Page 57 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

Beattie carried in a tray laden with a bowl of porridge, cream and honey, coddled eggs, bannocks and raspberry jam. She laid it on the table near the fire and took the poker to stoke the glowing embers into a cheerful flame.

Dahlia stretched and yawned, stepped out of her warm coverlets and flung her fur-trimmed robe about her.

“Thank ye, dear Beattie,” she said, taking her seat by the fire.

As always, her thoughts were of Arran. Was he keeping safe? Was he still hidden within the castle’s byways?

“Ahem.” Beattie broke through her reverie. “Melady, the Lord Arran is guarding yer door once again. He was standing tae attention when I came in. I gather he spent the night there.”

“What?” Dahlia dropped her spoon back into the bowl, splashing porridge on the table cloth. Her mind had difficulty grappling with this new information. Arran at her door? Did that mean he had relinquished his hiding place and was putting himself in danger?

She leaped to her feet and paced toward the door. Creaking the old oak door open a few inches she caught sight of his broad form standing close by.

“Arran. What in the name of all the saints in heaven are ye doing here? Have ye taken leave of yer senses. What of Bairre? Once he kens ye’re alive and ye were nay destroyed in the fire he will try again tae take yer life,” she fumed.

He stepped forward, grinning.

“Why, melady, the Laird Bairre has ordered me tae take up me position guarding ye every minute of the day and night.”

She huffed indignantly. “I thought ye were tae have kept yerself away from Bairre Mackinnon. Ye promised me ye’d keep out of sight and nay give the man an opportunity tae attack ye again.”

“Aye I did that.” He looked at her and shook his head. “Me apologies dear heart, I didnae tell ye me plans as I kent ye would never agree tae me showing mesel’. But I could nay longer stay hidden like a tiny frightened mouse. One more day and I’d hate meself more than I hate Bairre.”

Dahlia nodded reluctantly. “I understand yer impatience. But ye are risking everything by revealing yerself.”

He reached for her hand. “We havenae much longer tae wait. I’ve instructed the head groom tae make our horses ready. ‘Tis me intention tae soon be on our way. Now that ye’ve found someone tae guide us tae Bairre’s old haunts, I believe I shall at last be successful in finding the place me maither is being held.”

“I long fer the day when we have left this place.”

“It will be soon enough. But fer now, we must keep some distance between us so that Bairre doesnae suspect us of conspiring together.” He pressed his lips to her hand.

“I understand.” She felt tears burning behind her eyes. What she wanted more than anything was for him to hold her close and the thought of remaining aloof and distant was pure pain. “We must dae naething tae alert him tae our plans.”

With a sigh, Dahlia closed the door. It would not do for her to be seen conversing with Arran, and she had no doubt that Bairre’s servant, man or woman, would be watching from the shadows.

For the remainder of the day Arran and Dahlia ignored each other. While she spent most of the day in the solar, he stood guard outside the door, taking only short breaks to relieve himself and not a word passed between them. Anxious as she was at the prospect of them soon to be leaving the castle in search of Emilia, Dahlia thought the day would never come to an end.

To her dismay Bairre insisted in joining her for supper. His presence made her feel quite ill and her appetite fled in his presence.

“Come, lass. I’ve told ye before today that I believe ye could fatten up. I’m nae one fer bony women.”

She bit back the impulse to tell him that she wasn’t a prize cow, even though he paid her no more respect than if she was in the barn yard. Instead, she smiled prettily, having no intention of annoying him.

Conscious at all times that Arran was only a few steps away guarding the door, a brief plan formed in her mind. Arran had called for her to distance herself from him and she had an idea of how she could make sure this was something Bairre should be fully aware of.

After taking a few mouthfuls of the nettle soup, she put down her spoon, frowning.

“It’s nay use melord. I cannae eat while I am being watched and brooded over like a naughty child.”

He looked up from his venison pie, one eyebrow raised. “What dae ye mean?” He looked around. “I am nae observing ye. Ye are free tae be yerself.”

At this she pshawed loudly. “Have ye forgotten that ye ordered Arran tae be me jailer? Why, I cannae even visit the privywithout telling him where I intend tae go. And then he follows me and waits outside. I have nay dignity and I am nae treated as befits a lady who is betrothed tae the laird.”

A look of amusement flickered across Bairre’s features. “I am sorry if ye find his presence tae be a burden.”

“Of course, I find it a burden,” she snapped. “What were ye thinking when ye insisted he should keep watch over me?”

Bairre leaned back in his chair and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. Then he reached for his tankard of ale and took a long draft. Finally, he turned to her, a sardonic smile on his face.

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