by Alisa Adams
Ina looked at him. Perhaps without the beard he would not be so…so male, and she could withstand him then.
She had him go and get his beard good and wet in the waters of the firth. Then he came back to sit near the fire. She knelt between his legs and scooted up close to his face. She looked deeply into his beautiful green eyes as he looked back up at her. “Ye are sure aboot this?”
“Aye,” he said with a grin. “Let me see more of these knife skills of yours.”
She glared playfully at him. “Tis not the type of skills I have with me dirks.”
“I know,” he said whispering hoarsely. He was looking up at her where she knelt between his legs. She was indeed an angel as the long golden curls caressing her body were lit up softly in the firelight giving her an ethereal glow. She was staring down into his eyes. So close. “I would appreciate your help though,” he said softly as he gripped her hips to steady her and her knife.
Ina slowly and gently began shaving his beard off. Her mind was full of this man. A man who cared more for his horse than himself. A man who did not like to hear of a little boy and his dog lost in the darkness of caves. A man who was afraid of spiders…and ghosts. A man who rushed towards danger to save her.
Ina was on her knees. Beiste felt the need to hold her hips to make sure she did not “slip” as he put it. Every now and then she could feel his big hands squeeze, just a bit on her hip bones.
“Did I hurt ye?” she asked quickly the first time he had flexed his fingers on her hips.
He just looked up at her and barely shook his head with a crooked smile. She started shaving him again. Then his hands began to wander.
To her waist.
Back to her hips.
Reaching around to the top of her derriere with just the tips of his fingertips.
Ina gave him a look every now and then but he just looked innocently back at her.
His hands caressed down her thighs.
Her breath shuttered out in a little sigh. “Ye are tempting me my beast.” She caught herself. My beast, she had said. “Tis not fair.”
“Why?” he asked, straining with desire and need and hunger.
Because I want ye to be my beast! she thought. Because I love you deeply, so deeply I can feel it all throughout my very soul. I want to keep you.
“Because,” she said, instead of what she was thinking. “I have a knife in me hand and I cannot explore ye as ye are doing to me,” she whispered. She was so close to his face. She could breathe in each breath that he exhaled.
“I shall control myself better,” he said gruffly. “That was wrong of me.”
Ina sighed. That wasnae the answer I wanted, she thought. I wanted him to say throw away that knife and kiss me! How does he maintain all this control when I am burning for him?
“You called me your beast,” he said in a husky quiet voice as he looked into her eyes.
Ina paused. “Aye, she whispered. “I am keeping you.”
He did not say anything.
He just continued staring at her.
Though Ina read the fire in his eyes, he did nothing.
She sighed again and continued. Little by little she revealed a square strong jaw, and the most perfect lips on a man she had ever seen. Outlined by the beard, his lips had been mesmerizing, but without the beard his mouth was all there to see and appreciate. She sat back and looked at him.
“I am quite sure ye have a wife,” she said in frustration and threw her knife down.
“What?”
“Ye are far, far too handsome to not have a woman. Maybe plenty of women!” she said and crossed her arms angrily across her breasts. “What was I thinking? I cannae keep ye,” she said in a huff with tears brimming in her eyes. ”Och I will be the first Scott that has declared they were keeping their chosen mate and then had to go back on their word and mine is because I chose a man that already has been taken and och tis such a sin to want you as I do, tis horrible! I am ashamed, I am sad me sisters and brother-in-laws are so correct. Keeping someone is sacred. Love is sacred. Keeping someone is forever. I shouldnae believe in love and fairy tales and sards, I shouldnae believe in love at first sight—” She ran out of breath and had to stop just to take a gulp of air so she could breath after her long rant.
She started to stand but Beiste reached out for her arms.
“Hold.” He swallowed hard. He had been studying her face in the firelight while she was so intently and sweetly shaving his face for him. He had been on the brink of going up in flames himself as he let his hands wander over her hips and waist, and further. His heart was torn in half. He wanted this woman in a way such as he could not imagine he had ever wanted anyone. “M’eudail,” he swallowed again and his voice lowered into an even deeper timbre. “My darling Ina, until my memory returns—”
“Yes, I know,” she said firmly, stopping what he was going to say. A single tear escaped and trailed down her cheek.
“I do…” Beiste started to say something and then stopped. It wouldn’t be fair to tell her how he felt. But her tears were tearing him apart. He couldn’t bear that he was hurting her. He had to get his memory back, he had to remember if he was free to love her.
“You do what?” she challenged him, swiping at the tear on her cheek as another fell.
Beiste leaned forward and gently, sweetly used his lips to wipe the tear away.
Ina sighed, looking into those green eyes so close to hers. His handsome face was lit by the firelight.
He was beautiful.
Starkly, ruggedly beautiful.
And good. He was such a good man.
Beiste laid his forehead against hers. He breathed in deeply and exhaled as he closed his eyes. His hands on her arms trembled with the want in him.
I do love you, he wanted to shout to the world and to her. I want to be able to say I love you again and again, every day, every night for as long as we both shall live. I love you so much it terrifies me that we may never be together.
Ina closed her eyes as well, reveling in their closeness. How I love this man. Please let me keep him. Please.
Beiste opened his eyes and saw another tear run down her cheek.
He leaned down and touched it. Softly, like a caress.
Lightly, with just the tip of his tongue.
His breath trembled.
Ina lifted her cheek like a kitten begging for more of his caress. Her lips opened and he heard her sigh, and then a soft gasp escaped her lips as the tip of his tongue lightly rasped against her cheek again. It was like a flame igniting him further. He groaned softly as he rubbed his cheek against hers.
He felt her lips turn to him.
Felt the softness of her lips as they drifted across his cheek.
Felt her lips caress his chin as she breathed him in.
He strained his mouth toward hers, chasing her lips with his own.
Until finally, finally, her lips drifted across his own.
She did not linger, however, but moved on. Letting her mouth drift down to his neck where she gave an exploratory lick and then a nip.
Beiste groaned and shuddered with desire as he tilted his head back to give her access to his neck again.
She obliged and licked and nibbled her way back up under his square jaw.
She was sighing and gasping, making little noises as she tasted him.
With each of her sighs, each of her gasps and small whimpers, the flames were licked within him until he had a raging inferno running through his body.
His mouth was chasing hers fully now, as he breathed heavily, groaning with each lick, each nibble, each taste she took of him.
His blood seemed to flow like a thick pounding liquid in his veins, his heartbeat was a loud thudding in his ears except for the sounds of her sighs and her panting as she moved her cheek and lips against his own.
“Ina,” he growled desperately, gruffly. Desire was so tight in his voice he could barely speak. His voice shook and vibrated with his feelings for this woman
before him. “Ina,” he said hoarsely, impatiently.
“Dinnae say it,” she breathed out as her lips hovered above his.
“Dinnae say that I cannae hold myself from ye any longer?”
Beiste did not wait for an answer but hauled her against his chest and swept her mouth with his. He ravaged her mouth like a man so hungry that he could not wait, but wanted it all and now.
He wanted everything in that moment.
He moaned as he swept his tongue against the seam of her lips.
She whimpered with need as she opened for him, her tongue meeting his joyfully.
They thrust and parried with a raging desire that was met in the other.
Without separating his lips from hers he lowered her to the sand and lay beside her as he continued to ravage her mouth, her lips, her chin, and on down her neck. She was writhing and gasping and pulling at him until he brought his lips back to hers.
“Your wish is mine to obey,” he whispered as he pressed himself more closely to her.
Plundering her mouth again.
And again.
And again.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him, pressing herself up against him, demanding.
He kissed her as the moon moved higher in the sky.
He kissed her as the tide came up and crashed on the shore.
He wanted to kiss her forever.
“M’eudail, slow down. Slow down me darling,” he said huskily.
Ina dragged her mouth away from his.
She looked up at him with desire in her eyes, and swollen lips.
“Dinnae ye say it!” she cried out in a tortured voice.
Beiste groaned and closed his eyes. He pulled her to him, holding her tightly against his chest. Please let us be together.
They fell asleep entwined in each other’s arms. The wind humming through the tunnels and the soft waves lapping at the shore lulled them to sleep.
9
Beiste hoisted the little boat with a very quiet Ina onto the shore of Fionnaghal. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since the night before. He had tried to explain to her this morning as he had rowed back along the coast why he had had to stop their kisses last evening. That she must understand that he did not even know if he had a wife or a family, Or if he was even a good man with anything to offer her. That she may soon have a husband of her own. She would not speak to him, however. It had been a very quiet boat ride back to Fionnaghal.
Now he watched as she marched up the beach without saying a word to him. She let out a shrill whistle and stood still. Within moments he heard the thundering of heavy hoofbeats as a giant golden horse came charging over the hill and down the beach towards Ina. The huge horse came skidding to a stop at Ina’s side.
Beiste watched in awe as the petite woman barely reached the horse’s chest. The big draft mare’s neck curled down to sniff Ina’s hair. Ina reached up and hugged her mare’s neck, burying her face in the mare’s warm golden coat. She angrily swiped a tear off her cheek with her hand as she sniffed once. Then she grabbed some of the mare’s mane and pulled herself up onto its back.
She looked back at Beiste who stood there staring at her. “Ye can walk back up to the castle cannae ye?” she asked him as her pale gold hair and blue tartan skirts swirled all about her as she sat on the big golden horse looking down at him. Her chin was up in the air and she had one eyebrow arched up as she stared regally down at him.
Beiste took in the sight before him. The beautiful girl on the huge horse. She was a sight to behold; her skin was perfect, her eyes shining that unique light blue, her hair so pale it was the softest color of gold. Her lips were full and pink and right now were frowning furiously at him.
He noted she didn’t wait for an answer but kicked Myrtle into a gallop away from him. The mare dug her hooves into the sand and surged up the beach right to the steep hill, taking it easily. Beiste looked up. It would be a long, steep walk.
He sighed and set off up the hill.
Towards Fionnaghal.
Towards Ina.
When Beiste walked into the main hall he walked into chaos.
Ina was surrounded by her sisters and aunt who were hugging her and crying. Tristan was shouting above the din asking questions. Loughlin was there as well, silent as usual. Beiste had not seen him utter more than a few words any time he had been in his presence.
When the sisters turned at Ina’s stare, they saw Beiste standing unsurely at the doors. He stood there, his hair long and sea-blown. Two swords crossed behind his back made a V on either side of his head. His chest was bare except for the wide leather he wore around his lower ribs. His leather breeches were molded to powerful thighs and tall leather boots encased muscled calves. His face was shaven now. The beard was gone and they could see a strongly chiseled square jaw with just a brief shadow of stubble.
Ina stood frozen staring at him. She could not breathe, she could not move. Her heart had been torn in half by this man.
Her sisters glanced at Ina but then rushed to Beiste to enfold him in hugs. They pulled him into the main hall to the table and thrust a mug of something hot into his hand. There were more hugs and tears from her sisters and questions from Tristan. Loughlin just had his arms across his chest, staring at Beiste.
Aunt Hexy was there as well. Tears were coursing down her cheeks as she kept hugging her little dog who was now wearing some sort of thick coarse shirt and matching hat.
Lord Cruim was standing awkwardly outside the group.
Beiste managed to speak above Ina’s sisters who were clamoring over their baby sister.
“Did the Black Watch Army find the vessel and Breadalbane?” he shouted to Tristan.
“Aye, they are on their way to Edinburgh prison as we speak,” Tristan shouted back. “Good job disabling that ship. We may need your help repairing her though,” he laughed.
“I am happy to do that,” Beiste said, lifting the mug slightly in a salute to Tristan as the girls continued to talk loudly and rapidly to Ina.
“Your memory?” Tristan asked over the women’s noise. He walked over to Beiste’s side.
“Bits and pieces. I am from somewhere north, as the coastline and cliffs looked familiar to me. I seemed to know where there was some shore with caves to shelter for the night. The sea and the ship is something I am familiar with,” he said and frowned. “I keep seeing a large grey castle…” He rubbed his head as he stared at the stones making up the main hall floor. He glanced up when he heard Ina’s voice detailing how Breadalbane had caught her by the hair when she had tried to jump over the side.
“There I was, dangling by my hair, caught in the evil Beatlebrain’s grasp. The man who wanted me for his fourth or fifth—or was it his sixth wife? Because the others had disobeyed him and were now…dead,” she said in a dramatic voice. “Something I was sure to be for I would never be biddable enough for that one!“ She took a quick breath and continued, “So there I was hanging over the water, trying to think of how I could save meself when I saw him swimming. Swimming like a god of the sea. I have never seen anyone swim that fast or that powerfully! He could have been a merman or selkie so at ease and part of the water was he. He climbed up the side of the ship and came lunging over the railing in one leap and knocked Beatlebrain flat to the deck,” Ina said as she swung her arms about theatrically. “Beatlebrain was terrified at the sight of him I tell ye! His bones were trembling and shaking at the sight of Beiste.”
Beiste smiled at her tale telling. He took a step towards her and said, “She had it all in hand. I didn’t do much.” He had eyes only for her.
Ina took a step towards him and looked up at him. “Ye rescued me,” she said with a frown of defiance.
“Nay,” Beiste said softly looking down into her eyes and smiling. “You rescued me.”
Ina started to open her mouth but Tristan said, “Weel now ye are both here and safe and Beatlebrain, er Breadalbane is gone!�
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The sisters all cheered happily.
Ina and Beiste had eyes only for each other, though Ina’s mouth turned into a frown.
Lord Cruim spoke up quietly but firmly to Beiste. “You have my sword sir.”
The room quieted.
Beiste turned to him with an arched brow. Cruim repeated it, pointing to the silver sword at Beiste’s back. “That is my sword.”
Beiste reached back and drew the sword from its scabbard. The bright silver sword made a ringing noise as he pulled it free. Beiste stared down at the sword in his hand and then looked up at Cruim. He paused, staring at the man before him.
Cruim took a hasty step back.
Beiste arched his eyebrow and flipped the sword easily so that the handle faced Cruim. He watched curiously as the blond-haired man made no move to take it. “I thank you for the use of it,” he said to Cruim. “It is a beautiful sword. Balanced perfectly. The grip is excellent as well. It fit my hand as if it were made for me.” He tossed the sword towards Cruim.
Everyone watched as Cruim quickly backed up, turning his face and shielding it with his hands, instead of catching his sword.
Ceena reached over and nimbly caught the sword. She stared at Cruim and then looked down at the elaborately scrolled sword. She stared down at the grip. It was indeed made for a large hand. Certainly not Cruim’s.
“I have decided that he may keep it. For rescuing my future wife,” Cruim said with a brittle smile.
The room seemed to lose all air as everyone stared at the man who had uttered those words.
Beiste stared down at the smaller man. His hands clenched in fists at his sides.
Into the silence there suddenly came the sound of pipes being played.
“There it is again,” Aunt Hexy whispered. Her hand was frozen in midair where she was about to push her knot of hair back to the top of her head. It had fallen on the opposite ear today. Her little dog in his tiny hat poked his head out of her tartan wrap as if he too was listening.
“Someone is playing a pipe in the tunnels,” whispered Ceena.
“Impossible,” said Godet. “That story is just that—a story, sisters.”
