The Beast

by McQueen, Hildie

  Despite that the marriage was to be rushed, she was excited at the prospect of marrying Duncan. Not only was he the most handsome man she’d ever met, but the one man who drove her mindless with passion.

  His kisses alone were better than she could have imagined. And the feel of his strong body against hers was like a fairy tale.

  The only worry was that he would be angry or disappointed in having to marry her. Beatrice turned from the window and considered seeking him out. She had to know how he felt. If he was against the marriage, she would convince him to take her directly to a bìrlinn and send her home. They would have to be sneaky about it, but it could be done.

  After wrapping herself in a robe, she slipped on soft slippers and went out the door. Thankfully the corridor was empty. It was still too early for anyone to be up. She imagined Greer and the kitchen maids were preparing for their day, but everyone else would be asleep.

  The only problem was that she had no idea where Duncan’s bedchamber was. She went to a door and opened it just enough to peek in. Gideon was splayed across his bed, fully dressed.

  Then she walked past Ella’s bedchamber and the one she knew was Stuarts and came to the last door at the end of the hall.

  Cracking the door just enough, she peeked in.

  Whoever lay on the bed had his back to the door and was fast asleep. Immediately she knew it was Duncan.

  There were deep cuts and long scars crisscrossing his wide back. Deep pits caused by some sort of torture weapon trailed down his right side to below the edge of the blanket. Raised scars intersected with the others not just on his back, but also the backs of his arms.

  Her horrified gaze followed each trail, unable to move as she took in the sight. How he must have suffered. There wasn’t an inch of his back that was left unmarred.

  Beatrice wanted to cry at the thought of all the pain he’d gone through. Somehow, she managed to swallow down the urge to make any sound.

  Duncan could not know what she’d seen. It would have to be on his terms that he allowed her to see his body.

  Tears trickled down her face as she closed the door gently and hurried back to her bedchamber. Once inside, she went to a chair and sat down, so she could lean forward and draw deep breaths.

  How had he withstood it? It had to have been many whippings to have made the huge, raised scars. From the back of his neck to his waist, there was not one inch left untouched. There had to have been countless days and nights, he must have lay in agony without anyone to care for him.

  She wondered if any of his family had seen it. Probably. And now it made sense, why they were all so protective of him. To expose him to rejection by a wife would be heartbreaking.

  “Thank goodness he has me,” Beatrice whispered to the empty room as she wiped away tears. “My poor, Duncan.”

  It was almost an hour later that Isobel entered her bedchamber, behind her their maids, Annis and Orla, carried trays so that she and Isobel could have first meal there.

  “I thought we’d go to Lady Mariel’s sitting room,” Beatrice said watching as the plates and food were set up.

  Isobel shook her head. “No time. The wedding is to be this morning. The vicar has to attend to a burial this afternoon in a village far from here.”

  “It is a good day when one comes before a dead man,” Beatrice quipped despite the butterflies in her stomach. “Isobel?”

  “Aye?”

  “If we are to be married first thing, what about the bedding? It will be this night will it not?”

  “Do not fret,” Isobel replied patting her shoulder. “Ye will have the entire day to spend with Duncan. Perhaps go to his house. Or ye could remain here. It will be up to ye both to decide.”

  “He has only two women as staff.” Beatrice looked to Orla. “Will ye come with me?’

  “Aye, of course I will,” the young woman replied with a bright smile. Beatrice liked Orla, a pretty lass with bright green eyes and reddish hair. She had just enough of a sprinkling of freckles across her nose that they added to her charm.

  “Good,” Beatrice said. “Since I am packed already, then I think it will be best for us to remove ourselves to the other estate. Getting unpacked and settled will help distract me.”

  “Do ye not think planning time alone with Duncan should take precedence over unpacking?” Isobel asked with a grin.

  Once again, the butterflies took flight. “Ye are right, of course. That is what I should do. Plan a picnic, or go for a walk…”

  “I am sure ye will spend a wonderful day, no matter what ye decide to do.”

  Once they finished eating, a bath was brought. Unfortunately, there was little time to linger, so she washed up and allowed Annis and Orla to help her dress.

  She chose a pale lavender dress that she knew enhanced the color of her eyes. Once the dress was on, it felt as if the rest of the preparations were done to someone else and she was a mere spectator. Absent from her body, she could barely hear anything said, the only sounds were her breathing and the gentle thuds of her heart. In her mind, she pictured Duncan’s back, the scarring, both deep and raised. The expanse of his back and how horribly marred it was.

  No one should ever be mistreated in such a terrible manner and yet the man she was to marry had endured more than most humans.

  Despite what he’d been through, he remained gentle with her, forgiving and caring. Duncan represented security and calmness and as unfathomable as it was, Beatrice knew deep in her heart they were meant for one another.

  Finally, Lady Mariel came to the door and told them it was time. When she saw Beatrice, her face softened. “Ye are a beautiful bride dear. My only regret is that Aileen is not here to see ye.”

  “She will be sad,” Isobel said. “But we will plan a wedding celebration when she arrives.”

  As she made her way to the door, her sister took her arm. “A messenger will be dispatched to inform our parents of the wedding and to let them know festivities are planned for when they arrive.”

  “Good,” Beatrice said and took a shaky breath. “I am about to be married. I can scarcely believe it.”

  They went down the stairwell and turned to the left to a corridor that led to a small chapel. Inside people were already seated in the pews. The council members, Ewan, his wife Catriona, Stuart, and Gideon. There were a few staff members that she’d met and some villagers, she’d not met. Beatrice recognized the tavern owner and his wife, whom she’d purchased items from at the village square.

  Caelan was there as well, he was seated with a man she expected by his similar features to be his half-brother. Finally, when she looked to the front of the chapel, she lost her breath.

  Dressed in Ross colors of green and black, Duncan wore the plaid wrapped around his waist and draped over his left shoulder. It was held in place with the clan crest. His hair was pulled back into a queue, and on his feet were leather boots.

  Next to him dressed alike, was Darach, who’d brushed his hair back to wear it like Duncan. The brothers made a breathtaking picture, one light, one dark, both standing proud, with matching serious expressions.

  Beatrice looked to Duncan until his eyes met hers and his face softened. It was the reassurance she needed to force her legs to continue moving toward him.

  When she reached the front, they stood facing each other as the vicar began speaking.

  The words spoken over them were pure and beautiful, each syllable seeming to pierce her skin until reaching into every part of her. A sigh escaped her when Duncan’s eyes locked with hers and his strong voice repeated his portion of the vows. When it was her turn, Beatrice spoke in an even tone, hesitating only once to swallow as tears spilled down her cheeks. It was such a special moment, she did her best to convey to Duncan the depth of her feelings by not looking away as she spoke.

  Once the vows were exchanged, the vicar allowed a kiss. Duncan pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss that made her smile. He looked to be at peace, not upset at all over the forced marriage and
for that Beatrice was thankful.

  As they walked out of the chapel, the people cheered. Once in the courtyard, those that had gathered clapped and called out congratulatory remarks.

  Finally, they went back into the house where they were to toast to the marriage. According to Isobel, there were to be sweet cakes and meats for them to share with those attending.

  Duncan took her elbow and guided her to the high board. Once she settled, he lowered next to her. There were pitchers of ale at every table, and everyone filled their cups.

  Once it was accomplished, Darach stood and held his cup up.

  “I wish ye both a good marriage and the blessing of many bairns.”

  There were serious toasts and others that brought laughter as each brother stood and spoke. Lady Mariel was last, and she spoke wishing them happiness and insisted that she believed them to have been matched by God and therefore would have a good marriage.

  Isobel could barely get the words out past her tears as she spoke for their family. “As representative of Clan Macdonald, I want to express how grateful we are for the connection of our clans, the strength Duncan and Beatrice’s marriage brings to both of our families, and the peace this union ensures. I too am thankful that my sister and I will live near each other. And I know my father and mother will be forever grateful for Duncan’s care of their daughter.”

  Once the toasts were complete, Beatrice accepted a handkerchief so she could wipe her wet face. Duncan leaned close to speak into her ear. “How do ye feel?”

  “Nervous, happy. Very nervous.” She met his gaze. “Ye?”

  “The same,” he admitted.

  His answer surprised her, but she was grateful for his honesty. That a man such as him, a seasoned warrior would feel anxious about things made her feel closer to him.

  The festivities continued for several hours until it was time for the midday meal where roast duck with succulent root vegetables, along with freshly baked bread were served.

  Beatrice acknowledged that by the time they arrived at Duncan’s home it would be late in the day.

  “Are we to go to yer home after this?” she asked her new husband.

  Duncan nodded. “Aye, yer sister informed me of yer family tradition of remaining close for fifteen days. I assume ye wish to continue it.”

  “I very much do,” she answered honestly.

  He did not reply, simply nodded to let her know he heard.

  Despite the happy feelings, she wondered how long before he insisted she return to Keep Ross.

  The travel to the other estate took less time than she remembered from her last trek there. Probably because, unlike her, the carriage driver knew the way. There were in one of the Ross carriages, pulled by two horses. Duncan’s horse was tethered to the back of the carriage.

  Orla rode up front on the bench next to the driver, to allow the newlyweds time alone. However, as soon as the carriage began moving Beatrice fell asleep with her head on Duncan’s shoulder.

  No sooner had she closed her eyes, did it seem he woke her to tell her they’d arrived.

  Upon arriving, both of the maids stood outside to greet them. There were a couple of additional women standing beside them, obviously sent by Lady Mariel to help Beatrice settle. She planned to hire a chambermaid and perhaps a couple of lads to help with menial tasks once she had spoken to Duncan about it.

  He assisted her from the coach and the housekeeper, and the other woman hurried forward. “I am Gara, milady,” she said with a wide smile. “This is Firtha.” She motioned to the woman beside her, who bobbed a curtsy.

  “I am happy to see ye both again,” Beatrice replied. “Although I did see ye last time I was here.”

  The woman looked to Duncan. “There’s no need for additional help, the house is in perfect order. Firtha and I saw to it.”

  “My mother does not mean it as a slight, she wishes for Lady Beatrice to be settled without effort,” Duncan replied with a soothing tone.

  They went inside, Duncan guiding her to what she assumed would be their bedchamber. She’d not thought to ask if they would share one. Her parents had separate bedchambers, which made sense as her father needed extra space on the bed, to be comfortable.

  The room they entered was large, with a four-poster bed, several rugs strewn about, and no décor on the walls. Other than a dressing table and a washstand, there were no other furnishings.

  A trunk was pushed against one wall, where she assumed Duncan kept his clothes. This was definitely his bedchamber.

  “Am I to sleep here from now on?” Beatrice asked, looking around the room already planning where a wardrobe would fit.

  “This is my bedchamber, yers is adjacent. I thought it would be easier for ye to have yer own space.” When he met her gaze, it was as if he were holding back something else he wanted to say.

  The thought of not sharing a bedchamber had not occurred to her, especially since Isobel and Darach had slept in the same bed since they married. But she nodded in agreement. “May I see it please?”

  He nodded and went to a door across from the bed. When he opened the door, it took effort. Duncan had to yank hard for it to open.

  “Obviously it hasn’t been used for a long time,” Beatrice remarked dryly.

  The bedchamber they entered was beautiful. Fresh bedding had been placed on the large bed and there was a throw tossed over a chair by the hearth to ensure whoever was there kept warm.

  The drapes that framed the window were of a light fabric, more for aesthetics than practicality. There was a large wardrobe against one wall and next to it a paneled screen for private matters.

  On the floor the rugs were thick and luxurious and on one wall was an embroidered tapestry with a scene of a woman at a fountain.

  “Was this bedchamber always decorated like this?” Beatrice asked. “It is beautiful.”

  “I am not sure. Mother and my sister often come here and redo things. Though I do know, Mother slept in this chamber when she stayed the night. They probably sent items ahead for the servants to place here as well.”

  Upon the dressing table was a sealed letter sitting next to a beautiful looking glass. Beatrice did not make to open it, she would soon.

  Her trunk and other items were already in the room. Beatrice turned to Duncan. “I will prepare for bed. Will ye come here to me?” Her voice trembled a little in anticipation of what was to happen between them.

  “Aye, I will give ye some time.” He looked at her for a long moment, once again as if he wished to say something, but instead let out a breath.

  “Duncan?” Beatrice placed her hand on his forearm. When he met her gaze, she smiled. “I am fortunate to have ye for a husband.”

  He swallowed visibly, leaned forward, and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “It is I who do not deserve someone like ye.”

  Following his departure, she wondered why someone like him, from a prominent and wealthy family, would feel less than anyone. Perhaps there was more to his story than just the abduction and mistreatment he’d suffered over the years he was enslaved.

  Over time, Beatrice would find out as much as she could and help him heal. It was obvious to her that he’d not made peace with his past yet.

  For now, she had to learn to make the best out of the situation. Looking around the room she wondered how long before she would inform him that she did not believe in separate bedchambers in marriage.

  It was nonsense in her opinion to be separated by a door that was so hard to open. If that wasn’t a metaphor for trouble ahead, she wasn’t sure what was.

  Orla entered after knocking and helped Beatrice undress. The maid was giddy, talking nonstop about the bedchamber she’d been given. “Ye wouldna believe it, Lady Beatrice. Tis grand. I have my own room with a big bed and even a dressin’ table.”

  “I am so happy to hear it Orla. Annis will be jealous when she comes to visit. Although her room at the keep is nice, it sounds like yers is grand.”

  “Oh, it tis.”

&n
bsp; Beatrice giggled when Orla attempted to tell her what to expect. The young woman had never been with a man, but she claimed to have caught her brothers in the act several times. “I tell ye, Lady Beatrice. The lass was yellin’ but in a good way. Seemed to be havin’ the time o’ her life.”

  “Orla, when ye marry, I cannot wait to hear what happens on yer wedding night.”

  “I have no prospects yet, but I will find a kind man one day,” Orla informed her.

  Hair brushed out and wearing a white nightgown, Beatrice climbed on the bed to wait for Duncan. It was only a few moments later that he tugged the door open and walked in.

  “I have to get the door fixed,” he mumbled and then stopped in his tracks upon seeing her sitting up in bed, legs crossed. “What are ye doing? Are ye not supposed to be laying down?”

  Beatrice shrugged. “I have no idea how I am expected to pose.” She chuckled. “Will ye pour some honeyed mead for me. It will help with my nerves.”

  “Aye, of course.” He poured mead into two small glasses and neared the bed. Once she took hers, he climbed onto the bed and leaned back on the headboard.

  The liquid trailed down her throat immediately warming her insides. Although she felt a bit calmer, her stomach continued to flutter every time she looked to her husband.

  He took the glass and slid from the bed. Then to her shock, he blew out every light in the room leaving them in darkness.

  There wasn’t even moonlight as she heard him fumble with his clothes.

  “I cannot see anything,” Beatrice complained.

  “It is easier for me to sleep with no light in the room,” Duncan replied.

  Beatrice huffed. “We are not to sleep right away. We have to… well ye know.”

  “I am aware,” he replied tightly.

  She flopped back onto the bed to wait for him to join her. After her eyes adjusted Beatrice could track Duncan’s movements. He undressed slowly as if measuring every movement. She wondered at his hesitation.

  If he was as nervous as her, the consummation would be awkward. However, it had to be done and she expected once they got to know each other better, things would be easier. Finally, he joined her, his large body seeming to take the entire space. Beatrice turned on her side to face him.