The Beast

by McQueen, Hildie

  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 motioned for 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, Duncan allowed 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 g
o 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.

  Chapter Seven

  Lady Mariel waited for the maid to leave the sitting room before speaking. Beatrice almost told her not to by the pain etched on her face.

  “This is a story every mother hopes never to have to tell,” she began. “To know the horrors my son suffered can never stop hurting my heart.”

  Isobel leaned to the woman and took her hand. “Ye do not have to tell us. If it is something so horrible that it keeps Duncan from marriage, yer word is enough.”

  “I agree,” Beatrice added. “We can find another solution to the situation. Even if it comes to me having to marry another of yer sons. Although I do wish to make clear, is not the option I prefer.”

  Her lips curved as Lady Mariel met Beatrice’s gaze. “Ye would make a fine wife for Duncan. But he is damaged and fears intimacy.”

  After a moment, she began to talk.

  The grey skies did not promise an easy voyage and Duncan looked to his father, expecting him to call off the trip. He dared not say anything, else be backhanded in front of the others present.

  They were to go to the shore of Skye to meet with a ship. According to his father, there was to be a valuable shipment and he would be one of the first to purchase items that would be resold for a fortune.

  Two men had come in the cloak of darkness to inform his father about it, and now they were set to go and meet the captain of the ship.

  Once onboard the bìrlinn, the sea tossed it this way and that. The vessel tipping so far sideways, Duncan was sure he’d fall into the deep water.

  His father ignored him the entire time, excitedly speaking to the men about the purchase. With only four guards, Duncan wondered about the wisdom of going so far with virtual strangers.

  By the time they arrived ashore it was hours later, and Duncan was so exhausted he could barely stand.

  “Come along,” his father said grabbing him by the nape. “Do not dawdle. I brought ye to learn the ways of commerce. As second born, ye must have a trade. Do not make me regret it.”

  Silently, he followed his father along the planks of the seaside village until they met with yet another set of men.

  Duncan listened as his father argued prices and the amount he was willing to purchase at said price. It came to a point during an argument that the guards had to intercede to keep the men from hitting Laird Ross.

  Finally, an agreement was reached, and they were escorted to a nondescript house. Once inside there were piles of goods spread out in the large main room.

  His father’s eyes grew wide, and Duncan recognized the look of greed. Often his father had the same look upon seeing a woman he’d not noticed before, or when looking to acquire a new horse for the stables.

  This time, however, the look was more intense.

  “How much for that?” He pointed to neatly stacked fabrics. “I have never seen such colors.”

  If not for the unsettling appearance of the sellers, Duncan would have laughed at the thought of his father selling merchandise, like a common peddler.

  “They are not for sale,” a man replied. “They are already sold.”

  “What of that?” His father then pointed to sacks. “What is it?”

  “Sugar,” the same man said.

  “I will take it.”

  They began to haggle. The entire trip was to Duncan a waste of time. His father would purchase the costly items and probably not resell them but keep them for himself. Not that Duncan cared one way or the other. He was not learning anything.

  His father and the merchant both turned to him at the same time. There seemed to be some sort of silent communication. Instantly, Duncan felt ill at ease and took a step toward the door.

  Just then the pressure of a hand on his shoulder made him turn. One of the vendors motioned for him to follow. “We have other items for sale. Ye may wish to purchase one before yer father does.”

  When he turned to his father, he waved him away. The expression of greed now joined with a curve of lips.

  He walked behind the man until reaching a room. The man pushed the curtains aside and shoved Duncan through the doorway and then came to stand next to him. “Yer choice. Yer father agreed to pay.”

  Women lay on pillows. Most of them barely dressed. Each of them took him in and Duncan felt himself shrink back. Women would not find a lanky boy of ten and four to be enticing, much less wish to lay with him.

  He knew about this kind of purchase as his brother Darach and his friends often spoke about it. But he’d never seen it.

  “I do not wish to purchase anything,” he said and turned on his heel.

  Just outside the doorway, two large men stood with arms crossed. The man who’d shown Duncan the room shrank back. “What do ye want?”

  “Ye are payment for very exclusive merchandise.”

  There was an awkward silence, one of them holding Duncan by the arm. “Ye will come with us.”

  “M-my father has much coin. He is in the other room making large purchases. Allow me to return to him . . .”

  One of the men huffed and continued to block the way out. “Ye should take advantage of what is presented. It may be the last time ye will have the opportunity.”

  Just then the doors opened and the merchant who’d been haggling with his father appeared. He looked Duncan over.

  “I am sure he will fetch a fair price.”

  As Duncan went to scream for his father, one of the men who held hit him in the stomach. The large fist taking all his breath.

  The merchant narrowed his eyes at Duncan. “Take him out the back. Keep him silent, so as not to scare away other customers.”

  While being dragged out, Duncan struggled with all his might. Kicking, biting, and swinging his fists.

  “Enough,” one of the men said and punched him so hard, he could barely see for a few moments. The second hit sent him into darkness.

  Upon coming to, the swaying of the ship and the smell of rotten fish turned Duncan’s stomach. He was somewhere in the bowels of a large vessel. By the swaying, it was obvious they were not stationary, but moving at a fast speed.

  Scrambling to his feet, he raced to the ladder and climbed up. On deck were several men, including one who’d been at the merchant’s. The man turned to him, but then promptly ignored Duncan.

  “Why am I here?” Duncan asked the man. “I wish to return home.”

  The man gave him an icy glare. “Ye are home.”

  Beatrice sat back. “He was taken at ten and four? How long was he gone?”

  “Duncan was gone for ten years.” Lady Mariel sighed. “He returned broken and hollow. For a long time, barely speaking. Not used to large open spaces, he spent many days in a small bedchamber, only venturing out for short periods. It took years before he was able to have a somewhat normal life.”

  Tears pricked at her eyes and Beatrice allowed them to overflow down her cheeks. “I cannot fathom what happened to him all those years.”

  “He has told us a few of the experiences he went through. Many of them I cannot repeat. However, I will tell ye that he was tied to a post and whipped for simple misdeeds and left without food and water for days. As a result, my son has internal scars that may never heal.”

  Beatrice’s heart broke for Duncan. She wished nothing more than to go to him and give him comfort. Although, he would probably not welcome it.

  Her sister hugged Lady Mariel. “We should discuss Beatrice’s situation more. There is time. Mother will not arrive anytime soon. Hopefully, we can come
to a solution.”

  “I am going to rest. We should expect a lively last meal as the people wish to welcome Darach back,” Lady Mariel said as she stood. Her warm gaze met Beatrice’s “Do not worry yerself overly about this. It is not as bad as it seems.”

  Left with her sister, Beatrice became animated. “Surely ye do not think I should have to marry. I do not wish to anger our parents further. Being married when Mother arrives will send her to madness. I am sure she is already furious at my staying here longer.”

  “What explanation did ye give?”

  Beatrice sucked in air. She’d forgotten about the excuse. “I told her I was being courted.”

  “By whom?” Isobel closed her eyes for a moment and opened them slowly. “I hope ye did not say Duncan.”

  When Beatrice didn’t reply, her sister blew out a breath. “Beatrice, ye wish to be taken seriously. Ye claim to be mature, but yer actions are not those of someone who considers the consequences of their actions.”

  “Being impetuous does not make me immature,” Beatrice shot back. “I admit to making mistakes and am doing what I can to come up with a way to not have to marry and not anger our parents at the same time. If ye would stop scolding and help, I am sure we can come up with a perfect solution.”

  “There is no other solution than for ye to marry. If not Duncan, then another of the brothers. Although displeased that ye do not marry a MacLeod, Mother at least will be pleased at a furthering of our attachment with Clan Ross. I am sure eventually she and Lady Mariel will be very glad for it.”

  It was left unsaid that Evander and their father would not be as thrilled. They needed a strong bond with the MacLeod. The man had two sons and one daughter, who was to be married off to another clan.

  “Do ye wonder how clans would become united without marrying off their offspring?” Beatrice said while tapping a finger to her chin. “If ye ask me, they should not involve us. They should trade cattle or something.”

  “Beatrice, this is a very serious situation, we have to consider that we’d rather ye marry another of the Ross brothers than be forced into a life with a damaged man.”