The Beast by Hildie McQueen

Chapter Six

Duncan stood with his back to the wall, arms crossed, and legs shoulder width apart. Always the opposite, Caelan sat in a chair, his right ankle across the opposite knee, and a glass of whiskey in hand. He looked every bit a man of leisure.

Sometimes, he envied the pampered life Caelan had lived. He’d been sent away to boarding school, in the lowlands, by his mother. Had spent a long part of his youth in England, where he’d learned mathematics and other frivolous things. Upon his return to the highlands, he’d been ensconced in the large home where they both lived now.

Seeming to sense his regard, his brother met his gaze. “Do not worry yerself. This will be sorted out without ye having to marry.”

Marriage. The one thing he never thought to be a weapon that could be yielded against him. He never dared to consider a lifetime partnership with a woman. The very idea of marriage was the reason he never attended weddings, nor had he ever been in a relationship.

It was not that he detested the idea. It was more that someone like him could never be a good husband.

Just then Darach returned, and with him, his sister, his mother, Isobel, and finally a red-nosed Beatrice.

His mother gave him a worried smile and came to him. She placed a hand on his arm and leaned into him. When he hugged her, it was apparent she wanted to soothe him. “Ye need to cut yer hair,” she teased when he pushed his shoulder-length hair back.

Darach looked to the women seated. “Duncan cannot marry ye, Miss Beatrice.”

A worried gaze met his for a fleeting moment before Beatrice looked to his brother. “I do not wish to marry anyone.”

“That choice is not an option,” his brother stated. “Ye will marry Caelan instead.”

His usually calm brother choked on the whiskey and began coughing. Ella hit his back until he shook his head. By the time he spoke, his face was red.

“Why me?”

Beatrice gawked at Caelan. “Why do ye act as if it were a punishment worse than death?”

“Because I am not one to be ordered to marry,” Caelan retorted. “Miss Beatrice, no offense, but I do not wish to marry ye.”

“And I have no desire to marry a dandy like ye.”

“Dandy?” Caelan’s eyes rounded. “What makes ye think…”

“Stop,” Darach ordered. “There is no other solution. Duncan cannot marry and if the Macdonald’s hear of this, they will demand marriage. If Beatrice is already married, then it will soothe things.”

“What about Stuart or Gideon? Both are more than able to fulfill this . . . this . . . situation,” Caelan pointed out.

“What about what I want?” Beatrice stood and stomped her foot. Fury blazed from her eyes as she looked at every person in the room, including him.

“I do not care what any of ye think. I will return home immediately and handle the situation myself.”

She whirled to face him, her blue eyes blazing. “How dare ye not wish to marry me. I thought ye a man of honor. I understand not wishing to be forced; however, ye could have at least stood up for me. Convinced them nothing happened. Tell them ye and I are not suitable. But do not sir, just state: ye cannot marry me.”

She spun and stormed from the room.

“I like her,” Darach said looking at him. “A misfortune ye cannot marry her.”

Duncan walked intothe parlor and found Beatrice staring blankly at the view of the sea below them. By her furrowed brow and the tightness of her lips, he knew she remained furious. It was not the time perhaps to point out that everything could have been avoided if she’d remained there and waited for him to come.

It was stupid to try to reason with a woman, Duncan considered. He’d never argued with his mother or sister, or any woman for that matter. Most of the time if one grew angry with him, he would walk away or remain quiet until they gave up.

When Beatrice turned to him, her eyes widened. It as if she’d expected to find someone else. Perhaps her sister.

“What is it?” she asked in a tight voice. “If ye do not have a solution, I suggest ye leave me be as I struggle to come up with one.”

“I do not wish to insult ye by refusing to marry ye. It has nothing to do with…”

When she made a slashing motion with her hand, he stopped talking. The beauty neared and circled him.

“Are ye married already?”

He shook his head.

Beatrice came back to stand in front of him, her gaze lowering down the length of his body. “Not fully able to fulfill yer obligations as a husband?”

Duncan cleared his throat. “That is not the reason.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What is so horrible about ye then?”

The fact she used the word horrible was apt. What he harbored inside was indeed horrible. He took a breath. “Darach and Isobel will speak to ye about it. It is best that I do not.”

Beatrice placed a hand on his arm to stop him from leaving. Her lovely eyes lifted to his. Upon their gazes clashing, Duncan felt a kinship with her and considered that he should marry her, and all consequences be damned. The thought of her with either Caelan or Stuart made his blood boil.

“I do not know what is wrong. In a way, it probably is not my secret to know. However, I have caused ye trouble and for that, I beg that ye forgive me.”

The urge to pull her close and comfort her was strong, but Duncan managed to keep his arms against his sides. “Ye have nothing to apologize for.”

“It seems I have learned a valuable lesson. My rashness causes problems for others and I should have known better. I am no longer a young lass that can act without thinking.”

Her expression changed and he knew she’d come up with an idea. When she slid a gaze to the view outside, he inhaled sharply. “I hope ye do not plan to go on a sea voyage alone. If the trek to my house was dangerous, that would be perilous.”

“I am not going anywhere,” she quipped. “However, I do have a brilliant idea.” When her lips curved, for the first time in his life, Duncan wished he could see it every day.

Without thought, he took her face and pressed his lips to hers.

Realizing what he did, Duncan pushed away abruptly with so much force Beatrice stumbled backward.

Both of them wide-eyed stood facing each other for a long moment.

“I-I…” he stuttered, unsure what to say after having done something so impulsive.

“First ye see me bereft of clothing and now ye kiss me. What is next?” Beatrice huffed, crossing her arms.

“Why did he see ye with no clothing on?” Isobel’s voice sounded behind him.

Duncan closed his eyes. The day had just gotten worse.

When he opened them, Beatrice was gone, she’d rounded him to go to her sister. “Ye should not be lurking about eavesdropping.”

“Did ye not think that small detail should have been disclosed?”

“He did not do it on purpose. I thought he was gone when I was naked.”

Isobel glowered at Duncan. “So ye were undressed as well?”

“Goodness.” Beatrice let out an annoyed breath. “We were soaked, had to remove our clothes to dry them or catch our death. He did not see me undress.”

“Ye just said he saw ye bereft of clothes.”

“Aye, when I was dressing, I thought him gone. My fault entirely to have removed the plaid without noticing he was there.”

Isobel sized him up. “Duncan is a huge man, how could ye not notice he was in the room?”

“I had just woken up. I thought he’d slipped away while I slept.”

It was difficult to keep up with the discussion between the sisters. Duncan found himself looking from one to the other, not needing to speak as they seemed to have forgotten he stood there.

Just then his mother walked in. “Excuse us, please ladies. I must speak to my son.”

As the sisters walked away, Isobel insisted Beatrice retell what happened from the beginning.

His mother motionedfor Duncan to sit and he lowered to a chair opposite her. Of all the rooms at the keep, the family parlor was his favorite. Keep Ross was over three hundred years old, and his family had made many changes. One of them was to tear down walls and construct a large room for family gatherings other than the great hall. Here in the parlor, the drapes were routinely pulled back to allow the sunshine in.

There were seating areas, shelves laden with books, and several pieces of furniture that reminded him of his childhood. During his father’s constant absences, he and his siblings spent many a day in that room, either playing as children or as young men discussing what they considered to be items of dire importance.

His mother had assured them a good life and for it, he’d be forever thankful.

Now her expression was serious. The questions she was going to ask were difficult, but he understood.

“Tell me why ye think ye should never marry? Yer anger can be controlled, ye can remove yerself to another room or go outside.” Her gaze was warm, while at the same time cautious.

Duncan shook his head. “I cannot marry. My body…a woman will recoil in horror if they see all the damage.”

“The right woman will see past the scars son. I have not seen ye or heard of ye having any kind of issues in a long time.”

He’d not kept count. In truth, it had been a long time since he’d become lost in the past. Even when Darach had been taken by a rival laird, he’d kept control.

“It has been a long time. I do things to keep my mind busy.”

“Is this longer than usual?”

Duncan did not want to think or discuss something that would not change his mind. “I suppose.”

“I must insist that ye consider marriage to Beatrice. She seems taken with ye, the first woman I’ve ever known to not be intimidated by ye,” his mother said.

“Mother, I cannot marry…”

Lady Mariel shook her head. “Oh, Duncan. It is ye that is holding yerself back. Not the scars or the anger. Ye are afraid and I understand. But ye are letting it hold ye back from life. Yer father is dead, and the past is gone. We must move on.”

Duncan shrugged. “I’m sorry Mother. I will not change my mind.”

There was resignation in his mother’s eyes. This was not the first time they’d had this conversation. “I think it is best that I speak to Beatrice, so she understands this is not a slight on our part.”

The tightness in his chest was something he’d not felt in a long time. Grief over the fact he’d lost his life a long time ago. A part of him was dead, and although he went through the motions of living, his soul remained empty.

“I wish…” his mother began, but then hugged him instead. “Go see about getting a good meal before heading home.”

“I have a cook Mother.”

“Ye do not have Greer.” She smiled knowing the cook had a soft spot for him.

Heading home, Duncanallowed the horse to meander and take its time. There was nothing waiting for him back at the house other than the wall and time alone.

He happened upon a man standing on the side of the road, next to a lopsided wagon. When Duncan neared, the man shook his head and said, “Wheel broke.”

“Ye can unhitch yer horse and ride to Keep Ross, they will help ye.” Duncan studied the wagon in which sat a pair of young children. Clean and well-fed, they looked up at him with curiosity.

“Aye, I was about to take the bairns and do just that.” He studied Duncan for a moment. “Ye are a Ross are ye not?”

“I am Duncan Ross,” he replied.

“I am to see yer brother about finding my wife,” the man said, then lowered his voice. “Took off on myself and the bairns again. Light-skirts she is.”

From the look of the man, he was caring, but perhaps a bit weak. If it were Duncan, he’d not go after the woman. “Why do ye want her back?”

“Look after the bairns. I work all day, have fifty head of sheep. Someone needs to keep them.”

Duncan scratched his head. “Ask my brother to help ye find a nursemaid who will work for little money in exchange for a roof over her head.”

It was obvious the man had not considered another option by the change in his expression from morose to excited. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I do not know.” Duncan maneuvered his horse so he could look to the children again. He plucked two coins from his purse and handed one to each of them.

Once on the road again, he couldn’t help but wonder how a mother could abandon her bairns. From the looks of the children, they were well-behaved and bonnie. Perhaps it was her husband’s weakness, he concluded.

The hair on the nape of his head lifted and he began scanning the surroundings. He was almost home, passing a field with scattered cusps of trees. The sensation of someone watching him became stronger, the closer he got home.

If someone was about, they hid well because he did not see anything amiss. Once arriving at the stables, Creagh, the stablemaster hurried out and took the horse to be looked after.

Duncan caught up with the man. “Have ye seen anyone about today?”

The man scratched his head. “Strange ye should ask. Earlier today, I saw a horseman riding away. It was as if he’d come near but decided not to stop.”

“What did he look like?”

“Could not see clearly, he was a ways off. Only thing was his shoulders were off, his right much lower than the left.”

The uneasy feeling followed Duncan as he went inside. He paced in the parlor considering who the person was.

It was rare that they had visitors and it was always someone of Caelan’s acquaintance who came to relive old times. Often the men who came would only remain a day or two, drinking and talking until late in the night. Sometimes, they’d bring women to spend time with. Other times, they’d go into town to the tavern.

He felt more at ease and considering that perhaps the man who’d come near had met someone who’d informed him Caelan was not in residence.

“Do ye require anything, Mister Duncan?” Gara stood at the doorway, she and Firtha, the other servant, knew better than to approach him directly or go into a room where he was. They’d been witnesses to his darker side and despite it, had remained.

“Nay, I ate before leaving Dún Láidir. I will have last meal and that is all.”

He walked back out and directly to the stone wall. While lifting each stone, he pictured Beatrice and her reaction to learning about his past. The muscles of his arms quivered as he lifted another heavy stone to place it atop the wall. Once in place, he leaned on the wall for a moment to catch his breath and then bent to get the next one.