The Beast by Hildie McQueen

Chapter Fifteen

“It is a gesture of goodwill that Laird Macdonald invites ye and Beatrice go to North Uist,” Darach said. “Of course, ye must go.”

They sat around a table in Darach’s study. The room was cavernous and without a window and despite preferring the same for his own bedchamber, Duncan found this room oppressive. Perhaps it was because it had been his father’s prior to Darach’s. With the attention on him now, he had a strong urge to get up and leave.

Duncan remained silent, not wishing to say anything else to anger Beatrice’s brother, whose narrowed gaze was locked on him.

They would expect him to share a bedchamber with her. His needing time away from her and everyone else could prove to be a great insult. Yet Duncan knew he could not turn the invitation down, not unless he could come up with a good reason for it. In that moment nothing came to mind.

“I wish to speak to ye in private,” Evander said. “Just talk,” he said when Darach began to say something. “No fists or swords involved.”

With a nod, Darach met his gaze. A firm message to remain calm in the look his brother gave him.

Very well, Duncan stood and walked across the hall to the parlor where he and Beatrice had their first conversation. The irony was not lost on him. Evander followed at a distance. Finally, both went to stand by the windows that overlooked the seashore.

“What do ye wish to talk about?” Duncan said, not wanting to prolong things longer than necessary.

Evander looked out to the view, much like his sister had. Duncan studied the man’s profile. The fact his nose looked to be broken fit the description Beatrice gave him: hot-tempered. And when young—brash and headstrong.

“I know quite a bit about ye,” Evander began, the words surprising him. “That ye were a captive for many years.”

Releasing a long breath, Duncan remained silent waiting to hear what Evander had to say.

The man’s bi-colored gaze locked with his. “Will yer past affect how ye treat my sister?”

The question was valid and yet it angered Duncan. How long would he carry the past on his back like a heavy stone? Forever he guessed. “I would never allow my past to affect my marriage. I have never nor will I ever mistreat a woman. I care for Beatrice, her well-being is the most important thing in the world to me. I would lay down my life for her.”

“What ye feel and what could happen are very different things. I know men who have had experiences like yers and are harmful. Not all intentionally.”

A person would believe what they wished, and he had no intention of trying to change Evander’s mind. So, he shrugged. “I can only speak to the years since my release.”

“Does Beatrice know everything?”

“That I was whipped so many times, there isn’t an inch of my body without a scar? Or that I was forced to kill men with my bare hands? Should I inform her of the times I begged for death to claim me? I am sure she needs to know that there are men who pay to watch grown men suffer. To be raped and to be broken down until they cry like children.”

Evander looked to the floor. “I am sorry. I did not mean…”

“She knows that I was held captive. I keep the scars hidden, as much as I can. There is no need for her to know the extent of the depravity of some men.”

“I agree,” Evander replied. There was respect in his eyes when looking at him and he held out his hand. “All I wish is for both of my sisters to be treated well and protected.”

“She is and will always be safe. Ye have my word,” Duncan said meaning it, and took Evander’s extended hand.

There was a soft knock and a servant walked in. “Last meal is about to be served.”

Duncan showed Evander to the dining room and took his seat next to Beatrice who gave him a questioning look.

“I will explain later,” he whispered into her ear.

All his brothers, except for Caelan, who planned to arrive the next day attended last meal. The women mostly spoke to Ewan’s wife Catriona about the newly born boy, while his brothers found out that Evander was an avid hunter and began to talk of planning a hunt.

For the most part he remained quiet, listening to the conversations. Duncan realized Evander had not demanded a reply to the Macdonald’s invitation. Perhaps he would be more understanding of him not wishing to go.

Separate bedchambers had allowed him to protect Beatrice from overhearing anything during his horrible dreams and from accidentally seeing his scars.

If he declined, it would hurt her and he hated it, but going to another place for an entire season terrified him.

“Are ye not hungry?” Beatrice asked with an incredulous expression. She was aware he loved Greer’s cooking.

“I am,” he said picking up the meat and biting into it.

Thankfully, the conversation drew her back in and she stopped paying attention to him. Duncan felt someone watching and looked up to meet Darach’s gaze. His brother looked to his mother and back to him.

Duncan listened to what was being said. Apparently, his mother planned to join him and Beatrice for a season in North Uist, along with Darach and Isobel.

What was Darach thinking? Had his brother gone daft from being in love and not considered that an entire season was too long for both eldest brothers to be gone from Keep Ross?

Stuart and Gideon joined in the conversation seeming to agree that due to the cold weather, there would be little trouble. If they planned and ensured the people had food stock and any repairs done to the homes, there was no impediment to them going.

Duncan pushed from the table and walked out without looking back.

At first, he thought the wind howled in his ears, however, it was his own heartbeat. It had been a trying day, filled with too many people and too much conversation. Then there was the consensus of those in his family that he should travel to see the Macdonald.

As if he’d ever been part of such a party. The only time he’d traveled with a group and stayed in close quarters was when he was a captive and that was out of his control. This was not.

“Duncan,” Beatrice walked to him. It bothered him that she approached with caution, measuring her steps. “I am sorry about my brother. I know he can be hot-tempered…”

A part of him wanted to crush her against him, at the same time the urge to mount and leave was just as strong. Perhaps even stronger.

He was about to do exactly that, he realized, looking over his shoulder to see he stood next to the horse corral.

“I needed air,” he explained. “Too many people and conversation. I am not angry at yer brother. He has a right to demand an explanation and question me about ye.”

Beatrice bit her bottom lip, the action making him want to kiss the moistened morsel when she released it. “I have to admit, I was more worried about him than ye. Ye are so much larger.” She giggled. “I had a vision of ye throwing him across the courtyard, much like a heavy stone or a caber.”

“The idea occurred to me when he wouldn’t listen,” Duncan admitted. “But I would not do anything so violent, especially not in front of ye.”

She rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his midsection, her head against the center of Duncan’s chest. “Ye are a good man, husband.”

Beatrice was like a balm to his troubled soul, a soothing elixir that seeped through the layers of scarring, making him feel like a normal man.

Pulling her tight, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Is yer mother cross with ye?”

“Very much so. She is somewhat soothed with the idea of a wedding celebration. But I foresee a private scolding in my immediate future. I am sure she and Evander have much to say.”

“Would ye like me to be present?”

She lifted her face up to his and Duncan kissed her lightly.

“Nay. I know what they will say, and they will be correct in their anger that I acted without thought. My impulsiveness has gotten me into situations in the past. None with such broad consequences.”

Duncan placed his finger under her chin lifting her face. “In this instance, I am glad of the consequences.”

Her smile brightened his mood. “I admit to enjoying the result of my actions very much.”

As if his manhood had ears, it began to harden. Beatrice must have sensed his arousal because she rubbed her hands up and down his back. If only it were possible for her to touch his skin.

“We should return indoors. It may be best for ye to face them now and get it over with.”

“True,” Beatrice replied. “Tomorrow the wedding celebration begins. Did ye remember to bring yer tartan and crest?”

As they walked back toward the house, his wife listed everything he should have brought as he replied, “aye” and nodded. It was a normal moment in a marriage that Duncan treasured. When she frowned up at him, he smiled.

“Duncan, I am serious. Ye must see about getting yer haircut. Just a bit, not too much. I prefer it long.”

“I will see to it now. Greer cuts it for me.”

“Very well,” she eyed him critically. “Oh, and ye should see about yer beard as well.”

He nodded enjoying her fussing over him and his appearance. When she took his hand and inspected his fingernails, he wanted to laugh. “I doubt guests will be examining my hands.”

“Hmm,” Beatrice replied seeming satisfied as she didn’t instruct him to cut or clean them.

Before they entered the house, he took her arm and pulled her to a stop.

“What is it?” She looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I care for ye very much and am glad to be here.”

Beatrice’s face softened, her lips curved, and her beautiful clear blue eyes glistened with happy tears. “Thank ye, I needed to hear that.”

Night came andBeatrice paced the room she and Duncan were to share. It would be the first time they would spend the night together. Well, the first night that he would be aware of, since she’d been sneaking into his room and sleeping beside him on the nights, he had nightmares.

Although exhausted, she was nervous at his lack of appearance. She’d gone to the door several times to search for him but decided it was best to allow Duncan the time he needed.

Finally, Duncan entered; his gaze meeting hers before going to the bed. “I thought ye’d be asleep by now.”

A retort was on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she removed her robe, went to the bed, and slipped between the blankets. “I am very tired, but I wished to tell ye about the discussion with Mother and Evander.”

After removing his boots and breeches, Duncan went to the washstand and washed his face, hands, and between his legs. Once that was completed, he came to the bed wearing a soft tunic that he often wore when coming to her bedchamber. He never removed it unless there was no light in the room.

As Beatrice spoke, he listened intently, lying on his back looking up at the ceiling. He acknowledged what she said and agreed when she was indignant. When Beatrice looked at him, he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Sleep well.”

A sound awakened her, and Beatrice reached for Duncan’s side of the bed. He had his back to her and was murmuring in his sleep. It pained her that he seemed to have such vivid, disturbing dreams every night.

Ever so slowly, she reached for him and ran her hand down his arm. When he quieted, she snuggled against his back and he let out a soft sigh. Through the thin fabric Beatrice could feel the raised scarring, the ridges and bumps resulting from his torture. They were a part of her husband and she embraced their existence.

Dawn came too soon. Beatrice woke to find herself still against Duncan, seeking warmth from the chilly room.

He slept soundly and she took advantage and snuggled closer letting out a content sigh. She knew immediately when he woke because his body tensed.

Beatrice pretended to sleep to see what he would do. At first, he attempted to slip away, but with her arm around his waist he couldn’t move. Then he lifted her arm, but she mumbled sleepily and snuggled even closer.

Finally, he gave up, surrendering to the fact it would be impossible to get out of her embrace unless he slipped out of the bed.

“Ye are funny,” Beatrice murmured with a soft chuckle. “I wondered if ye would figure out how to escape or give up.”

He grunted and rolled to his back, pulling her against his side. Emboldened by him not moving away, Beatrice reached between his legs and was pleasantly surprised to find him fully aroused.

His breath caught and he let out a sharp hiss. “Men wake up hard,” he grunted out by way of explanation.

“It is not a bad thing.” Beatrice slid her hand up and down the hardened shaft. “Is it?”

“I suppose not,” he rolled over her. “Ye want me?”

“Very much so.”

Beatrice tugged at his tunic, but he pulled her hands up above her head. When she squirmed, he took her mouth, kissing her breathless, the entire time his sex sliding between hers, but not entering her.

The friction of what he did made her need even greater, and she pulled away from his kisses. “Duncan, please. Take me.”

Still holding her hands, but now in just one of his, he reached between them and guided himself. With one thrust, he filled her completely and both cried out at the wonderful overwhelming of the senses.

Pulling out and driving back into her, Duncan set a controlled pace. Needing him deeper, Beatrice wrapped her legs around his waist.

To her delight, he released her hands to slip his under her bottom, lifting it off the bed as he continued to plunge, faster and faster, sending them spiraling out of control.

Beatrice cried out blindly as she clutched his shoulders, her fingernails digging through the fabric into his flesh, not wishing to lose herself totally. But it did little to stifle the passion that overtook.

“Oh. Oh. Oh,” she said over and over, needing to verbalize but at the same time unable to form coherent words.

Duncan’s intense expression was a beautiful sight. The cords of his neck protruding as he strained to maintain the pace. His gaze met hers for a moment, and she became lost in his eyes, but soon lost focus when he rolled over so that she straddled him.

For a moment, she was unsure what to do, but instinct took over and she pressed her palms on his chest and allowed him to guide her.

It was a delightful change that brought different sensations. Beatrice used her thighs, riding her husband steadily, reveling in having control of their lovemaking.

His gaze trailed down the length of her body and he touched a spot that brought sharp sensations with each caress. Beatrice lost the rhythm of her movements, her eyes widening when he rubbed the nub at the top of her sex between his fingers.

She shook with a release so hard, a loud cry erupted.

As she trembled from the aftereffects, Duncan took her by the hips and used her body to bring himself to release. His entire large body shook so hard, Beatrice climaxed once again.

“Do ye think someone overheard us?” Beatrice whispered when she finally could.

“If they did not, they are deaf,” Duncan replied as if discussing the weather.

Beatrice sat up alarmed. “Oh, goodness. This is mortifying.”

“We are newly married. It is expected that we enjoy bedsport.” His matter-of-fact tone earned him a smack on the chest from her.

“It may be something to boast about for men. But it is believed women should not enjoy it.”

“Ye can pretend to be offended,” he replied. From the curve to his lips, her husband was quite proud of his accomplishment.

Beatrice slipped from the bed and poured water into the basin to wash up. “We should dress. First meal must already be started. Hopefully, they had all gone downstairs and were not about to overhear.”

By the way everyone in the dining room avoided looking directly at her and the discreet glances between the men, most at the table had indeed either overheard them or those that did not had been informed of it.

“Ye are late to rise this morning,” her oblivious mother stated.

There were grunts and clearing of throats around the table as Duncan’s brothers attempted to keep from laughing. Beatrice glared at Gideon, who sat across from her. It had little effect.

Isobel nudged Beatrice with her leg. “There is much to do today to prepare for the celebration.”

“Some celebrating has already begun,” Ella said with a wide grin. Lady Mariel shook her head giving Ella a warning look.

“Other than some decorating, there is little left to be done. The clan’s people who come to seek counsel from Darach will be sent to the parlor so we can keep the great hall empty until it is time.”

“I cannot wait for ye to see the dress I brought,” her mother exclaimed, and Beatrice clapped. “I just know it will be beautiful. Thank ye, Mother.”

“It is a special day and I want ye to enjoy it thoroughly.”

When Duncan and Stuart exchanged a look, Beatrice pinched Duncan’s leg under the table.

He gave her a surprised look and whispered in her ear, “That hurt.”

“Ye will live,” she replied dryly.

Evander glared at them.