Beauty and the Beastly Highlander by Kenna Kendrick
Chapter Six
Etna’s heart hadn’t stopped its pounding by the time she made it back to her chambers that night. Her encounter with the Laird had left her terrified, and she didn’t even know where she had gotten the courage and the nerve to speak to him like that.
She had been terribly rude. What if the Laird threw her out of the castle?
But I only said the truth. If he canna handle the truth, then that’s on him.
She was tired of people who thought she couldn’t be a good tutor because she was a woman. She knew for certain that she could teach just as well as her father, and she had all the proof she needed in Malina, who was making great progress with her.
Etna had been so scared by the Laird that it didn’t occur to her that she had met him before well after their meeting. The more she thought about it, though, the more certain she was that he was the man who had saved her when she fell off her horse on the way to the castle.
She could hardly believe it, but she had recognized his voice. She was certain it was him.
Even though the man had left in a rush and had been quite rude, he had saved her life—or at least he had saved her from certain injury. How could that same man be so meanspirited to her now? How could it be as easy for him to pull out a knife as it was to save her?
It was as though he was two different people, and the whole situation confused Etna. She didn’t know what to think of the Laird. She had heard both that he was a monster, the Beast of the castle and that he was a good man, and she had experienced both sides of him herself.
But which one is his true side?
Etna didn’t know, and she had a suspicion that she would never find out, not with how the Laird avoided everyone. She doubted that she would ever even see him again.
That very night, she decided to write a letter to her father. He had been the one to insist that the Laird was a good man, that he had known him for years, ever since he was a child, and he had never been anything but kind. If neither the Laird nor Lochlan would give her the answers that she wanted, then perhaps her father could.
Dear Faither,
Little Malina has not taken a liking to me yet, but I am doing my best. I am sure that I will win her favor soon. I await your visit with excitement.
I have met the Laird twice now, and he is nothing like the man you described to me before I left home. What do you know about him? Is it possible that you were mistaken? He seems like a completely different man, more like the Beast that everyone calls him than the kind man you described to me.
I hope you can visit soon. I miss you terribly.
With love,
Etna
When Etna finished writing the letter, she folded and sealed it before placing it on the vanity. She would have it delivered first thing in the morning, she thought, and with any luck, she would have some answers to her questions soon.
As Etna settled into bed, she tried to remember all the stories her father had told her about the Laird and his brother. She remembered hearing about two darling boys, who always got in trouble with the head housekeeper but were also bright and kind and generous. She remembered her father telling her about when the Laird had found an injured bird and had nursed it back to health, and about the time he and Lochlan had tried to cook a big meal for their mother—only to ruin the kitchen, much to the maids’ chagrin.
The only reason for that change that Etna could think of was his wife’s death, but even so, she couldn’t imagine how such a change had taken place. It seemed so unlikely, so strange that the mystery of it kept her up at night.
The thoughts of Finley’s hands on her also kept her up at night. She remembered that strong touch of his, the way that his arms had encircled her not once but twice, and though both memories were tainted by the fear she had felt, there was an undercurrent of excitement. No man had ever touched her like that before, and her body craved more. She wanted to feel that touch everywhere, without the barrier of clothes between them.
The following morning, she stood from her bed just as there was a knock on the door, and when it opened, Etna saw Mairi.
“The Laird wishes to see ye,” she told Etna, and to say that she was surprised would be an understatement. “I’ll take ye to his study when ye’re ready.”
“Do ye ken why he wants to see me?” Etna asked, certain that he would either kick her out of the castle or murder her or something equally terrible.
Mairi shook her head, and Etna considered her options. She could either risk going to the study, or she could risk not going to the study, and she was convinced that she would be putting herself in danger either way.
Besides, even if the Laird had no nefarious plans for her, she still didn’t want to see him after their last encounter. She would much rather spend the day with Malina, continuing her routine and staying as far away from the man as possible.
In the end, she decided to go see him since she didn’t have much of a choice. The man was the Laird of the clan, and if he wanted to talk to her, then he would find a way to do so.
“Mairi . . . could ye mail this letter for me?” Etna asked, grabbing the letter she had written to her father and handing it to her. “It’s for me faither. Do make sure that he receives it.”
“Aye, me lady.”
“Please, call me Etna,” she said as the two of them walked to the west wing. Even in the morning, that part of the castle was almost impossibly dark, and the only thing that helped Etna see was the torch that Mairi grabbed from the wall.
“It’s verra dark in here,” Etna commented.
“The Laird likes it that way,” Mairi said, and if Etna caught some resentment in her tone, she could hardly blame her. “It’s always dark in here.”
“Doesna it bother ye?” Etna asked. “It’s always so . . . so gloomy. How can ye spend yer days here?”
Mairi gave her a small shrug. “We’re all used to it.”
Etna had noticed that Mairi, much like every other maid, didn’t talk much. It was a chore just to get a few words out of her, and even when Etna managed to do so, the answers that she got were vague and unsatisfying.
Before she knew it, they stood in front of the Laird’s study, and Mairi knocked on the door. When Etna entered the room, she saw that it wasn’t just the Laird who was there but also Lochlan.
“Etna!” he exclaimed. “Thank ye for joinin’ us. Please, take a seat.”
Etna did as she was told, perching herself on the edge of an armchair and nervously looking at the two men. “Why did ye call me here?”
“Weel . . . first of all, we are all verra happy that ye’re teachin’ Malina,” Lochlan said. “We think that ye’re doin’ a good job, and we hope that ye’ll continue to tutor her, despite . . . despite the . . . uh . . . events of the previous night.”
Etna hummed, intrigued by the fact that the Laird still wanted her there. She also didn’t miss that the man didn’t talk himself, instead letting Lochlan speak for him. It was strange, but it gave Etna the chance to study him.
Everyone had always said that the Laird was deformed, that his face was unsightly. She had thought that perhaps that was why he kept everything so dark, but now that she could see his face, there was nothing wrong with him. Sure, he had a scar, one that ran from his forehead to his cheek, and was quite noticeable, but that didn’t make him any less handsome, and it certainly didn’t make him a beast.
She couldn’t tell if the people were simply exaggerating or if they truly thought of him as hideous. But no, no one could be that awful, she thought. Surely, it was all rumors that had gone too far.
She had to believe that he wasn’t the beast that everyone said he was because his gaze, which was pinned on her while Lochlan spoke, pierced her to the core and brought back the memories of his arms around her. He was a stern man; there was no doubt about that and having his gaze on her stressed her to no end, but it also excited her at the same time. She could only imagine how he would look at her if she was undressed, how that intense gaze would devour her whole.
And she averted her gaze, hoping that she could hide the furious blush that reddened her cheeks.
“And we were wonderin’ if ye would consider helpin’ the Laird with his public speeches,” Lochlan continued. “I’m afraid me brother isna the most talkative man—”
The Laird cleared his throat pointedly then, but he remained silent. He only fixed Lochlan with a stern gaze, to which Lochlan replied with a saccharine smile.
“Case in point,” Lochlan said. “And so, we thought that perhaps it would be a good idea if ye helped him connect with his people more. Ye could help him write some speeches, and ye could teach him how to deliver them.”
Etna doubted that the Laird didn’t know how to do that himself. She was certain that her father had prepared him for it, and she had the impression that he simply didn’t want to do it. But that was fine with her; it didn’t matter who her student was or how difficult he would be. She was a tutor, and she was determined to help.
But while she was helping, she would also make sure that she got something out of it.
She remembered her plan before she came to the castle when she had decided that she would gather as much money as she could and then move back to Edinburgh. Now seemed like the perfect time to make that demand, and she wasn’t shy about it.
After all, the Laird had almost cut her throat just hours prior.
“Weel . . . I must think about it, of course,” she said, testing the waters. “Ye see, the payment—”
“—Will be generous,” Lochlan said, finishing her sentence for her. “We will compensate ye accordingly.”
“In that case, I would like yer assistance to move back to Edinburgh,” she said. “I will continue to teach Malina, and I will teach the Laird everythin’ that I can, and by the end of it, perhaps in a few months, I’ll expect a sum big enough to help me move back.”
Etna watched as Lochlan and the Laird exchanged a glance. Before Lochlan could say anything, the Laird gave a small nod, one that was almost imperceptible, and Lochlan didn’t seem too pleased about it.
“Verra weel,” he said. “We have a deal.”
Etna’s excitement almost bubbled over. She could have screamed, she could have hugged them both, she could have climbed to the rooftop just to shout that she was going back home!
“If ye manage to make me people like me,” the Laird added. “Ye’ll help me with the speeches, and ye’ll make sure that they make them like me again. Otherwise, I dinna see why I’d help ye.”
Etna’s excitement dissipated as fast as it had appeared. She pinned him with a glare, crossing her arms over her chest, and had to resist the urge to curse her own father for sending her to that man.
How will I make him likable? He’s anythin’ but!
Etna couldn’t lose hope, though. She had two difficult tasks ahead of her: making Malina like her and making the clan people like her father. Impossible as they both seemed, she was determined to succeed.
It wasn’t as if she had any choice in the matter, after all. She could hardly spend the rest of her days until Malina grew up in that castle. And if there was anyone who could make the Laird more likable, it was her. Her father always said that she had a way with people.
“When will we start?” Etna asked as she tried to school her expression into one of indifference. She didn’t want either man to know what the news meant to her.
“As soon as possible, I’d say,” Lochlan told her. “Ye have some time before yer lesson with Malina, so I think I’ll leave the two of ye to it.”
As Lochlan spoke, he stood and headed for the door. When Etna was left alone with the Laird, she turned to look at him, any hint of a smile on her lips disappearing.
The man was simply unpalatable.
“Weel . . . I think a good start for ye would be a long bath and a shave,” she said as she regarded him. That beard should be the first thing to go, she thought or at least tamed. He looked like a madman with it, long and scraggly as it was, and by the smell of him, Etna deduced that he hadn’t had a bath in a while.
The Laird’s eyes narrowed at that, and she could see that he had taken offense at her words. “Do ye wish to bathe me and make sure that I’m clean to yer standards?” he asked her.
The Laird’s words immediately made Etna’s heard hammer in her chest. Her cheeks heated, and she crossed her arms, shocked that the man would even suggest such a thing.
And yet, a part of her was thrilled at the suggestion. She felt the heat and desire pool deep in her belly, and her breathing turned shallow, much to her frustration. She shouldn’t let him have such an effect on her, she thought. The man was savage.
“That’s na what I’m here for,” she told him, indignant. “If ye wish to be bathed, then ask a maid. I’m sure one of them will tend to yer needs.”
The Laird seemed to be just as shocked by Etna’s words as she was by his own. The two of them remained silent, staring at each other, and it seemed to her as though neither of them knew what to say next.
“Weel . . . I will speak to ye again after ye bathe, then,” Etna ended up saying, and after she gave him a court bow, she rushed out of the room. She could hardly believe that he had been so forward and that she had done the same. How was she supposed to face him after that conversation?
Etna began to head back to the main part of the castle for her lesson with Malina with a sigh. She noticed that there were more torches on the walls now, as though they had been lit just for her to find her way back, and she could see with ease.
And then she wished the west wing would have remained dark. As she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of Lochlan and Mairi kissing—though kissing was hardly what she would call it. With a gasp, she hid behind the corner and listened intently, hoping that they hadn’t spotted her.
By the sound of it, they were too lost in each other to notice anything else.
Etna froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. Then, she crept back to the other side of the corridor and began to stomp onto the floor as she walked, announcing her presence. Halfway to the turn, she began to whistle, too, for good measure, and she thought that there was no way Lochlan and Mairi wouldn’t hear her.
By the time she turned around the corner, Lochlan was gone, and Mairi was dusting some imaginary dirt off an armor that stood by the wall. Neither of them was willing to make eye contact, but when Etna was out of earshot, she couldn’t help but let out a giggle.
Weel . . . good for Lochlan. And good for Mairi, too.
After all, Mairi was a beautiful young woman, and Lochlan was handsome and the Laird's brother. It was a strange match, and Etna had to admit that she was worried about the two of them. The Laird didn’t seem like the kind of man who would approve of such a relationship.
What if he already kens? Does he have a lover, too?
It sounded more likely than Etna wanted to admit. He could even have had a string of lovers for all she knew, maids that satisfied his urges without any attachments. He hadn’t had a wife for years, after all, and she doubted that he had stayed celibate, no matter how beastly everyone thought he was.
But what do I care if he has a dozen lovers?
There was one thing that Etna knew for certain: no matter how tempting it sounded, she would never be one of them.
