Highlander’s Evil Side by Shona Thompson

Chapter Eight

Beitris

Beitris awoke the next morning. The sun shined through the open window, blinding her sight with blurry spots. She stared at the window in confusion, wondering how it changed from one wall to the next, until she reminded herself she was no longer in Gordon Castle but with the MacClery Clan. With a wince, she pushed herself from the bed and threw the blankets from her body, looking around the neat and immaculate room. A subtle wind caressed the curtains, billowing them inside while the day’s attire rested on her trunk, neatly folded.

She supposed it would be best to break her fast with the MacClerys given that soon she would be their mistress. Thankfully, her father had agreed to stay with her for the next week to ensure she adjusted to her new home well. She sighed while picking up her dress, frowning as she wondered what the day would bring. The other day was absolutely tiring, and she didn’t think she could suffer through any more indignities and misinterpretations. The feast had ended well, though, she thought with a nod. Her father seemed to like Fraser, and she had returned to her rooms with no more than a kiss on her hand and a good night from her future husband.

After dressing, she briskly strode down the corridor, her brows pinching together while she tried to remember the way to the hall. She thought she memorized the steps the night before, but it had been dark.

“A little lost, are ye?”

Beitris jumped and whirled around, her eyes widening on Fraser, who smiled back at her. His gaze softened as he stopped before her. “This place can seem like a maze sometimes.”

“Aye, so it seems,” she murmured while looking away from him. It was still difficult for her to separate the man from the garden and the laird standing before her. They were so similar in looks, yet their mannerisms were completely different.

“Did ye sleep well, my lady?” Fraser asked politely, making her wonder if he was trying to ease her nerves.

She nodded. “Aye, I did, my laird.”

“And yer quarters are to yer liking?”

Her lips lifted into a soft smile. “They are extravagant. Thank ye for thinking of my comfort.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

They continued down the corridor in silence. Beitris’s heart fluttered as she tried to think of something to say. She worried why he had been near her chamber until she recalled the night before when he offered to place soldiers outside her door. Glancing his way, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

“Were ye guarding my door?" she asked, her voice filled with shock as she watched his lips move into a smirk.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Was that inappropriate of me?”

“Highly,” Beitris said sternly. “Weren’t ye supposed to ask the guards?”

Fraser sighed. “Sadly, many of them have their own duties to attend to. And a whole lot of them were a wee ill from the feast last night. I asked my captain, Scott, to guard yer door for a few hours, and then I took over perhaps three hours ago.”

Beitris stopped. “Three hours ago?” she said, louder than intended. “Why would ye do such a thing?”

Fraser shrugged. “I want ye to feel safe here, Beitris.” The way he said her name made her insides flutter, and she shyly looked away from him, no longer able to take the intensity of his gaze. He looked upon her as if he truly cared, not at all like the man who attacked her.

Beitris stalked past him, feeling determined to get to the hall before she made a fool of herself again. “Ye shouldn’t sacrifice yer sleep for me. I’m sure ye have much more important matters to attend to.”

“Yer important, as well, Beitris."

Beitris ground her teeth, hating the heat in her cheeks and the small tingle of joy surfacing within her. She still needed time away from Fraser, but her future husband was making it very difficult to dislike him. He had been attentive the night before, and now he was ensuring her safety and comfort. It still means nothing, she told herself. This was a marriage made only for political gains. Even if she could come to trust Fraser, she would never have the kind of love Hendry and Peigi shared.

All thoughts of Fraser left her as she paused at the bottom step, watching in horror as the Gordon soldiers moved from in and out of the keep with her standing in front of the great hall. A deep scowl settled on her father’s face while he gripped a letter in his hands.

“Father,” she said while rushing towards him. “What is happening? Is everything—”

“I must go, daughter.”

Beitris could feel her blood running cold as her father refused to meet her eye.

“I’ve received news of brigands moving and invading the Gordon villages in the South.”

Beitris gasped. She reached for her father, clutching at his arm, yet he still refused to look at her. “Assuredly, the others can handle it. Yer too old to be—”

“I must offer aid where I can.” He placed a hand on hers, but Beitris wasn’t reassured.

Her father was getting too old to be gallivanting off, fighting scoundrels and saving damsels in distress. “Please, Father. What of yer health? What would we do if anything were to happen to ye?”

Her father sighed and finally turned his gaze to her. “I will return as soon as I’m able. And then we will finish preparations for yer wedding.”

He offered a reassuring smile, but Beitris still wasn’t going to settle. She needed her father here, alive and well. He couldn’t leave her here amongst people she did not know. What if something happened to him, and she wouldn’t discover the truth of it until weeks later?

“Do not worry, Child,” came Lady MacClery’s voice as she strode from the great hall. She offered a smile in Beitris’s direction and rested a warm hand on her shoulder. “We will take good care of ye.”

Beitris glanced at Fraser, meeting his kind smile. “I will ensure yer every comfort,” he said while closing the distance between them.

Beitris shook her head. She wasn’t ready for her father to leave. He was supposed to ensure her safety, not leave her with strangers she hardly knew. She threw herself at her father, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she hid them by burying her face in his chest.

“I’m going to miss ye,” she whispered, choking back a sob.

She felt her father’s hand on her head, stroking her hair. “And I ye,” he murmured before placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Do not fret. I will return before ye know it.”

She nodded before releasing him. Her hands quickly wiped at her eyes, and she avoided Fraser’s gaze as she followed her father outside the keep and into the courtyard. Several soldiers were already mounted, while others stood at the ready. She watched the stable master lead her father’s stallion into the courtyard, watched him easily mount his horse, her eyes watering with more tears.

“Safe travels, Laird Gordon,” said Fraser while sidling next to her.

Her father nodded at Fraser. “Take good care of her. She’s very important to me.”

“On my life.”

Beitris glanced at Fraser, his words making her insides flutter and the back of her neck heat. His stare was intense, and as she looked upon him, there was no doubt in her mind that he meant his words. The galloping of horses jolted her attention back to her father, and she watched as he disappeared through the portcullis, hoping this wasn’t their last meeting.

“My lady,” came Fraser’s voice, yet she didn’t look away from the place her father disappeared through. “Would ye care to break yer fast with me? Or perhaps—”

“Nae, I’m not hungry,” she said, her voice cracking on the words.

She turned on her heel and rushed into the keep, ignoring the curious stares of the servants she passed while she retreated back into her quarters. Throwing herself onto her bed, she allowed the sobs to take hold of her. Her shoulders shuddered, and she released everything she felt in that moment, the fear, the exhaustion, the wonder at being in a new place until finally, her eyes closed, and she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

It was midday when Beitris rose from her bed to the sound of swords clanging and grunting coming from her window. She wiped the sleep from her eyes while trodding towards the sound, pushing the curtains away and finding several soldiers wielding their blunt blades. The sun was high in the sky, making their sweaty bodies glisten. Her gaze lingered on one. His hardened muscles flexed as he moved, lunging towards his opponent with impressive speed. Something heated within her as she watched Fraser block an attack. He was beautiful, like Fionn MacCumhaill preparing for one of his wild adventures. Gazing at Fraser, Beitris felt as if she was reading one of her storybooks, watching Fionn practice at sword with his Fianna.

However, this was real. Fraser was real, with his hair dripping with sweat and whipping in the wind. His gasps came out heavy as he blocked another attack. Beitris couldn’t tear her gaze away even if she tried. Fraser’s power seemed impossible to match as he knocked his adversary to the ground. He kicked the forgotten blade to the side while pointing the tip of his sword at his opponent’s throat.

Beitris didn’t know what came over her. She couldn’t stop imagining what his skin would feel like under her fingertips. Biting her bottom lip, she found it difficult to tear her gaze from his arms, imagining him holding her, caressing the hair away from her face with his tender hands.

A knock sounded at the door, and she flinched, snapping the curtains closed and spinning away from the window. She pressed her back against the stone wall, allowing the coolness to tamper the heat running through her. Inhaling deeply, she ran her hands over the invisible wrinkles in her skirt before striding towards the door.

Her eyes widened in surprise when they settled on Lady MacClery standing on the other side.

“Lady MacClery,” Beitris said quickly while dipping into a deep curtsy. “What brings ye to my quarters?”

“I hope ye don’t mind, lass, but I came to check on ye.” Lady MacClery glanced over her shoulder quickly before turning back to Beitris. “And ye may call me Helga. We are to be family soon, ye and I.” Helga smiled, yet it didn’t meet her eye. There was still a sadness lurking behind her gaze. “Do ye mind if I speak with ye?”

“Not at all,” Beitris rushed out while taking several steps back. She motioned towards her room while bowing her head. “Please, enter.”

Helga slowly strode inside the quarters, looking around the room and nodding her head in appreciation. “‘Tis good to see the lasses tidied this room properly, given the short amount of time they were working with. This used to be my room, ye know.”

Beitris shook her head. “Nae, I didn’t.”

Helga chuckled while lowering herself into a chair resting near the window. “Aye, it was. The elder laird, my son’s—” Helga choked, her eyes glimmered with unshed tears as she stifled a surfacing sob. She shook her head and rushed out, “My husband gave me these rooms when I first arrived. These walls brought me much refuge during my first few days at Castle Dunnegan. I’m hopeful they provide ye with the same.”

Beitris nodded, although she doubted she could find any solace in these quarters. They were grand, but she still missed the dusty and crooked shelves in her rooms at Castle Gordon. The shelves had brought her fond memories of when her father had attempted nailing them into the walls in order for her to rest her multitude of books upon.

“I was like ye once,” Helga continued, her lips pressing together in a grim expression as she stared up at Beitris. “I was also frustrated with my father for creating an arranged marriage. ‘But I don’t know him,’ I said. ‘What if he hates me,’ I asked.” Helga shook her head. “In the end, I cared more deeply for the laird than I first expected, and ye will, too.”

Beitris forced a smile. “But how can ye say for sure?” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t wish to think ill of yer son; however, I cannot help but worry about our future together. Especially given how we started off.”

Helga rose from the chair and closed the distance between them. She rested a wrinkled hand upon Beitris’s shoulder, her smile wide and appearing forced. “I know my son will do right by ye. He may seem coarse, he may be a bit brash, but deep down, he has a good heart. Ye will see.”

Beitris frowned, confusion pinching her brows together as she watched Helga’s hand slip from her shoulder. Fraser didn’t seem coarse at all. During their first two meetings, she had found him to be quite polite and kind, given their situation. He had never said anything to offend her. His only crime was looking like the man who had forced himself upon her in the garden. Nothing about Fraser was coarse nor brash.

“I hope to see ye at supper, Beitris,” said Helga as she strode towards the door. She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m so happy to have ye here.”

Beitris watched Helga leave, feeling even more puzzled by the woman’s actions and words. Perhaps the elder Lady MacClery was grief-stricken, making her mind slightly puzzled. Maybe she was confusing her husband with her son. The poor woman had been through so much with the sudden death of her husband; it made sense. Beitris slowly closed her chamber door, telling herself that was most likely the case.