Page 41 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

In fact, he smiled to himself at the thought of it, her brother the Viking Laird would be forced to cede a portion of MacLeod lands to his sister’s new husband. It would be a pleasant victory. All he had to do was wait out the remainder of the four weeks the king had insisted on for them to become acquainted.

And no one would be allowed to get in the way of the Laird Bairre Mackinnon achieving his heart’s desire.

At that moment his vengeful reverie was interrupted by a sharp tap on the door.

“Who comes?”

“’Tis Hendry of Bute, me laird.”

“Enter.”

The burly man entered, doffing his cloth bonnet, which he clasped to his chest in deference to Bairre.

Bairre looked up with interest. Hendry was one of his guards to whom he’d entrusted the task of keeping watch over Dahlia from a distance. He reported back regularly with details gleaned from spying on her activities. Judging by the grim smile on the man’s face today he had some worthwhile information to impart.

“As ye ordered, I followed the lady and the Lord Arran as they rode out this morning.”

“Aye,” Bairre was impatient to hear more.

The man nodded. “I kept me distance and they were nay aware of me presence as I followed them through the woods. When they lay down together beside the river, they had nay idea I was near.”

Bairre’s felt his face burning as a feeling of molten rage poured over him.

“They lay together?”

“Aye, they did so, naked as the day they were born.”

A slow smile spread across Bairre’s features. “And while they lay together, naked as babes, did ye perchance play a part in the loss of their clothing?”

The man grinned and tossed the rolled-up bundle of clothes he was holding onto the floor. “Aye. It was then I did away with their clothes, my laird. It seemed tae me they should remain unclad and disclose their shame tae the world.”

Bairre was out of his seat and pacing.So, Arran had defiled the woman who was promised tae me by the king.

“Well done man, they deserved tae be shamed. Yet somehow, they found a peasant who helped them conceal their disgrace?

“Aye. They made their way back tae the castle clad in the peasants’ garb.”

Bairre took a deep breath. Even though his worst suspicious had been realized, his plans still stood. Arran and Dahlia had dishonored him, but he would still go ahead and make Dahlia MacLeod his wife. There were a fortune and the king’s goodwill at stake. But, as for Arran Mackinnon, he’d long been a thorn in Bairre’s side and this blatant betrayal could not stand.

He made no direct response to Hendry’s words, merely gazed thoughtfully into the fire while the man waited for his next orders.

Finally, Bairre turned to Hendry of Bute and spoke. “The man must die. Come, take a seat beside me at the table and we can make a plan tae rid me of the artful creature once and fer all.”

Hendry moved toward the table and pulled out a chair. He bent his head, tugging his forelock. “Aye, me laird. Whatever ye wish of me I will obey.”

“Good. I will send one of me men with ye as well.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

At the sound of a faint movement in his room, Arran’s eyes snapped open. He’d been drowsing for a few moments after his day out with Dahlia, while he waited for her to change, the events of the day rushing through his thoughts, keeping him awake. It no longer seemed possible for him to accept Dahlia could be held prisoner by Bairre. Decree of the king or not, he could never stand by and allow the betrothal to continue. There must be a way for him to find his mother.

Was he imagining it? The sound seemed closer. A strange shuffling, as if someone was trying to creep in silence across his room.

He froze, every sense alert, even his own breathing sounded loud to his ears as he strained to listen. There it was again, a brush of fabric, a foot striking the side of his bed.

“Who is there?” He sat up, heart pounding. He wasn’t alone. Someone else was in the room. He caught the drift of sweat and stale ale.

He was reaching for his dirk when his arms were seized.

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