Page 33 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

While his back was turned, she ventured a glance at Arran, standing motionless beside the door. Their eyes met for one despairing moment and she could see the suffering written on his features. Whether he was aware of it or not, Bairre had created a special form of torture for them both this evening.

Bairre regained his seat beside her and poured himself another splash of wine.

“I wished us tae enjoy a private meal together this evening in order fer me tae make amends fer me short temper this morning.”

“Oh?” Was he expecting her to apologize for her own outburst? Perhaps it would be wise to take the opportunity to do so inthe hope that he might lower his guard. Gritting her teeth, she thought it through for a moment, then, pasting on a pretty smile, she looked up at him through her long lashes. “I’ve given it nay a thought, Bairre. I trust I can also make amends fer the rash words I spoke tae ye.”

He patted her hand. “Indeed, yer words were ungrateful and unseemly fer a maid in speaking tae her betrothed. But I am big enough of heart tae be able tae forgive ye. I trust that from now on ye’ll maintain decorum and ken yer place as me fiancée.”

His words were pleasant enough, but his tone was menacing. He might forgive her as he professed to, but it was clear to Dahlia there was no chance he would forget what had passed between them She shuddered at the prospect of being trapped in marriage to the man, when she would become his property, to do with as he wished.

At that moment the door swung open and a succession of serving-maids entered the room, each of them carrying silver platters of pies and roasted fowl, bowls of soup, stews and elaborate configurations of vegetables. This was far in excess of what the two of them could eat but, no doubt, Bairre wished to demonstrate his wealth and largess in the hope of impressing her.

The meal was laid out on the polished oak table in the center of the room.

Bairre rose to his feet and reached for her hand to escort her to the table. “Come, melady. Join me in this repast the kitchen has prepared in yer honor.”

He graciously pulled out the chair for her to sit and waited while the servants served her meal on pewter plates. Already nauseous, she looked in dismay at the array of dishes. She could hardly contemplate tucking into the over-abundance of food being served.

Acutely conscious of Arran’s silent figure watching nearby, she tackled a bowl of nettle and leek soup. She was able to tolerate the thin, salty flavor, still only managing a few spoonfuls.

Bairre frowned, and for a moment she thought he was about to launch himself into the same diatribe about women’s breasts and buttocks he’d insulted her with this morning. Instead, he gave her a thin smile and, as the maid removed her bowl, he placed a slice of venison pie on a platter and passed it to her.

Every mouthful seemed to catch in her throat, but she slowly managed to finish it. It may have been delicious but once again it tasted like sawdust in her mouth.

Once Bairre had eaten his fill and the maids had taken the untouched portions of the meal back to the kitchen, he escorted her back to the loveseat where, at the table beside the chair, platters of sweetmeats had been left for them.

As they sat, with Bairre once again uncomfortably close, Dahlia was wondering how much longer she could prolong thisagonizing evening before she could feign tiredness with a yawn and demand she return to her bedchamber.

He took up one of the tiny cakes and held it to her lips. “Here melady. I ken ye’re sweet already but try one of these little honey cakes tae sweeten ye even more.”

She reluctantly opened her mouth for him to place it on her tongue. As she swallowed the tidbit he didn’t move away. He was sitting uncomfortably close, leaning in, his face looming over hers. She turned her head to the side, avoiding him, but he planted a kiss on her cheek.

Her stomach roiled as she cringed away from him, but he reached up, cupping her chin and forcing her to turn her head back. He lowered his face and covered her mouth with his, snaking his tongue between her lips.

Summoning all her strength, she pushed hard against his chest, shoving him away and springing to her feet, not being able to pretend being docile even a second longer.

“This is too much, me laird. Ye are taking liberties with me.” Her chest heaved with fury. “Dinnae ye ken ye should always ask a lady’s permission afore ye steal a kiss? We are nae yet wed, and ye have acted with impropriety. Ye have disrespected me.”

He was on his feet in a trice. “Me apologies, melady. I find ye irresistible. I trust ye will forgive me boldness and attribute it tae yer own fair beauty.”

Dahlia drew herself up to her full height, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. “I will bid ye goodnight. Thank ye fer the pleasant meal.”

“Oh dear.” He scratched his head. “How can I make up tae ye such a tiresome breach of good manners. Is there something ye desire that I could grant ye?”

She cast a thoughtful gaze over him. He seemed genuinely contrite and mayhap this could be something she could use to her advantage.

“I wish tae take some fresh air. Tae ride out on me mare and feel the rush of wind in me face again. I am sore tired with spending me days in the solar with naught tae gaze on but me sketches and embroidery, feeling like a captive fer the second time in this castle.”

He hesitated. “Aye but I’m wise tae yer ploy, Lady Dahlia. Will ye nae make a dash for home if I grant me permission fer ye tae ride?”

“By all the saints. Are ye forgetting ye’ve placed a guard tae watch me day and night? How could I possibly ride away while he is close behind?” She held her breath, hoping against hope that he would allow her request.

He chuckled. “Why yes. In that case, ye may ride tomorrow with Arran keeping watch on ye. I ken he has a very good reason why he’s nae likely tae let ye out of his sight.”

“I thank ye.” Saying nothing more, Dahlia swirled around and stalked to the door.

Arran leapt forward to open it and she passed through without so much as a glance at him and stalked along the passageway. He followed, keeping a few paces behind her.

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