Page 71 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

Once they’d reached the gentler, grass-covered slopes at the foot of the mountain, impatient as he was to push a head, Arran called a halt. They dismounted in a shady grove where the horses could graze on fresh grass and a little burn tumbling nearby enabled them to refill their water flagons.

After consulting briefly with Nicol as to their position, Arran went over to Emilia who had found a seat on an old fallen log next to Beattie, who was assisting her. He crouched beside her, his eyes mirroring his concern.

Emilia reached a hand out and patted his arm. “Dinnae fash, son. I am tired, that’s nae secret, but I can sit on a horse with nay trouble. I dinnae wish fer ye tae travel slowly fer me sake.” She looked up at him knowingly. “And I ken from the way ye regardthe Lady Dahlia, that ye are eager tae be in her company once again.”

Arran laughed softly. “I am pleased tae hear ye’re travelling well, Maither. And, it seems, yer eyesight is still as keen as ever. She has stolen me heart, ye ken... Nay matter how much we both tried to avoid it. She has agreed tae wed with me, if we are able tae get the king’s approval tae break her betrothal tae Bairre.”

Emilia gave a heartfelt sigh, taking Arran’s hand in her gentle grip. “That gladdens me soul tae hear. And I give me blessing tae ye both.”

She rose to her feet, shaking out her skirt and smoothing her hair. “If ye’re wishing tae wed ‘tis all the more urgent that we find the priest who performed the marriage ceremony fer me and the Laird Gregory Mackinnon. He has the documents that prove yer entitlement tae inherit from yer legal father and be recognized as Bairre’s half-brother.”

“D’ye have any notion of what happened tae the priest once the laird was dead and James Mackinnon refused tae acknowledge the marriage?”

“After Gregory’s death, when there was so much turmoil and threat from James Mackinnon, Father Deiran was in fear of his life. Taking the documents with him fer safekeeping he took flight to Eire, the place where he was born. I believe he obtained refuge in a monastery there and has remained in that place all these years. He must be a very old man now, if he still lives.”

“We must seek him out and obtain those precious documents. I can only pray that the old man has kept them safely and, if he is no longer living, he has entrusted the proof I am nae bastard tae an honest soul.”

Emilia brushed a stray lock of his golden hair behind Arran’s ear and smiled encouragement. “We require the services of a loyal and honorable man willing to endure the hardship of a sea crossing and who has the courage to travel in a strange land on yer behalf.”

Arran nodded, a smile quirking his lips as he glanced over at Nicol who was tending the horses. “Och! Methinks I ken exactly the man tae fulfill all that ye say and bring the documents safely tae me.” He turned to his mother and put up an arm for her to grasp as they walked over tae the horses.

Once she was safely ensconced in the saddle again, with Beattie mounted beside her, Arran took the reins of his stallion from Nicol and in no time they were moving ahead with new vigor in their steps.

They followed the same road Arran had travelled a few short weeks before, when he’d been tasked with escorting the Lady Dahlia Mackinnon from her home at Castle MacLeod to meet with her prospective husband, the Laird Bairre Mackinnon in his castle.

Once they passed the tavern where their first night had been spent, he knew they were straddling the border with MacLeod clan lands and within less than a mile they would be safely out ofBairre’s clutches. He smiled to himself, recalling Dahlia’s efforts to disguise herself as a lad and how she’d fought him when he captured her that night. He’d already been in love with her then, although he’d not dared acknowledge it to himself.

It was not long before they encountered two riders wearing MacLeod tartan. He guessed they were scouts, patrolling the borders of their territory.

After introductions were made and Arran had managed to reassure them, he was not an enemy, despite his Mackinnon name, it proved to be as he’d assumed. Keen to hear news of Dahlia, he asked the men if some time yesterday they had seen two riders, one of whom was the laird’s sister, entering their territory.

Both men looked surprised at the question.

The older of the two, whose name Arran understood to be Davie shook his head, while his partner, Euan, declared that it was impossible fer two riders to have entered the clan land without either of them being aware, adding, “and if one of them was the lady Dahlia she would have surely found us out.”

This news aroused a dire sense of foreboding in Arran. Surely Craig and Dahlia would have been here well before them. Had some accident or illness befallen them that had caused the delay?

“Can ye they escort us intae the company of the Laird Haldor as I have urgent news of his sister tae convey. He will wish tae hear what I have tae say.”

The two men rode ahead with Arran’s little group following in their footsteps. As they galloped toward the castle his thoughts were of Dahlia and the dread that she and Craig may have met Bairre’s men on the road somewhere and been prevented from completing their journey.

Once they entered the castle courtyard and dismounted, a pair of grooms hurried from the stables to take the reins of their horses and lead them into the stables to be properly attended to after their long, arduous ride.

The Laird Haldor had been alerted to their arrival and he appeared on the steps of the keep and greeted them warmly, shaking Arran’s and Nicol’s hands. Beattie and Emilia walked behind them up the stairs, to be greeted by Haldor’s wife, Sofia, a charming young woman with sparling dark eyes and glossy black hair tumbling over her shoulders.

“Come with me,” Haldor commanded, “I’ve sent fer me braithers Ivor and Arne and they will meet with us in me study. I ken ye bring word of our sister Dahlia and we are most anxious tae hear what ye have tae say.”

Arran followed Haldor into the keep and down a series of long passageways, while Nicol disappeared in the direction of the stables, and Emilia and Beattie were escorted into the solar by Sofia.

“I thank ye fer yer kindness tae me maither, Emilia, and melady Dahlia’s maid Beattie. Both women have endured harsh conditions during our travel and will be grateful fer some comfort.

Haldor nodded agreeably. “Sofia will arrange fer a meal tae be served and, I daresay, she has already instructed the chamber-maids tae prepare comfortable sleeping quarters fer them. Ye may rest assured they will be well cared fer and their every need met.”

As they entered the study Haldor’s two brothers, Arne and Ivar, who were waiting by the fire, rose to their feet to greet Arran with broad smiles and handshakes before they joined Haldor at the large oak table in the center of the room.

A scullery maid entered with a tray and tankards filled with ale and distributed them among the men. Haldor lifted his tankard, “Slàinte mhath,” he said, “Here’s tae yer health.”

Arran took a grateful swig of the ale and lowered his tankard.

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