Highlander's Wounded Beast (Beasts 0f The Highlands Book 3)

by Alisa Adams

  “She hasnae even named it yet,” Aunt Burnie added, still watching the men intently. “I may get meself a pet as well…”

  “Ye arnae!” Aunt Hexy said firmly with her eyes glued to the men.

  Neither was looking at the other, or at Ina. They only had eyes for the men out on the field.

  “And whyever not? I will if I want to Hextilda!” Aunt Burnie said peevishly, still watching the men, the shirtless ones in particular.

  “Because ye are too forgetful to care for a pet,” Aunt Hextilda said, but not unkindly

  Ina sighed, shook her head, and nudged Myrtle back into a walk up to the castle. She could still hear them arguing as she rode away.

  Without Ina around to show off for, the men started heading back as well.

  Aunt Hexy finally tore her eyes away from the chests of the young warriors on the field since they seemed to be leaving. She noticed Ina riding slowly back to the castle.

  “Even though she is doing what she likes best—being with horses—Ina is vera unhappy Burnie,” Aunt Hexy said to her friend.

  “Aye, and so is Laird Tristan, her brother-in-law. He says she is a terrible distraction to his men,” Aunt Burnie replied as she watched the men putting their shirts back on. She frowned and pouted at this.

  “Och, no Burnie, tis Lady Ceena who is Laird, remember? Not her husband Tristan. He vowed to her on their wedding day that she would be Laird of her home, not he by marrying her!” Aunt Hexy looked at her old friend’s confused face. She shrugged her shoulders and continued, “And I am not so sure that twas a wise idea for Ina’s sister Lady Ceena to tell Ina to start training with the men. It may be that it is taking her mind off her wish for her vera own husband, but it is driving the men to distraction.” With secret pride in her voice she added, “She almost killed that young warrior just now by slamming Myrtle into the young man’s wee horse! She is a superior horsewoman. Since she was a young lass she has been horse mad, that one.”

  “Why is she mad at horses and why would she be throwing Myrtle at a young man or his horse?” Aunt Burnie said with utter confusion.

  “Och Burnie! Ina isnae mad at horses. It simply means she loves horses! And Myrtle is Ina’s horse, dinnae ye remember? She slammed her horse into the young man,” Aunt Hexy said as she watched Burnie’s face while the old woman mulled this over.

  “Weel no, it seemed to me she saved that young man and helped him right back into his saddle, Hextilda. Touched his bare chest she did!” Aunt Burnie said excitedly with the few white hairs on her head vibrating wildly in the breezes blowing in off the sea and over the practice field. “Will she be marrying him then, because she touched his naked chest?” Burnie’s voice was full of titillation at this idea.

  “Och no! Niver that young upstart! He’ll nae do for me Ina! Besides, Lady Ceena and Lord Tristan have vowed she may have a say in her choice of husband. She’ll not be wanting any of that lot down yonder!” Aunt Hexy chortled. “Dinnae ye hear her insulting all the men? And she was right! None of them are good enough for my niece, Burnie. Not a one.”

  Aunt Hexy looked off into the distance. She was thinking of all four of her nieces, left alone in the world after their parents’ death. It was up to her as their great aunt to help and guide them. She had done very well so far. She had three nieces married to their perfect matches who were as strong as her nieces. They were men who respected their women for their strength, which was an unusual thing. It had just taken a little help and push from herself to get them all together.

  Now Ina, Ina was different. She had always believed in fairy tales and happily ever afters. She was forever waxing on dramatically about this and that. Ina’s imagination was quite strong. She loved riding her horse and working with horses more than anything. She had a sweet heart that matched her lilting voice and love of the old Scottish words and sayings. Though lately her unhappiness was changing her sweet niece. “We may need to help her, I’m thinking. She needs a vera special man.”

  “She looks like a wee angel Hextilda,” Burnie said. “It shouldnae be hard.” Aunt Burnie finally tore her gaze away from the last of the warriors with bare chests—they had all put their shirts back on, much to her disappointment—and looked at Aunt Hexy. “Though I do think we should be making sure they have handsome chests. We should ask them to take their shirts off, I’m thinking. Tis important.” She nodded her fuzzy, bald head enthusiastically.

  “Perhaps we should ask them to lift their kilts up too and inspect their thighs Burnie?” Aunt Hexy said with pursed lips.

  Aunt Burnie trembled with excitement. “Can we do that? Oh, aye!”

  “Burunhilde! Ye are shameless!” Aunt Hexy exclaimed with a bark of laughter at the innocent look on her old friend’s weathered and impossibly wrinkled face.

  “So how do we help this niece, Hextilda?” Burnie said, her hands clasped together on her pony’s reins in eagerness. Burnie’s attention was suddenly caught by something off to the side of Hextilda’s head.

  “What’re ye looking at?” Hexy said, reaching up to pat her head where Burnie was looking.

  “We go find her a man!” Aunt Burnie said firmly. She realized where her friend was staring. Her hand found the tiny knot of hair on her head. It was forever sliding sideways down to the side of her head, landing to rest on her ear. She pushed it back to the top of her head and shoved some of the wild, loose white hairs flying about back into the knot.

  “Pay attention now Burnie! She is ready. Aye, she is old enough now. Her sisters have had no luck finding one for her. It is up to us! We must find a man!” And off she trotted on little King Bobby, her old tartan wrapped around her.

  “Yes! We must find a man, how exciting! And me a pet!” Aunt Burnie said eagerly as she bounced along on her little pony, following Hexy on hers.

  2

  Ina walked towards the main doors of the great hall after taking care of Myrtle. She was walking slowly through the outer courtyard, deep in thought. The courtyard was bustling with activity but she didn’t notice.

  Just as she was about to reach for the handles of the main door she heard a shout. She whirled around to see a guard coming towards her supporting another man.

  “There is a man here that needs help my lady!” The guard struggled forward with a large man whose arm he had around his own shoulders.

  The man was barely able to walk. He was leaning heavily on the guard. The castle’s guards were not small men, but this stranger made the guard look small in comparison. His brown hair was long and disheveled, and he had a short beard. His clothes looked worn and dirty, though he wore tall leather boots that looked of good quality. He had not a single weapon on him.

  Ina came down the stone steps. “Who is he, what has happened to him?” she asked the guard as she looked up at the man.

  “I dinnae know Lady Ina. He came into the courtyard leading a horse that looks as bad as he does.”

  At the mention of his horse the man took his arm off the guard’s shoulder and attempted to stand up straight.

  Ina spoke urgently to the guard. “He needs water, and food, and he appears injured.” Her eyes quickly looked over the stranger.

  He looked down at Ina.

  “I ask for nothing,” he said with a grimace of pain, “but some water and some oats for my horse.” The timbre of his voice lowered as he tried to swallow. “He is done in…”

  Ina looked into eyes the color of the forest at dusk. Darkest, deepest green. But there was a slash of gold in them that transfixed her. The green and gold of his eyes was made even brighter by the dark bruising around one of them. His lashes were black and long. I have never seen a man with lashes that beautiful, she thought. The man’s face was partially covered by a light beard. He looked steadily down into her eyes.

  “Please, can someone see to my horse?” he asked again in a deep, gravelly voice.

  Ina stepped closer. “Ye need water, ye can barely speak. And ye’ve been hurt.” She glanced quickly at the thin, exhausted hor
se he had come in on. The horse had blood on its flanks and shoulders. The man was correct. The horse was in very poor shape. Her eyes looked over the man again as she stepped closer, assessing his injuries. He had bruises on his face, as well as his chest. She could see the dark purple bruises where his shirt had fallen open. There was blood on the loose linen shirt as well. It was only partially tucked in, one side fell torn and ripped over brown leather breeches. She realized that though this man was hurt, he was more concerned for his horse than himself. And both looked like they had been through a battle.

  “My horse, please, my horse,” he said in a harsh whisper as he slowly reached out to Ina, swaying on his feet.

  And then he collapsed, almost onto the tips of Ina’s boots, landing with a loud thud on the hard stone steps.

  “The mon is near dead but tis his horse he asks us to care for…” she said with some surprise. “Goodness he is big,” whispered Ina as she looked down at the man at her feet.

  Ina walked hastily into the great hall of Fionnaghal. The guard was behind her, half dragging, half leading the large stranger as he struggled to walk unassisted, not wanting the guard’s help.

  Ina did not take the time as she usually did to look around and appreciate all the changes her sister Ceena and her husband Tristan had made. The place looked like a home once again. After their evil Uncle Mungan had taken it over and all the servants and crofters had fled from the cruel man, the place had fallen into ruins and not been cared for. The four Ross sisters finally managed to escape themselves. They fled to Laird Gordon MacDonell for help and protection. Ina’s eldest sister, Godet, and Gordon had fallen in love and together had defeated Mungan. Another of Ina’s sisters, Ceena, had returned with the Laird’s brother Tristan to root out the rest of Mungan’s men and retake the Ross sisters’ home. Of course Ceena and Tristan had fallen in love, as had Ina’s sister Flori. Flori fell in love with the quiet, huge warrior who had announced he was “keeping her.” Loughlin had offered his protection and his love after he had saved Flori from Mungan’s men.

  Ina glanced quickly left and right as she walked further into the great hall. The old castle’s finely paneled wooden walls and the tapestries hanging on them once again glowed with cleanliness. The stone floor of the great hall was swept clean of debris so you could make out the beautiful pattern of the stones. The wood-paneled walls along the great hall also shined once more with the help of a thorough scrubbing with soap and water.

  Ina took a deep breath as she hurried along. It smelled of home, like it used to before her parents had died and Mungan had come. It smelled of soaps being made with all their lovely oils to scent them. It smelled of freshly baked bread, roasting meats, pies being baked in the kitchen. It smelled of beeswax buffed into the glowing wooden wall panels and stair banisters.

  There was a buzzing of activity within the beautiful old white stone castle as men were busy everywhere. Ina passed the grand staircase that swept up gracefully along one side of the hall. There were three men repairing the stairs. The missing lovely and intricate posts were being replaced with new hand-turned posts to match the others. Where treads had rotted away and become dangerous, a carpenter was busy rebuilding them. The huge, elaborate newel post at the base of the stairs was also being put back together. Uncle Mungan had thrashed and hacked it with his sword in a fit of rage as had been his custom when he did not get his way. The old white castle’s scars were healing.

  “My sisters?” she called out to the workmen. They pointed down the great hall.

  Ina spotted her sisters, gathered in the middle of the hall in a cluster in front of the huge fireplace. It was too warm for a fire but it had always been a family gathering area. Within the huge cavernous fireplace was a large container of flowers gathered by Ina from the meadows around the castle. It helped brighten up the big dark firebox that was hundreds of years old. In centuries past it had been used for cooking and roasting game, but now was a place for family gatherings and flowers. Sunlight was pouring in from the two tall mullioned windows that flanked the fireplace, making it a cheery spot to sit no matter the weather. The windows were slightly open, bringing in the smell of the sea and the hushed sound of the waves below the sea cliff the castle sat upon. As the years had passed, the castle had changed with the times, from a defensible walled fortress to a home. Above the huge mantle over the fireplace were mounted weapons of old. However, on the mantle was a collection of seashells that the girls had been adding to since they were children.

  Ina noticed that all three of her sisters had their infant daughters with them. Godet’s little girl was barely six months old and she was a delight. She was as brave and curious and spirited and loving as her mother. Flori was holding her young daughter as well, who was drooling happily as she bounced enthusiastically on her mother’s knee. She was only slightly older than Godet’s baby, and she was as gentle as her mamma and as quiet as her father, Loughlin, who never said much—except for when he declared that he was “keeping” Flori, that is. And Ceena had her tiny infant daughter in her arms as she stared down lovingly at the little face staring back up at her. Ina just knew that little girl would be as fierce as her momma and an expert in all weapons.

  Ina started forward and then stopped in her tracks. She motioned to the guard to place the stranger in a large chair at the great hall’s long table. She quickly and quietly asked him to find the man some water and food. Then Ina looked back at the gathering of her sisters. She had seen one of her sisters beckoning to her. Ina started backing up very slowly. She knew what this was about. A few days ago, her sisters had brought forward a young man, a very young man, who wished for Ina’s hand. He was definitely not what she wanted in a husband.

  Ina heard someone clearing their throat and glanced at the group in front of the fireplace. Ceena was staring at her with one eyebrow raised.

  Ina hastily shook her head at Ceena and backed away further.

  Ceena cleared her throat, louder this time, and nodded her head firmly to her youngest sister, beckoning her to come over to the group.

  Ina did what she had been doing each time her sisters tried to foist a new man on her, for she felt sure this was why Ceena was beckoning to her. She knew her hair was a mess from her training this morning, she knew her sleeves were still rolled up past her elbows and that her skirts were dirty and dusty from riding her big draft mare. She didn’t fix anything. In fact, she saw a smudge of dirt on her arm and turned partially away from her sisters. She swiped a finger over the dirt and spread it on one of her cheeks and across her nose.

  There! she thought to herself. Let’s see who this next suitor is for I am sure I will not like him any more than the rest of them. Me sisters just do not understand!

  Ina happened to glance over at the stranger sitting, resting in the chair. He was watching her, a bemused expression on his face. He had seen her smear the dirt on her nose. His eyebrows rose and one side of his generous lips quirked up slightly. He reached up to brush imaginary dirt off of his nose as he held her eyes.

  Ina frowned at him and whirled back around and started walking towards her sisters, ready to meet whoever her sisters had chosen for her this time.

  Her sisters had brought forward a steady parade of men they thought she may like to wed. They obviously had no idea what she was looking for. She wanted her fairy tale. Her brave and handsome knight in shining armor upon his magnificent horse. Her sisters had found that for themselves after all— though no armor had been involved. Only Scottish warriors in kilts, but it was the same. They had come to their aid. Though, Ina paused, scrunching up her face as she thought, my sisters had done the rescuing, hadn’t they? Ina huffed the curls out of her eyes and shook her head a bit, which caused even more of her hair to fall down out of its knot, and strode forward.

  As she came forward, Godet, her oldest sister, looked up from playing with her baby girl. Her silvery gray eyes widened in shock at the sight of Ina, then her lips tightened and she lowered her eyes as she tried not
to laugh.

  Ina started to say something, then took a step backwards.

  “Ina…” Ceena said softly.

  Ina turned to her sisters. “Please tell me ye have not found another boy who wishes to marry me?”

  “There is someone that will be here shortly to meet ye,” Ceena began.

  “A boy like the last one, that MacMenzie boy?” Ina asked with quiet dread.

  “Weel no, we dinnae really know anything aboot him,” Ceena said.

  “On no,” Ina said.

  “Oh dear,” Flori said quietly.

  “Be polite, whoever he is,” her eldest sister Godet said under her breath to her. “The last one may have been quite nice if ye but gave him a chance, or the one before him.”

  Each of her sisters nodded their heads in agreement as they looked at her.

  Ina saw the stranger watching her intently; he still had that crooked half grin, but now it was more of a half scowl on his mouth. He mouthed, be polite.

  Ina turned to her sisters with a frown.

  “Really? Ye think the last one would have suited?” Ina said in a whisper as she looked at each of her sisters. “Tis not fair. Is this a game to ye? I cannae imagine even kissing him. Why—he would have had to stand on a stool, and it’s not as if I am tall!” She frowned at them and then sighed. “I want to love me man more than the sun and the moon, more than life itself.” She smiled dreamily at the thought. “I am sorry I could not fall in love with your husband’s brother, Flori. Liam and I, well…there just was nothing there…just like that MacMenzie boy.”

  “Oh dear,” Flori said quietly. “You are correct Ina.” Flori’s husband Loughlin had a younger brother Liam that had been interested in Ina but then he had come to find war even more interesting.

  “She could never have worn the last suitor’s colors. Those MacMenzie tartan colors.” Godet shuddered. “And that name? I have never heard of a MacMenzie clan. MacKenzie yes, Menzie no.”