The Beast

by McQueen, Hildie

  It took a long time for Duncan to finish digging the grave. By the time it was done, several villagers gathered to hear the vicar pray over Fergus’s body. He was well liked in the village it seemed. One woman even cried, wiping at her eyes as he was lowered into the ground.

  Despite what he’d been through, the man had found ways to help others throughout the rest of his life.

  As the people dispersed, the vicar stood for a few moments later. “Come inside, join us for a meal before going back.”

  The vicar’s wife was a jolly woman, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. She wore her hair tucked into a cap that suited her face. “Ye should move here to the village,” the woman insisted. “The woods are no place for a young man to live.”

  It didn’t take much to see that she was already plotting to find him a wife.

  “I am sure Fergus would like ye to keep the land and continue to help others who travel through,” the vicar said between bites. “Although the cottages are old, they are sturdy. Fergus told me that ye fixed the abandoned one.”

  At the thought that he would die alone like Fergus, without a purpose in life other than waiting for wayward travelers, Duncan’s stomach clenched. The entire time the vicar’s wife packed a basket of food for him to take, he couldn’t keep from thinking the future the vicar had described was not his calling.

  “Ye do not have to heat up the meat pie, it will hold for a of couple days,” the woman said with a wide smile.

  “I appreciate it,” he told the vicar’s wife as he and her husband walked back out.

  The man met his gaze. “Ye should return to yer people. When we run away from our problems, we do not realize that they come with us. Whatever yer troubles are, ye should seek courage from God.”

  Duncan remained silent, unsure what exactly he would do. “Do ye know of someone who would want to live out there, in Fergus’ cottage?”

  The vicar thought for a long moment. “There is someone. He is without a home and has been living in a farmer’s barn. I will go speak to him.”

  “Thank ye.” Duncan mounted his horse. He would not return to the cottage, but instead headed to the shore to hire a bìrlinn.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ella walked along the loch’s shore and stared off into the distance. Being away from the sea was different. Interesting how very distinct the smell and sound of the loch were in comparison.

  Her mother and Lady Macdonald had spent the day sewing a quilt for Isobel to take back with her, while Darach and both Macdonald sons had gone hunting for the day.

  Poor Beatrice spent most of the days in her bedchamber. She joined them for some meals, but the rest of the time she spent alone. Her friend was brokenhearted, and Ella wanted nothing more than to find Duncan and drag him back to his wife.

  At the same time, she knew her brother’s demons must have returned, affecting him so hard that it had forced him to flee.

  Caelan sent the letters that Duncan left to both Darach and Beatrice. In the letter to the family, he had apologized for leaving and asked that they forgive him for making the family look bad in the eyes of the Macdonald. He also asked that they not search for him.

  Knowing her brothers, Ella was sure both Caelan and Gideon had been dispatched to find him and bring him home.

  When she turned to the keep, her brother and the Macdonald men had returned from their hunt. They rode toward the keep, a large boar in a cart behind them.

  They would be in good spirits, Ella mused, her gaze focused on Evander Macdonald. He was an attractive man, with golden-brown hair and a handsome face. His broken nose told of his quick temper and his two-colored eyes reminded her of Duncan.

  Ella wondered why her mother had not considered one of the Macdonald’s as a possible match for her. Her mother had yet to find a suitable husband for her, and Ella was not about to complain. Being she was the only female sibling, her brothers found fault with every suitor that had attempted to court her. At times it was frustrating, but when the suitors were old or ugly, she was glad for it.

  A sigh escaped and she shook her head. Evander was not the man for her. He was to be laird one day and it was certain that his marriage would be one arranged by his father.

  She considered Padraig, he was handsome and roguish. Already she’d spied three women leaving his bedchamber since arriving. Like her brother Gideon, Padraig would make a good husband one day, but not anytime soon.

  Making her way back to the keep, Ella mused on what the day would bring. More time sewing, a delicious meal, and perhaps some time with the family.

  The Macdonalds were welcoming people and Ella felt comfortable there. She’d visited several times over the years with her mother and each time, it was a nice break from the routine of life in South Uist.

  When she fell sideways, it took a moment to realize her foot had slipped between two rocks. It was only seconds later that agony registered and she cried out. A sharp pain raced from her ankle, up her leg, and Ella could not keep the tears back.

  She didn’t dare move her foot as every little movement made her cry harder.

  One of the riders made his way toward her. Ella squeezed her eyes shut as pain shot up her leg again.

  “Do not move,” Evander called out as he guided his horse toward where she was.

  He dismounted and walked closer to look at her foot and then met her gaze. “I was about to take my horse to the stables when I saw ye fall,” he explained. “Yer foot is caught. I will have to move the rocks. It will hurt.”

  Ella nodded, angry that he saw her cry. “I am crying because I’m angry.”

  His lips curved softening the hard angles of his face. “I would be crying because my ankle was broken.”

  “D-do ye think it is broken?”

  He shrugged and looked up at the sky. “A bird.”

  Ella followed his line of vision and yelped when he moved a rock and lifted her foot from its trapping.

  “There isn’t anything nearby to tie to yer foot. I will take ye to the house, the ride will be painful.”

  “Very well,” Ella said fortifying herself for the next movement. “Please help me to stand.”

  “Put yer arms around my neck,” Evander instructed and lifted her up in his arms and although the pain was horrible, the feeling of being in his strong arms took a bit of her attention away from it.

  Instead of mounting, he walked toward the keep with her in his arms.

  Her ankle protested every movement until she could not help but begin to cry again. “It hurts,” she explained while doing her best to keep the tears at bay. “I am sorry to cry on yer tunic.”

  The brown and hazel gaze met hers. “Cry all ye wish. It may help with the pain.”

  “Truly?”

  “I think so.”

  When they got to the inner courtyard, Ella had stopped crying. The throbbing intensified with each step Evander took. She let out short pants to keep from screaming while considering that getting the foot cut off would be less painful.

  “Goodness, what happened?” Her mother rushed over to them when they entered the house.

  Lady Macdonald motioned to a table. “Put her on here.”

  When lowered, her foot touched the tabletop and Ella let out a scream. To her further embarrassment, Evander hovered over her for a long moment, as if his gaze alone would remove the pain.

  In a way, it did distract her. He was very attractive and perhaps she’d not noticed before the cleft in his chin.

  “Oh!” she cried out when someone touched her foot. “What are ye doing? Leave it be.”

  A man, who she assumed was the family healer, gave her an impatient look. His bushy brows furrowed in disapproval. “We must remove the shoe. It will hurt, but it cannot be helped.”

  “Take my hand,” Darach said, replacing Evander at her side. “Squeeze it as hard as ye need to.”

  Not only did she squeeze her brother’s hand with all her might, but others had to hold her down while the healer set her ankle and spl
inted it.

  At one point the room swirled, and she prayed to pass out; unfortunately, Ella remained conscious the entire time.

  Whatever was poured down her throat began to take effect and she welcomed the lack of feeling. The surroundings blurred as someone carried her to the bedchamber and placed her on the bed. Moments later, the wonderful elixir lulled her to sleep.

  “Are ye in pain?” Beatrice sat in a chair next to the bed, her pretty face drawn with worry. “Mother said it was a horrible break.”

  Ella shook her head. “I cannot believe what happened. My foot slipped between two rocks and down I went.”

  Beatrice cringed. “It sounds horrible.”

  When she moved her leg, the foot hurt, but not enough to warrant more tonic.

  “I can call for the healer,” Beatrice must have noticed her grimace.

  “It does not hurt overmuch,” Ella said and studied her friend. “How are ye?”

  After releasing a sigh, Beatrice managed a smile. “Better with every day that passes. I still cannot bring myself to forgive Duncan, but I do understand why he left.”

  Ella huffed. “It is unforgivable to slight yer family in that manner. Darach continues to apologize to yer father for it daily.”

  “He shouldn’t have to.” Beatrice turned to the window and then back to Ella’s bandaged foot. “Now we will not be able to go for walks together.”

  The weather was becoming colder, the bitter wind would soon make it hard to spend more than a few minutes outdoors. Ella didn’t mention it to Beatrice, instead she shrugged. “We can spend time journaling. I do need to practice my letters so that I can write as neatly as ye.”

  “I will show ye,” Beatrice replied brightening. “Our mothers are making one last trip to the village. I will ask that they purchase two journals and new quills for us.”

  “A wonderful idea,” Ella said and meant it. She’d admired Beatrice’s penmanship and was excited at the prospect of improving hers.

  Beatrice went down the corridor to find her mother. Hopefully, they’d not left for their weekly trip to the village. The sitting room was empty, so she hurried down the stairs. Upon hearing voices, she went to the dining hall.

  Her father, mother, Lady Mariel, and Darach sat around the table talking. Upon her entrance, the conversation ceased, and everyone seemed surprised to see her.

  “Did something happen?” Beatrice asked nearing the table.

  Darach held what looked to be a letter that he placed his hand over. The discreet movement didn’t fool her for one moment.

  “Tell me.”

  Her father motioned to a chair. “It is a message from Stuart about yer husband.”

  Knees buckling, she lowered to a chair. “Did something happen to Duncan?”

  Darach began reading, but after the first few words, Beatrice did not wish to hear anymore. Apparently, Gideon and Ewan had given up trying to find him. They’d found a place that he’d been living at for the last months, but he’d left by the time they arrived.

  “The weather is much too cold for them to be out looking for someone who does not wish to be found,” Beatrice said meeting Darach’s gaze. “Why would ye put yer brothers’ lives in danger?”

  Lady Mariel placed a hand over Darach’s to stop him from replying and spoke. “Because he is my first-born child. They did it for me. Despite doing my best to remain strong, every day I am aggrieved at not knowing his fate.” A tear trickled down the woman’s face and she wiped it away. “However, Ewan and Gideon are also my sons, and I am relieved they have returned to Keep Ross and will remain there safely for the winter.”

  The frivolity of asking for journals and quills disappeared and instead Beatrice left the room and walked past the kitchens to the inner courtyard. Once there, it still felt confined. So instead, she hurried up the outdoor stairs until reaching the rooftop.

  There were only two guards on duty. One of the guards neared greeting her with a cheery smile. “Miss Beatrice, it is very cold up here. Ye should have worn something heavier if ye plan to remain for long.”

  She shook her head. “I feel a bit overheated; the cold does not bother me right now.”

  Seeming to sense she needed time alone, the men went to the far corner and kept watch. Beatrice wasn’t sure why she’d gone there, but the view from there had always calmed her. Perhaps it was why these men seemed in good spirits. In the distance she could see the seashore, the huge expanse that seemed to go to the end of the world.

  When she turned to the opposite side, green mountains made for a beautiful background to the village and farms they sheltered.

  On the winding road, a wagon pulled by a horse made its way toward the keep. The guards immediately moved to keep watch, tracking its progress. One of them called down to another who then called to the men who guarded the outer courtyard gates.

  No longer interested in who the people were that headed toward them, Beatrice decided to go back inside. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, somehow the news that Duncan remained gone was not bad news. It would have been worse to hear he’d returned home and not to her.

  When she opened her eyes, a lone rider appeared. He headed from the seaside in the direction of the keep.

  “A rider,” Beatrice called over her shoulder to the guards, who hurried to her side.

  Whoever he was, he seemed to be in a hurry, urging the horse to gallop at full strides.

  The guard once again called down to another, who informed those at the gates of the rider approaching.

  Beatrice turned away, it mattered little to her who came and went. If anything, she planned to go to her bedchamber or perhaps Ella’s and stay there until whoever it was left.

  Then something made her look back. The rider wore Ross colors. The green and black standing out from the usual red and yellow of her clan.

  The closer the rider came, the harder her heart thundered in her chest. It was him.

  Duncan had come to North Uist.

  Beatrice hurried to the stairs, raced down them, and then through the great room. She went up the stairwell to the second floor, to her bedchamber, and slammed the door behind. Her hands trembled as she fought to insert the metal key into the lock, but she managed to lock the door firmly. Once that was complete, she pushed a table in front of it, and not satisfied with that, a chair joined the blockade.

  Unable to form a thought, she couldn’t keep from rushing to the window to look out. Despite her view of the opposite side, she could glimpse the side of the inner courtyard where visitors had to pass to enter the house.

  The guards would stop Duncan, of that, she was sure. He would not be allowed to enter until Evander allowed it.

  “Oh no,” Beatrice said out loud. Her brothers would not be happy to see her husband. There would be a fight. She had absolutely no doubt about it.

  Unhappy with the view, Beatrice struggled to move the furniture and then unlocked the door. Duncan would not come inside directly. Whatever had to happen would take place in the courtyard. She had plenty of time to lock herself in.

  At the end of the corridor, she could look over from a balcony to the great hall. The house remained quiet. Then a guard hurried past toward the dining room to alert her father about an approaching rider.

  Moments later, Evander and Padraig rushed past and out the front door. Her mother and Lady Mariel came next, pushing her father’s rolling chair.

  Beatrice stepped back, not wanting to be seen and went to Evander’s bedchamber. From his balcony she’d be able to see everything, and hopefully keep from being seen.

  Upon Duncan entering the outer courtyard, he dismounted and stable lads came to take his horse. Evander held out a hand shouting for them to stay back. “He will not be staying.”

  Without a break in his stride, Duncan stalked toward her brothers. He was like a wild man, his hair now past his shoulders, flying in the breeze. There was an intensity about him that if not for her brother’s fiery temper should have warned them to maintain
a safe distance.

  “I must speak to yer father,” Duncan called out.

  “Ye are not welcome here,” Evander shouted back, advancing toward Duncan, Padraig at his side. “Leave.”

  Beatrice was glad for her bird’s eye view. Her parents and Lady Mariel could not see past the gate of the inner courtyard. However, Beatrice was sure they could hear what was said.

  “I will not go anywhere until I speak to Laird Macdonald and my wife.”

  “Ye gave up any rights to make demands upon abandoning my sister,” Padraig responded seeming barely able to keep from tackling Duncan to the ground.

  A gasp escaped when Duncan rushed her brothers. Catching them by surprise, he was able to make it to the inner gates where he collided with a pair of guards. His size and speed gave him enough momentum to get past them as well. By the time he reached the inner courtyard, Evander and Padriag had caught up with him.

  Evander’s fist connected with Duncan’s jaw first, Padraig managed to hit him in the stomach before Duncan swung and punched her younger brother so hard, he stumbled backward.

  With a deep growl Evander charged, and both tumbled to the ground. Duncan got to his feet first and upon Evander standing, he rushed him. The grappling men crashing through the garden fence. A pair of maids screamed and scurried away just as Padraig joined the fight.

  Her brothers struggled to gain dominance over Duncan. He was much too large and muscular to contain. First, he lifted Padraig and tossed him into a horse trough, and then he grabbed Evander about the waist and like a heavy stone threw him in the air until her brother landed in the center of the garden patch.

  While her brother recovered, Darach appeared. Duncan hesitated when his brother neared.

  It was a mistake.

  The golden-haired laird swung wide, his fists hitting her husband hard, first in the face and secondly in his midsection. The hits were so powerful, Duncan sailed backward and landed on his back.