Page 42 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

Bairre’s voice, he was quite certain, came out of the darkness. “Dinnae fight. I’ve come tae take ye tae visit yer maither.”

The man who was holding Arran’s arms released his grip.

“I suggest ye put on something other than those peasant clothes and come with me. I’ll see ye in the stables.”

After those few words, he heard his door open and close again and he was alone. He sprang to his feet, his heart pounding. This could mean he had a chance to rescue his mother. But, if nothing more could be achieved, he would have a chance to know she was well and even exchange a few words with her.

Bairre, for Arran knew his voice even though his face was covered by the hood of his cloak, and a guard were waiting in the stables, already mounted. He quickly joined them and they made their way out the gate, which Bairre instructed the gatekeeper to keep open as they would be returning very soon.

This gave some heart to Arran. Surely a brief visit meant his mother was close by.

The sun had gone done shortly after he and Dahlia had returned from their adventure. It was a full moon now and their way through the forest was well lit. It was not long before they arrived at an old timber cottage, half falling down and deserted.

The guard pulled the door open and they entered the cottage. Moonlight streamed through the windows and the broken roof. The room was empty save for an old chair and table. There was no sign of Emilia.

“What the…” As Arran turned, the guard’s fists came down on the back of his neck, knocking him off his feet.

“Ye bastard! Ye tricked me,” he shouted.

Bairre gave a sharp laugh as the guard threw another punch at Arran who was scrambling to rise. This time Arran was prepared and fought back, reaching for the dirk in his boot. But he’d been slowed by the previous blows and the man raised an arm and brought down a cudgel between his shoulder blades and dealt another blow to his head with the heavy weapon.

He groaned once as he went down, and the world faded from view.

With no idea how long he’d been out of his senses when he awoke, he sensed immediately he was alone. He struggled to rise but quickly learned that his hands and feet were tired.

He tangled with the knots, twisting his hands and bringing his feet up so that he could reach the rope tying them. It was then he first smelled the smoke and realized with a shock that the room was on fire.

That bastard Bairre is determined to kill me by burning me tae death.

He pressed his face low to the floor in an effort to avoid the worst of the smoke. By now the flames were beginning to leap, and the sound of the crackling fire grew louder.

Dear God. If this is where I meet me end, please help me dear maither tae escape the evil man’s clutches and stay alive and please protect me Dahlia and keep her safe.

Within a short space the heat had become almost unbearable, the acrid smoke was filling his lungs and, just as he was certain his end was approaching, he managed to loosen the ropes on his ankles.

Dahlia was unable to rest after she had returned to her room, the sight of Bairre’s face contorted with rage remaining at the front of her thoughts. It was too much to hope that he’d believed her story about the loss of her clothes. If he had not swallowed her lie that meant both she and Arran were in grave danger.

Thereafter, Arran had not come back to guard her room and that had made her worry even more. Where was he? Had something happened to him?

Hearing voices in the corridor outside her chamber she went to the door and opened it a crack to see what was going on. Noone was visible, yet she could have sworn one of the voices she’d heard belonged to Bairre.

Curious, she flung on the peasant kirtle she’d been wearing earlier, and unsure of what awaited her, she concealed her dirk in her boot. Then she tiptoed out of her room and continued down the stairs. Following the sound of hurried voices coming from the direction of the stables, she crept along the path she’d only learned of earlier that day when Arran had shown her.

She reached the stables in time to see three horsemen leaving the courtyard and galloping through the open gate. One of them she thought was Bairre, although she could not be certain for his face was covered, and the other two rode ahead and were impossible to make out.

What was Bairre up tae? Was he heading tae the little croft? Was he going tae ascertain if I told the truth?

Hastily saddling her mare, she made for the gate which, to her great relief, still stood open.

The moonlight was bright enough to show her the road ahead was empty. That could only mean the riders had turned off into the woods almost as soon as they’d left the castle. Mayhap they were not heading for the croft after all.

She rode slowly, keeping an eye out for traces of a track that would tell her the three horses had recently passed here. She’d not gone far when she came upon a spot where the grass was trampled and several small bushes had been crushed underfoot.

After dismounting, she walked her horse a little further along the road before tethering her. That way, if the riders left the woods by the same path they had entered, they would not come across her little mare.

Hearing distant voices, she took her dirk in her hand and crept silently into the woods, following the direction the voices were coming from.

She heard their horses crashing toward her and took care to conceal herself from view.

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