The Beast by Hildie McQueen
Chapter Ten
Despite waking alone in bed, Beatrice was in good spirits. Even the slight stiffness to her legs and back did not lessen her mood. There was much to do and if she was to establish herself as the lady of the estate, it was best to learn the house and see what all required her attention.
However, the first thing she needed was a bath. Moments after pulling the chord to a bell that sounded in the servant’s common space, Orla appeared looking well rested.
The woman carried a tray with tea and toasted bread. “Good morning Lady Beatrice. Would ye like a bath to be drawn?”
“Aye, please,” Beatrice replied hating the warmth of her cheeks. “Has Mister Duncan come downstairs yet?”
“He ate and left early this morning. Gara said he had something to take care of.”
Curious that he’d gone. They’d just spoken the day before about remaining close for a fortnight.
By the time she bathed and ate it was late morning, and Beatrice felt as if she’d lost precious hours. She hurried into the kitchen to find Gara, but instead only Firtha was there.
“Good morning milady, what can I do for ye?” the woman asked with a bob.
“I wish to speak to Gara and learn about the duties of the household,” Beatrice said going to the window. “Is she outside?”
Firtha frowned. “No milady, she has gone to the market to make purchases to stock the larder and our pen outside.”
“Why is the larder not already stocked?” Beatrice asked going to where Firtha motioned. “It seems odd to me, ye have had two people living here.”
The woman nodded quickly. “Aye, we did at first. Keep it fully stocked, I mean. But most of it would go to waste. Mister Caelan eats last meal somewhere else most days and Mister Duncan usually eats only porridge in the morning here in the kitchen and then one meal in the late afternoon.”
It made sense, a man living alone rarely had a need for a rigid schedule only to eat alone. Beatrice sighed. “I suppose we will have to discuss what our mealtimes will be now.”
“I can show ye the house,” Firtha said, glancing from her to Orla. “It is not as grand as Keep Ross, but there are enough rooms to be confusing at first.”
Despite having walked through the house with Duncan, Beatrice was eager to see it all gain. “Very well.”
They walked out of the kitchen and went to the left heading down a hallway that led to the main great room. From there, they went to the right to the servant’s hallway. There were four bedchambers and each of the women who worked there had one. The rooms were small but much larger than what most servants could aspire to. Each had quality furniture and Beatrice liked that they also all had a window that looked out onto a wide-open field.
They returned to the great room and headed across to a short corridor that led to a parlor, a study that according to Firtha only Caelan used.
Directly across a large beautifully decorated bedchamber. The furniture, much like the one in Duncan’s bedroom had a four-poster bed and everything a person could need. Despite it, it was obvious not to be currently in use.
“Whose room was this?” Beatrice asked.
“Laird Ross. For when he visits.”
“Ah, how delightful,” Beatrice replied smiling. “My sister and her husband have their own space when they visit.”
When they returned to the opening of the short hallway and went up the stairs. Beatrice and Duncan’s bedchambers were on the left and on the right was a sitting room that Firtha informed them, Lady Mariel had planned to decorate.
Just past the sitting room was another bedroom, which Firtha explained was used by guests.
“Where does Mister Caelan sleep?” Beatrice asked.
They turned the corner and there was a set of doors, the last rooms on the second floor. “There,” Firtha said pointing to the doors. “He uses two rooms, one to sleep and the other when he has company.”
It seemed interesting to Beatrice that Caelan would take a room so far from the stairs, especially when only he and Duncan lived there.
Once the tour was done, to Beatrice it was evident that they required at least one more chambermaid and someone to ensure every other task was seen to. If she and Duncan were to have children, they’d also need a nursemaid.
“Are there any other bedchambers?” Beatrice asked. “I did not notice more than the four where ye, Gara, and Orla sleep.”
“There is one more,” Firtha replied. “Just past mine. It is a wee bit smaller, but very nice.”
Good, it would be suitable for additional help.
For now, she’d have to wait on Gara to return and speak to her about it.
“Orla and I will go for a short walk to get familiar with the land. We will not go far.”
Firtha frowned. “Mister Duncan said to ensure ye remained indoors. He is going to request that several guards from the keep be assigned here, to ensure ye are safe.”
“Goodness,” Beatrice said. “What about the grounds closest to the house? Surely, it will be safe to explore those.”
Firtha led them to the doorway, and they continued outside. Next to the house was a small building that consisted of three large rooms. They peered into the first which was for washing laundry. The next two were a storeroom. The last was the largest space that had a table, chairs, and four beds where coachmen and guards that visitors brought with them slept.
“I suppose this is where our guards will live,” Beatrice said looking around the room. “We must ensure the bedding is shaken out and that the room is swept.”
Firtha nodded. “I will take care of it.”
“I will help ye,” Orla said, and they hurried off to find the needed supplies. In the meantime, Beatrice opened the windows to allow air in and peered out at the corral and stables.
There were two horses grazing and a man leaning on the fence looking off in the distance.
Firtha returned with Orla carrying brooms, rags, and buckets, Beatrice motioned out the window. “Firtha, where does he live?”
“Creagh MacDougal, takes care of the horses and lives out there in a room inside the stable. No family, just a hound. There.” Firtha pointed to a dark dog that ran up to the man from the direction of the stables. Creagh, leaned over and patted the dog’s head and then began walking around the corral, the dog on his heels.
“Would ye like some tea milady?” Firtha asked as she yanked bedding from the first bed and headed out the door.
“Nay. I do not require anything at the moment,” Beatrice replied. “Please return to yer duties. I will assist Orla.”
After a dubious look, Firtha left to see to the midday meal.
Beatrice followed Orla carrying two blankets. They went to a short fence, threw the blankets over it, and began to beat them with brooms. Once that was completed, they shook them.
“Just sweeping and dusting to do, I can finish up myself,” Orla said.
“Very well. I will see about unpacking. Ye continue here,” Beatrice replied.
The house seemed ominous in its silence when she walked back inside. It seemed so strange to her to be in an empty house. The entire time growing up, there were always people about at her home. At Keep Ross, the same. Family, servants, guards, and visitors came and went throughout the day.
Perhaps, once the chambermaid was hired and the new guards arrived, it would be a bit better. For now, it was as if she were the only person in the world.
She made her way up the stairs and walked past her bedchamber and entered Duncan’s. The bed was unmade, a tunic and breeches thrown across it.
Lying on the table was a cup, a comb, and a clan crest pin. His ceremonial tartan was folded and placed neatly next to the items.
Turning in a full circle, she couldn’t help but feel that although he slept there, the room did not seem to belong to anyone. Then again, could it be her husband was like the space. Silent. Without adornment and half-empty.
When she tugged at the adjoining door, it didn’t budge. The second time she pulled with both hands and it barely moved. Refusing to give in Beatrice took a deep breath, wrapped her hands around the long door handle, planted her feet, and yanked with all her might.
The door opened just enough for her to slip through.
As soon as she entered her own bedchamber, the ambiance was completely different. The air was perfumed from her favorite bath oils. The bed was made, her robe carefully draped over one of the front corners.
Hopefully, Gara would return before Duncan or else there would not be a presentable meal prepared. Beatrice supposed if need be, Firtha could cook something.
How had Duncan managed with only two people on his staff? It was unfathomable to her that he did not staff the house fully.
Thinking of his return, Beatrice hurried to the mirror to inspect her appearance. She hoped they would spend the evening together after eating last meal. With an uncompromising eye, she noted that her hair needed tending to. Despite helping with the bedding, her attire was more of someone planning to entertain and not for a wife home for the day.
After brushing her hair back in place, once again she peered at her reflection. She decided not to change. The low neckline of her vest showcased the top of her breasts and she hoped the view would entice Duncan into her bed.
Lifting the delicate looking glass, she smiled at her reflection and then opened the envelope that had been placed next to it.
It was a sweet note from Isobel, wishing her happiness. Her lips curved and she folded it neatly and slipped it back into the envelope. It would be a keepsake.
With little else to do, she began to pull items from her trunk that she wished to have out. Some of her clothes were already put away and Orla would see about hanging up the rest of her dresses. That left only for her to find a place for each of her smaller personal belongings.
She set her notebooks on a table next to a chair, then her set of quill and ink next to them. After Beatrice took out her current needlepoint and set it into a basket that she’d found by the hearth, she placed it on the floor by the chair as well.
Once that was done, she pulled a dark shawl out of a trunk and draped it over the same chair. Then, she took in the room. It needed fresh items, either fruit or flowers. She went to the window and peered out.
A large lavender field grabbed her attention.
“Oh,” Beatrice exclaimed, her lips curving. “Lavender,” she said in an awestruck tone. Then she inhaled deeply drawing the perfumed air into her lungs.
The sound of voices reached her, and Beatrice walked out of the room. Since it was probably Firtha and Orla, she took her time walking down the stairs.
Instead, when she reached the bottom step, Duncan stood in the entryway speaking to a man. The man’s dark gaze flashed to Beatrice, but then returned to Duncan.
“Aye, I understand fully,” the man said to Duncan and hurried back outside.
Duncan turned to her, his gaze sweeping over her sending tingles of awareness through her.
“Wife,” he said by way of greeting. “Are ye alone?” He looked around the room. “Where is everyone?”
“Orla and Firtha are about. Gara went to the village.”
He huffed. “I brought back four guardsmen. That one,” he motioned to the door with his head, “is to be the lead guard. They are to sleep in the room next to the storeroom.”
“Orla is cleaning the space now. However, I am not aware if Gara has returned as yet.”
“There is time,” Duncan replied. “The men must settle, and they will be content with a simple meal. Greer sent plenty of things for them to keep in their room.”
The entire time he spoke to her, his gaze kept moving to her bosom, but he did not move closer. Instead, he seemed discomfited.
Beatrice wanted to laugh. She took his hand and pulled him toward the study. “I wish to ask ye something about this room,” she purred.
His eyes narrowed. “The study?”
“Aye, it is quite dark do ye not think?”
When she pushed the door closed, the room became like a cave at night. She could just make out Duncan looking around the room. “It is Caelan’s problem, not mine.”
First one step, then another two, Beatrice moved closer. “It is a good private space to keep us from being seen, is it not?”
“Beatrice…”
“Kiss me, husband.” Beatrice lifted to her tiptoes and turned her face up to him. Immediately his mouth covered hers and Duncan pulled her close. His kisses were new to her, the feel of his mouth enticing, and the taste of him intoxicating.
Beatrice clung to him, not wishing to ever separate. When his mouth traveled down the side of her neck to her cleavage and he lifted her breast from its bindings, she gasped.
The warmth of his mouth over first the left and then the right nipple made her knees weak. Thankfully, he held her up and continued to devour the offerings.
With her in his arms, he turned and lifted her onto Caelan’s desk and pushed her skirts and shift up until fully exposing her. Then he fumbled with his own clothing, freeing himself.
“I have thought of nothing else but having ye again.” The huskiness of his voice against Beatrice’s ear made rivulets of heat travel up her body to between her legs.
Despite the desperate need to join, when Duncan prodded Beatrice’s first reaction was to tense. Letting out several breaths, she pulled him closer. Needing the distraction of his mouth, she kissed him. Duncan’s kisses had a powerful effect. His tongue pushed past her parted lips at the same time as he drove into her willing body.
Each movement was divine and the sounds he made like music to his ears. Beatrice cried out with each deep thrust. He stretched and filled her perfectly, their bodies seeming to be made for each other.
He continued driving in and out of her harder and faster, and soon Beatrice could barely hold on to him. Whatever was on the desk crashed to the floor, the sounds adding to the excitement of the moment.
Beatrice cried out at the sensation of shattering and she dug her fingernails into the rough fabric of Duncan’s tunic in an effort to keep from floating away.
When his hoarse moans filled her ears, she raked her fingers through his hair, taking his mouth once again greedily.
Duncan lifted her up and still joined managed to lower to the floor where he lay over Beatrice as he attempted to gain control of his breathing.
“This is wonderful. I am so happy to have married ye,” Beatrice whispered.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Do not think this will keep me from yer bed tonight.”
“Good,” Beatrice replied with a giggle.
They finally stood and did what they could to arrange their clothing. Beatrice knew it was useless to return her hair to the same style, so she unbraided it and ran her fingers through it.
When they walked out of the study, the house remained eerily silent.
Orla appeared from the direction of the kitchen. “There ye are,” she said with a bright smile.
By the sly look Orla slid to Duncan, the maid was perfectly aware of where they’d been and what they’d been doing. “Would ye like me to assist ye in dressing for last meal?”
Beatrice looked up to Duncan. “Do ye dress for last meal here?”
He shook his head. “It is yer home, ye can change things to how ye see fit.”
“I will not change,” Beatrice told Orla. “I would like tea and perhaps some toasted bread for my husband and I brought to the parlor, please.”
Duncan followed her to the parlor. “Usually, a wife only brings a husband to the parlor when they have something to discuss.”
“I do wish to discuss something with ye,” Beatrice replied.
They sat in front of windows and she looked out to the lavender field. “I wish to speak to ye about yer expectations. Today, I wished to go for a walk and Firtha explained ye did not wish me to leave the house.”
Her husband nodded. “There could be people about that are not trustworthy.”
“Understandable. However, I would have liked it if ye would have told me directly and not informed me through someone on our staff.”
“There are only Firtha and Gara…”
“And they are exhausted. The two of them cannot possibly maintain a house of this size now that I am here. I must insist on at least one more servant and a lad to help with menial tasks.”
“Such as?”
“The cleaning of the hearths. Sweeping of the great room. Fetching water for the kitchen and for washing.”
Beatrice continued, “Not only have Gara and Firtha done all of that, but they’ve also handled the cooking, gardening, and keeping the house clean. It is unfathomable that ye have not seen to more help.”
“Very well. Ye can hire a woman and a lad. No more. I cannot have too many people about. I need privacy.”
Beatrice was glad Lady Mariel had informed her of Duncan’s horrid past, so she did not have to question him. “I understand. What is off-limits?”
“I bathe alone. No need to order baths for me.” He thought for a long moment. “The area by the stone wall. No one is to go there or touch it. The guardsmen have already been told.”
“I am sure Gara and Firtha will ensure to inform whoever comes to work here what is allowed.”
After a discreet knock, Orla walked in with a tray. She set the items down and immediately left without a word.
Beatrice poured the tea and smiled up at Duncan. “I did not ask. Do ye drink tea?”
His lips lifted just a bit. “Aye, I do.”
The entire timeDuncan and Beatrice enjoyed their simple repast, they exchanged heated looks. No sooner had she taken her last bite, did he push away from the table, round it, lift her into his arms, and race up the stairs.
