The Beast by Hildie McQueen
North Uist Sea
Late Summer 1601
The wind blew hard, tossing the bìrlinn sideways and Duncan Ross was glad he was not prone to sea sickness. The bìrlinn rose and fell, as a tall wave hit, and the crew scrambled to adjust the sails.
His clothing soaked through, Duncan clung to a large mast while yanking at ropes, attempting with the other men to keep some sort of control over the boat.
“Bloody hell,” his brother Stuart stared out to the waters, as if he could pacify the wind with but a glare. “Hopefully we will not drown today.”
Duncan pointed toward the west. “I see the North Uist shore now. We should arrive unscathed.”
“And sopping wet,” Stuart grumbled. “I am not amused.”
As of late, his brother had been complaining non-stop, which was why their eldest brother, Laird Ross, had insisted he go with Duncan to visit the Macdonald on North Uist. His brother’s hazel gaze roamed over the waves, dark hair flying about his head making him look like an angry pirate. A pirate that hated being on water.
Normally the travel by bìrlinn from South Uist took an entire day, if leaving first thing in the morning, they would usually arrive by late evening. Not this day. Despite leaving early in the morning, it was now pitch black and well into the night.
They’d have to sleep in the bìrlinn and await daylight to make their way to Keep Macdonald. It would be an uncomfortable night, to say the least. They would have to change into dry clothes and make a fire to dry the ones they currently wore.
Upon arriving ashore, they were met by guardsmen who informed Duncan they were expected. Duncan was relieved to see that the Macdonald men had a huge bonfire going, along with warmed blankets and tents erected for them to sleep in.
Grateful for the kindness, Duncan and his crew hurried to undress and drape the wet clothing near the fire to dry. Thankfully, he’d packed his plaid, so he wrapped himself in the dry garment and joined the others for a simple meal of roasted meat and bread, which tasted pleasing to his empty stomach.
A young man with dark brown hair and just as dark eyes, neared and sat next to Duncan. “I am Padraig Macdonald, second son of Laird Macdonald,” he said by way of introduction.
His gaze moved from Duncan to Stuart. “I remember ye,” he said to Stuart. “It has not been too long since we last saw each other.”
Stuart nodded. “Aye, the last time our mothers met.” He motioned to Duncan. “My brother, Duncan. He is second born as well.”
“How does yer father fare?” Duncan asked, knowing the Macdonald had been stricken by a crippling affliction.
“He is well,” Padraig said with a smile. “His lack of proper mobility does not prevent him from keeping my brother, Evander, and I in line.”
It was evident the young warrior loved his father deeply and Duncan found it hard to understand. His father had been one of the cruelest people he’d ever known, which was stating something as he’d encountered many a horrible person.
“I look forward to our meeting tomorrow,” Duncan added.
Padraig got to his feet and glared around the group, seeming to realize something. “Where the hell is my sister? Did something happen to her? Why is she not here?” He shot out the questions, not waiting for a reply.
Stuart looked to Duncan. “Did we forget Miss Beatrice?”
“Nay,” Duncan replied. “Yer sister refused to come with us. She sent a letter to yer mother asking permission to remain longer.”
Padraig blew out a breath, not seeming happy at all. “Impetuous as always. She should have been brought by force.”
When neither Ross said anything, Padraig continued, “My parents will be very disappointed in Beatrice not returning. She has already extended her stay once.”
Unsure what to say, Duncan chose to not comment. Stuart, however, was not so inclined.
“It seems she and Isobel are very close. I believe they are having a hard time accepting that they will be separated now. Miss Beatrice has also grown attached to our sister, Ella, as well.”
With a chuckle, Padraig shook his head. “My sisters are both opposites and very much alike. Isobel tends to act the protector; however, it is Beatrice who has the protective nature of a wild beast when their young are threatened.”
Duncan pictured the diminutive woman and could not imagine her furious. She was friendly and from the very short time he’d been around her, kind. Unlike most, who gave him wide berth, Beatrice had conversed with him in what he could only describe as a personal manner usually only shown by his family.
Admittedly, he was part of her circle now, being her sister was married to his brother, Darach. It was still strange to him that she’d not acted the least bit put off by him, her friendliness had caught him by surprise.
He’d happened upon her in his family parlor, and she’d struck up a conversation. Not a long one, mostly asking that he deliver a letter. She’d also commented on the fact his eyes were two colors and that her brother Evander also had two different colored eyes.
The most curious thing had been when she’d placed a hand on his forearm. The intimacy of the touch nearly had him demand she remove her hand immediately. That strong had been his reaction to her touch.
Morning came toosoon. Duncan was roused early by the sounds of the men preparing to continue to the Macdonald keep. He’d slept soundly, tired after two days of preparing for the trip and the unfriendly seas that greeted them.
Once dressed, he helped take down the tents and packed his sack onto a cart that had been brought by the Macdonald’s.
Everyone then mounted horses that had also been brought and they rode for half a day to Keep Macdonald.
Feeling well-rested, he took time to take in the surroundings of North Uist. He’d been on the shore several times but had not come so far inland. There had never been a need for it as most of his dealings had been with ship captains, who remained on the shorelines.
Although still a bit away, the Macdonald keep was visible. The quaint keep was built on high ground, constructed on a hill that was next to a large loch.
The views from the front of the home would allow for the inhabitants to see anyone heading their way. What struck him as interesting was that the entire keep, including the surrounding wall, was whitewashed.
He looked to Stuart. “Why would anyone do that to a building? It stands out for miles.”
Stuart nodded. “Aye, I remember thinking the same when I first visited. The stones found on this isle are of that color, is what was explained to me. I am told the material is very resilient.”
Upon arriving, the gates were already open, so they followed Padraig through them.
They were ushered through the outer courtyard where they dismounted and walked into the inner courtyard, which again was different, Keep Ross only had one courtyard. Then again, the Macdonald’s army was not as large as theirs and they needed the additional protection.
Who Duncan figured to be the eldest brother, Evander Macdonald, and Lady Macdonald greeted them at the door. The woman looked past him to the younger son. Her expression became one of alarm. Eyes widened she searched the group. “Where is Beatrice?”
Lady Aileen Macdonald had reddish-brown hair and bright green eyes. Despite wisps of silver hair appearing at her temples, she remained an attractive woman.
“I will explain once we go inside,” Padraig said with a half-smile. “Ye’re going to be cross.”
The woman’s eyes went to Duncan, they narrowed, but she nodded silently.
“Welcome,” Evander said taking a step forward. “I am Evander Macdonald. I do not believe to have met ye. I have met all of yer brothers. I trust yer travel went well. With the strong winds, we wondered if ye would be waylaid.”
“We almost were,” Duncan said. “Thank ye for sending the men to give us a dry, warm place to sleep. It was much appreciated by my men and myself.”
Instantly Duncan noticed that Evander’s eyes, like his, were of two different colors. Unlike his brown and hazel, Evander’s were brown and blue.
It was interesting, that despite having the feature himself it struck him as odd. For an instant, they locked gazes before looking away. The man was tall, though not quite as tall as him. But then very few men were a head above six feet. Evander had broad shoulders and the same auburn hair color as his mother’s.
“My father awaits ye.” Evander motioned for them to walk inside and they made their way into a great hall where a table was set with food and drink.
Laird Macdonald stood upon seeing them. By the grunts and wobbly motions, it was obvious it took effort. Although not an old man, the affliction that ailed him made him appear older. However, his sharp blue gaze reminded one of his authority.
The laird looked to him and Stuart. “It is always easy to recognize a Ross. Tall and well built,” he stated. “Welcome.”
Once the greetings were completed, they sat at a long table that had been prepared for them. Servants hurried to fill the tankards with sweet-smelling ale and bowls of spiced meat and potatoes were placed in front of them. Bread, cheese, and thinly sliced boar meat on wooden boards, as well as a platter piled high with fruit tarts, rounded out the meal offerings.
Before delving into the food that made his mouth water, Duncan handed the letter from Beatrice to Lady Macdonald.
“Yer daughter would not travel back with us. She stated her wish to spend more time with her sister.”
Lady Macdonald slipped the letter onto her lap. “I will be forced to fetch her myself. I am certainly cross,” she gave Padraig a pointed look. “Ye must come with me when I go.”
“Ye cannot go until after the MacLeod visit,” the laird said patiently. “Lady MacLeod will be expecting to spend time with ye.”
When the laird turned to Duncan, Lady Macdonald made a face. It seemed she was not as enthused about the MacLeod visit as her husband.
“As ye and yer brother are no doubt aware, we have a close alliance with the MacLeods. There’s a friendship between myself and the MacLeod,” Laird Macdonald informed them.
Duncan nodded. “We are very much aware. Now that our clans are to be allies, we hope to also gain the trust of the MacLeod.”
“Well said young man,” the Macdonald stated. “Trust must exist for a true alliance to form. The marriage between our clans is a formality, but in truth, I am hopeful that we will gain a deeper friendship. I know it will make both my wife and yer mother very happy.”
Lady Macdonald nodded. “Indeed, it would. I do apologize for my daughter over-extending the boundaries of propriety when it comes to prolonging her visit, yet again.”
“My brother asked that we inform ye that she is more than welcome. It makes Isobel happy for her sister to remain and it is not an encumbrance in the least,” Stuart assured Lady Macdonald.
The woman looked less than convinced. “I cannot imagine what reason she gives me.”
Once the meal was over, Duncan and his brother were shown their chambers. They would only remain two nights and from there they were to meet with the sea captain before making their way back to South Uist.
Sometime later, Stuart walked into Duncan’s bedchamber. “What do ye think? If we form a strong alliance between the three clans, we are guaranteeing peace for our people.”
His brother held out a glass with what Duncan assumed was whisky. It tasted earthy and rich. Duncan lifted the drink and studied it. “We must ask for some of this to take back. It is very good.”
“Which is why I brought it. Padraig says they purchase it from a local man who has spent years perfecting it.”
The amber liquid slid down his throat making a warming trail down to his stomach. “And so, we will purchase some to take back.” He went to the window and peered down at the inner courtyard. People meandered about, preparing for the second part of the day.
Servants fed chickens, while young men tended to goats in a corral. There were several guardsmen walking atop the outer courtyard walkway, their heads turning every so often to take in what happened down below them.
It wasn’t too different than Keep Ross; however, there seemed to be a peace about the place. A sense of quiet and something Duncan couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I do not think I could live here.”
Stuart joined him at the window. “I’d miss the smell of the sea. No view of the waves and the closest mountain is barely visible.”
“I suppose that is it.” He wasn’t convinced. Something about the place made him uneasy, which made no sense. The people were friendly and there was no reason for him not to trust. It wasn’t the Macdonald’s he decided. It was what the building and the surroundings reminded him of a place he fought to forget but was forever branded into his mind and body.
He’d once been held captive off the coast of Spain. Whenever he was allowed on the ship’s deck, he’d stared at the whitewashed buildings that dotted the landscape. How he’d loathed the view of promise that would never come to be.
Last meal wasserved and again the fare was beyond reproach. Duncan ate his fill unable to keep from eating more than he should.
“Lady Macdonald, I must compliment yer cook. The meal is delicious,” Stuart, ever the diplomat told the hostess, who beamed with pride.
“Her name is Willa; she is actually quite young. However, her cooking is beyond reproach and the reason why we are visited again and again by people hoping to taste what she serves.”
The woman studied Duncan for a long moment. “My daughter writes and informs me that she had occasion to spend time with ye.”
Stuart along with Evander and Padraig all turned to him with curious expressions.
“Aye, we spoke in the parlor once. She noted that Evander and I have the same trait. Eyes of two different colors.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Lady Macdonald leaned forward studying his face. “Ye do.” She whirled to her son. “Evander, did ye notice?”
“I did Mother,” her son replied giving Duncan a knowing look.
Lady Macdonald studied them each again. “Evander’s eyes are blue and brown, where yers are the Ross hazel in yer left eye and brown in the right. How delightful,” she exclaimed.
He and Evander looked at one another for a split second, a sort of bonding over their trait forming.
The Macdonald looked from his son to Duncan. “A MacNeil trait I believe.”
“Aye, it is,” Lady Macdonald said with a wide smile. “My own father had two different colored eyes. One brown and one hazel, like yers, Duncan.”
“I have met my grandfather and it was strange to see someone else who had the same eyes as me,” Evander said. “Now ye are the second person.”
Duncan didn’t like being looked at so closely. When people studied a person overly long, sometimes they noted the hidden things.
Thankfully, just then musicians entered to entertain, and everyone returned to their meals.
Duncan rushed tohis room as soon as he could without seeming rude. He was not comfortable with so many people he didn’t know, and the music didn’t help settle him at all. As a matter of fact, most times he found it to be an annoyance.
He paced the bedchamber as familiar aches began. The torment was not only physical, but it was mental as well. His mind would go to dark places and there was little he could do to stop it. This was a most inconvenient time as the episodes of despondency would sometimes last two or three days. At home, he’d work until too tired to move or he’d lock himself in his room and keep away from people. Here neither option was a possibility.
“Not now,” he gritted the words out loud through a clenched jaw.
Knocks on the door made him want to scream for the person to go away. If it were not that he was somewhere unfamiliar, he would have.
“Come in.”
Lady Macdonald appeared holding a tray with two cups upon it. “Herbs for yer head. Yer brother told me ye suffer from headaches. I do not wish to disturb ye but would like a word in private before ye retire.”
Forcing himself to settle, he motioned to a chair and lowered to the one next to it. He picked up the cup feeling out of sorts holding the delicate item in his large, calloused hands.
The liquid was sweet and tasted of spices, he’d never had before. “What is this?”
“It is a spice called cinnamon that I purchased from one of the ships that stopped here for a while after suffering some damage.”
Duncan drank it down, enjoying how the fragrance combined with the boiled herb did indeed help him settle.
“Here drink mine as well,” Lady Macdonald pushed her full cup into his hands.
He drank, but this time slower. “What did ye wish to speak with me of Lady Macdonald?”
“Beatrice’s letter. I did not wish to say more in front of my husband and sons. She claims ye have expressed a desire to court.”
“Court?” Duncan looked into the cup wondering if he could ask for more. It was delicious and it would give him time to consider how to reply. “I am not sure what ye mean.”
Lady Macdonald chuckled. “Ye have a headache and I am sure this is not the most appropriate time to speak of such things. However, since ye leave soon, I find there is no other time.”
“Aye, of course,” Duncan replied focusing on the woman. “What exactly did yer daughter write that concerns me?”
With a look of confusion, Lady Macdonald pulled the letter from the hidden pocket within her dress folds. “She states that ye have expressed a desire to court her for marriage and that is why she wishes to remain there longer.”
Duncan waited for a moment hoping to come up with a suitable response. He didn’t wish to tell Lady Macdonald that her daughter lied. Could it be he’d said something that would have led the lass to think he was courting her?
“When we spoke, we did not come to any avowal,” he finally said.
“But ye do wish to court her? Or should I assume that my daughter has been otherwise compromised?”
His eyes rounded. “Not at all. We have not been alone, except for once, and only briefly.”
“I see.” Lady Macdonald lifted a brow. “Ye have not replied to my first question.”
Despite his lack of being part of any courting ritual in his life, Duncan knew enough about mothers to keep from angering Lady Macdonald in any fashion.
“I find Miss Beatrice to be exquisite. In truth, I do not believe to have ever met a woman as beautiful. It would be an honor to court her.”
Duncan was satisfied he’d replied correctly without compromising himself. It seemed Lady Macdonald was not as happy with his reply. Her eyes narrowed and she studied him for a beat longer than comfortable.
“We shall discuss this further upon my visit to South Uist. It will be at least a sennight until I arrive, hopefully not more. I must wait until after the MacLeod’s visit. Hopefully, they will not extend their stay past two or three days.”
She took the empty cup from his hand and the other one and placed them back on the tray. “I will ensure to pack some of this cinnamon for ye to take. Let yer cook know it must boil in the water until the aroma rises.”
When the woman walked out, Duncan was too preoccupied with what Beatrice had written that he didn’t notice the episode that had threatened was gone.
Why would the lass write such a thing? If anything, he was the one she’d spoken to least of all his brothers. From what Stuart had said, she’d spent a great deal of time with Gideon.
He considered their conversation in the parlor. She’d held a journal and had prepared quill and paper to write to her mother about her desire to remain at Keep Ross longer.
Everyone knew the reason. Isobel, her sister and Darach, his brother, were going through a rough time. Isobel was not in good spirits and Beatrice wished to be there to comfort her sister. It was the second time she’d extended her visit, which was good news for both Isobel and Duncan’s sister, Ella, who’d become very close to Beatrice.
Obviously, Lady Macdonald had been misled to think he was to court Beatrice.
Duncan sighed and looked around the bedchamber. The Macdonalds did not spare expense in furnishings. Nor in any other manner from what he’d seen. The men were dressed in fine fabrics and Beatrice’s dress, the day he’d spoken to her, had been exquisite.
They were wealthy and had no need for an alliance, other than to ensure future peace. It would be in his clan’s interest to remain closely bonded with this clan. However, he was not the right man to marry the beautiful Beatrice.
Never once, since his escape from capture, had he ever considered courting a woman with the intent to marry.
As a matter of fact, he didn’t allow himself to dream of a normal life, with a wife and bairns. That was not to be his reality.
Courtship to a laird’s daughter was an impossibility. One did not court such a woman unless with the intention of marriage. And the one thing Duncan was sure about was that he would never marry.
