Seeing Beiste’s expression, Lady Agnes’ hesitated to approach further. Brodie elbowed Beiste in the ribs and whispered through gritted teeth, “For goodness’ sake, smile or you’ll scare the women.”
Beiste growled, “When have I ever cared about women?”
Brodie rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “You can be a real prick sometimes.” Brodie gave the women his most charming smile, hoping to put them at ease. It had the required effect as they resumed their approach.
When they reached the dais, the Earl began the formal introductions “Chieftain MacGregor, Brodie Fletcher, may I introduce my màthair Lady Agnes.”
She greeted the men with a slight curtsy then beckoned the blonde lass over, “I know you are most eager to meet your betrothed. May I present my granddaughter, Lady Mary.” Giving Mary a stern look Lady Agnes directed Mary towards Beiste.
Mary reluctantly stepped forward and greeted Beiste with a cautious smile. But he caught her momentary grimace when she viewed his facial scar. It was the same reaction most women had to his disfigurement.
Beiste noticed her grandmother pinch her arm and Mary quickly veiled her reaction and greeted him in a small voice. “Chieftain MacGregor tis happy I am to meet you.” Mary then curtsied low and stepped back to stand beside her grandmother. Her lower lip was trembling when he noticed her grandmother pinch her again.
Damn, the poor lass was here under duress. This did not bode well for a future marriage.
Amelia stood behind her sister and grandmother and snorted with disgust. She wished she were far away from the dumb brute’s presence. Watching him glower and carry on as if everyone was beneath him spoke volumes of his arrogance. She only hoped her da could save Mary from a bleak future.
Preoccupied with her own thoughts, Amelia was unaware that her inelegant snort had gained Beiste’s attention and his eyes now rested on her. Although he could not see her face judging by her rigid stance, he sensed she was angry with him. War had trained him to read the body language of others and at this moment he could tell the little termagant was working herself up into a snit.
With no introduction forthcoming Beiste broke his veil of disinterest and abruptly asked “Lady Agnes, who is this lass?” He nodded his head towards Amelia. All conversation ceased. Mary who was struggling and failing to make polite conversation seemed relieved the attention had shifted from her.
“Pray forgive me, this is Amelia, she is Mary’s uh… companion.”
Amelia grimaced. As many times as she had heard it over the years it still stung that they referred to her as a companion. That word was a constant reminder that she would never fully belong, no matter how much she did for the clan. Amelia was still wool gathering when Lady Agnes pulled her forward to meet Beiste. Startled out of her reverie, she tripped on the front of her overlong tunic and plummeted headfirst towards the floor. On instinct, Beiste moved forward and caught her, pulling her up against his chest.
Amelia lifted her head and froze as a pair of intense obsidian eyes gazed down at her. She had had no one look at her that way before. Something shifted between them. Every part of his body radiated sheer power and shrewd intelligence that missed nothing. Amelia had been wrong in her earlier estimations. This was no dumb brute and lord did he smell clean.
Amelia’s eyes then wandered to his scar. Her healer's mind scowled at the brutal hands that had treated it. The gash would have healed better if they had used aloe. She wondered if she had a salve in her stores which could ease the tightness of the skin as she traced her fingers gently across the old wound.
Beiste stared at Amelia’s countenance and it knocked all the breath from his lungs when he felt the shocking sensation of soft fingers tracing the line of his scar. It was an intimate gesture. No woman had ever dared touch his scar. Somewhat astonished, he welcomed her curiosity. He liked the way her touch felt against his skin. She was warmth and softness to his cold hardened heart. In that instant he was aware of only one person in the room.
“Amelia! Stop touching the Chieftains face.” The Earl’s quiet reprimand broke through the intimacy of the moment.
Shocked by her momentary lapse of reason Amelia apologised, “Forgive me.” as her face erupted in a pink flush. She placed both hands on his chest and pushed away. Beiste reluctantly let her go.
“Amelia are you, all right?” Mary looked slightly concerned.
Brodie stifled a laugh, diffusing the tension in the air. “By all means lass, you can touch me anytime you like.” He winked at her. Beiste with fists clenched made a growling sound at him which had Brodie lifting his hands in surrender and stepping away.
“By the Saints child, keep your hands to yourself.” Lady Agnes tsked. “Go on now, get back to your chores.” Her grandmother shooed her away from the dais. Amelia was so thrilled to be excused, she needed to put distance between her and the Beast. Whatever possessed her to touch him? She started walking backwards, gave a quick curtsy, then she spun around and walked at a brisk pace out the main doors.
Beiste continued to stare at Amelia’s retreating form until the doors closed behind her. He did not understand what had happened, but he felt disappointment at her leaving. He continued staring until an annoying buzzing sound coming from his left grew louder. He turned to find Mary trying to say something to him. He relented and gave her his full attention.
“Will you not come and sit by me for refreshments?” Mary was gesturing to a table on the dais lavishly set with silverware, wine, ale and an assortment of food platters. It surprised Beiste to look about the Hall and see his men were all seated. He had not noticed them at all. He shook his head in disbelief. Never had he been so utterly distracted by a female he was unaware of his immediate surroundings. This was not good. He made a mental note to wipe the vixen from his mind. He needed to get this Betrothal completed and head back to the Highlands.
***
Beiste had been sitting between Mary and her father for the past two hours and he wanted to kill himself. Mary could barely speak without her lip trembling, and Lady Agnes kept kicking Mary under the table. Beiste knew this because the daft woman often missed and kicked his foot instead. The Earl had imbibed too much ale and was falling asleep and Brodie was busy flirting with several serving women.
Just when Beiste was thinking of heading back to camp, the doors to the Hall burst open and a dishevelled callow man came running inside shouting for help.
Beiste and his men immediately stood on alert when the Earl yelled “Harold whatever is the matter?” Harold twisted the cap he held nervously in his hand and in a panicked voice said, “Forgive the intrusion Earl, but mistress Amelia seems to have started a war with the Kennedys.”
Beiste and his men were already on the move.
***
The Kennedys
Pushing all thoughts of Beiste from her mind, Amelia returned to her healer’s cottage and had no time to contemplate anything else because she found a woman and her guardsman waiting for her. The woman wore a long black expensive cloak and a black veil covering her face. She was desperately trying to quieten an unsettled baby.
“Are you Amelia, the healer?” The woman asked.
Amelia recognized her accent to be Northumbrian. “I am.”
The woman looked relieved, “Praise be, I am sorry to intrude but I am desperate for help for my son. I have heard of your skills.”
“Come inside.” Amelia ushered her in.
The woman spoke some instructions to her guard before entering and he remained outside.
“Now then, what ails your bairn, what is his name?”
“Thomas. He does not take well to milk. Our healer has tried everything, but he is getting worse. I beg you to help my son.”
Amelia listened with concern, then she stood and walked over to a pitcher of water and basin. She washed and dried her hands, then stretched her arms out to take the baby.
She cooed at him as he made gurgling noises and he smiled at her “Come now Thomas, let me
have a look at you.” Amelia unwrapped his clothes and saw the babe looked half starved. She kept rocking him while feeling his body and looking over his skin as she spoke.
“Tell me what happens when you feed him?”
“A brief time after I feed him, he cries in pain, his entire body tightens and his stomach swells, he lets out so much wind and his tummy runs. When his stomach is small again, he is hungry again and the process repeats. He has lost so much weight.”
“How often does this happen?”
“Only after I feed him. I thought it was my milk, but it is the same if I use a wet nurse.” She wept.
Amelia reached out her hand to sooth her. “Tis all right I will do what I can.”
The woman lifted the veil, revealing her face. It surprised Amelia at first, but she understood the secrecy.
“I am Eliza Kennedy I want you to ken who it is you help. I ken our clans are not on the best terms my husband can be…” she hesitated, “very stubborn, but this is my son and I will not watch him die because of my husband’s pride.”
Amelia felt pity for the woman a mother’s love was stronger than her husband’s hatred for an enemy. “Tis all right this is an innocent babe who kens not about the wars of men.” Amelia began moving around the cottage setting a fire and gathering things for the babe who had fallen asleep. She placed him in a make-shift cot. In between, she asked questions of Eliza regarding Thomas’ health.
“Here take some cider and eat some broth to calm yourself. You need to keep your strength up also, you look exhausted.” Amelia handed the fare to Eliza, then took some cool cider and bread and cheese to the guard outside. Once her guests were settled she went into her bedroom and consulted her mother’s book of healing notes.
She came out a few minutes later, “I may know what ails him, but I will have to try some things.” Eliza nodded and looked hopeful. I just need to source what I need.
Behind the Healer’s cottage, Amelia had built up an extensive garden of herbs and plants and a large pen where she kept chickens and livestock with a neighbour. She filled a pitcher with fresh goat’s milk and returned to the cottage. She cut a clean piece of cloth and boiled it in scalding water, then let it cool on a hanging rack. She then warmed the goats' milk in a pot over the fire. The babe woke and started fussing again. His mother changed his cloths and handed him to Amelia. She cradled him in her arms, dipped the clean cloth into the warm goats' milk, then let the babe suckle the cloth. He suckled the milk from the cloth and stopped crying, then began fussing for more. Amelia repeated the process over and over until the babe had drank two-thirds of the goats' milk. Thomas looked sleepy as she burped him, then let him sleep. Amelia placed him into the makeshift cot with a soft cover and he slept contentedly.
His mother anxiously looked on. “What happens now?”
“Now, we wait and see how he fares.”
Two hours later the babe continued to sleep peacefully.
“He has never slept this long before, especially after a meal.”
Right on cue Thomas woke and started fussing, but there was no pain or crying. Eliza gently carried him around the cottage, and he cooed, then smiled and stared around the room. “I cannot believe it this has never happened before. Usually he is screaming by now.” She said.
“There is something in all milk that can cause upset for sensitive stomachs, goats milk has a wee bit less than other forms. I just needed to try it.”
“I don’t know how I can ever repay you.” Eliza spoke with watery eyes.
“Just make sure he grows strong, tis payment enough. You are welcome to stay here as long as you need. But remember warm goats' milk dipped in a clean cloth.”
After an hour there was no sign of distress for Thomas, so Amelia felt it was safe to assume it was his mother's milk which upset his stomach. The two women were laughing and cooing with Thomas, who was very much settled and smiling when they heard a tremendous commotion outside. There were ten men standing outside the cottage and one furious Kennedy Laird.
“Come out, you witch! What have you done to me wife and son, you evil one?”
The guard outside would not let him come closer and it looked like blood was about to be spilled.
Eliza looked worried, “I am so sorry to bring this to your doorstep.” Amelia would not be cowered. She opened the door still holding a smiling Thomas and stepped outside but far enough away from the men.
“You witch, why is my son smiling? What smiling spell have you cast on him?”
“Quiet you stupid man.” Amelia shouted back. He looked stunned at her outburst. “I have done nothing to him. He is smiling because he is happy. Your wife is also fine.”
Eliza stepped out of the cottage “Tis true husband we are both well thanks to Amelia. She has helped find a cure for our son.”
“Eliza come away from there wife, she has bewitched you both. I may need to kill her to break the spell.” He boomed and walked closer to the cottage.
“You will do no such thing.” His wife yelled. “She saved our son, I will not let you harm her.”
The babe was fussing with all the shouting, so Amelia returned him to Eliza and told them to go inside.
“You will give me back my wife witch and break whatever spell she is under or I will burn your cottage to the ground.” The Kennedy Laird thundered.
Something about his threat to burn her dead mother’s cottage down caused something deep in Amelia to snap and for the second time that day, she let fly, “Are you an idiot you stupid man? I am not a witch and I did not cast a spell on your wife or babe.” Amelia was livid, and she was now on her tip toes shouting at the top of her lungs pointing her finger directly at him “Your son has a weak stomach, I found milk he could drink to help him grow strong there is no witchery involved.”
“Do not yell at me, I am a Laird.” He hollered.
“Then act like one you big bairn. Look at you coming here scaring your wife and babe, you coward.”
“Don’t call me a coward. You need a firm hand you bloody witch.”
“Come on then you big braw sack.” Amelia taunted and picked up the broom by the door, ready to battle.
“Lass, I really don’t think tis a good idea to challenge the Laird.” Eliza’s guard warned as he was questioning the sanity of the woman beside him.
Amelia just said, “Shush, I need to concentrate.”
***
Beiste could not believe what he was seeing at the Healers cottage. The woman had a death wish. Armed men surrounded the cottage in a semi-circle and one rather large angry man with a beard was roaring at Amelia while she held a broom and challenged him to… battle?
The sound of their arrival caused the men to turn around and soon the Kennedys were facing off with the MacGregors and the Dunbar’s.
“Laird Kennedy, why are you on my land?” Maldred shouted.
“Your witch has my wife and child in her clutches.”
“I am not a witch you bloody stupid idiot!” Amelia screamed again pointing her broom at him.
Beiste could not stomach anymore. He got down off his destrier cursing under his breath and stormed straight towards Amelia. He had an ominous look on his face, so much so the Kennedy retainers instantly parted to let him through. He kept walking when he reached Amelia he snatched the broom out of her hand, snapped it in half and threw it on the ground then he bent down and flung her over his shoulder.
“You just broke my broom, I need that broom.” she complained while hanging upside down.
He whacked her backside, “Be quiet!” She instantly quieted.
Beiste turned to face all the men, Amelia dangling over his shoulder. “Nobody bloody move.” He roared. Everyone nodded, even the Kennedy Laird. Beiste then walked them into the cottage and slammed the door.
Once inside Beiste placed Amelia on her feet “Sit down.”—she did so instantly.
“Now what the bloody devil is going on?”
Eliza quickly stood, holding her son and stepping forw
ard. “It’s my fault. I brought my son to Amelia for healing and my husband is being difficult.” At that moment Thomas gave Beiste a toothless grin. Beiste’s eyes softened momentarily, and he reached out and gave a quick stroke to the babe’s cheek. Amelia and Eliza looked on, surprised at his reaction.
Beiste then turned to Amelia, “Were you able to help the babe?”
“Yes, he just needed some goats' milk and should get better with proper feeding.” He nodded, then turned to Eliza.
“Why is your husband being difficult?”
“He has been feuding with the Dunbars for some years now and forbid me to seek Amelia’s help.”
Beiste looked around the cottage, noticing the vast array of herbs and fresh flowers. So, she was a healer. “But you sought her out anyway and now we have the situation outside.” He stated matter of fact to Eliza.
“Yes.” Eliza looked guilty, “My husband has a short temper, but he is more bluster than action… I know it is because he worries about us but he would never really hurt anyone.”
“Your husband is a fool who will get himself killed one day with all that bluster. If he had come onto MacGregor land with ten men threatening one of our women, I would have run him through with no hesitation.” Eliza paled at Beiste’s frank appraisal, but she had to admit he had a point.
“And you,” he pointed at Amelia “you did not help matters with your caterwauling.” He gave her a stern look.
She opened her mouth to say something, “Shut it.” he said, so she did.
“Gather whatever the babe and his mother need for the journey home. I will make sure this does not end in bloodshed.”
Amelia nodded and grabbed a basket. Now was not the time to argue.
Betrothed to the Beast Page 3