Bedeviled Bride (Regency Historical Romance)

by Knight-Catania, Jerrica

  ***

  “May I begin guessing now?” Beth asked after about a half mile on the trail.

  Michael had been silent so far. Almost brooding, if he were capable of such a thing.

  “No,” he said. “It would be pointless. You will never guess and I will never tell.”

  “Fine.” Beth waited a few moments and then said, “Francis?”

  “Now why would I be embarrassed about a name like Francis? It's a perfectly acceptable and highly common middle name.”

  “Yes, but I've always found it to be rather feminine. Do you not agree?” When he didn't respond, she tried again. “Hildebard.”

  Michael gave her a cock-eyed glance. “Is that even a real name?”

  “How should I know?” She shrugged. “Yancy?”

  He almost laughed at this one, she could tell. His lips twitched and he turned his face away on the pretense of looking at something in the distance. Unfortunately for him, one couldn't see a blessed thing beyond the dense forest on either side of them.

  “No,” he finally said. “Not Yancy.”

  “Oh!” Beth exclaimed, remembering her conversation with Bonnie from the day before. “I almost forgot to ask. Did you know our home has a name?”

  “Well, of course it has a name. Don't all estates?”

  “Then why didn't I know about it?”

  Michael seemed to grow a bit uncomfortable. He tugged on his collar and cleared his throat before finally answering. “The topic simply never arose. Is it that important?”

  “No, I suppose not,” she replied thoughtfully. “I was just taken aback when Bonnie mentioned it yesterday. Odd name, Dunbocan. Don't you think?”

  “Yes, I suppose so. But it is Gaelic. I think it might all sound odd to our ears.”

  Beth thought about that and agreed. Gaelic was an odd sounding language after all. “Do you know what it means?”

  There was a pause. Too much of a pause before he answered, “No, I don't.”

  Liar! she wanted to scream at him. Why was he keeping it from her? What was so terrible about the name of their home that he couldn't share it with her?

  “Oh, well...I'm sure Mrs. Kerr will tell me.” She shrugged again and went back to her quest of finding out Michael's middle name.

  ***

  After Beth's hundredth suggestion for his middle name, Michael was ready to strangle his wife. He did have to admit she was rather inventive. Many of her names had made him laugh out loud. It was quite funny when she started naming animals and every day items, sometimes even combining them to come up with names like Houndhat or Stovebear. They were both laughing hard by the time they reached Loch Ness, but quickly fell silent at the sight.

  It was breathtaking, as much of Scotland was. The loch was far bigger than Michael ever could have imagined, and it was surrounded on three sides by lush greenery. Trees of every color broke up the green and reflected in the crystal pool, which rippled with the cool breeze. The surrounding hills stood against a backdrop of a blue-gray sky, dappled with fluffy white clouds. Magical. There was simply no other way to describe it.

  They brought their horses slowly to a stop as they took in the scene. It was a few minutes before he heard Beth release a long breath of awe.

  “This was an excellent idea, my lord.”

  Michael smiled and turned to her. “I'm glad you think so.” And then breaking free of the enchanting spells that both his wife and the loch seemed to cast over him, he said, “Shall we find a spot to picnic?”

  Twenty-One

  “Have you heard the stories?” Michael asked as he handed one side of the plaid blanket to Beth.

  She grabbed it at the corners and together they flounced it, guiding it gently to the ground. “What stories?” she wondered.

  “Of the Loch Ness Monster, of course.”

  Beth stopped what she was doing to look out over the massive body of water. She studied it for a moment before turning back to Michael, her brow furrowed. “You mean, you believe in monsters, but not in ghosts?”

  Michael gave her a lopsided grin. “I don't believe in either, but the stories are fascinating.”

  Intrigued, Beth plopped down on the blanket beside her husband and, after biting off the end of a baguette, she said, “Tell me.”

  “Well,” Michael began, “the first sighting was supposedly in the sixth century by Saint Columba.”

  There was a muted thump as the cork popped free of the wine bottle. Beth watched while Michael filled two glasses, waiting for him to continue the story.

  “There are several versions of the story...here you are.”

  She took the glass he offered, and ignored the tingle down her spine when their hands brushed. Good heavens, they had made love twice now. It didn't make sense that a simple brush of his hand could make her shiver with excitement. But it did.

  “As you can imagine, after thirteen hundred years, the lore gets a bit misconstrued from its original version. Cheese?”

  “Please,” Beth replied with a smile and Michael gave a little chuckle.

  “A poet. I had no idea.”

  “There is much to learn about me. Now, go on.”

  Michael raised his right brow at her, but made no comment. “Well,” he continued with the tale, “one story says that Saint Columba summoned the giant monster, after it had killed a man, and banished it with the Word of God. Supposedly, the monster fled, but many report having seen it since, swimming in the loch.”

  “What does it look like?” Beth asked, turning her attention to the lake again.

  “I don't know. Some say it looks like a giant water horse.”

  “A water horse? I've never heard of such a thing.”

  “A kelpie, then?”

  Beth gave him a blank look, having never heard of any of these creatures.

  “We shall have to give you an education in Celtic lore, my dear. I've no doubt, with your fascination for non-existent creatures, you will take a great interest.”

  “You're wrong. I have an interest in other worldly creatures that do exist.” She challenged him to dispute her with a tilt of her own brow.

  “Tell me about your ghost, will you?”

  Beth blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I want to know what she looks like. Did she say anything to you?”

  “No,” Beth replied, remembering her encounter in the west wing. “She didn't say anything. She put her finger to her lips though, to hush me. She must have sensed I was going to scream.”

  “Ah. An intuitive ghost.”

  “Do you want to hear about her, or do you want to poke fun at me?”

  “I'm sorry,” Michael said, not seeming sincere at all. “Do go on.”

  Beth looked away to study the loch again. Goodness it was breathtaking. “She has red hair, long and flowing—kind of wild, as if she's floating under water. And her skin is white—”

  “Of course.”

  “Translucent. I could see right through her, yet she was still clearly defined in the darkness. She was beautiful.”

  “Well, perhaps I will get to meet her one of these days.”

  Beth looked back to her husband with a disbelieving expression. “I certainly hope so. I'm getting rather annoyed with your nay-saying.”

  They dropped the subject then and nibbled for a few minutes in silence.

  “What do the other stories say about the monster?”

  “Scottish folklore says that the monster is known for luring small children to him, with promises of rides on his back—”

  “How do you know it's a he?”

  Michael stared at her, clearly trying to determine if the question had been asked in all seriousness. “You're right. I don't know. Shall we call the monster an it?”

  Beth shrugged. “If you want. I was just curious.”

  “And once the children are on its back, they can't let go and are dragged to a watery death. However, the most fascinating part of the story says that their livers wash ashore the next day.”r />
  “Livers? Do you mean to say they believe the monster eats the entire child, save its liver? That doesn't make much sense, Michael.”

  “Well, it's not as if I made it up,” he said, his tone incredulous, but his smile indicated he was enjoying her commentary on the subject. “Would you like to take a boat ride?” he asked as he began to gather up the plates and wine glasses.

  “Oh, yes,” Beth exclaimed. “That would be wonderful. Perhaps we'll even get a glimpse of the...what did you call it?”

  “Kelpie?”

  “Yes, the kelpie.” She laughed at the notion and Michael joined her.

  There was a levity to the day. The air was clear and crisp, the sun was bright, and when Michael took her hand in his to walk to their horses, Beth's heart soared. If ever there was heaven on earth, she was convinced this was it.

  They rode their mounts to a local dock and found a man who was renting out boats for the day. Michael dropped the man a few coins, tied the horses to a post and then led Beth down the bank to their assigned rowboat.

  Having been raised in the city, she eyed the tiny boat askance. Though the end of it sat on land, the land looked awfully wet and muddy. She raised her skirts and looked at her fine kid boots, then back at the boat. They would never survive.

  “Don't worry, my dear.”

  Beth gave a surprised squeal when her husband snuck up behind her and scooped her into his arms, rather unceremoniously. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you don't get your pretty feet wet.” He marched to the boat, carrying her as if she were a feather.

  “What about your own feet,” she asked, hoping that he would never put her down. Good heavens, he was strong. And warm. And he smelled delicious.

  “My boots are made of much sturdier stuff, so that I may perform chivalrous acts, such as this, for my beautiful bride.”

  Michael stopped just beside the boat and met her eyes. Beth's heart skipped as he stared at her. Unable to stop herself, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and sweet, but laden with need and longing. Blast it, she wasn't sure she could last the rest of the day without having him inside of her. Now that she'd tasted what it was like, she couldn't stop thinking about it. If only there were a way to prevent a baby. At least for a little while...

  “Darling,” Michael murmured against her lips.

  She ignored him and pressed her lips harder to his, still holding the back of his head with unrelenting force.

  “Darling...really,” he said again.

  Reluctantly, she pulled away. “What is it?”

  “As much as I hate to break this up, my feet are sinking fast into the mud.”

  “Oh!” Beth tried to look down at the ground, but couldn't twist enough to see over her skirts. “I'm so sorry!”

  “No, no,” Michael said as he placed her safely in the boat. “Don't be sorry. Please.”

  With a satisfied smile, Beth carefully maneuvered herself to the far end of the boat so Michael could climb in without getting wetter than he already was. His boots squished as he plunked them down on the wooden planks. Beth shifted slightly to avoid mud on her skirts and then looked up at Michael. There was a smile wider than the loch itself spread across his face.

  “Why are you grinning like that?” she wondered.

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  She didn't. Of course she didn't. And it pleased her beyond all belief that one of her kisses could elicit such a reaction from him. She nearly giggled with satisfaction.

  They rowed out in contented silence. Beth alternated her gaze from one breathtaking view to another, back and forth between the loch and her husband. Every time she looked at Michael, he was staring at her with that boyish grin, and she would turn quickly away, feeling bashful all of a sudden.

  “You're going to miss all this beautiful scenery,” she warned.

  “I'm not missing anything.”

  “I won't deny that that's a horribly romantic thing to say, but you can look at me anytime. However, this...” She sighed. “This kind of a day only comes along once in a while.”

  “Beth.”

  Her hand was suddenly engulfed by Michael's, and she turned slowly to meet his gaze.

  “If I lived for a thousand years, I could never look my fill of you.”

  Beth's tongue went limp. Her whole body went limp, actually. She'd never quite realized what he thought about her. She smiled and then threw herself into his arms. Michael was forced backwards and together they fell to the bottom of the boat. Because of the awkward placement of the benches, Michael's legs stuck straight up in the air, and Beth was forced to twist herself into a most bizarre position atop him. They giggled and kissed, but made no real move to right themselves.

  It felt too good. This joy, this closeness. Beth never wanted for this moment to end.

  She pressed her lips to Michael's, and then pulled away with a teasing grin. It was then, when he was trying to pull her head back down to his, that she saw it.

  Fear seized her. Her heart beat wildly against her rib cage, and she tried frantically to remove herself from Michael's grip.

  “Darling?” he asked, his arms holding her tighter. “What are you doing? What is it?”

  “M-m-m...”

  There it was again!

  She whimpered as she finally broke free and tried to pull Michael up to see the horrifying thing she'd just seen.

  “Beth, what is it?” he asked again, struggling to right himself.

  Somehow she found just enough voice to say, “The Loch Ness Monster.”

  Twenty-Two

  “The what?” Michael stared at his wife, unable to believe what he'd heard.

  “Michael, I'm serious,” she cried, never taking her eyes from the water. “It was right there!”

  He turned to look where she pointed. After a quick examination of the area around them, he looked back at Beth. “There's nothing there, darling. It was probably a large fish. That's all.”

  Fury ignited in her blue eyes when she finally shifted her gaze to him. “I know what fish look like, so I will thank you to stop patronizing me.”

  “Beth, your imagination is running wild because of the stories. You don't really believe there's a fifteen hundred year old monster living in this lake, do you?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and harrumphed. Clearly, he'd bested her. What could she possibly say to dispute that?

  “I believe I've married a self-righteous pig, who thinks he knows everything.”

  Michael reared back slightly and blinked in shock. “Rather harsh, don't you think?”

  “Why don't you ever believe anything I say?” she asked, ignoring his question.

  He sighed. Five minutes ago, he'd thought nothing could ruin this day. That they'd finally found common ground, admitted their love for one another and could have a pleasant life from here on out.

  Clearly he'd been laboring under a misapprehension.

  He cast a glance at her. Even angry she was the most stunning woman he'd ever seen. With the sunlight beaming down on her golden hair she looked positively ethereal.

  Damn the monster! He'd been about to make love to his wife right there in the boat. If it weren't for the supposed, blasted kelpie, he'd be buried deep inside of her right now.

  Perhaps it was time to try a new tactic.

  “You're right,” he admitted. “I'm sorry. I should give more credence to your words than I do. I still have a bit of trouble believing in...well, ghosts and monsters and such, but if you say you saw them...”

  Beth lifted her eyes. “You believe me?” she asked, a small smile coming to her lips.

  Michael would do anything to keep that smile in place. Even lie. “Yes, I believe you.”

  She took a deep breath and uncrossed her arms. “Well, thank you,” she said. “In that case, may we row back to shore?”

  “Shore? We just got out here.”

  “Yes, but...” She cast a wary glanc
e to the water. “Please?”

  Dammed Kelpie! “Of course.”

  ***

  They rode home in silence. Michael brooded the whole way, obviously upset that their day had been cut short. But Beth didn't care. She knew what she'd seen and she knew it had to be the monster. Fish didn't grow that big. Fish didn't have humps, either.

  Stories, indeed! That blasted thing was alive and well and she would be damned before she spent an afternoon in its company.

  Beth did have to admit, however, that she was somewhat disappointed in the outcome of the day herself. Their picnic, their moment in the boat just before the kelpie showed himself, had been magical.

  She glanced warily at her brooding husband. He stared straight ahead, not bothering to spare a glance in her direction. It hurt a little. He must have known she was staring at him and he deliberately ignored her. With a sigh, Beth turned away again and focused on the road ahead.

  This would pass and things would go back to the way they were. There would be more moments like the ones they'd shared that afternoon. Michael just had to get over the disappointment of this particular day.

  As soon as they reached the drive of Dunbocan, it became apparent that something was awry. In the distance, on the drive just in front of the house, stood Mr. and Mrs. Kerr with someone—a man that Beth couldn't quite make out from this distance.

  “What do you think is going on there?” she asked of Michael.

  His eyes squinted. “I'm not sure. But we're about to find out.” He gave his horse a nudge and sprung into a canter.

  Beth followed suit, cantering along behind until she was able to get a good look at the man—or rather, the boy—who stood arguing with Mr. and Mrs. Kerr. What the devil was John doing there?

  Ignited by fury and worry and all other sorts of wretched thoughts, she sprang into a gallop and sprinted right past her husband.

  “Beth!” he called, but she didn't stop.

  Not until she pulled up to the circular did she slow her horse. They came to an abrupt stop mere feet from her brother and she hurtled herself from the saddle. John caught her and she squeezed him hard, thankful, no matter what the circumstance, to see him. Then and only then did she realize how much she missed her family. Tears sprang to her eyes as he hugged her back. Finally, she was able to find her voice.