The Beast

by McQueen, Hildie

  “Build a larger fire to keep warm. Ye and yer men will be escorted to another place in the morning. My men will remain,” Stuart said. He then ordered the guardsmen to remain and keep the newcomers from leaving.

  Instead of returning to the keep, all four brothers rode to the house with a large contingency of guardsmen.

  Half of the men would sleep inside the house on the floor of the great room and parlor. Another twenty or so would crowd into the stables. A few would sleep in the guardroom and storehouse.

  Somehow a place was found for everyone.

  The four brothers went upstairs to the sitting room as every other room downstairs was taken. Gara and Firtha, along with the new chambermaid rushed to and fro, immediately heating fermented cider to warm the cold men.

  Knowing it was fruitless to try to stop the eager women, neither Duncan nor Caelan tried to talk them out of it.

  Within moments of sitting, the young lad, Ivan, entered with cups of the hot cider for them as well.

  “I am glad to see ye have returned,” Stuart said, and then kept silent. He was the type of man, who waited to be informed of things—unless it was urgent. His hazel gaze roamed over the faces of the others and he raked a hand through his dark shoulder length hair. “I am not sure what to think about them. They could be here as spies for the Maclean.”

  “Aye, that was my first thought,” Caelan said.

  Gideon nodded. “One of us should return to the keep. To ensure none of them snuck through.” He frowned at Duncan. “When did ye get back?”

  Ewan, who was almost identical in looks to Stuart stood. “Perhaps Gideon is right. I will ride back to the keep and ensure all is well.” He put his cup down. “I will ensure the keep is well secured until ye arrive in the morning.” After a long look at Duncan, he lifted an eyebrow. “Ye look as if ye’ve been dragged behind yer horse.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Stuart lay on a pallet in front of the fireplace in Duncan’s bedchamber. Gideon was in the bedchamber across the corridor, usually used by their mother. No one wanted to sleep in Beatrice’s.

  “Why did ye not wish to reply today when the man asked to speak to our laird?” Stuart asked looking up at the ceiling.

  If anyone would make an exceptional laird, it was Stuart. He had an even temperament and was a fair man; he thought decisions through. Feeling better suited for battle than leading, Duncan preferred that his brother cede lairdship duties to Stuart or Caelan over him.

  “I have never aspired to be laird, nor leader other than perhaps with warriors. Even then, sometimes my judgment is clouded by my past. I do not trust it.”

  The silence that stretched indicated Stuart was measuring his words. “Each of us has their own strengths. It is good for a man to recognize his strengths and limitations.”

  Despite the hole in his chest left from Beatrice’s absence, Duncan chuckled at his carefully phrased reply.

  The next morning went without anything of alarm to note. As planned, they escorted the Maclean’s to where they could keep an eye on them. They were to be housed in the abandoned building that Duncan and Beatrice had sought shelter in. With the bitter cold and being disarmed, the men posed little threat.

  “It would have been better if we could leave guards behind, but I am trusting that the weather will prevent them from doing too much harm,” Stuart said as they overlooked the settling of the asylum seekers.

  Men arrived from the nearby village with blankets and basic food that would hold the men for several weeks.

  Lennox, the muscular man who’d been appointed spokesperson came to where Duncan and Stuart stood. “My men and I have pooled our coins and would like to pay for the items ye brought.”

  “Keep it,” Stuart replied. “Ye will need it to purchase more provisions. My brother, Darach, Laird Ross, will be returning and when he does, we will send word for ye to come and speak to him.”

  The man nodded. “Ye have been most kind.”

  “I am sure ye will be asked to repay in some way. For now, remain here. There are tools and other items that ye and yer men can use to make repairs to the structure. Ye can cut down trees for firewood or to build whatever ye need, no more.”

  “May we snare rabbits?” the man asked.

  “Aye,” Stuart replied. “But nothing else.”

  With nothing else to be done, they mounted and began the trek to the keep. Duncan had decided to continue with his brothers hoping to get meat pies from Greer. Caelan returned to the house with an additional ten guards that would ride out to patrol the house where the Maclean’s settled.

  Gideon had remained back at the abandoned building with fifty men to see about settling the newcomers and ensuring all was well. They would return once Gideon decided all was as well as it could be expected.

  Upon nearing Dún Láidir, the proud gray stone structure never ceased to catch Duncan by surprise. It was a huge keep that could easily house the entire village within its walls if ever they were under siege.

  Atop the walls and top of the main house, men draped in thick capes kept watch, their sharp gazes set in every direction.

  The gates were closed, a precaution to the newcomers. They would remain closed for the winter. A bit of an annoyance, but it was necessary to ensure the safety of the family.

  “Ewan and Catriona and their bairns have moved in for the rest of winter,” Gideon said.

  “Why?” Duncan asked.

  “Apparently Mother had insisted on it.”

  A guard rode toward them, the man slowing his horse so he could speak to them.

  “The laird and the others have returned.”

  The news caught Duncan off guard. He looked past the man to the keep gates.

  Sensing what he wanted to know, Stuart asked, “Who came back with him?”

  “Ladies Mariel, Isobel, and Beatrice.”

  Stuart turned to Duncan. “Ella must not be well enough to travel. There must be a reason why the visit was cut short. Hopefully it is not bad.”

  The brothers dismounted as soon as they reached the courtyard and hurried into the house. They walked into a flurry of activity.

  Trunks were being carried to bedchambers as their mother directed. Isobel spoke to maids, while Darach spoke to several men.

  Next to the hearth in chairs, Catriona sat with a swaddled baby in her lap, the other bairn toddled across the floor toward Beatrice, who held her arms out.

  It was the first time he’d seen her in a long time. Her golden hair was pulled away from her face into a long braid. Lips curved into a wide smile as she encouraged the child to walk. When the child took a step, the antics brightened her beautiful face.

  “We must speak to Darach,” Stuart said. “Report what happened.”

  “I am sure he has been informed,” Duncan replied unable to tear his eyes from his wife. There was something different about her. It was as if she’d blossomed. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was. She seemed more serene in a way.”

  Seeming to sense his regard Beatrice looked up, her clear blue gaze clashing with his. Duncan did not dare close the distance between them. Instead, he gave a nod of greeting. Her eyes narrowed in thought, then she turned her attention back to the bairn.

  “There must be something afoot that ye felt the need to gather so many guardsmen,” Darach said as he neared. “We must speak.”

  They went to Darach’s study where Stuart filled Darach in on what happened. Their eldest brother taking in every word, nodding occasionally.

  “I agree with what ye did. I do not fully trust their purpose for being here, but since it’s winter, they will have to remain put for the time being. We will have to alert the men on the southeast coast to keep an eye out for others. If more come, they are to be sent away.”

  Unable to keep his curiosity at bay any longer, Duncan had to find out why they’d returned sooner. “I thought ye planned to spend the season in North Uist?”

  “We did,” Darach replied. “However, with the weath
er remaining relatively mild. I wished to return. Also, Mother missed her grandchildren.”

  “The Macdonald insisted that Beatrice return with us,” Darach said, pinning Duncan with a sharp look.

  “Ye should speak to yer wife, do what ye can to reconcile.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Beatrice’s hands shook and her breathing hitched upon seeing Duncan. With windblown hair and a thicker beard, he looked like a savage. A breathtakingly handsome wild man, who’d not been tamed.

  It hurt that he’d not insisted on talking to her, that instead, he’d turned away and gone with the laird. Then again, she supposed he was supposed to do what his brother asked.

  “Where are my things?” she asked Orla, who hurried through the great room.

  The maid motioned to the stairs. “The same room that ye and Mister Duncan shared before. I am fetching water so ye can bathe.”

  “Thank ye, Orla.” Beatrice hurried up the stairs. The corridor was dimly lit as she made her way to the bedchamber. Her feet felt heavier with each step at recalling the last time they’d stayed there and how loudly they’d made love.

  Just as she passed through the doorway, strong arms wrapped around her body. Her breath caught upon realizing it was Duncan. Leaning against his chest, she didn’t try to fight instead waited limply for what he’d do or say next.

  Duncan turned her around so that she faced him and once again pulled her into a hard embrace.

  “Forgive me. Forgive me,” he murmured over and over, a catch in his voice. “Please, Beatrice.”

  The way their bodies fit together soothed the exhaustion. If it was possible, her love for Duncan had grown with each passing day. At the same time, Beatrice could not shake the ache of his leaving.

  Pushing away from him, she looked up at him, fighting the urge to sweep the dark hair from his brow. “I have forgiven ye.”

  “But ye remain hurt.”

  “When ye did not show up on the day we departed, my heart broke Duncan. It was days before the letter came.” Beatrice closed her eyes. “Ye could have talked to me. We could have waited to go had I known how ye felt.”

  He nodded, the bi-colored gaze not leaving her face. “The realization of what I did finally sunk in and when it did, I almost did not return. I broke yer trust in me, and for that, I cannot forgive myself.”

  He waited and when she remained silent, he spoke again. “No blame would fall upon ye for not accepting me back as yer husband. It is me that broke our vows and any relationship that was building between us.”

  “I need to bathe and rest. Can we talk later? My mind is awhirl, I cannot seem to get a straight thought.” Beatrice turned to the tub, steam rose from the hot water and she could not wait to sink into it.

  The door closed behind her and she let out a long breath. What was she to do? A part of her wanted to be back in North Uist with her family, and not having to worry about the pressure of marriage and forgiveness. As much as she loved and wanted her husband, the fear that he’d leave her over and over made Beatrice hesitate to return to him.

  Beatrice sunk into the hot perfumed water that was the perfect antidote for not just her weary body, but also her mind.

  The picture of Duncan’s face floated in her mind. How could she not remain with the man? He deserved love and patience, but was she strong enough?

  There was a light knock and Isobel’s face appeared from behind the door. “I came to check on ye. I saw Duncan go down the stairs and outside.”

  “Outside?”

  “Aye, he is over by the vegetable garden, looking forlorn.” Isobel lifted a large cloth so that Beatrice could dry herself. The water had cooled quickly, and she disliked cool baths.

  “My husband will have to learn that he cannot simply appear and expect to be welcomed back with open arms.”

  Isobel went to the window and peered out. “Aye, I agree. How I would react if in yer shoes is not an easy answer.”

  “Ye forgave Darach when he went to see that woman instead of coming straight home upon his release from imprisonment.”

  For a split second, Beatrice wondered if she’d been unthoughtful in her comment, but Isobel shrugged it away. “I was very angry at him. It seems ye are in a similar situation. Having to decide whether to trust yer husband or not. If the answer is no, then ye should return to our parent’s home.”

  Our parent’s home. No longer their home. After marriage wherever their husband was home.

  She dressed in a light dress and then donned a thick shawl over her shoulders. “I am not sure how to proceed. I do love him dearly. I will obey my vows and remain with him. However, I must decide what the terms will be. Overall, I must protect my heart.”

  “Sit down and talk to him. Come to an agreement that if he finds himself in a similar place in the future, he comes to ye first.”

  It was much later that she finally sent Orla to find Duncan. She sat in a chair in the bedchamber, in front of the fireplace. The cheery fire did little to calm her nerves. What would Duncan say when she told him her decision? It was very possible, he would walk out of her life forever. It could come to pass that as soon as the weather permitted, she would be back in North Uist without a husband to call her own.

  When he entered the room, she let out a steadying breath.

  Duncan’s gaze studied her and then he lowered into the chair opposite hers.

  “Where did ye go?” Beatrice asked, mainly because she was curious.

  After a pause, he replied, “To a cabin where I had lived when I first was freed. An old man cared for me and allowed me to live there for many months. As payment, I did work for him. He died while I was there this time.”

  “Why did ye not think to tell me ye were so troubled?”

  “I was fearful of yer reaction to seeing me in a crazed state. The idea that ye would possibly be in danger was worse than knowing I was hurting ye by leaving. Now, I realize that perhaps if I would have shared with ye, it would have helped.”

  Her heart broke for him and once again grief for his stolen years enveloped her. Of course, he didn’t know how to share his emotions or how to properly deal with them. He’d had to face hardships and emotional times alone for so long.

  “Duncan, if we are to remain together, I have demands. If ye cannot agree to them, then I will return to North Uist, alone.”

  There was cautious hope in his expression. “Tell me.”

  “If I return to the estate, ye and I will share the same bedchamber. We will have a chapel built for our own personal time of prayer and solace. Lastly, ye will promise to speak to me about how ye feel regularly and are not to become cross when I ask ye about it.”

  His brows drew together. “I agree to yer demands. They are reasonable and ye are kinder than I deserve.”

  “Stop saying things like that. Ye are not less deserving than anyone else. I cannot imagine what ye have been through. I am sure others who have gone through the same have ended up mad or unable to survive with the shadows of the past in their mind.”

  “Can I stay here with ye tonight?”

  Beatrice’s lips curved. He looked so forlorn. Her huge beastly husband was so vulnerable in that moment.

  “Aye, of course.”

  “Duncan?”

  His gaze met hers waiting for what she’d say.

  “Would ye kiss me please? I have missed ye so much.”

  In an instant, he closed the distance and pulled her up and into his arms. Their mouths collided. There was no feeling like being in Duncan’s embrace. The familiar taste and smell of him overtaking her senses with so much force, it was as if being wrapped in warm comforting blankets.

  Beatrice raked her fingers down his wide back, as she kissed him back with all her might. Then she slipped her hands under his tunic, running her palms up the uneven skin. Despite the scarring, he was warm and soft.

  A gasp escaped at the caresses of the one area no one had ever touched in such a way and he responded by tugging her dress from her shoul
ders and pushing it down until it flowed to the floor.

  Not to be outdone, Beatrice yanked his belt free and pulled the rough fabric of his tunic up. Duncan helped her by pulling it up over his head and dropping it down next to the dress. The breeches and boots followed, and both stood before one another completely undressed.

  “Ye are beautiful,” Duncan said and moved closer.

  When he lowered her onto the bed, she took him in. Duncan was a sight to behold, fully aroused and although a bit thinner still quite magnificent.

  “Come to me,” she said, arms outstretched. “Show me how ye feel.”

  The weight of his body over hers was perfect. Once again, they kissed, Beatrice threading her fingers through his hair. The calloused palms brought shivers of awareness as he slid them over every curve before cupping one breast and then the other.

  Duncan’s uneven breathing made her own hitch. “I want ye so much,” he whispered in her ear. “I cannot wait.”

  When he pushed her legs apart, cool air hit her moist sex and Beatrice gasped at how much desire burned in her. “Take me.”

  Once settled between her legs, Duncan took himself in hand and guided himself to her entrance. The first nudge sent trails of heat up and down each leg. He pushed in, slowly, taking his time and allowing for adjustment to his girth.

  Finally, fully seated, he pulled back out just enough for her to grab his bottom and pull. He drove in and once again filled her completely. Over and over, he slid in and out with measured slowness, driving her to madness.

  When she could not stand it any longer and lifted her hips from the bed, Duncan increased his pace.

  His hand slid under her hips and he lifted Beatrice off the bed to allow deeper access.

  With each thrust and withdrawal, it sent them higher and further into a passionate release. Despite doing her best to remain in the moment Beatrice was spiraling and soon began to cry out as he drove fast and deeper until she lost all control.

  Duncan’s deep grunts continued, past the point of awareness other than seeking release. His thrusts became swift. Too lost in her own passion, Beatrice couldn’t garner any energy to do more than lay under him.