Page 6 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

It was not difficult to understand her resolve and her loathing for Bairre. The man he called ‘cousin’ was loved by very few. He smiled grimly to himself. Mayhap the man’s mother had been the only one to bestow any affection on her son. And, as she’dpassed away when Bairre and his late brother James were little more than babes, perhaps not even she had been able to offer him a mother’s love.

He finished the ale and trod wearily up the stairs. Unlocking the door of Dahlia’s room with a sense of foreboding that she might make another attempt to evade him as he entered the room.

She was standing by the fire, her cheeks glowing pink, her still-damp, long, silvery hair tumbling down her back. His fingers itched to reach out and smooth a wayward lock from her forehead and tuck it behind her ear. She was clad in a cream silk night gown and a dark-blue fur-lined velvet robe which she tightened around herself as he stepped further into the room. The air was filled with the fragrance of roses and cinnamon.

He gasped, his senses reeling as he struggled to hide the powerful effect her beauty was having on him. He steeled himself against the twitch and ache in his groin as he gazed at her.

“I am pleased ye’re seeing sense, melady.”

She snorted, her eyes flashing. “I’m seeing sense enough tae ken ye’ve foiled me attempt tae get away this night. But dinnae think I’ll nae try again as soon as there’s a chance.”

He chuckled softly. “Why, lass, I’d never be so foolish as tae believe ye’ve been tamed by one foiled attempt.”

“That is wise of ye.” She held her head proudly, and even though he sensed he was in for more trouble before he’d delivered her safely to Castle Mackinnon, he could only admire her feistiness and determination.

He allowed his gaze to wander over her, observing the details of her delicate form, feeling like some besotted troubadour composing verses to honour his lady’s beauty.

Those thoughts put him in imminent danger of wandering into forbidden territory, so it came as a relief when a sharp rap on the door drew his attention and he hastened over to open it. A small kitchen maid entered the room bearing a tray with the meal he’d ordered, alongside two tankards of ale, and placed it on a small table beside the fire.

Drawing up a chair for Dahlia, he waited while she arranged herself before taking the seat opposite.

They ate in silence, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fire. Once the meal was finished, he feigned a yawn, placing a hand at his mouth, and got to his feet.

“’Tis time ye took tae yer bed, Lady Dahlia. Ye’ll be needing yer rest as we’ve a long day’s ride ahead of us tomorrow.”

She didn’t reply and he could almost see the wheels of thought turning in that charming head of hers.

“Are ye thinking there’ll be a moment fer ye tae gallop off and leave me, Craig Donald and our two guards behind?” He grinned as her cheeks blushed pink, not meeting his gaze. Of course, he’d been reading her thoughts correctly. Tomorrow he’d make sure he never allowed her out of his sight. There’d be no opportunities for her to slip away.

“And ye’ll be making fer yer room tae sleep now?”

He shook his head. “I’ll nae be leaving ye alone this night, I’ll be keeping a close watch over ye while ye’re sleeping.”

At that she squared her shoulders and fixed him with a blue-eyed gaze that came close to robbing his breath. “I think it isnae so, Arran Mackinnon. Ye ken Bairre Mackinnon would never tolerate ye sleeping in the same room as mesel’.” She gave a sharp laugh. “If I told him ye’d slept beside me, he’d make short work of ye with his long sword.”

“And d’ye wish me tae sleep beside ye, Lady Dahlia?”

He enjoyed watching the bright colour flush her face. It was clear the thought had crossed her mind.

With a sigh, he shook his head. “Mayhap that’s a dream we both might share.” He noted that, as their eyes met, she schooled her features to give no hint of what thoughts might be passing through her head.

“But, never fear. I’ll nae remain in this room but spend the night outside, lying across yer doorway. If ye think tae somehow unlock the door and sneak away, I’ll be awake in an instant and ye’ll nae get past me.”

Outside the bedroom door he pulled his cloak around him and hunkered down on the hard oak floor, using his bunnet to rest his head. Thoughts of Dahlia whirled through his mind keeping him from sleep. She was more beautiful now than he remembered when he’d first set eyes on her four long years ago when she was held captive by Bairre’s older brother, James Mackinnon. The man who had murdered Dahlia’s brother, Thor, and himself been slain by her brother the Laird Haldor.

He could only dream on what she would say if she realized he was the young man who had made an ill-fated attempt at rescuing her from James Mackinnon’s clutches all those years ago.

CHAPTER THREE

Four years earlier, the lands near Castle Mackinnon…

There was a marked chill in the air, with winter not far off as he approached Castle Mackinnon. Tethering his horse nearby, he waited in the woods not far from the castle until night fell and, as he crouched there out of sight, he pulled his woolen cloak tight around him, willing his heart to stop pounding and to return to its normal rhythm. The hoot of a hunting owl and the squeal of its prey made him shiver with apprehension.

Despite his boyhood years spent in Castle Mackinnon, this was not a place he’d ever wished to return to. His memories of the brothers James and Bairre curdled his stomach. Bullies, both of them. It was only when he’d grown to a size where he could best them, that they had ceased their taunts and ridicule and their cruel beatings. But it was their insulting words about his mother that had stung him most.

Yet, although much time had passed, here he was again.

What brought him here was a chance meeting in a nearby tavern with an old friend, Angus Blair, who worked as head groom at the castle.

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