The Beast
Page 14
He turned his head to search for his mount. It was not visible, but it did not mean Farlan had not tethered it to a tree nearby. The horse was his only hope. The animal was not trusting of strangers, which would have made it difficult for Farlan to get to him. Once again, he scanned the area, but the only horse visible was Farlan’s.
It took quite a long time for the man to finally have him upside down, his head just a short distance from the ground. Farlan sat next to a tree a short distance away regaining his breath from the exertion.
Duncan was muscular and tall; his weight could not have been easy to pull up. And yet here he was, in a predicament that made him shake with fury. Of all the people who should sympathize with him, it should be Farlan.
It was a long moment before Farlan stood and walked closer. “I know what ye are thinking, of all people ye never considered that I would do something like this. But ye should understand. It was because of ye that I am no longer fully a man.” Lowering to his haunches, Farlan’s crazed gaze met his. “We were closer than friends. I loved ye.”
Duncan’s eyes widened. Was it possible that this man had fallen in love with him? Whatever interactions they had, had never been physical. If Farlan’s feelings had grown to the point of love, then it made his misguided actions clearer. He wished to alienate Beatrice by making up a past relationship, and now he was taking vengeance like a scorned lover.
A dagger flashed when Farlan held it up to Duncan’s face. “Unlike the others, ye can withstand pain. Ye will not cry out, nor will ye care what I do to ye physically.”
Duncan glared at him.
“I will watch ye bleed out. Watch yer life ebb as ye realize what all ye are losing. I believe that will hurt ye more than pain.”
A sob escaped and Farlan began to cry. “All I wanted was for us to be together. To find happiness somewhere away from people. Why did ye abandon me?” he cried out and sunk the knife into Duncan’s side.
It wasn’t too painful. Then again, he was used to pain. What worried him was the blood loss. Mentally he wondered if he would bleed more or less by being suspended upside down.
Warm trails of blood traveled down his body until dripping onto the ground. The smell of it took him back to captivity.
The last smack of the whip barely registered. He was half-crazed with pain already and too hoarse to cry out. Laughter rang out when someone cut the rope that bound him to the pole, and he slipped on his own blood falling face-first into the red pool.
A bucket of salty water splashed over him, the water burning his skin to the point of agony as he attempted to crawl away. But he was grabbed by the ankles and dragged back.
Once again, another bucket was poured over him, and he howled with pain. Someone pushed rags into his hands. “Limpia.” Clean. They wanted him to clean the deck.
Seeming to no longer find him entertaining, the men walked away, except for one. An old man who always took pity on him. The man neared and helped him to sit. “Do what they said.”
“I did…not under…stand,” Duncan replied past chattering teeth. “I tried to do it. I-I tried to.”
Tears flowed down his face at the injustice of his life. They’d wanted him to beat another man who’d been tied to the post with one hand. But the man was healthy and fit and had beat Duncan easily.
The older man looked around, pulled a piece of dry flatbread from his shirt, and gave it to Duncan. Once he gobbled it down, the man brought him ale. “Drink, pronto.”
Once he ate, they cleaned the deck. The old man did most of the work since Duncan could barely move without crying out in pain. When they were done, the man motioned for him to follow back to his cell.
“Can I watch the sky for a few moments?” Duncan asked pointing to the sky.
“Si. Un momento.”
Duncan lifted himself to sit on an upturned barrel and looked across the expanse of the sea. He had no idea where he was or how long he’d been gone. The old man, who was the only one to speak a bit of English, did not know enough to tell him the date.
For a long moment he stared at the sky, taking in the clouds floating in the blue expanse.
“Vamos,” the old man said and walked him down the stairs where he would remain forgotten, and perhaps not fed for days.
Once he sat in the cell, the old man handed him a small sack and a wineskin.
Inside the sack were two pieces of flatbread and some dry meat. He didn’t bother to see what the wineskin had because all he could do was shake from pain.
He lay on a layer of rags he’d collected each time he cleaned and prayed that he would be rescued soon.
Duncan looked to Farlan, who seemed to be mesmerized by the blood. The blade sliced through the fabric of his tunic. For a long time Farlan inspected his bare chest and ran a hand down from his stomach to between his chest muscles.
Unfocused eyes slid to meet his. “Ye stopped bleeding,” he stated matter-of-factly.
When he stuck the dagger into the same wound, this time it hurt a great deal and Duncan moaned. The sound seemed to take Farlan aback because he stumbled backward. “It hurt?”
It was as if he’d truly not expected him to feel anything. Rounded eyes traveled from his wound to his face. And he hurried over and untied his gag.
“Even if I was able to rescue ye, there would have never been anything between us. I did not feel the same about ye,” Duncan said, his voice hoarse from the gag. “Cut me down Farlan. Stop this.”
“No!” Farlan yelled. “I will finish it. I must.”
“Ye do not have to. We could continue our friendship. Ye could work on my lands.”
Farlan’s eyes narrowed. “Ye would do that?”
“I would,” Duncan said. “Please let me down.” It was becoming harder to breathe and his head hurt.
The man walked in a circle, murmuring. “I cannot. It is too late. Ye know how I feel and will hold it over me. No. I could never.”
Farlan whirled toward Duncan. “Ye are trying to trick me. Once I cut ye down, ye planned to cut me through.” He held up the dagger as tears flowed down his face. “I am sorry. Ye have to die now.”
He took only one step and then suddenly froze, his eyes widening.
It was then Duncan saw the arrow lodged through his neck. A second arrow impaled itself straight into Farlan’s heart.
The man fell face-first to the ground.
Duncan didn’t have to see who it was to know it would be Stuart who rushed into the clearing. A moment later a huge warhorse appeared, its giant hooves running over Farlan’s corpse as his brother neared and jumped from the beast before it came to a stop.
His brother met his gaze and Duncan grimaced. “Do ye plan to admire me all day or cut me down?”
“Ye’re a bloody mess,” Stuart said and let out a shrill whistle, then a second one.
Moments later, three additional horsemen joined Stuart. Gideon, Ewan, and Darach, each on warhorses entered the clearing, the giant beasts pawing the ground sensing their rider’s moods.
Darach and Ewan held Duncan still as Gideon climbed onto Stuart’s shoulders and cut the rope. They lowered him to the ground with hands on his shoulders to keep him from getting up too fast.
As sensation came to his feet, Duncan grunted. “I do not think I can walk right now.”
“Who is that man?” Darach said looking to where Farlan lay.
“He and I were captives together. We’d promised if one of us escaped, we would return for the other.”
“So, the mad man was angry because ye did not rescue him,” Stuart stated matter-of-factly.
Duncan nodded refusing to look in the direction of the dead man. “He must be buried.”
“I will send the guards to do it,” Darach said. “They were ordered to remain at the house to guard it as we didn’t know what exactly occurred.”
Gideon and Ewan pulled Duncan up to sit. His wound ached but felt much better when Gideon wrapped his midsection tightly with strips and tied them into place.
“Take mine,” Stuart said, pulling his tunic off over his head and then helping Duncan put it on.
“When will our family have peace?” Gideon asked glaring at the body. “We deserve to have a life without strife. At least for a short while.” Their father, who’d been a tyrant, had only been dead a bit over a year. They were still recovering from the ramifications of decisions he’d made. After a threat of battle from another clan, now Duncan had almost been killed.
Darach shook his head. “We can wish for the moon, but the wishes will not make it come down to us.”
“Darling, are ye awake?” Beatrice’s face hovered over him and Duncan did his best to smile. He wanted to reassure her despite the fact something dark had awakened inside of him.
There was no need to burden Beatrice with it. What good would it do? He’d fought the constant war that waged inside him—barely winning. Now it seemed inevitable that he would not conquer it.
She inspected the bandage around his waist, her pretty face marred by a worried frown. “At least it is not bleeding now.”
Tears flowed down her face as she met his gaze. “I do not know what I would have done if ye would have been killed.”
“I am very much alive,” he cupped her face with both hands and wiped at her tears with his thumbs. “Do not cry.”
Beatrice huffed. “If he were not already dead, I would kill the idiot myself. And to think I invited him here.”
When Duncan pulled his wife against his chest, it was to keep her from seeing anything in his gaze. At the moment, he wasn’t sure what to do, how to feel, or what to think. His head whirled with memories that he’d thought to have shoved away.
“Duncan?”
“Yes?”
“Do ye wish to talk about it?”
“No, I do not.”
Chapter Fourteen
Tense with anticipation, Beatrice leaned forward the entire ride to Keep Ross. Her mother would arrive that day. A messenger had been dispatched with the news as soon as the bìrlinns were spotted by guardsmen.
“We will go directly to the shore to greet them,” Duncan repeated. Seated across from her, he didn’t seem at all nervous about what would happen when her family arrived. For all she knew both Evander and Padraig would arrive and draw their swords upon first laying eyes upon Duncan.
In her letter, she’d done her best to explain that the marriage happened because of extraneous circumstances that she’d caused. However, her eldest brother was not only hot-tempered but would probably not believe her.
She silently prayed that it was Padraig and not Evander who arrived, since the youngest had a bit less of a hot temperament.
Freshly bathed, with his hair tied back and tunic open at the neck, her husband was enticing. Beatrice allowed her gaze to linger down his body recalling that just the night before she’d found delight pressed against it.
“Should ye be undressing me at this moment?” Duncan asked with a lift to the corner of his lips.
Beatrice gasped. “I am doing no such thing.” The warming of her cheeks was proof that she lied, so she lifted her eyes to his. “I am fortunate to have ye for a husband. Ye are very handsome.”
It was endearing that his face brightened at the compliment, but he then shrugged it off as if it were nothing. “It is I who is most fortunate Beatrice.”
Her chest constricted at his warm regard, while at the same time she wondered how he truly felt about her. Would he ever love her?
One of the things she looked forward to, was discussing how love felt. They’d not been visited since marrying, as it was her family custom for a newly married couple to be together for a fortnight. Since the marriage had been hasty and without more than a day’s notice, Beatrice had not held Duncan to it. However, they had spent most of the time together.
She glanced at his mid-section that was healing nicely from the wound. “Do not forget, it has not been long enough for ye to ride. I know ye enjoy such things with yer brothers, but it would not be good if ye fall from yer steed.”
“I am healed.”
She placed a hand on his knee. “Ye are not.”
The sounds of horses and voices made Beatrice whirl toward the window. Several people, as well as carriages, guardsmen, and nosy villagers, had gathered.
It was a busy day for arrivals, it seemed. Two bìrlinns neared the shore, the passengers helped to disembark. Immediately, people rushed to greet the travelers, while Beatrice watched from the carriage.
“There is my sister and Ella. I must go to them.” Beatrice opened the door and was assisted down by the coachman.
As soon as they noticed her, both women hurried to greet her, and they hugged exclaiming happily.
“Where is Lady Mariel?” Beatrice asked.
“At Ewan’s. Visiting Catriona and the bairns. I am sure she will arrive at the keep soon upon learning yer mother arrives,” Ella explained.
Beatrice grimaced. “It will not help things that she is not here to help calm Mother.”
Her sister nodded. “I just told Ella the same thing. The only good thing is that she will not make a scene in public.”
“I am so very anxious,” Beatrice said with a shiver. “Mother will be so angry.”
Isobel hugged her again. “The preparations for the festivities are all in place. Ye will love what we have prepared.”
“I cannot believe that I wasn’t part of the planning,” Beatrice replied with a pout. “I would have enjoyed it tremendously.
“Aye, I know,” Isobel said, her eyes bright with excitement. “I chose every detail with yer tastes in mind.”
“I know ye made it perfect,” Beatrice said. “I almost came to see what was being done, but I spent the last week caring for Duncan.”
Ella shook her head. “My brothers certainly know how to ruin the first days of marriage.”
“It was not his fault,” Beatrice said.
“My brothers seem to attract conflict at times. If not because they caused it, then because of circumstances they find themselves in.”
The Macdonald bìrlinns came into view and they stopped speaking to watch.
“Evander’s temperament causes many a conflict,” Isobel said tracking the movements of the bìrlinns. “I wonder at times if he enjoys it.”
Once the bìrlinns were pulled ashore, the three women hurried forward to greet Lady Macdonald.
Their mother’s sharp gaze went immediately to Beatrice, taking her in fully before moving to Isobel. Her I am not happy with either of ye look was sent out to encompass them both.
Isobel greeted her mother first, kissing her cheeks. “I have missed ye so.” Honey dripped from each word and Beatrice fought not to giggle.
Goodness, her nerves were making it hard to figure out what to say. She neared and did what Isobel had just done, kissing her cheeks. “Mother… I am glad ye are here.”
“Are ye?” Lady Macdonald’s right eyebrow rose high. “I am doubtful.”
“Welcome Lady Macdonald,” Ella said with a curtsy just as Darach neared. The laird greeted her mother warmly and asked who’d traveled with her.
It was then the entire group turned to the bìrlinn. After helping drag the vessel to shore and speaking to the men who were to remain with it, Evander Macdonald lifted a huge trunk and carried it to a wagon where he placed it. He then returned to gather a second one.
“Yer belongings,” Lady Macdonald said sliding a glance to Beatrice. “Ye have too many things.”
Astonished, Beatrice remained silent as trunk after trunk was loaded, then another wagon was brought to be loaded as well.
“That is all mine?” she asked wide-eyed.
“Oh, Beatrice,” her mother snapped. “Of course not, some things belong to Isobel. It is not all about ye.”
Isob
el slid Beatrice a look, and she didn’t dare say another word.
“We should go to the carriage. We shall ride together so we can chat about the upcoming festivities.” Poor Ella did her best to pretend there wasn’t any tension in the air.
Her mother turned to Ella and kissed her cheek. “Ye are a dear girl.”
As they made their way to the carriage, Beatrice wondered if she should go with Duncan to keep him from arguing with her brother.
However, they were quickly pushed into the carriage and were headed to Keep Ross before she could think coherently.
“What festivities?” Her mother asked Ella, whom she decided was the only one worthy of her attention at the moment.
Ella smiled warmly. “We were waiting for ye to celebrate Beatrice and Duncan’s marriage.”
Instantly her mother’s icy glare slid to Beatrice, who sat across from her. “I see.”
“We have invited minstrels, and a poet . . .” Isobel began only to stop speaking when their mother turned to Ella.
“Am I right to assume vows have been exchanged and not just a handfasting?”
“A handfasting would have been good enough,” Beatrice replied at this point becoming too angry to care if her mother did not speak directly to her. “However, we had little choice as the storm brought attention to our being forced to spend a night alone in an abandoned, dirty, cold building.”
“What about yer mother?” Lady Macdonald asked Ella. “Where is she?”
Ella beamed, seeming to enjoy the fact Beatrice and Isobel were in trouble. “She should be at the keep by the time we arrive. She was at Ewan and Catriona’s home. Now that she is a grandmother, she is often there to see the bairns.”
Her mother’s face finally softened making Beatrice wish she was with child. It would make things easier. It was too soon to know as she was due to start her monthly courses any day.
Once they were well on their way, her mother asked about her home and about what help she had available. Lady Macdonald was very interested in the distance between where she lived and Isobel’s home and was glad to hear it was less than a day’s ride.