Highlander's Wounded Beast (Beasts 0f The Highlands Book 3)

by Alisa Adams

  “Ye are a duke,” Godet stated in disbelief, then she grinned at him. “Ye should put yer shirt back on then I think. Tisn’t seemly for a duke to be bare-chested.”

  Beiste stared at them with a happy and relieved smile.

  Tristan slapped his forehead. “Ye are the Beast of Beaumont!” he shouted. “Good grief, ye are known to be terrifying in battle!”

  “No more so than Clan MacDonell or the warrior Ross sisters,” Beiste said with a wry grin.

  Tristan studied him. “What happened then?”

  Beiste shook his head. “Cruim jumped me from behind when I was out hunting.”

  “But who is he?” Ceena asked.

  “He is one of my men,” Beiste growled.

  “But the letter from King George?” Godet asked him.

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Beiste mused quietly. “But we should get back. I don’t know what his scheme is or what his plan is for the aunts.”

  “Ina?” Tristan asked.

  “I am keeping her,” Beiste grinned eagerly as he kicked his horse into a gallop. Victorious did not have the same trouble as the giant Clydesdales. He tore through the thick woods, jumping anything in his path. Beiste rode lower over his neck so that the branches and bushes would not hit him as they galloped onwards out of the forest and back to Ina.

  11

  She was gone.

  Beiste halted Victorious, spinning him in circles as he looked all around the village. The fire at the cottage had been put out. There were a few men left cleaning up the debris.

  “Sir,” he called out. “Do you know where Lady Ina and her Aunt Hextilda went? Or if a blond-haired man came to them?”

  “Aye, they went down the beach path. Just Lady Ina and her auntie, me Lord,” one of the men answered.

  Beiste hastily nodded his thanks and spun Victorious back around towards the sea. He nudged him into a gallop. The horse took the beach path as if he galloped down the steep slope every day. At times the horse sat back on its haunches and slid where the sand was loose but Beiste sat back, using the reins to help hold his horse’s shoulders up as they sat down and slid. Victorious did not stop but kept going at his rider’s urging until they were on the flat beach. Once there he galloped full speed down the beach towards the cave entrance.

  Beiste had an idea why Ina had come here. Perhaps she had had the same thought as he.

  Was the playing of the pipes Aunt Burnie, lost in the cave passages beneath the castle trying to alert them that she was lost within?

  Beiste wasn’t paying attention as he rode down the beach. All that he could think about was that he was keeping Ina! He wanted to laugh and shout. He was not married, nor betrothed! He did not have twelve children waiting for him to return home. He was free to marry Ina!

  Now he understood what the Ross sisters meant by “keeping” the ones they loved. He was keeping Ina with him and in his heart forever.

  With the return of his memories he now knew that no other woman he had known was anything like his Ina.

  No other woman had made him feel this way.

  No other woman had made him want to beg for their hand in marriage.

  No other woman had made him want to shout to the world how much he loved her.

  So wrapped up in his thoughts of Ina was Beiste that he did not notice the group of men behind a large cluster of rocks on the beach just outside the cave entrance.

  As he brought Victorious to a walk and jumped off they ran at him before he could draw his sword.

  There was a large group of them, circling him with their swords drawn, pointing at his chest.

  No pistols, thought Beiste. They must be more Jacobites whose guns have been taken away by the King to weaken their rebellion. But are they part of Breadalbane’s band of men or could these possibly be Cruim’s? He pivoted on one foot as he turned in a circle, studying them with narrowed eyes as he drew his two swords slowly and deliberately. His mouth was turned up in a threatening grin as he waited for the first flinch from one of the men.

  “Who are you and what are you doing on Ross land?” Beiste growled in a booming voice.

  The men moved agitatedly. A few were looking anxiously at each other.

  When none answered him Beiste thundered, “They call me the Beast of Beaumont…are you sure you want to trifle with me?” He stared with wicked intention at them. “Aye, I am the Duke of Beaumont and Brandon, and you are on the Ross and MacDonell land who are aligned with the King’s Black Watch Army. Whatever you think you are doing tis foolish!” He continued to turn slowly, pointing his swords at the men.

  The men grew more nervous, but none lowered their weapons.

  Finally Beiste knew what they had been waiting for.

  Cruim Hay came around another rock outcropping. He walked leisurely up to the circle of men surrounding the duke.

  Cruim looked only at Beiste. He had an arrogant smile on his face.

  “I told you to kill him,” he said casually to the men.

  One of the men spoke up. “He says he is a duke, Lord Cruim.”

  “He is not a duke!” screeched Cruim. “Look at him, he is a savage Highlander!”

  Beiste thundered, “He is not a lord! He is—or was—one of my men!”

  “He is lying!” Cruim shouted. “Look at me, I am a lord. He is nothing! I hired you, now do as I say!”

  The group of men became uncomfortable as they looked back and forth between the man outside the circle and the one inside of it. Clearly the one who had hired them was dressed in expensive finery and the other did indeed look like a wild Highlander.

  “Seeing as you stole my horse, and my clothes, which are much too large on you Cruim, I assume you have hired these men with my money as well?” Beiste sneered.

  Cruim said nothing in response to that. He just smiled evilly. “Kill him,” he finally said with no emotion in his voice.

  The men charged.

  Beiste had two swords, one in each hand, and he wielded them with expertise. He spun and slashed and twirled and jabbed. He was a blur of constant movement against the men who kept coming at him.

  Just when Beiste thought he had it under control it seemed that more men came. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another group coming at him. Breadalbane’s men were part of this group. He recognized a few of them. Had Cruim rousted together every discontented person in the Lowlands and brought them here to the Highlands?

  He was tiring.

  Losing his concentration.

  His ribs hurt.

  Where is Ina?

  His shoulder hurt.

  Is she hurt?

  Did Cruim have her somewhere?

  He took a slash at his waist.

  And another grazed the side of his cheek.

  One of their swords slashed at his thigh and upper arm.

  There was blood and sweat dripping into his eyes. He wiped it away with the back of his wrist.

  Concentrate! Stay on the offensive, not the defensive!

  Aunt Burnie leaned heavily on Ina as they walked out of the cave.

  Aunt Hexy was trailing behind them, fussing over her dear old friend and chattering away about what Burnie had missed while at the same time commending her on her pipe playing.

  Aunt Burnie was very tired, and very hungry, as was her cat who was mewling piteously.

  Ina stopped at the sight before them.

  There was her Beiste with dozens of men surrounding him, attacking him. Several had been laid low and were at his feet. She watched in amazement as this one man took on several. Then she got a closer look.

  He was tiring.

  There was blood on him.

  His chest was bare and she saw a slash and blood.

  She wasted no time. She sat Burnie gently down and surged forward, flinging her dirks at the men attacking Beiste. Over and over she threw her knives, watching as several of the men dropped.

  Beiste looked over at her and smiled as he fought. It was a huge smile. One full of triump
h even though he was a man that was bleeding, tiring, and sorely outnumbered.

  Ina kept throwing, glad her knife belt was full. “Pay attention Beiste. Stop playing and take them doon!” she called to him.

  “I am happy to see you m’eudail!” he called back to the petite blonde angel that was fiercely throwing her dirks to help him. The wind coming off the ocean was blowing her hair out behind her and her skirts swirled around her hips and legs. She is magnificent, he thought to himself, and she is mine!

  “What?” she shouted back at him as she flung a knife at a man that was lunging at Beiste. He fell to the ground before he could strike.

  Beiste looked at the fallen man with the dirk in his heart.

  “Thank you for saving me once again,” he said as he continued to fight.

  “I dinnae know why I do,” Ina said. “Ye have torn me heart in two! And dinnae blame it on that letter from the King for I shall not marry that ridiculous Crumb,” Ina grumbled as she expertly threw another knife into one of Beiste’s attackers.

  “Then I shall spend the rest of my life gaining back your heart m’eudail.”

  “What?” she shouted at him.

  “I am keeping you Ina!” he thundered over the chaos of the battle raging on the beach. “I love you and I am keeping you!”

  Ina stilled. Her face lit up in a soft smile. This Highland beast, with his wide, bronzed chest and muscled thighs, his strong arms and his long hair blowing wildly in the wind was hers! Those beautiful generous lips were hers, those haunting eyes were hers. This good, good man who cared more about a horse than himself, was hers.

  “Ye have remembered?” she called out, not as loud now as she could not contain her happiness. He is mine!

  “Aye. And I dinnae have twelve children!” he shouted with a happy laugh. “I am free to marry you and I will because I am keeping you!”

  “Who are you then? A beggar? A thief? A soldier?” she asked mischievously as she flung another dirk.

  “A prince,” he shouted to her as he fought on.

  Ina froze.

  Suddenly she heard a screaming battle cry and saw her sisters come charging down the beach on their Clydesdales.

  The Ross sisters charged into the fray without hesitation with Ina joining them. Ceena threw Ina a sword and she made her way to Beiste’s side. He was tiring to the point of exhaustion and could barely swing his swords. Ina stayed close to his back, fending off any attackers.

  The women finished the battle within moments as the last stragglers backed away bloodied and bruised. They were no match for these warrior women on their huge horses. They had never seen anything like them. Most of the men gave up out of pure terror.

  Cruim ran forward in fury.

  “Why are you stopping?” he screamed. “Kill him! Kill all of them! They are just women!”

  One of the men dropped his sword in surrender.

  He was bent over, breathing heavily, one hand clasped over his side to staunch the flow of blood there from one of the Ross sisters’ swords. He looked up at Cruim. “I heard this man say he is a prince. I’ll not be any part o’ this.”

  “He is a liar I tell you!” Cruim shrieked with rage as spittle flew out of his mouth.

  Beiste dropped to his knees, his chest heaving with exhaustion. “I am George Beisteson De Beaumont,” he said tiredly as he took great gulps of air. “Duke of Beaumont and Brandon. And I love Lady Ina Ross.”

  “Sards,” whispered Ina as she stared at Beiste. She dropped to her knees as well and wiped the blood off his face, looking deeply into his eyes. “You love me,” she smiled. “I knew it all along. I told ye I was keeping ye.”

  “I am keeping you,” Beiste said gruffly.

  “No, I said it first and I rescued you so…there ye have it.” She held his face in her hands as she stared into his beloved green eyes with that sliver of gold. His eyes crinkled at the sides as he looked back at her, his beautiful, generous lips tipping up into a smile.

  “Nay. I rescued you. Twice,” he said, his voice dropping deeply into that velvet timbre. “From the crab and then from Beatlebrain. And the fire.” He cupped her cheek and pulled her mouth to his, kissing her deeply.

  Ina whispered against his lips, “That’s three times.” She sighed and leaned into the kiss.

  “I will not have this!” screamed Cruim. “In fact, I am the prince, not he! Look at me! Who is more prince-like?” he demanded as he looked around at the men who had surrendered.

  Ina looked up at Cruim. She stood up slowly, her eyes on Cruim alone. She reached down, grasped Beiste’s arm, and helped him up. They stood side by side facing Cruim.

  “That white horse over there? The one that is surely owned by a prince and has the finest of tack on it? That one is yours?” Ina said in a strong voice.

  “It is!” Cruim said loudly.

  “This is the very same mare ye asked us to stable for ye?” she asked him casually.

  “Yes, that is the one. She is mine!” Cruim said brashly.

  Beiste looked at the men left on the beach. They were smiling slightly, for they could see that this was not a mare but a stallion. A large stallion.

  Beiste grinned at them.

  “That is a stallion. Not a mare,” Beiste said with a droll tone. “A male, not a female, if ye didn’t know what I meant.” Then he asked, “What is his name Cruim?”

  “Why would I know his name? He is a horse!” he spat at Beiste.

  “The Duke of Beaumont has two matching white stallions. They are full brothers. Their sire was given to the King as a gift. You would know all this and their names if you are truly the Duke,” Beiste said softly, a threat in his tone and in his eyes. “Call him to you,” he said with menace in his voice.

  “Call him and he will come to you if you are truly the one who bred and trained him.”

  Cruim seethed as he looked at Beiste and then at the men who stood on the beach staring at him. He turned to the white horse. “Horse!” he called. “Come, horse!”

  The men snickered at him.

  Beiste let out a soft whistle. “Victorious!” he called and the stallion immediately trotted over to him. Beiste stroked his neck and whispered words of praise to him. Then he clasped his mane and jumped up on his back. He held his hand down to Ina and pulled her up in front of him.

  “No!” screamed Cruim. “You will not win! I planned this too perfectly! You have everything, I just want a little of what you have!”

  Beiste stared down at the man. “You knocked me out, took my clothing and my horse, and left me for dead.”

  Ina chimed in, “And ye wrote a letter trying to make us think I had to marry ye!”

  “That letter was real!” Cruim spat out.

  “She will be my wife,” Beiste thundered at him.

  “No!” screamed Cruim, “No, no, no!”

  At Cruim’s screaming and stomping Aunt Hexy’s little dog started barking furiously. He ran up to Cruim and started barking and growling and biting at his ankles as Cruim stomped and screamed.

  Aunt Hexy and Burnie trotted forward and the two tried to catch the tiny dog but he was too quick. He was circling and biting at Cruim who was now screaming in terror at the dog, and the dog was biting him quite ferociously.

  “Be still will ye Crumb?” Aunt Hexy said angrily. “I will catch him but not if ye keep screaming and stomping and twirling around like that! Ye are just making him more excited!”

  Aunt Burnie tried to help as well. There came more laughter as the well-dressed man who claimed to be a lord screamed in a high pitched voice in fear of the tiniest dog anyone had ever seen. The two old ladies in the ragged tartans were now both chasing the dog, bending down, arms outstretched to try to grab the dog as they ran around Cruim’s feet.

  There came a loud mewling and hissing and suddenly a cat with a bandage around its tale leapt onto Cruim. Cruim threw his hands up to cover his face as the cat clung to his shirt. His screams grew even shriller as he twisted left and right with the dog
biting his ankles and the cat taking swipes at his face while hissing loudly.

  Aunt Hexy and Aunt Burnie gave up and stepped back to watch, their hands over their mouths to still the laughter that was threatening to come forth.

  Beiste got off his stallion and walked over. He called to the dog in a stern voice. The dog instantly stopped and sat, wagging its tail as it looked up at Beiste. Beiste scooped him up and gave him to Aunt Hexy. Then he pried the cat off of Cruim’s shirt and handed it to Aunt Burnie.

  “Here is George, Burunhilde,” he said as he handed the cat to her.

  She smiled up at him. “Nay, he is not George, ye are,” she said as she took her cat and cuddled him in her arms and began stroking his head. “I remember ye. I met ye when ye were just a small boy. The King’s favorite ye are. Named after him too.” Then she looked down and crooned to her cat. “But George is a good name for this one. I think I will call him George.”

  Beiste looked down on the small old woman as she bent over the cat she held in her arms. Her balding head had just a few quivering hairs sticking up here and there. The rest was fuzz, being gently ruffled by the sea breezes.

  “I knew it!” shouted Aunt Hexy. “I knew she was talking about ye. Sometimes Burnie’s mind gets foggy and dreigh, but other times the sun shines bright in her head!”

  This brought murmuring from the men who had attacked Beiste. They slowly backed away.

  “Do not leave!” Cruim shouted to his men. “I have a letter from the King. I am to marry her and I will. She comes with me by order of King George! Seize her!”

  Beiste stepped in front of Ina, his legs splayed as he grabbed his two swords out of the scabbards at his back and point them at the men. “Anyone who touches her dies,” he growled. Ina’s sisters joined him on their huge horses. They surrounded Ina protectively.

  “Hold, hold!” shouted Tristan as he galloped his horse down the beach with Loughlin beside him on his horse.

  Beiste looked over at them. Tristan was waving something in the air.

  Tristan skidded his horse to a halt and jumped off of him. He held the paper up in the air, and was walking towards Beiste when he spotted Aunt Burnie. “Aunt Burnie! Did Crumb take ye?”