Highlander’s Evil Side by Shona Thompson
Chapter One
Beitris
Scottish Highlands
July 15, 1432
Beitris twirled a brown tendril around her finger as she watched the lady and laird, Peigi and Hendry of the Dunbar Clan, crane their heads towards one another. No one could question the love they had for each other. It was written in their gazes, their very touch, their every manner of being. Lady Peigi’s head glimmered honey-gold in the candelabra’s light while her green eyes glistened with immense joy as they whispered amongst themselves. She lovingly pushed away Hendry’s fiery hair, exposing the eye patch covering his right eye.
Beitris recalled him losing the eye when the Black Stags had attacked his family, making him an orphan at fifteen summers. The cost of losing his parents had left him solemn, often spending night and day seeking his revenge. However, it had been years since the Black Stags disbanded, and peace was upon them. Beitris had known Hendry since they were children, and she had never seen him as happy as she did now.
It was all thanks to Peigi.
A little boy with ginger hair and sapphire eyes, appearing like a miniature version of Hendry, ran towards them with outstretched arms, giggling mischievously. Beitris chuckled, placing a hand to her mouth while she watched Hendry gather the boy into his arms and tickle his belly. A girl, similar in age, came to Peigi’s side. Her shoulders slumped while she stomped her foot in irritation. The little boy she tugged behind her, looking not much older than two summers, copied the movement and nearly made Beitris snort in an attempt to keep decorum. His chubby face was covered with jam, and he kept stuffing his little hand into his mouth.
Beitris watched the joy come over Peigi’s face as she grabbed her youngest son and settled him into her lap. Her heart twinged as Peigi stroked a stray curl away from her daughter’s face. The love and adoration in Peigi’s gaze made Beitris yearn for something she didn’t know if she could ever have.
Her hand slowly lowered as envy twisted in her stomach. She wished she could have a life like theirs, one filled with love and joy. When she first met Peigi, it didn’t appear that the lass could ever be with the laird and have such a life, given that she was a lowly maid and the daughter of a wretched brigand. However, their love prevailed all.
Beitris lowered her gaze, knowing if she stared any longer, her envy would turn to sadness. This was to be a happy event, a celebration for Laird Hendry of Dunbar’s fifteen years as clan head. If she allowed her sorrow to take hold now, she knew there would be no way of stopping it.
Her hands fisted in her lap, reminded of her father insisting she marry. She wished he would understand. These past few years, after turning down the alliance with the Dunbars so Peigi and Hendry could be together, her father was constantly on the lookout for a new betrothal. Her gaze darkened as she recalled him inviting several possible suitors to the Gordon Castle. Each and every one she turned away, whether it be from their arrogance or their need to control her. If she was going to marry, she would rather do it for love like Peigi and Hendry, not just to seal an alliance and calm her father’s worries.
“And what do ye think would happen to ye if I were to pass before ye were well and settled?”his voice echoed in her head, infuriating her even more.
Even the maids at Gordon Castle whispered rumors throughout the estate, not caring if their words reached her ears. She could recall them now, which irritated Beitris even more.
“Poor thing.”
“Never had a mother to show her the way.”
“Her father did his best.”
“But I’m afraid it wasn’t enough.”
“Her heart is too wild to warrant a husband.”
“Soon, she’ll be too old to marry.”
As the years went on, the whispers became harder to ignore. Ever since she ended her betrothal with Hendry, there were more and more discussions about who she would marry and when the wedding would take place. She knew very well that she wasn’t getting any younger. No one needed to remind her of that fact. And she knew more than anyone what it was like growing up without a mother to tend to her, care for her. Her father did his best. He taught her how to ride a horse, hold a bow and arrow, and gave her a teacher to instruct her in her reading and writing skills. He raised her to be a strong woman, and she was thankful for that.
Sometimes he deemed her a bit too strong in her ways. However, it didn’t matter. She would marry when she met the right man—one who saw her as a partner rather than his property.
“Excuse me, my lady.”
Beitris turned towards the sound, finding a young squire bowing before her, mere inches from her side, while holding out a small letter with both hands. She could hardly see his face due to the shaggy blond curls covering the top of his head. His hands trembled a bit as if he was shy. She was able to catch a faint flush on his cheeks.
“This is for ye,” he said nervously while still keeping his head down. “It came in on the medicinal cart before the festival. I apologize for my tardiness. It got lost with the healer.”
“No apologies needed,” she said while taking the letter from his hand.
Beitris didn’t watch him leave. She recognized that scrawl. Staring at her name, she couldn’t stop the feeling of doom seeping into her skin, chilling her insides. It was her father’s handwriting. Something must be wrong for him to write her so soon after leaving the castle. She knew he was getting up there in years. It wasn’t long ago a fever had taken hold of him. The red sigil stared at her, the stag watching her with each breath she took.
With quivering hands, she broke the Gordon seal, her blue eyes pouring over the contents while she gripped the paper. As she read, fear was quickly replaced with fiery rage.
My dearest daughter, Beitris, the letter began,
It is with the greatest pleasure I write to you. You must return as soon as the Dunbar festivities have ended, for I have promised your hand in marriage to the only son and clan head, Laird Fraser of the MacClerys. At long last, he has finally returned from his ten years of study in both Edinburgh and France, and I believe he will make a perfect match for you. Think clearly my daughter, for this will make a wonderful alliance for our clan. It has been too long since your parting with Hendry, and after the last suitor you demeaned, I fear you will spend your final years alone in this world. Please, consider Laird Fraser, daughter, and my feelings. I do not want to leave this world knowing you are alone.
I expect you in the next five days or so. Do travel carefully, daughter. Though the Black Stags have disbanded, I fear there are more brigands to fear.
Your loving father,
Laird Stewart of the Gordon Clan.
Beitris’s frown deepened. She stifled the need to tear the letter into pieces, knowing it would do her no good. So, her father took advantage of her absence and promised her to another while she was away. To this Laird Fraser no less, who, according to her father, spent the last ten years living elsewhere. She suspected the Laird MacClery probably knew more of the world than the highland’s ways, giving he preferred traveling than remaining with his clan. He would probably expect her to act like a dignified lady of the French court rather than a woman with her own mind. What were French women like? she wondered, which only made her grimace with worry.
She threw the letter onto the table and grabbed her goblet, downing the contents quickly before waving over a young girl carrying a pitcher of wine.
“More, my lady?” she asked in a high-pitched, shy voice.
Beitris held out her goblet. “Most definitely, my dear.”
As soon as her goblet was filled, she took a very long drink until her mind was no longer plagued with images of her father shaking hands with some laird, selling her to some unknown man without her approval.
Honestly, she shouldn’t be surprised. Her father had nagged her about finding a suitable husband for several years now. This was bound to happen sooner or later. She just wished it wasn’t while she sat with her friends, celebrating their prosperity. Her gaze swiveled towards Peigi and Hendry, who leaned into each other, smiling while watching their people dance and laugh. One moment she wished she was them, and now she knew it could never be. One letter had swept her dreams away.
She was going to be married to a man she never met.
Beitris rose from her chair, stumbling forward as her hem caught on one of the legs. She smiled awkwardly at the ladies and men around her before quickly excusing herself. Her face flushed, and her head swam from the wine numbing her pain and anger. Pushing one door open, she found herself in the kitchen, a place she and Hendry used to spend making mischief by stealing biscuits from the cook. She leaned against the threshold, smiling to herself while recalling those days, feeling as if they weren’t so long ago.
“Are ye alright, my lady?” asked a servant.
“Oh,” Beitris uttered, perking up when she found the woman standing behind her, carrying a large platter of dirtied plates and cups. “Aye, I’m fine.” She quickly strode deeper into the kitchen, moving to the sides so as not to get into anyone’s way. As the door shut, the noise from the hall muted.
Beitris heard giggling and whispers vaguely behind her, but she didn’t stop to eavesdrop. Most likely, the castle gossip was about Hendry rather than herself. On the other side of the kitchen, she knew there was a door leading out to the garden, and she was desperate for some fresh air to calm her blushing skin. Perhaps having that last goblet of wine wasn’t such a good idea, after all, she thought while stepping out into the night sky.
She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling content in the silence with the soft chirping of crickets surrounding her. The wind rustled, chilling her heated face. The fresh floral scent of the budding flowers made her stomach settle and the worry ebb away. Opening her eyes, she continued deeper into the garden with arms stretched wide. Her fingers grazed the soft petals of the primroses and heather.
Did the MacClery Clan have such a beautiful garden?She wondered while stopping in the middle of the path. Were the people kind and joyful, like the Dunbars? Her hands clasped together in a tight hold, and she couldn’t stop the worry twisting her insides once more. She knew no one from the MacClerys. Never had she visited their castle or met their clansmen. She had heard their name once or twice before but didn’t recall much about them. Would she even find it possible to make a new friend or two there?
“Good evening.”
A gasp escaped Beitris’s lips as she whirled around to find a man before her on the path. She stared up at him with wide eyes while pressing a hand to her throat.
“Do not be alarmed,” he said while taking a step towards her. His lips twitched upwards into a smirk as his gaze ravaged her body. “I only came for a bit of air.”
“O-oh,” Beitris breathed. Quickly, she looked around herself, finding no one on the surrounding walls. The man stood between her and the door. She briefly wondered if anyone would come if she shouted.
“It’s alright, lass,” said the man while closing the distance between them, holding his hands outwards as if he was taming a frightened mare.
Beitris took a step back, not knowing if she could trust this man. The moonlight illuminated his blue eyes, glimmering with amusement while his dark scraggly hair stuck to his face. He was handsome, despite the scruff growing along his jaw and the scars marring his forearms. She noticed even deeper scars going up his bicep and hiding underneath his wrinkled leine.
“I won’t let any harm come yer way.”
Beitris jutted her chin out. She didn’t know why, but something was odd about this man. He seemed kind, yet her insides were telling her to run.
“Please, allow me to accompany ye this evening,” he said while holding out his hand between them.
Her gaze flicked from his face to his flattened palm. His fingers wiggled for a moment as if they were beckoning her towards him.
“It’s dark, and a lady like yerself shouldn’t be out on yer own.”
Beitris sighed, finding no ill will in his gaze nor his logic, and placed her hand in his. His warm fingers curled around hers, and with a sharp tug, she stumbled into him, bumping her head against his hard chest. She blinked up, her eyes widening with alarm as he stared down at her. His tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip, and once again, a creeping feeling crawled down her spine, telling her she must leave at once.
“Apologies,” she murmured while straightening herself.
“No apologies needed, my lady,” he said while guiding her deeper into the garden. “Does the lady have a name?”
Beitris glanced over her shoulder. They were walking further and further away from the kitchen door. Her heart was slamming in her throat. Even though this man had done no wrong, she couldn’t help the fear rippling through her.
“Why do ye want my name, good sir?”
The man tossed back his head, releasing a bitter laugh. “Sir, she calls me.” His eyes narrowed on her. All amusement she once found in that gaze dissipated and was replaced with something dark. “Perhaps I wish to have something to call ye by, my lady.”
Beitris’s gaze lowered. She needed to get back to Hendry and Peigi’s celebration. His hand tightened around her wrist when she stepped away from him. Her lips trembled as he turned her towards the tree, where the branches were low and not one guard would be able to spot them from the wall.
“If I give ye my name, may ye let me return?” she whispered, feeling the bark of the tree digging into her back.
The man leered down at her. Beitris’s jaw clenched as his gaze dipped to her lips. “Perhaps.”
“It’s Beitris,” she rushed out. She tried to move around him, but he pulled her back to him, pushing her against the tree.
“Beitris, Beitris,” he sang. “The only daughter of Laird Gordon.”
Beitris shivered. She searched for a way to move around him, but his body blocked all escape. “Sir, I must-“
His lips slammed against hers, stifling her words. She pressed her lips together as his tongue prodded her mouth. An arm circled her waist, dragging her towards him. She gasped as she felt something digging into her leg, allowing his tongue to enter and slide against her own.
Beitris struggled in his arms. He tasted of wine, and his foul scent nauseated her senses, making her want to gag. His tongue kept prodding hers, demanding she respond. She was desperate to be rid of him. Nothing about this was romantic or magical. It was filled with lust and the need for dominance. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go, Beitris thought angrily. She didn’t know if she was angrier with him or with herself for being so foolish to enter the garden at night without a proper escort. All she wanted was a bit of air. She whimpered and pressed her hands against his chest, her fear heightening when his hold tightened.
She stomped on his foot, and the man grunted, stumbling backward and allowing her room to push him away. His lips slid from hers, and without thinking, she raised her hand, smacking it across his face. The man stilled. His head tilted to one side. The darkness made it difficult for her to see his expression, but the air was tense. Without waiting another minute, Beitris sidestepped him and picked up her skirts. She ran as fast as she could to the kitchen door and threw it open without looking behind her.
Beitris didn’t stop until she was in the great hall. Her hands shook as she straightened her dress. She inhaled deeply to calm her pounding heart. Her stomach churned while memories flooded to her of his hands clutching at her body, his tongue demanding entrance. She clamped her eyes closed and forced those thoughts away, telling herself she would leave right after her fast was broken in the morning and then she would never have to see that terrible man again.
