Beauty and the Beastly Highlander by Kenna Kendrick

Chapter Two

Blaine slid out of his saddle and hit the ground, nearly toppling over. His legs wavered and felt like they were going to give way. But he managed to keep on his feet, if only just. The young stableboy approached, giving him an awkward bow. Blaine gave him a crooked smile and threw the reins to him.

“See to me horse, boy,” Blaine said. “We’ve had a long ride back from Edinburgh, and he needs food and water. And a good brushing.”

“Yes, me Laird.”

“I’m nae thae Laird, ye bleedin’ fool. That’d be me faither,” Blaine snapped. “I’m just a pawn in his grand game. No more important than ye, actually.”

Blaine drained the last of the bottle of spirits in his hand and threw it at the stable wall. It shattered with a loud crash, spraying tiny shards of glass everywhere. The stableboy looked at him with wide eyes, and Blaine snarled at him.

“Go see tae me horse, boy,” he roared. “Are ye bleedin’ simple?”

“Nay, me—sir,” he stammered.

The boy sketched an awkward bow, then turned and scurried off, leading Blaine’s horse into the stable. Blaine giggled to himself, still feeling a little lightheaded from the bottle of spirits. Trying to sober up, he turned and breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar odors that filled the castle bailey. He looked over to the stables that ran along the eastern wall. A smithy’s forge was also on that side of the bailey. Along the western wall was a row of stalls, mostly selling roasted meats and other assorted vendors. On the southern wall behind the castle were barracks for his father’s soldiers. The main gates were set into the northern wall.

Blaine walked around the bailey, looking at the changes his time away at university in Edinburgh had wrought. He had been gone but a few years, but the time had brought many changes to the family castle. Somewhat depressingly, though, he noticed many things had remained exactly the same.

“So, thae rumors are true. Ye’re back.”

Blaine turned around to find Agan, one of his father’s men-at-arms, leaning against his pike. Agan was a tall man, broad through the shoulders and chest. He had light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He bore a jagged scar that ran along the left side of his jaw, curling upward in a fishhook that ended just below his eye. The beard on his face was thick—save for that line of pale, puckered flesh.

Agan had been Blaine’s friend since they were boys, and there was nobody in the world he trusted more. Blaine had always believed they were closer than brothers—a sentiment Blaine was certain Agan shared.

“Aye. They’ve called me back early,” Blaine said. “They told me there was a severe lack of good looks around here, and they wanted me to come home to fix it.”

Agan laughed heartily and stepped forward, pulling Blaine into a tight embrace. They thumped each other on the back then took a step back. The two men took a moment to look each other over and smiled.

“Ye smell like ye just crawled out of a bottle,” Agan told him with a chuckle.

“’twas a long road to get here. Nae much tae dae but have a drink.”

“A drink? Smells like ye had all thae drinks.”

They shared a laugh together. Seeing his old friend was doing Blaine’s heart a world of good. It dulled some of his resentment at being called home from his studies before he’d completed them. He wanted to finish his education at one of the most renowned universities in the world. More than that, he wanted to enjoy the life of a student. To enjoy life in general. Edinburgh was famous for the intellectual ability it harnessed, but to Blaine, it was just as renowned for its drink and its women. And there had been many women.

Just thinking about it aroused him and made him long to be in the arms of the women he’d routinely bedded. He doubted he’d find as many beautiful lasses in Glaslaw Castle willing to give him their intimate embrace. And that thought made him resentful as well. Agan clapped him on the shoulder, drawing him back to the present.

“’tis good to see ye again, lad,” Agan said.

“Aye. ‘tis good to see yer ugly mug as well.”

“I dinnae expect to see ye back for a while yet,” Agan said. “Arenae ye supposed tae be studyin’ in Edinburgh?”

“’twas supposed tae be,” he grumbled. “Me faither sent for me and bid me tae return. He said there was an urgent matter he needed tae discuss with me.”

“Aye? What’s so urgent?”

Blaine shook his head. “I’ve nay idea. Knowin’ me faither thae way I dae, it’ll probably be somethin’ bleedin’ stupid, like which color feather he should wear in his helm.”

Agan chuckled, his voice a deep rumble. “Aye. It would nae surprise me tae find ye’re right about that.”

Blaine reached out and touched the insignia on the tunic sleeve that poked out from beneath Agan’s boiled leather cuirass and smiled.

“Ye seem tae be doin’ well for yerself,” Blaine said. “A sergeant now, eh?”

Agan nodded. “Aye. When he promoted me, yer faither told me he could never have too many smart, intelligent, and devastatingly handsome men in command.”

Blaine laughed and shook his head. “Daenae let that go ta eyer head,” he stated. “He needs tae say somethin’ tae make ye feel good about yerself.”

“Well, I suppose it worked because I feel very good about meself.”

Blaine laughed. “Ye always have, lad.”

“Aye. Mebbe so.”

Blaine was grateful to have run into Agan. Their conversation sobered him and made him more focused than when he’d first slipped off his horse. That could only be a good thing—especially in light of his next destination.

“Well, I suppose I cannae put it off much longer,” he said. “I suppose I need tae get in tae see what me faither wants.”

“Probably goin’ tae ask for yer help polishin’ his sword.”

Blaine laughed long and loud. “Aye,” he said through his laughter. “Ye’re probably right about that.”

“Aye. I should get tae thae gatehouse anyway,” he added. “How about we share a bottle of spirits tonight. Catch up on our lives.”

“I’d like that,” Blaine replied. “But we better make it two bottles. I think I’m goin’ tae need one of me own after dealin’ with me parents.”

“Aye. Two bottles it is then,” Agan replied. “It really is good tae see ya again.”

“Aye. Ye tae.”

Blaine watched as his friend walked across the bailey, heading for the guardhouse on the main gate. That was one thing he liked and admired about Agan—his willingness to roll up his sleeves and do the work he’d have others do. Blaine had seen plenty of men in elevated positions who refused to do the job they’d ordered their men to do.

To Blaine, it showed that Agan didn’t think he was above anyone. It showed his integrity. That he was humble enough to still hold a post, and even though he was of a higher rank, he didn’t think himself better than anybody. Blaine knew that one day, Agan would make a grand commander of his father’s forces.

Finally, turning around, Blaine walked across the bailey and walked into the keep. The servants all bowed and gave a respectful nod as he passed by. There were few faces he recognized, but the fact that they all knew him was somewhat unsettling. His boots thudded heavily on the stone floor of the corridor, and turning a corner, Blaine nearly ran straight into Carson, the household chamberlain.

Carson was a tall, thin man with green eyes, pale skin, and thinning hair that was once dark but was gradually turning silver. Though Carson was most definitely his father’s man, he’d always been fair to Blaine. Even indulgent once in a while. He looked at Blaine with an expression of annoyance; no doubt upset that he’d almost been knocked over. But when Carson recognized Blaine, his eyes grew wide, and a smile crossed his lips.

“Master Blaine,” he gasped. “I dinnae expect ye here.”

Blaine smiled. “I dinnae expect tae be here either,” he replied with a note of bitterness in his voice. “And yet, here I am all thae same.”

“Aye. Well. ‘tis good tae see ye, Master Blaine,” he said. “Yer faither is in thae grand hall hearin’ petitioners.”

“Right. Thank ye, Carson.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I’ll have thae chambermaids freshen up yer room.”

“Me thanks,” Blaine said.

Blaine turned again and strode through the corridors—taking the long route through the keep, trying to put off seeing his parents for as long as humanely possible.

But after five minutes or so, Blaine knew he couldn’t postpone it anymore. So, he walked the long corridor that led to the pair of heavy oak and steel banded doors of the great hall. A couple of men-at-arms flanked the doors, swords on their hips, pikes in their hands.

“Master Blaine,” said the guard on the left. “Good tae see ye.”

“Aye. Good tae see ye tae, lad.”

The man reached out and opened the door, holding it open for him. Blaine nodded his thanks and walked into the great hall. The heavy door closed behind him with a loud, hollow noise. The great hall was circular and made of thick stone. A beautiful stained-glass window was set into the wall behind the dais holding the Laird and Lady’s chairs. Both seats were occupied.

Sconces held torches that flickered and guttered, spaced at regular intervals along the walls around the chamber. Ornately woven tapestries hung between the torches and a large rug sat at the foot of the dais where his mother and father were seated. It was for the petitioners’ comfort when they knelt before the Laird.

At present, two men were kneeling on the carpet, both of them pleading their cases passionately. His father sat back in the massive and ornately tooled chair, his legs crossed and not even attempting to hide his expression of boredom. Yet, on the other hand, his mother seemed to be paying close attention to every word the two men said.

When the door banged closed, she looked up, and her expression changed. Unlike the mask of cool indifference she wore as she listened to the petitioners - when her eyes fell on Blaine, they widened, with a look of pure joy. But she quickly controlled herself and looked down at the two men.

“We have heard everything you have said and will take it into consideration,” she said, trying to rush them along. “And we will have a decision for you in a couple of days. Now, if you will excuse us….”

The men rose, gave a bow, and walked toward the doors, glowering at each other every step of the way. Blaine stepped closer to the dais as his mother bounded down the stairs and threw herself into his arms, squeezing him tightly. Finally, she stepped back and looked at him, taking his hands in hers.

“Oh, my baby boy. ‘tis so wonderful tae see ye,” she said, beaming.

“Aye. ‘tis good tae see ye tae mother.”

She smiled, but her lips wavered as a strange look crossed her face, and a slight frown curled the corners of her mouth downward.

“Have ye been drinkin’?” she asked.

Blaine gave her a crooked grin. “Mebbe a wee bit.”

“A wee bit?” How much is a wee bit?”

Blaine shrugged. “Let’s nae talk about that right now.”

“Is it a wee bit more than ye had in Edinburgh then?”

Doing his best not to roll his eyes, Blaine looked up at the dais. His father was still reclined and hadn’t made a move to come to greet him. He hadn’t even offered a word of greeting. Not that Blaine was surprised. His relationship with his father was—complicated.

“So why did ye send for me then, eh?” Blaine asked.

“It was time. Ye’ve things tae attend tae here at home,” his father said.

“What kind of things?”

“For starters, ‘tis time for me tae find ye a proper match. Ye need a wife,” his father said. “And I’m goin’ tae find ye one.”

“And if I daenae want tae marry, Faither?” Blaine added, a dark tone to his words

“Don’t be ridiculous. “’tis our way. And ‘tis yer duty tae thae family.”

Blaine sighed but held his tongue. What he couldn’t stop was the frustration building up within him. His father finally leaned forward in his seat, laying his forearms down along his thighs. He looked at Blaine, who felt uncomfortable as his father’s eyes bore into him. It was as if his father could see inside him. See all his secrets. See his soul. His father frowned.

“And now that ye’re home, ye’re goin’ tae be a better man than ye were down in Edinburgh,” he said, then held up his hand to forestall the argument Blaine already had queued up in his mind. “There will be nae drinkin’, and there will be nae whorin’. Thae life ye lived and thae man ye were in Edinburgh will stay in Edinburgh. Am I clear?”

“Faither—”

“I said, am I clear?”

Blaine glanced at his mother, who was frowning as she looked down at the ground. He wondered what was going through her mind. Was she trying to hide the disappointment she felt in learning that he’d behaved less than ideal at university? But the anger was simmering inside of him, and when he turned back to his father, his fury was rising dangerously high.

“Are you following me, Faither? Did you have somebody watching me?”

His father nodded. “Of course I did. I had a vested interest in keeping you safe, so aye. And I’ll nae be apologizin’ for it either.”

“Does me privacy mean nothin’ tae ye?”

His father scoffed. “When ye’re the son of thae Laird, ye daenae have thae luxury of privacy,” he said. “And what I’m askin’ ye is nae too much tae ask. Ye’ve had yer fun. Ye’ve sowed yer oats. Now ‘tis time for ye tae settle down and do yer duty for thae good of thae clan.”

“Ye mean, to dae what’s good for ye, since ye’ll reap the benefits of marryin’ me off tae somebody wealthy, eh?”

His father’s expression darkened. “It’s time for ye tae stand up and be a man. Tis time for ye tae put thae clan first.”

Blaine was angry. He couldn’t believe his father was lecturing him about his duty but that he’d had him watched—it was all infuriating. He glanced at his mother, who quickly took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Ye look tired, dear. I’m sure after such a long ride from Edinburgh, ye want tae clean up and get some rest, eh?”

His mother was giving him an out. The tension was certainly rising in the room, and it appeared that a fight was inevitable. It always upset her when Blaine argued with his father, and she would always do whatever she could to diffuse the tension and protect him.

“Aye. I’m beat,” he said. “I’ll go and clean up and get some rest.”

She nodded, a small smile on her lips. “I’ll have supper sent to your chamber tonight.”

“Thank ye, Maither.”

“Of course, Blaine,” she said. “I’m just happy to have you home.”

Blaine gave her a small smile and a curt nod. He leaned forward, planted a gentle kiss on her cheek, and then walked out of the great hall without acknowledging his father. He wasn’t happy to be home, and he certainly didn’t want to marry whoever his father picked out for him. And as he made his way to his chambers, he silently vowed to himself that he would do everything in his power to prevent it from happening.