan?” She blinked at the fire first and then around the room. He was not there. Beatrice gasped again. Had he waited for her to fall asleep and then left? She jumped to her feet and ran to the door. When she opened it, the cold rain made her step backward and she closed the door.

  Where had the man gone? Surely he’d not left her alone to be found by bad men, who could bring her harm.

  She crossed her arms as anger surged. “He will pay for this.” Hurrying to where her dress hung, she felt it and was relieved to find it fully dry. Her shift was dry as well. Beatrice untied the plaid and let it fall to the floor, then standing before the fire fully bare, she grabbed the shift from the branch, turned toward the fire, and gasped.

  Duncan sat on the stool, back to the wall, his gaze moving over her body.

  “Ahhh!” Beatrice held the flimsy shift in front of herself and screamed. “Why did ye not make noise to tell me ye were there?”

  “I thought ye saw me,” he replied and once again gave her the once-over. “Why are ye angry?”

  Beatrice sputtered, “I-I, ye… ye’re here and I am undressed.”

  A frown was followed by a shrug. It occurred to Beatrice that he did not seem at all surprised nor discomfited by her nudity. If anything, she would have expected him to attempt something, to make advances. Instead, he remained sitting and looked at her as if were an everyday occurrence.

  “Turn yer head,” she finally spat. “I cannot believe this.”

  He turned and she quickly pulled her shift over her head allowing the folds to fall past her hips and down to her knees. When she looked over to him, Duncan had his head turned away, but his eyes where still on her.

  “Ye are looking.” She stomped to where he was and hit him on the shoulder as hard as she could. “How dare ye.”

  To her further annoyance, he grunted and gave her a bland look. “How could I not?”

  Beatrice was at a loss for words. In truth, if the roles were reversed, she would definitely be watching him.
She’d never seen a man fully bereft of clothing. However, she suspected the man in the room had seen more than his fair share.

  Instead of arguing further, she went back to where her clothes were and continued to get dressed. “We should head back to the keep. Everyone must be worried sick.”

  He pointed to the ceiling. “It’s still storming. I am hopeful it will lessen enough at sunrise that we can continue there.”

  “Do ye realize the implications if it is found out that we spent the night together all alone?” Beatrice fumbled with the ties of her bodice and gave up. At this point what did propriety matter, the man had seen her fully naked. “My family would demand ye marry me immediately.”

  “We will not tell them then,” Duncan said, and for some reason it stung that he did not wish to marry her. There was nothing about a marriage between them that would be so horrible. The families were already tied, she would be able to spend time with her sister and best of all, not have to marry a MacLeod and live in the frozen north.

  She let out an annoyed sigh and lowered back to the pallet. “And how do ye plan to explain us appearing at the keep together?”

  “Ye left my house, without telling me. I was on my way to the keep and happened upon ye.”

  His explanation had merit. After all, she was resourceful enough to have found an abandoned place to spend the night. In reality, she would have continued riding through the rain, ended up lost, and probably have caught her death from the cold. It was best not to think on that alternate outcome.

  “Fine. I agree to that explanation.” Outside the rain continued to fall. By the sound of it, the storm was lessening. Beatrice decided to rest until they left, so she pulled the plaid over her and snuggled into it.

  She looked to Duncan. “Who do ye plan to marry one day?”

  There was a hardening to his expression. “I do not plan to marry—ever.”

  “Ye must wish to have bairns and a wife to care for ye.”