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

by Alisa Adams

  Ina moved to sit between his legs. Leaning back against his chest, she closed her eyes wearily.

  She could feel his heart beat against her back.

  She could hear the even rhythm of his breath near her ear.

  She could feel the contractions of his strong chest muscles as he pulled them through the water with his hands manning the oars.

  She could feel his strongly muscled thighs on either side of her legs where he supported her as she rested.

  She was so very weary. Her body hurt in so many places.

  The rhythmic motions of his body behind her and the motion of the boat on the water lulled her to sleep.

  She was asleep when he nuzzled his lips in her hair and kissed the top of her head.

  Beiste pulled the little boat up onto a small, sandy cliff-lined shore. It was twilight and he had seen some caves along the shoreline that they could spend the night in. This place looked vaguely familiar to him. His mind was whirring with flashes of memories. Nothing seemed to solidify for him though. He breathed out in frustration.

  Beiste managed to find some kindling and started a fire within a dry cave. He looked around, realizing he was very hungry. It would be easy enough to catch a few fish, the sea firth was teeming with them near shore at this time of day. He just had to be still and let them come to his hands, where he would then quickly grab them. He caught several, throwing them onto the sand. Once he had them on a spit over the fire he went back to the little boat and looked down upon the sleeping girl within.

  She looked like a princess. A fragile, beautiful princess. One that had had a very bad day, he thought with a frown. His feisty, petite warrior lay sleeping in exhaustion. He picked her up and carried her over to the fire, laying her down beside it on the warm sand. She sighed and laid her cheek on her hands.

  Beiste sat on the other side of the fire, staring at her. Is she correct? Am I a man who would not forget someone I loved? Was there a wife, a family somewhere, wondering where I am? He rubbed his hand over his head. The bump on the back of his head was almost gone. Someone had hit him from behind. He furrowed his brow and tried to remember something, anything.

  In his mind he saw a grey castle. It was very old, sprawling. It overlooked the sea like Fionnaghal, though not as high up on cliffs. He saw ships anchored out in the peaceful firth, and a busy dock. He squinted; his head hurt. He looked down, holding his head between his hands. He had been attacked, caught by surprise most likely. But by who?

  His thoughts were interrupted by Ina; she was sighing and stretching out beside the warm fire. Her perfect body stretching full length, outlined by the fabric of her skirts and blouse as she rolled over onto her back.

  Beiste gulped, watching her.

  One of the fish fell into the fire, the wooden stick it had been skewered on had broken in two. He hastily grabbed for it, pulling it out of the fire. He let out a yelp as he singed his fingers.

  Ina came awake swinging and cursing.

  Beiste moved quickly around the fire and reached for her but she started hitting him, screaming and yelling.

  “Ina!” he called out to her, reaching for her hands. “Ina! M’eudail, tis me! You are safe!”

  Ina looked surprised, her hands holding tightly to his upper arms. Beiste gently pushed some tangled curls out of her face.

  He watched as she looked around.

  “We are in a cave,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said, watching as she tried to wake up. He grinned softly. She was adorable.

  “Why are we in a cave though?” she asked, gripping his arms tighter.

  “It was getting dark. We needed to stop for the night.”

  She nodded her head slightly, continuing to look around.

  “You caught some fish?”

  “Aye, I did. Are you hungry?” he asked her. He held up a cooked piece of fish to her lips.

  Ina opened her mouth, taking a bite, and chewed. It was heavenly.

  “How did ye catch these fish?” she asked as he shoved a second piece in her mouth.

  “With my bare hands,” he said as he put a third piece in her mouth.

  She swatted at his hands. “Slow down if ye please,” she grumbled as she tried to chew the piece she already had in her mouth. She took the cooked fish out of his hand and put it in his mouth. “There now, ye should eat as well,” she grinned sleepily.

  “Did ye have a sweet sleep then m’eudail?” he said huskily. He handed her another piece.

  “Aye, I did, and I thank ye,” she said softly. She paused, looking at him as she chewed. “That’s twice you have called me your darling,” she said and looked him in the eye.

  “Did I?”

  “Ye did, no taking it back,” she said with an arched eyebrow.

  “I can take it back,” he said mimicking her arched brow.

  “Nay, ye may not.”

  “I have a head injury remember? I knew not what I was saying,” he said, trying it out. But she knew what he was up to for she grinned at him.

  “I am your darling,” she whispered with a smile.

  “You are about to be betrothed and I may have a wife and twelve children somewhere,” he said without looking at her.

  “I will not accept him,” she said firmly.

  He looked at her then. “That would displease the King.”

  “Not if I explain to him. I cannae believe that he sent Crumb for me to marry.” She stared into the fire, frowning.

  “He must have his reasons,” Beiste said as he stared at the beautiful woman he wanted for himself. If he was a free man.

  She looked up at him then, caught him staring at her with that slumberous look of desire in his eyes. She blushed and a thought occurred to her. “Really? Twelve children do ye think?”

  Ina watched as Beiste lowered his eyes to stare into the fire, continuing to eat the fish. He did not respond so she tried another completely different subject.

  “Where’s me Myrtle?” Ina asked. She knew he had been following her on her horse when Beatlebrain’s soldier had taken her.

  “I sent her back to Fionnaghal with one of your soldiers who had followed to assist. He saw you on the ship as I did. He will alert Lord Tristan and your sisters.” He took another piece of fish and offered her more as well.

  Ina nodded. “Ye can ride. That was quite a braw thing ye did, standing on the horse’s back and then on both horses, vera impressive.” She nibbled at her fish, licking her lips.

  “Your draft horses, they are Clydesdales?” he asked her and she nodded. “They are exceptional horses. Your breeding and training of them is vera impressive,” he said with the corner of his mouth turned up in a slight grin, mimicking her accent.

  “Thank ye,” she said cheekily as she took another bite. She cocked her head and listened.

  “Do ye hear that?” she asked him.

  “Aye, tis just the wind in the cave tunnels,” he said.

  “We have that in the cave passages that run all below Fionnaghal as well,” she began in her lilting voice. “There is a legend that a little boy took his pipe and his dog to see if the caves would take him all the way from the secret entrance that opens from the stair panel in Fionnaghal down to the village.”

  “Not very secret now,” he said drolly.

  “What are ye talking about?” she asked him pertly.

  “Your secret entrance to the caves. You just told where the entrance is,” he said with a wry grin.

  “Weel now never mind that. Back to the tale.” She folded her hands together and leaned forward towards Beiste. “The little boy and his dog and his pipe went into the secret passage that opened from one of the many wood panels on the stairs. But I’ll not be telling ye which panel.” Her eyes narrowed at him. Then she smiled, relishing the continuation of the telling. She took a breath. “Everyone in the castle listened to him playing his pipe,” she said as she lowered her voice dramatically and slowed down her speech while watching Beiste’s face. ”He played a sweet little melody as
he went through the passages. It got quieter…and quieter…the further he went,” she said theatrically.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “The pipe played on, quieter and quieter, until…they could no longer hear him.”

  “And did the cave passages lead him to the village?” Beiste asked her. He suddenly had a vision of her with their child in her lap, telling stories as their little one listened in rapt fascination. His heart sped up and swelled with his feelings for this woman. He loved her. It settled into his very being. It felt right and good. Just as she was good, and sweet, and kind, and fierce, and smart. There could not be someone waiting for him. There could not. He would remember a wife, wouldn’t he?

  “Nay,” Ina said, bringing Beiste back to the moment. “The little boy with his pipe and his dog were never seen again,” she said with a dramatic flourish, smiling at him with relish at the old haunting tale.

  “Tis just a tale,” he said. “I don’t like that one. The poor little boy with his dog wandering the caves in the darkness. That is sad. I do not like that he is a ghost.”

  “Why listen to you, afraid of a silly old ghost story.” She grinned at him. “The beach where you and I swam? That is where one of the main caves opens up. When I was a wee girl I always expected the little boy’s ghost to appear when I was playing on the beach. His face white from being in the darkness of the caves, his eyes hollow and his clothing tattered and old, hanging from his body in shredded rags, and his dog but bony flesh barely covered in ancient rotted fur.”

  Beiste frowned and handed her another piece of fish. “I dinnae like it. Imagine his parents, crying and wailing at the loss of their child. No little boy ghosts if ye please.”

  She smiled and took a bite of fish with relish. “So there was once a little girl—”

  “No!” Beiste growled and laughed.

  Ina sighed and grinned. He had a soft heart for such a big, strong man. “Ye caught these barehanded did ye?”

  Beiste grunted in answer as he ate his last bite of the fish.

  “Vera impressive,” she grinned back at him.

  Beiste jumped, suddenly looking off to the side of her. Ina immediately twisted around to see what he was staring at. “What is it?” she said looking all around. “A ghost?”

  “That is the biggest spider I have ever seen,” he said tensely, his eyes riveted to something on the wall.

  “Ye are teasing me—” she said.

  Ina turned and indeed she saw a large spider making its way down the wall and onto the sand. It was heading their way. She saw Beiste start to rise to his feet, backing away. Ina smothered a smile and hurled a dirk at the spider, impaling it into the ground.

  “There now, ye are safe. The big, bad spider will not harm ye,” she said trying to control a laugh.

  “Sards! Knife skills…” he said and looked at her. “Vera impressive.” Then he frowned menacingly. “Don’t laugh. It could have been poisonous, or..or…” he stammered, his normally deep voice was pitched a bit higher.

  “Or what?” she laughed lightly. “Ye are afraid of spiders?” she asked curiously.

  “Aye,” he shuddered, “I hate them.”

  “Snakes, mice, rats?” she asked with the same curiosity.

  “Nay, not those. Just spiders, horrible things,” he said emphatically.

  “But ye can catch fish with yer hands? How about crabs, rather large spiders arnae they?”

  “Nay, not at all. Crabs are…well…just crabs. And they are delicious to eat. Stop your jesting. What are you afraid of mighty little warrior?”

  Her smile fell and she staring musingly at him. “I am afraid of something happening to my family. Me sisters and me aunts. The new babies.” Then she smiled slightly and shrugged. “I am afraid of snakes—thankfully we dinnae have any but for those adders. I dinnae like mice and rats and…dinnae ye laugh but I find crabs very odd and disturbing. I dinnae like them at all.”

  “Crabs? Like the one I pulled off your foot? You were frightened, not pained by its claw pinching your foot? But you live by the sea. They are everywhere!” Beiste said incredulously.

  “So are spiders!” she said and laughed gaily. “Och, I told ye I would teach ye to use a knife and I shall! Stand up sir!” She jumped to her feet and motioned for him to do the same.

  “What?” he looked up at her with one brow raised and a wicked smile on his face. “You think I cannae throw a knife?”

  “Weel now, ken ye?” she asked with her arms across her waist.

  “I can throw a knife,” he said and laughed lightly.

  “I think not,” Ina said with a grin.

  “Why do you say that?” he said and stood up, pretending to be insulted.

  “Ye cannae fight,” she stated.

  “What?” he shouted, this time he did not have to pretend to be insulted.

  “Och calm yerself. Tis all and good to use yer size and go battering in to a bunch of men like a bull, flailing yer sword around. Or punching someone like ye did the earl, though he was assuredly no match for ye. I am quite sure ye could have broken him up into tiny pieces with yer bare hands and thrown the pieces into the sea for the fish to nibble on and the crabs to pull apart til naught was left but bones and even those would be sure to be eaten up by the creatures at the very bottom depths of the sea…” she said and finally stopped, but only because she had to take a breath.

  Beiste stared at her, blinking his eyes. “Flailing my sword around?”

  Ina looked up at his face. He looked quite annoyed. “Really, tis that all ye say after my clever description of ye breaking Beatlebrain into pieces?”

  “I am used to your stories. Though that was a good one.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” she said putting her hands back on her hips.

  “But I can fight,” he said and stepped towards her.

  “Och, no. Tis not true.” Ina laughed and stepped backwards.

  “You are so very sure of this aren’t you?” Beiste said as he took another step towards her. He looked down into her eyes.

  “Ye lost didnae ye?” she said and pointed to his head and his ribs.

  “I was set upon in the dark and attacked from behind,” he stated firmly.

  Ina just stared up at him. Her mouth in a silent oh. “What else happened?” she whispered.

  Beiste stilled. He had a flash of memory. Someone in a brown cloak, with a hood over his head? But then it was gone. He shook his head in agitation as he ran his hand through his hair and over the lump at the back of his head.

  “Tis gone,” he said huskily.

  Ina watched him, saying nothing. She could see he was still struggling to remember something. His face looked to be remembering pain.

  “Beiste,” she said quietly. “Take this.” She handed him a dirk.

  He looked down at it. Then back at her. There was a question in his eyes.

  “Throw it at that log over there,” she said pointing to the far side of the cave where a piece of driftwood lay.

  “What? I am not to throw it at a spider?” he asked drolly.

  Ina just gave him an impish look and a little push.

  When Beiste lobbed the first knife at the log and it fell to the sand, Ina just quietly gave him another, and then another. Then she stepped up behind him. She curled her left arm around him, and with her right hand she put the knife in his hand correctly. She moved with him, showing him how to fling the knife with his right hand and then his left hand. Over and over, and again and again. She showed him how she flicked her wrist. Told him the importance of being as skilled with one hand as the other for you never knew which way your attacker was coming.

  Then she asked for his sword and showed him how to twirl it and spin it and jab at an attacker.

  “Perhaps you should come and wrap your body around mine again to show me this,” he said. His voice dropped into that deep velvet timbre that seemed to vibrate through her body. His eyes looked slumberous as his lids lowered and he smiled that mischievous and
wicked smile.

  “Ye tease me,” she said huskily.

  “Nay,” he whispered.

  “Tis the truth that I am just trying to teach ye.”

  “I know this.” He held his hand out for his sword and she handed it to him. “Let me see what I have learned from watching you,” he said as he turned looking sideways at her. He moved away from her and started whirling and twirling the sword with incredible speed and dexterity, tossing it from one hand to the other as he turned and spun and twisted in between parrying it at an invincible attacker.

  Ina could only stare, transfixed. His skin caught the light from the fire as his body moved, his muscles playing under his skin; bunching, flexing. The man knows how to wield his sword, she thought. He suddenly stopped and stared at her, triumphantly grinning.

  “I have taught ye well,” she said very seriously, trying to keep a straight face.

  Beiste stared at the golden-haired little fairy standing before him. He wanted to laugh. Instead he nodded his head. “Ye have. Thank you for your very skilled instruction.” He gave her a mock bow.

  Ina tried not to laugh, but then she could not help herself. She was bent at the waist laughing.

  Beiste watched her. Her laugh was clear as a bell and full of gaiety and joy. He could not help but laugh with her.

  When Ina’s laughter finally stopped she asked, “Ye can do that on horseback too?” Ina asked.

  Beiste just smiled back at her.

  “Seems to me ye are a man who has been around horses and who lives by the sea,” she said, watching him.

  “I am,” he answered and sat back down. He paused, hesitating to tell her.

  “What?” Ina prompted him.

  “I am remembering more, but tis just glimpses of things and places,” he said as he stared into the flames.

  “A woman?” she asked, holding her breath.

  “No,” he said and frowned. He ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. Then he ran a hand over his short beard. “I believe this is new. I don’t think I usually wear a beard,” he said musingly. He looked up at her. “Can ye shave this off me with one of yer dirks?”