Beauty and the Beastly Highlander by Kenna Kendrick
Chapter Five
Olivia stood beside the carriage, looking up at the tall Scotsman, quite taken with how handsome he was. The man’s hair was the color of rust, tied at the neck, and fell to the middle of his back. His eyes sparkled like polished emeralds. She noticed his skin was the color of alabaster and his cheeks smooth and freshly shaven. He was broad through the shoulders and chest, and she could tell, even beneath his breeches and tunic, that he was taut with corded muscle.
Aisling stood close behind her, and Olivia could feel the warmth of lust radiating from her friend as heat emanates from a fire. It was all she could do to keep from turning around and giving her a wicked, knowing smile. But if this was the Laird’s son, she needed to maintain her composure. Her actions, after all, reflected upon her uncle—as well as upon her entire family name.
“And what is your name?” Olivia asked, surprised at how steady and even her voice remained despite everything that had just happened.
“I’m Blaine, m’lady,” he replied, looking at her curiously. “This is me friend, Wallace.”
The man with him stepped forward, and she heard Aisling quietly gasp. Wallace was slightly taller than Blaine. He had a head of thick, dark hair and eyes the color of night.
“We appreciate you intervening in what was a frightening situation,” she said.
“’twas our pleasure, Miss. We’re just glad we arrived in time.”
Olivia stood in awkward silence for a long moment, unsure what to say. She had never been the most outward or assertive girl but standing in front of such a handsome man—one who had just saved her life, no less—had her blushing in ways she never knew she could. It made her all the more conscious of her mark, which sent the familiar waves of shame washing over her. As if she could feel it, Aisling grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Olivia found it curious that he had not asked her to pull back her hood. Nearly everyone did upon their first meeting. After that, they never asked again, as if they couldn’t bear the sight of her. Blaine, however, didn’t seem the least bit curious about why she hid her face. The fact nagged at her, and Olivia wondered if he’d been told of her deformity already. But as he looked at her, he had a gentle smile upon his face and not the look of horror that colored the faces of most people who saw her.
Blain stepped forward and took her hand, brushing the back of her knuckles with his lips. The feeling of his lips sent a shock down her spine, and she trembled openly. He looked up at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and Olivia knew he had felt her quivering. He stood up, though, good enough not to mention it.
“’tis good tae make yer acquaintance, me Lady,” he said. “Welcome tae Stonehaven, home of Clan Drummond.”
She gave him a small curtsy and bowed her head. “Thank you for the rescue and the warm welcome. I am glad to be here.”
He cocked his head and looked at her for a moment, a smile playing across his lips. She could tell he knew she was lying about being glad to be in Scotland, but he didn’t pursue it any further. And though he said nothing, she could see the questions in his face. Like most, he was curious about her hood. But unlike all, he said nothing about it. She could tell that Blaine was a true gentleman, and she appreciated it.
“I’m surprised. Most people want to know why I wear a hood,” she said finally, her voice wavering. “You’re the first not to ask me to remove it. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
A small smile flickered across his face that only highlighted his strong jawline and handsome features. Olivia felt her heart flutter but fought to keep it under control. She could see him looking her up and down appraisingly. And judging by the smoldering gaze in his eyes, Olivia could tell he enjoyed what he was seeing. She fought to suppress her smile as butterfly wings battered the inside of her belly.
“Of course, I’m curious. I’m inquisitive about a great many things,” he said, his tone carrying an edge of flirtatiousness. “But it’s nae me business. I figure ye’ll show me yer face when ye’re ready. ‘tis nae me place to demand it of ye.”
It was such an unexpected answer that Olivia found herself stunned for a moment. She had no words to reply. Very few people in her life had ever shown her such respect or consideration.
“We should probably go,” he said. “Cormac may come back with more friends. Also, yer Captain needs tae get his men tae thae physician.”
Captain White gave her a look that silently asked if she was sure about this. She gave him a nod to tell him she was fine. She didn’t know Blaine but knew that he would not hurt her. There was something about him that spoke of a gentleness uncommon in men. Especially men as large and as skilled with a blade as he obviously was.
Olivia never considered herself to be the type of person who was fascinated by battle or swordplay. But watching Blaine fight the brigands had been breathtaking. He moved with precision and grace. The way he moved was elegant, and she thought it was like watching poetry made flesh. And the fact that he did not kill… Indeed, she thought he looked repulsed by the idea—something else that was uncommon in martial men, as well as alluring. It showed her that he had peace and mercy in his heart. It spoke to her about his character.
“We should be away,” Blaine said. “Your girl will—”
“Apologies. I mean no disrespect, but her name is Aisling,” Olivia interrupted.
A small grin curled the corner of his mouth. “The apologies are mind tae make then. Aisling will ride with Wallace, and I’ll take ye back meself.”
She watched as Blaine mounted his horse before he turned and reached for her. Olivia wasn’t sure how he planned on getting her onto his horse, but when he took her hand, he lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing at all. Olivia considered herself petite, but swinging her up onto the saddle behind him took considerable strength that left her wide-eyed. She turned and watched his friend Wallace do the same thing with Aisling. The two women shared a look of absolute amazement, and Olivia smiled when she saw her usually unflappable lady in waiting blush a bright red.
“Ye’ll want tae hang on tightly,” he said.
Olivia didn’t move, not sure what to hold onto. But then he reached back for her hands, pulling them up and around his waist. She gasped when her hand slid across a body that was toned and taut with muscle. A powerful quiver rippled through her heart as her hands pressed into his flesh as she held onto him. And as he moved, she felt his muscles rippling and flexing beneath her fingers.
Laying her cheek against his back, she tried to suppress her feelings and the heat flaring between her thighs. Olivia’s face burned bright with embarrassment, and her throat grew dry. She’d never felt such physical sensations before, and it mortified her, yet she couldn’t deny how nice it felt to be clinging to a man as handsome as Blaine. To be so close to a body that felt like the statue of a Greek god brought to life.
Olivia was embarrassed by her thoughts and physical reactions. She was self-conscious of the lust that coursed through her like a raging river. It was highly improper and inappropriate, bordering on the lewd. Riding like this would never be acceptable back home. But, a slow grin curled the corners of her mouth upward as she realized she was no longer at home and England’s rules didn’t apply anymore. So instead, she gave herself over to the feelings as she gripped his tunic and enjoyed the ride.
They rode for near fifteen minutes, and Olivia felt like every bone in her body had been jarred and jostled as they galloped along the road. But she was able to push aside the physical discomfort when she caught sight of the keep that would be her new home.
“Is that Glaslaw Castle?” she asked.
“Aye,” Blaine replied. “’tis where ye’ll be layin’ yer head at night.”
“It’s… beautiful.”
Blaine turned his head and looked back at her, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. His smile was beautiful and made him look softer. Kinder. It made him look more like a child than the man he was.
“It has its charms,” he said, then turned back.
To Olivia’s thinking, charms was a mild way to describe the keep. A finger of land jutted outward into the ocean. The base of the land was dark stone, rocky and craggy. The top of the finger of land that surrounded the castle was lush and green. A low wall enclosed the ground behind the keep, but she could still see the emerald-colored grass.
The keep itself was all made of dark stone. It made Olivia wonder if it had been built from the same sort of stone that made up the cliff it sat upon. A curtain wall surrounded the keep, though it was lower than the one at home. She supposed with only one way to enter the keep, it was more easily defensible.
The keep itself was tall, three or perhaps four stories tall. She saw far more windows and arrow slits than dotted her family’s keep. For that, she was glad. The thick, salty scent of the ocean was intoxicating—something she’d never enjoyed before—and she looked forward to waking up with the smell of the sea. She could see the base of the cliff and marveled at the waves crashing against the rocks below. If not for the reason she’d been sent to Glaslaw Castle in the first place, Olivia thought she could be thrilled in a place so beautiful.
As they rode down the well-trodden path toward the keep, Olivia saw a town a short way to the east. It hugged the cliff and stretched inland a little way. It seemed about the same size as the town that surrounded her family’s keep, and she could see the busy streets. The heavy oak gates in the curtain wall stood open, and they passed through them with the guards standing their post, barely giving them a glance.
Blaine reined his mount to a stop and slid out of the saddle. A stableboy appeared instantly and took the reins as Blaine turned back and helped her down from the back of his mount. Olivia settled her hood about her again and cleared her throat.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Ye’re welcome.”
Wallace helped Aisling down, and she quickly scurried over to Olivia, giving her friend a sultry lovestruck look. Wallace was watching Aisling, and when he saw Olivia’s eyes on him, he quickly looked away. Blaine and Wallace took their sheathed swords and other items off their saddles then let the stableboys lead their horses away. They settled their blades on their backs and their bags upon their belts. And when they were finished, Blaine looked at Olivia.
“So why dae ye come tae Glaslaw Castle anyway?” he asked.
“You do not know already?”
He chuckled. “If I kent, would I have asked?”
She looked down, an abashed smile on her face. “I suppose not,” she replied. “It was a silly question.”
“Daenae worry, lass,” Wallace piped up. “If ye’re around here for any length of time, ye’ll find that Blaine says stupid things all thae bleedin’ time.”
“Wallace, I ken ye’re a savage heathen who doesnae understand proper manners, but ye should watch yer language around a Lady.”
“It’s all right,” Olivia said softly. “I’ve heard far worse.”
Blaine’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Manners matter,” he said. “But ye never answered me question. Why are ye here?”
“I—I am to live here,” Olivia replied, the familiar feeling of dread filling her belly. “Your mother was good friends with mine before she died. So, your parents agreed to take me on as a ward now that my parents are... dead.”
A look of compassion crossed his face that was so pure it made her heart swell. “I’m sorry for yer loss.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “My uncle thought it would be better for me to be—well—somewhere else. Somewhere new.”
Blaine nodded as if he understood. “Well, I suppose we should get yet tae me parents.”
“I suppose so,” she replied, the sense of dread becoming almost overwhelming.
He and Wallace fell into step beside each other and led the way. Still holding her hand, Aisling pulled her friend along. Olivia was fighting the dark feelings that rose within her like an evil tide that threatened to swamp her. They passed beneath the portcullis that hung above the main doors and into the keep. The sunlight glinted off the spiked tips—a reminder that although beautiful, the castle was a fortress—a fortress filled with martial men who would go to war if their Laird asked.
Blaine led them through a warren of passages until they found themselves in a long stone corridor that ended in a pair of heavy oak doors. Two men stood outside the doors, both wearing dark boiled leather cuirasses and trousers. Both had swords on their hips and had tall, fearsome-looking pikes in their hands.
“Yer faither is with a petitioner,” one of the guards said.
Blaine shrugged. “Is me maither inside?”
“Aye. She is.”
“Good.”
Blaine offered Olivia his arm, and when she took it, she felt an explosion of sensation. She thought he’d felt it too because his body stiffened, and he looked at her with surprise. He turned and offered her that smile again that highlighted everything she thought beautiful about him, sending a current of emotion rushing through her. He gave her a wink as they barged through the door. His legs were longer, his stride bigger, and Olivia had to hurry to keep up. The heavy oak doors crashed into the walls behind them, sending a boom that echoed through the great hall. From beneath the shadows of her hood, Olivia looked around the circular chamber. Her eyes were drawn to the large, colored glass window located in the rear wall. It was filled with a myriad of different colors, and in the sunlight, it cast the chamber in a rainbow of light that was absolutely beautiful.
On a dais below the window sat an oversized, ornately carved chair. Upon it sat a large, stout man with a head of thinning iron-gray hair, a dark beard shot through with gray and predatory dark eyes. Beside him was a smaller, less ornate chair, but the woman sat upon it looked at Olivia with a sense of self-possession that screamed of nobility. She was slim and of medium height with long, dark hair shot through with gray and tied into a tail that hung over her shoulder. She had green eyes the same shade as Blaine, and they sparkled just the same. She had not yet spoken a word, but Olivia thought she had a kindly, compassionate air.
“Ye may go now,” the man on the throne commanded. “We will discuss this again later.”
The man kneeling on the carpet before the dais got to his feet and cast a look at Olivia’s group as he made his way out. The guards shut the doors behind him, the hollow boom of the doors slamming shut echoing around the circular chamber. With Aisling walking just behind her, they made their way to the foot of the dais and stopped. Blaine let go of her arm and took a step back before bowing deeply to his parents before gesturing to her with his arm.
“Maither. Faither,” Blaine said, his voice authoritative. “I’d like tae introduce ye tae yer new ward. This is thae Lady Olivia.”
Though his tone was not unkind, it sounded clear to Olivia that he was curious about why he was not informed of her coming. Blaine’s mother looked at her with wide eyes, lips parted, and a stricken expression on her face. But when Blaine cleared his throat, she seemed to come back to herself, and a sheepish smile touched her lips. His mother rose from her chair and made her way down the steps in a regal fashion.
With her eyes still fixed on Olivia, the Lady offered the girl a gentle smile then reached out, hesitantly taking her hands. Everything in the woman’s bearing told Olivia she was nervous, but she had no idea about what. She was the Lady of the castle, while Olivia was nothing, after all. So what did the Lady have to be nervous about?
“I am glad to have ye here, me dear,” she said with a slight quiver in her voice. “I loved yer ma like she was me own blood. I mourn her still.”
Olivia gave her a small, formal curtsey. “I am grateful for your hospitality, my Lady,” she said. “This is my lady in waiting, Aisling.”
“Please. Call me Caitriona. As far as I’m concerned, ye’re family tae me. I’m glad tae finally meet ye, Olivia. And it is very nice to meet you as well, Aisling.”
“Thank ye, m’Lady,” Aisling said, also curtseying.
“Step forward, lass,” a deep, rugged voice boomed.
A dark expression crossed Caitriona’s face, but ever the dutiful wife, she stepped back and folded her hands at her waist. She looked up at Olivia and gave her an encouraging nod. Olivia cut a glance at Blaine, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was too busy glowering at his father. She let out a long breath then stepped forward, standing below the Laird on the carpet at the bottom of the stairs.
“Th—thank you for your generous hospitality, m’Laird,” she said.
“Take off yer hood, lass, let us get a look at ye, eh?”
Olivia hesitated, her heart racing and her hands suddenly starting to tremble. She cut a glance at Aisling, a current of fear rippling through her. Olivia knew she would have to take her hood off at some point and knew she couldn’t hide forever. But she was afraid to reveal herself—especially in front of Blaine. She feared what his reaction would be to her deformity.
“I said take off yer hood,” the Laird demanded.
Olivia looked down at the ground, her face burning with the familiar heat of shame. She fought back the tears that welled in her eyes, her fear overwhelming her. Aisling put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she tried to draw strength from it.
“Girl, we’re extending ye thae courtesy of our hospitality and protection,” the Laird said, his voice tight with anger. “Ye can at least show me thae respect of doin’ as I ask. Now take off yer bleedin’ hood.”
“Faither, there’s nay need tae be so coarse,” Blaine snapped.
“I wasnae talkin’ tae ye, boy,” the Laird fired back.
“If ye’re askin’ for respect, mebbe ye should give a little, eh?”
“Blaine, hold yer tongue,” Caitriona admonished him.
“I’m waitin’, lass. Take off yer bleedin’ hood. Now,” the Laird snapped. “If ye cannae show me that basic amount of respect, ye can go right back tae Aingland for all I care.”
Olivia’s heart lurched, and she bit her bottom lip hard to keep her tears from falling. She reached up with a trembling hand and pulled back the hood. Keeping her gaze fixed to the ground, she couldn’t stop a tear from racing down her cheek when she heard the Laird make a sound of disgust. And when the Laird began to laugh—a gruff and derisive sound—the tears flowed free and unfettered.
“Good God above that mark is surely somethin’,” the Laird said. “I can see why yer uncle was so keen tae ship ye out of Aingland and hide ye up here in thae Highlands.”
“Henry!” Caitriona practically shouted.
“Faither, that’s enough.”
“Hold yer tongue, boy,” his father replied. “I’m thae Laird and will nae be lectured by me whelp.”
“There’s nay need tae be cruel, Faither. Ye can show our guest a civil tongue,” Blaine said, his voice low and menacing.
Rather than explode in outrage at the way Blaine and his wife had spoken to him, the Laird laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Olivia’s heart felt like it was being squeezed, and she found it difficult to breathe. She finally snapped out of her stupor and pulled her hood back up, wishing she could disappear into it entirely.
“I—I’m sorry. I made a mistake coming here,” she said softly.
“Nay, ye dinnae, child,” Caitriona said.
The Laird wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes as Olivia tried to keep herself from dropping to her knees and turning into a quivering puddle. Aisling stepped up and took her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. The next thing she knew, Blaine had his hand on the small of her back and was quickly ushering her toward a door in the side of the chamber she hadn’t noticed before.
“Come back here,” the Laird called. “I was not done speaking with our new ward.”
“Ye’ve said enough,” Blaine called back, his voice tight and cold.
“Henry, please,” she heard Caitriona say.
Olivia allowed herself to be guided through the door and into a narrow corridor. Aisling was moving quickly behind them, trying to keep up. They traversed a winding path of hallways, and Olivia knew she’d never be able to find her way back. She looked over at Blaine, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his gaze was fixed straight ahead, his face stony. Olivia glanced over her shoulder at Aisling, who favored her with an encouraging smile.
But it didn’t hearten Olivia at all. On the contrary, she felt lower than ever and all she wanted at that moment was to go back to England. To go home. Although he had ushered her out of the great hall protectively, the fact that he couldn’t look at her told Olivia he was just as disgusted by her as his father had been. The only difference being that Blaine at least had the manners not to laugh at her or show his revulsion openly.
Of course, he was disgusted by her. How could he not be? She had let herself believe, if only for a moment, that he wouldn’t be as repulsed by her like everybody else. He had seemed so kind and such a proper gentleman that she believed he might be different enough that he would see past her mark. That for him, it might not be her defining feature and that he might see her for who she was—not what she looked like.
Olivia silently kicked herself for being so naïve. For being so foolish. She was monstrous. Like that brigand had said—she was a beast.
Blaine stopped before a door and pushed it open, and gestured for them to go inside. Olivia stepped in and was impressed with the accommodation. The room was spacious and had three large windows in the wall across from her. A large hearth was set into the wall with a pair of rocking chairs around it. On the wall directly beside the door was a table with two chairs, and across the room was a beautiful and ornately carved wooden privacy screen. She could see the lip of a large wash basin behind it from where she stood.
On the other side of the room from the wash basin were three steps that led to a platform that held two beds. They looked plush and comfortable. Although the room was nice and very tastefully appointed, it lacked anything distinctly feminine. And she might have been able to enjoy it a bit more if she didn’t feel as horrible about herself as she did at that moment.
“I’ll send thae chambermaids up tae freshen the room,” he said, still unable to look her in the eyes. “And if there’s anything ye need, daenae be afraid tae ask. I’ll make sure thae household staff know tae treat ye well.”
“Thank you, Blaine,” she said softly.
He nodded. “I’m sure ye’re tired and hungry from yer journey. I’ll be sure tae have food and hot water for a bath sent up as well.”
“I appreciate your kindness,” she said, a hint of sadness and resignation in her voice.
Aisling nodded and lowered her gaze to the floor. Blaine finally looked at her but quickly looked away again, as if he couldn’t bear to look upon her for long now that he had seen her for the beast she was. But he nodded and left her room, closing the door quietly behind him. And as he did, Olivia felt her heart shatter into a million pieces knowing he thought of her as a monster. Just like everybody else. Her legs gave out from under her, and she fell to her knees, finally giving into her emotions.
Olivia buried her face in her hands and sobbed wildly. Aisling was there beside her, also on her knees, her arms wrapped around her. She squeezed Olivia tight and stroked her hair.
“That man is a beast. Thae Laird, I mean. A cold, cruel bastard,” Aisling said.
“Aye,” was all she could manage between choked sobs.
Olivia remained where she was and sobbed. She hadn’t been there but ten minutes, and she already hated it. Hated everything about it and wanted nothing more than to go home. Somehow, hearing the whispers about her deformity seemed easier to take from people she’d known most of her life than it was from strangers.
She hated the Laird. She hated Scotland. But more than anything, Olivia hated herself.
