The Beast

by McQueen, Hildie

  When she pushed the door closed, the room became like a cave at night. She could just make out Duncan looking around the room. “It is Caelan’s problem, not mine.”

  First one step, then another two, Beatrice moved closer. “It is a good private space to keep us from being seen, is it not?”

  “Beatrice…”

  “Kiss me, husband.” Beatrice lifted to her tiptoes and turned her face up to him. Immediately his mouth covered hers and Duncan pulled her close. His kisses were new to her, the feel of his mouth enticing, and the taste of him intoxicating.

  Beatrice clung to him, not wishing to ever separate. When his mouth traveled down the side of her neck to her cleavage and he lifted her breast from its bindings, she gasped.

  The warmth of his mouth over first the left and then the right nipple made her knees weak. Thankfully, he held her up and continued to devour the offerings.

  With her in his arms, he turned and lifted her onto Caelan’s desk and pushed her skirts and shift up until fully exposing her. Then he fumbled with his own clothing, freeing himself.

  “I have thought of nothing else but having ye again.” The huskiness of his voice against Beatrice’s ear made rivulets of heat travel up her body to between her legs.

  Despite the desperate need to join, when Duncan prodded Beatrice’s first reaction was to tense. Letting out several breaths, she pulled him closer. Needing the distraction of his mouth, she kissed him. Duncan’s kisses had a powerful effect. His tongue pushed past her parted lips at the same time as he drove into her willing body.

  Each movement was divine and the sounds he made like music to his ears. Beatrice cried out with each deep thrust. He stretched and filled her perfectly, their bodies seeming to be made for each other.

  He continued driving in and out of her harder and faster, and soon Beatrice could barely hold on to him. Whatever was on the desk crashed to the floor, the sounds adding to the excitement of the moment.

  Beatrice cried out at the sensation of shattering and she dug her fingernails into the rough fabric of Duncan’s tunic in an effort to keep from floating away.

  When his hoarse moans filled her ears, she raked her fingers through his hair, taking his mouth once again greedily.

  Duncan lifted her up and still joined managed to lower to the floor where he lay over Beatrice as he attempted to gain control of his breathing.

  “This is wonderful. I am so happy to have married ye,” Beatrice whispered.

  He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Do not think this will keep me from yer bed tonight.”

  “Good,” Beatrice replied with a giggle.

  They finally stood and did what they could to arrange their clothing. Beatrice knew it was useless to return her hair to the same style, so she unbraided it and ran her fingers through it.

  When they walked out of the study, the house remained eerily silent.

  Orla appeared from the direction of the kitchen. “There ye are,” she said with a bright smile.

  By the sly look Orla slid to Duncan, the maid was perfectly aware of where they’d been and what they’d been doing. “Would ye like me to assist ye in dressing for last meal?”

  Beatrice looked up to Duncan. “Do ye dress for last meal here?”

  He shook his head. “It is yer home, ye can change things to how ye see fit.”

  “I will not change,” Beatrice told Orla. “I would like tea and perhaps some toasted bread for my husband and I brought to the parlor, please.”

  Duncan followed her to the parlor. “Usually, a wife only brings a husband to the parlor when they have something to discuss.”

  “I do wish to discuss something with ye,” Beatrice replied.

  They sat in front of windows and she looked out to the lavender field. “I wish to speak to ye about yer expectations. Today, I wished to go for a walk and Firtha explained ye did not wish me to leave the house.”

  Her husband nodded. “There could be people about that are not trustworthy.”

  “Understandable. However, I would have liked it if ye would have told me directly and not informed me through someone on our staff.”

  “There are only Firtha and Gara…”

  “And they are exhausted. The two of them cannot possibly maintain a house of this size now that I am here. I must insist on at least one more servant and a lad to help with menial tasks.”

  “Such as?”

  “The cleaning of the hearths. Sweeping of the great room. Fetching water for the kitchen and for washing.”

  Beatrice continued, “Not only have Gara and Firtha done all of that, but they’ve also handled the cooking, gardening, and keeping the house clean. It is unfathomable that ye have not seen to more help.”

  “Very well. Ye can hire a woman and a lad. No more. I cannot have too many people about. I need privacy.”

  Beatrice was glad Lady Mariel had informed her of Duncan’s horrid past, so she did not have to question him. “I understand. What is off-limits?”

  “I bathe alone. No need to order baths for me.” He thought for a long moment. “The area by the stone wall. No one is to go there or touch it. The guardsmen have already been told.”

  “I am sure Gara and Firtha will ensure to inform whoever comes to work here what is allowed.”

  After a discreet knock, Orla walked in with a tray. She set the items down and immediately left without a word.

  Beatrice poured the tea and smiled up at Duncan. “I did not ask. Do ye drink tea?”

  His lips lifted just a bit. “Aye, I do.”

  The entire time Duncan and Beatrice enjoyed their simple repast, they exchanged heated looks. No sooner had she taken her last bite, did he push away from the table, round it, lift her into his arms, and race up the stairs.

  Chapter Eleven

  Duncan rolled over and yawned. Despite the drapes keeping his bedchamber dark, instinctively he knew it was morning. Very early morning.

  Rubbing his eyes, he slid from the bed and pulled the long dark drapery apart to allow the dawn light in. There was little to do that day—like most days—he never planned for activities, other than working on the wall.

  Just a short distance away, his project sat waiting for him. Creagh’s continuously gleeful dog trotted to it and began sniffing. Then without a care in the world, lifted its leg and peed on the rocks he’d stacked.

  Duncan shook his head. It was interesting that what was important to one being, meant absolutely nothing to another. The dog barked and raced after something, probably a rabbit. Duncan followed the dog’s path until it stopped in its tracks and began barking, this time not friendly in the least.

  Throwing open the window, he leaned out to ensure there wasn’t a deadly threat to his stableman’s pet.

  A man at the edge of the woods appeared and brought his horse to a stop. The man sat very still, seeming to take in the house and its surroundings. It happened ever so often; a wayward traveler passing through, but something about this man brought an uneasy feeling.

  The man didn’t seem lost, not by the stillness and the way he continued to watch the house. Duncan considered different reasons for the rider’s appearance. Someone seeking work, or perhaps one of Caelan’s friends.

  His brother never had visitors without first ensuring to notify him, and with his recent marriage, Caelan was staying at his mother’s home for a short while to give them time alone.

  The rider urged his mount closer, but upon the dog’s barks becoming more menacing, he stopped and once again studied the house, his head moving to one side and then the other.

  Although too far for Duncan to see the rider’s features clearly, the rider seemed familiar. Instantly, he considered the fact that someone from his past would come for him. Not that they could take him away, but they would bring a reminder of things best left behind.

  He whirled around, looking for his breeches, but then stopped at the sounds of hooves.

  A second rider appeared, this one familiar. Creagh rode past his dog towar
d the man. His stableman called out a warning and asked who the man was and what he was doing there.

  Silently the stranger held a hand up as if in greeting, turned his horse around, and galloped away.

  The door between his and Beatrice’s creaked. There was a loud feminine grunt and then it opened just enough for the beauty to slip through. Her wide eyes met his. “Did ye see what happened outside?”

  She came to stand next to him and peered out the window. Creagh had dismounted and was down on one knee praising his dog.

  “Aye, I am going to gather a pair of guardsmen and go after the man. He may not pose a threat, but I would rather be sure.”

  He frowned. “Where are the guardsmen that no one appeared at the stranger riding up so close to the house?”

  After peering out the window for a moment longer, Beatrice shrugged. “I would venture to guess Gara and Firtha are holding court. They were very excited about having more mouths to feed and people filling the great room.”

  “I will have to inform both them and the guards they are not here as guests, but to work.” He grunted his annoyance at the situation.

  “I am sure once the assignments are made, the guardsmen will be responsible enough not to allow such things. Although, I do look forward to seeing their expressions when ye tell them yer stableman and his dog had to defend the house, while they were at a tea party.”

  Duncan pulled on his breeches and belted his tunic, while an already dressed Beatrice watched. It was strange that she did not comment on his scarred legs. Admittedly, only from just above the knee down was all that was bare.

  The worse scars were on his back, the result of many whippings. That was something he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to allow her to see.

  “Come, let us see what happens.”

  They walked to the end of the hall and silently down the stairs. The great room was empty, but the sounds of conversation guided them to the kitchen.

  The four guards sat around a table, empty plates in front of them. They were so engrossed in a story Gara told, that no one noticed him or Beatrice at the doorway. Firtha came up behind them and Duncan held a finger up to his lips for her to be silent.

  Finally, a guard caught sight of them and immediately jumped to his feet. The others followed suit, while Gara looked perturbed at her story being interrupted.

  “Men,” Duncan said walking into the room. “Just outside a stranger on horseback appeared. But ye need not worry. The stableman and his dog ensured to keep ye safe.”

  The men shuffled uncomfortably, the younger one’s face turning bright red.

  Duncan pointed at one and then another. “Both of ye, go out and look for any sign of him. Ask Creagh for a description.”

  Looking to the other two, he continued, “Ye two guard the house until morning, then we will switch.” He looked to the first man who’d gotten to his feet. “I leave ye to manage the assignment of tasks.”

  The guards hurried out.

  “It was my fault to have kept them here.” Gara sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the edge of her apron.

  “Do not fash yerself,” Duncan told her in a warm tone. “Just remember they are here to work and not as company.”

  “Aye,” Gara said and Firtha went to her and patted her shoulders. The younger woman gave them an apologetic look. “I will bring yer meal immediately.”

  “Come let us sit,” Beatrice slipped her arm around Duncan’s right one and they walked to the adjacent dining room.

  Once seated, she let out a sigh. “I wish to speak to ye about something.” Her blue gaze met his. “Will ye consider staying in my bedchamber tonight?”

  “Is something wrong?” Perhaps the appearance of the stranger had scared his wife. He wasn’t used to a woman’s sensibilities and could not fathom why she’d want him in her bed all night.

  Admittedly, he’d woken several times hard as a rock and had considered going back to her bed. However, he’d forced himself to remain in his bedchamber, unsure she would welcome such an intrusion.

  “Nothing is wrong really,” she admitted, but then sighed. “I am lonely. I miss my sister and family. I know it’s silly, but the last two nights I wake from sleep and cry. I feel so very alone.”

  Thankfully Firtha hurried in with their food, giving him additional time to come up with a good reply. He was not sure about spending the night in her bedchamber. The temptation would be too great after making love to remain without clothing. It would leave too many opportunities for bad things to happen.

  What if he had a nightmare and hurt her? Or if she caught a glimpse of his back and refused him in her bed again?

  Beatrice watched him, which led Firtha to do the same and Duncan realized he had remained silent and frozen in place.

  “Is something wrong Mister Duncan?” Firtha asked, her worried gaze moving from him to Beatrice, who also studied him with concern.

  “No, nothing.” He waved the woman away. “Thank ye.”

  “So, the answer is no,” Beatrice said, anger transforming her face. Lips in a tight line and brows furrowed, she looked like an adorable angry kitten. “Fine.”

  He struggled with an explanation. “Ye do not understand. I am not accustomed to sharing a bed.”

  “Neither am I husband,” she replied emphasizing the word “husband”.

  “I may roll over and hurt ye. I am much larger and heavier than ye…” he began.

  She huffed. “It is a wonder Isobel is still alive then?” It was true, Darach was much larger than her sister.

  “They share a bedchamber?”

  Beatrice gave him a droll look. “Since the day they married.”

  The back of his neck came to life, itching and he scratched it. “I am not sure what to say. I will consider it. The time I was in captivity has affected me in ways that ye cannot understand. I do not wish to hurt ye if I wake from a dream and am blinded by it.”

  “Then I would wake ye with a sharp slap. Which, I am so very tempted to do at the moment.” Beatrice pushed from the table and rushed from the room.

  Orla walked in with a tea kettle. “I was to refresh her tea…” She looked to Beatrice’s untouched plate. “Is she unwell?”

  “No just angry,” Duncan replied getting up and walking out past Orla. “Tell her I’ve gone to the village to find my brother.”

  The fact his wife was angry with him did not feel good. When walking past the stairwell, his chest tightened. For a moment he considered going to her, but decided he would only make her angrier when he did not change his mind about her request.

  Once outside in the fresh morning air, it felt so good that instead of going to the stable to fetch his horse, he went to the wall. Stacking a few stones would help him think clearer. If nothing else, the activity would ease the tension in his shoulders.

  The first stone was so heavy, his entire body shook as he lifted it up to rest on the top of his thighs. Duncan blew out breaths then heaved it up to the wall. It was much too heavy, and it proved impossible. He jumped back as the stone crashed to the ground.

  “Blast it all,” he exclaimed then bent over to catch his breath.

  “A two-man job, that one,” Creagh said nearing. The dog galloped towards them, its tongue hanging from its mouth.

  “Did ye get a clear view of the horseman?”

  “A bit,” Creagh said, his booted foot pushing at the large stone. “No one familiar to me.”

  “Hope the guards catch up to him,” Duncan said and eyed the stone. “I need a few moments before trying again.”

  He studied the quiet man. “Why are ye not married?”

  “I was once, but my wife died. Never could find another like her.”

  Duncan looked toward the house. “Mine is angry with me right now.”

  Creagh’s deep chuckles seemed to bounce off the wall. “Aye, that is a common occurrence when passion is present. Treasure these moments.”

  “Why would I treasure her being cross?” Duncan said preparing menta
lly to attempt to lift the large stone again.

  “Ye will know when she gives ye a reprieve,” Creagh replied. The man waited for Duncan to lift the stone and once again rest it on his upper thighs. When he took a deep breath to lift it to the wall, Creagh only assisted when it teetered on the edge. Together, they pushed with care to ensure it didn’t tumble over the opposite side.

  Duncan climbed on top of the wall and shimmied the stone into place. Despite being winded, each time a new stone was placed, satisfaction of accomplishment filled him.

  Creagh’s dog barked and jumped up and down thinking him being atop the wall was a great game. Duncan jumped down and the happy dog ran in circles around him.

  “Stop!” Creagh ordered, but the dog ignored him. “Go!” He ordered, this time the dog stopped and looked to see what direction Creagh pointed in. The dog took off in the direction of Creagh’s arm.

  “Where is he going?” Duncan asked as the dog raced toward the stables.

  “Probably to annoy the horses.” Creagh chuckled. “Donan is a good companion to me. I know he can be irritating.”

  “I like him,” Duncan said. “He is a good dog.”

  When Creagh walked away, Duncan remained at the wall. He lifted a smaller stone and placed it on the wall and once again climbed atop to make adjustments. Straightening, he could see far into the distance. There was no one in sight, not even on the road that traveled alongside the edge of his land.

  It was a quiet day and he wondered what Beatrice was doing at the moment. If he was a normal man, he’d go inside and ensure her happiness. Perhaps with a tumble in bed. But he was not normal and despite their being together without clothing, he’d not allowed any light in the room.

  Her feeling his scarred chest against her delicate, creamy skin was nothing compared to seeing it in bright daylight.

  Their interlude in Caelan’s study had been quite enjoyable, but he doubted she would wish for something like that at the moment.

  It was best that he go in search of his brother and find out if a friend came to visit. If the stranger was nothing more than a wayward traveler, then he would not worry about it. But for some reason, something about the man had given him pause.