Page 40 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

As they approached the gate, they wrapped themselves in their cloaks more tightly hoping they were sufficiently hidden to fool the guards. The guard scarcely looked up as Arran called for the gate to open and within moments there were inside the courtyard with no one the wiser.

They left the horses in the stables and Arran led her along a walkway leading into a lower part of the keep. There was something vaguely familiar about it and it dawned on Dahlia that she’d been this way before. Once, when Black-Mask was attempting to rescue her from her captivity in the dungeon.

He led her through a series of concealed passageways and up a narrow staircase. To her astonishment as they emerged from the stairs, she found herself in the passage that led to her bedchamber.

“How did ye ken such places existed? I’ve never kent there were such hidden hallways and stairs within the keep.”

He shook his head, placing is finger to his lips. Leaving her with even more unanswered questions.How did Arran know so much about the castle?

After dropping a quick kiss on her lips, Arran bid her goodbye and headed back to his quarters to don his own clothing. She opened the door of her chamber, breathing a sigh that they’d made it back unseen and now all she required was a quick change of clothes and she could spend the afternoon in the solar with her embroidery as if nothing had occurred.

Her heart leaped in her ribcage at the sight of a tall dark figure standing by the fireside.

“Bairre!” she exclaimed as he turned toward her, scowling, his mouth set in a grim, tight line.

“I agreed tae ye going fer a ride this morning. Ye’ve been gone fer hours. Where did ye go with Arran Mackinnon?”

His eyes scanned her from top to toe. As she attempted to tighten the cloak around her, he stepped forward and wrenched it off.

“What is this?” he thundered. “Why are ye wearing a peasant’s clothing? Where is yer own dress and yer undergarments? What have ye been doing under the pretense of riding?”

She straightened her spine, making herself tall, throwing Bairre a look filled with disdain.

“Are ye accusing me of something? If so, I suggest ye say it out loud and let me hear it fer meself.”

“When a lass turns up after a so-called ride without the clothes she started with, what else can I think but that she’s been on a different kind of ride,” he bellowed.

“How dare ye!” Dahlia kept her voice steady. He was jumping to the exact conclusion she’d feared. All she could do now was bluff it out and pray she could convince him he was wrong.

“If I’m wrong, start talking.”

“Yer suspicions are quite wrong,” she lied, holding his gaze. “Nothing untoward occurred. I merely had an unfortunate accident; my clothing was ruined and I was forced to seek help from a nearby crofter. Fortunately, the old man was able to provide me with his late wife’s clothing.”

“Och?” He still looked at her dubiously but some of his anger had dissipated.

“We strolled our horses by the loch and a wading bird startled me mare, causing her to shy. I slipped and fell into the muddy waters at the edge of the loch. I was saturated in mud and it was impossible for me continue the ride. We went to a nearby croft where I was able to discard me muddied clothing and don these clean clothes.”

She gestured toward the door. Now, if ye’ll permit me some privacy, I wish tae wash mesel’ and rest.”

With a grunt, Bairre reluctantly obeyed.

As the door closed behind him, she allowed herself to breathe freely once again. Whether she’d convinced him or not she couldn’t be certain. One thing she could be sure of was that his suspicions remained.

Bairre stormed out of Dahlia’s chamber. Fists clenched, chest heaving he strode back to his solar.

He tossed another log on the fire and stoked it savagely, his mind whirling. For him, the prospect of someone lying to him and attempting to deceive him was enough to drive him into a frenzy of retribution and hatred.

The lass takes me fer a damned fool with her lies and her fanciful story about losing her clothes. Did she really think I was prepared tae allow her tae ride out with Arran Mackinnon without sending one of me men tae keep an eye on them?

Seated at his table in front of a large pile of parchments he attempted to distract his rage by focusing on the series of grievances and complaints from neighbor to neighbor that he, as the magistrate, was meant to adjudicate on.

Pshaw! He thrust aside a crofter’s complaint that his two cows had been stolen by a man nearby, who openly kept them pastured within their rightful owner’s sight. He requested that the laird intervene and demand the return of his cattle.

Bairre took his quill, dipped it into the ink and scrawled across the top of the page “Refused.” There was some bitter satisfaction in imagining someone besides himself being cheated and thwarted and refused.

His patience was growing thin, with still two more weeks to go before the king’s decree would force Dahlia into marriage with him. It was tiresome to assume the courtly behavior that was necessary if he was to convince her that marriage to him was in her own best interests.

But once the marriage ceremony had been performed and she was his, he would take his revenge for all the slights, the tiny shudders of revulsion, and the looks of hatred she cast him. She would pay, and pay dearly, and there would be no recourse fromthe king. Her brothers would have no power over whatever fate he chose for her.

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