Highlander’s Evil Side by Shona Thompson
Chapter Three
Beitris
Scottish Highlands
July 28, 1432
Beitris frowned as the walls of Castle Dunnegan appeared through the thick trees. They had ridden for nearly seven days since her return from the Dunbar Clan. She hardly had time to gather her things before her father whisked her away on another journey. If she didn’t know her father, she suspected he thought she would run and hide if he hadn’t grabbed her in time. In his defense, she had thought of hiding in the kitchens or possibly in the gardens, but she knew the guards would eventually find her. Besides, that would be positively childish of her.
She glanced over her shoulder, finding an entourage of the Gordon guards and wagons filled with not only her things but her dowry to the Laird MacClery. Her father had insisted on providing her new husband with an elegant black stallion as well as several oxen, which trailed behind them, munching on any grass they came upon. For a moment, she worried brigands would attack them, given they were bringing enough goods to stock an entire fortress, but her father had brought enough men to not only guard their wares but possibly wage war if need be.
However, she was hardly concerned about highwaymen stealing her trunks filled with books, papers, and quills. They could have whatever items she brought. What she was most concerned about as of late was seeing the man from the garden. She knew she wouldn’t find him amongst her father’s men, yet ever since leaving the Dunbar Clan, she had felt as if something or someone was watching her. It was possibly the trick of her mind, but the event had made her precautious. She no longer wandered on her own late at night for fear of repeating the same mistakes. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get his touch out of her mind, and her flesh prickled with disgust every time she thought of the kiss.
Shaking her head, she turned her attention forward to the dark castle leering above them. As they approached Castle Dunnegan, she couldn’t help the eerie feeling flooding through her. Soldiers manned the battlements while towers overlooked the meadows below. There was a small field to her left hosting a herd of sheep and their shepherd boys, lounging on the grass while pointing at the clouds in the sky. Black and white dogs watched them from a distance while the boys whistled amongst themselves. She wondered if they lived in a village nearby, or perhaps they resided in the castle, as well.
She felt her father riding his horse next to her and braced herself for a monologue on lady etiquette. Not that he understood much of it anyway, she thought. She fidgeted in her saddle, repositioning her legs in the chair. She had insisted on riding on her own their last day of travel, despite her father’s insistence on having her ride with him.
“Don’t ye want the laird to see ye as a gentle lady?”he had asked her, which only made her scoff with disdain. If she couldn’t choose her future husband, she was going to choose how he would see her. First impressions were important, and she didn’t want him to look upon her as a docile damsel. She much preferred if he saw her as a woman who could take care of herself, as a partner rather than a mere gentle lady spending her days knitting by the fire.
“Ye promise to be on yer best behavior?” came her father’s soft voice.
Her brows furrowed while she pursed her lips in distaste. “Of course, Father.” Did he truly think I wouldn’t be? she wondered while her gaze traveled up the dark castle walls.
“I would hate to have another incident like the one with Laird Kerr’s lad.”
Beitris stifled a giggle as she recalled her father inviting the Kerrs to dine with them one evening. Laird Kerr’s son had been such an arrogant man. She couldn’t help but put a wee too much pepper on his supper, which left him red-faced and crying for ale.
“I don’t find it funny whatsoever,” said her father, making her wonder if he could secretly read minds.
Beitris narrowed her eyes at her father, watching his lips twitching. There was a glimmer of joy in his gaze, and she knew he was recalling the event as well, perhaps even more fondly than she.
“It’s not my fault,” she said while straightening her back. “Yer the one who taught me not to take any rubbish from nae one.”
Her father turned towards her. “I also taught ye to know when to pick a fight and when to let one go—something ye could still use some practice in.”
Beitris huffed. She turned away from her father and frowned at the portcullis several feet away. It wouldn’t be long now, she thought with disdain. The horse slowed as the path grew steep. Men called from above, and she heard grunting while the gate rose. Mud dripped from the sharp spikes, reminding her of what will soon be her new prison.
“Are ye sure this is the right path for me?” she whispered, her hands clenching the reins. Her father was right to ride next to her. She was half-tempted to turn around and gallop back into the forests, no matter what brigand was waiting for her.
“He is a well-educated man,” came her father’s soft voice. “Ye have naething to worry for. I’ve heard stories from the others. He will treat ye well.”
Beitris’s frown deepened. She wasn’t so sure about that.
Edging her mare forward, they entered through the gate and into the courtyard. Dark walls surrounded her from either side, making Beitris feel as if they were closing in on her. Moss grew up the walls, clinging to the stone, while grass sprouted between the cobblestones. She looked around frantically, wondering if there was any way to escape this prison. To her left was a path leading into a garden. A bridge hovered above it, connecting the battlements to a tall tower. Her gaze crawled up the length of it, finding darkened windows.
Jerking her attention to the right, she discovered several men filing out of the stone barracks connected to the walls. They were dressed in the MacClery colors, carrying swords belted to their sides. Their heads bowed in respect as she passed them, making her stomach twist with worry all the more.
Her gaze turned to the front, where a line of soldiers and servants stood in front of the keep, standing at attention as if they were greeting the queen. A young boy held a pitcher while a girl stood next to him, holding a platter of goblets. Both smiled brightly up at Beitris as she drew her horse to a halt. These servants and soldiers were to be her new people. She had spent all her life traveling back and forth between the Dunbars and her own clan. Never had she spent time in another castle, with different people than her own.
What if they didn’t like her? What if she couldn’t learn their ways?
She felt her father drawing closer to her, could feel his breath on her cheek as he whispered, “Isn’t this a marvelous greeting?” He nodded towards the servants and soldiers beaming up at her. “He did all of this for ye.”
Beitris clenched her jaw, biting back a bitter retort. He didn’t do any of this for her. This was all a ruse made for her father. The Laird MacClery wanted her father to feel important so that when he finally left her all alone, without knowing a single soul, he wouldn’t feel as guilty as he should. If anything, she felt even worse off than she did before.
Her brows drew taut as she searched the crowd, finding a lady hovering near the entrance, clad in black with a dark shawl clinging to her shoulders. Beitris swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared at the woman with her greying hair and her bloodshot blue eyes. That must be the Lady MacClery, Beitris thought as she lowered her reins. Her father had told her of the elder laird’s passing during their travels, which was the reason for young Laird Fraser’s return from France. The death was unexpected, and his mother had worried about procuring her son a decent alliance. As she stared at Lady MacClery, Beitris could see the pain in the woman’s eyes and the shadows lingering under her unblinking gaze.
“My lady, do ye need assistance with yer—”
Beitris shook her head, breaking her gaze with the lady and offering a small smile to the stable master standing at her side. He stared at her chair as if it was the most perverse thing he had ever come upon. Her smile faltered slightly while watching the stable master wave towards her. His mouth opened and closed, trying to think of the words to describe the seat she sat upon before conceding.
“Do ye need assistance?”
“Nae, I shan’t,” Beitris said while jutting out her chin.
She angled her body fully to the side and slid slowly to the ground. Several servants’ gasps met her ears, followed by whispering. Beitris smiled brightly at the stable master, his mouth gaping open in both shock and intrigue.
“Why, I never,” he murmured while she handed him the reins and strode past him.
“Beitris,” her father said in a warning tone, which she promptly ignored.
Beitris walked around her mare and towards the keep. Her father hurried forward. Before she could get any farther, he grabbed her hand and rested it on his arm. Beitris held back her sigh, hating the way her father was escorting her towards the keep as if she was nothing more than a child. This was to be her new life. No longer was she free to do what she wanted or act as she pleased.
She was to become the new Lady MacClery, imprisoned inside this extravagantly dark fortress against her will for the rest of her days. How terribly dismal, she thought while approaching the elder lady.
Her brows pinched together in confusion as she turned to the young man standing at the lady’s side. He was handsome, with a clean-shaven face and his dark hair neatly washed. She frowned as she drew closer, recognizing the sharp angle of his nose and the fullness of his lips. Beitris recognized this man from somewhere, but she couldn’t remember how.
He was donned in an elegant red leine with the MacClery insignia sewn in gold thread on his chest. The fabric clung to his broad shoulders and thick, muscled arms, tanned no doubt from his days in France where the sun shined more frequently. Her insides twisted when she met his blue gaze, recalling the way those same blue eyes watched her in the moonlight.
A gasp escaped her lips.
He was the one from the garden, she realized, halting her approach forward. She felt her father’s tug on her elbow, but her body remained fastened to the ground. He was the one who had stolen a kiss from her. Her gaze darkened as she stared up at the man who was to be her husband.
Nae, she told herself. She didn’t care if she would die an unmarried old hag. There was no way she would ever agree to marry this cad.
“May I introduce my daughter and myself,” said her father in a booming voice as he bowed his head. “I am Laird Stewart of the Gordon Clan, and this is the Lady Beitris.” He gestured towards her with one hand. “Thank ye for welcoming us this day.”
Beitris refused to curtsy. She glanced over her shoulder, finding her horse being led into the stables. Her frown deepened while she turned back to the laird and lady before her. It would take too long for her to reach the stables and mount her mare. She would have to suffer through this meeting.
“‘Tis a pleasure to see the both of ye at long last,” said Lady MacClery while curtsying. “I am Lady Helga MacClery.”
“And I am the Laird of the MacClery Clan,” said the cad while he bowed low. “Ye may call me Fraser, if ye wish. I pray the journey was in yer favor?”
“Aye, it was,” said her father with an awkward chuckle, his gaze glancing at Beitris with worry when she refused to move any closer. “Only a wee bit of rain from time to time. Nae brigand to be seen, thankfully.”
“Thanks be to the heavens,” said Fraser.
Fraser watched her, his lips parting and making her wonder if he was reminded of the time he slammed his mouth upon her and forcibly held her against her will. With a step forward, he brandished a beautiful bouquet of thistles, primroses, and lavender from behind his back, offering it with a shy smile.
“For ye, my lady,” he said quickly.
Beitris didn’t want to accept the flowers, as if they were some sort of payment for the kiss he took from her. Perhaps he had been spying on her, stalking the grounds of Dunbar, wondering what kind of woman his future wife would be.
“Beitris,” she heard her father say harshly, nodding his head towards Fraser.
She stumbled forward, taking the bouquet and clutching them close to her chest. Before she could take a step back, Fraser took her hand gently. “‘Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Lady Beitris,” he said before pressing his lips against her skin.
Beitris didn’t think. Her hand took on a life of its own, and before she could stop herself, she snatched it from his grasp and slapped his cheek with the speed of an adder. She stared wide-eyed at him, shocked by her own actions. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment until she forced those feelings away, telling herself he had earned her ire for what he had done to her in the garden. Fraser’s eyes widened while she heard Helga gasp, and her father’s angry voice shouting, “Beitris!”
Beitris’s hand hovered between them. Her chest heaved as she tried to calm herself, tried to think of something to say, yet all she wanted to do was shout at him for taking advantage of her. She ground her teeth. There were too many eyes watching her, appalled by what she had done. She knew deep in her heart if Fraser took one step closer she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from striking again. She wanted to scream, scold him for making her feel terrified in the garden, for making her feel weak and small.
She expected Fraser to scowl back at her, demand she and her father leave, but instead, he straightened, his lips moving upwards into a tight smile while speaking the two words she never expected him to say:
“Thank ye.”
