Page 55 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

Creeping into the keep, he made up his mind this was the last time he would hide himself like a common thief.

He would bide his time, waiting until the night had come. His plan was to surprise Bairre in his bedchamber when he was not surrounded by guards and make it clear to him that if he should injure Dahlia in any way, or if his own mother was harmed, that Bairre would die at Arran’s hand.

Arran was no longer interested in paying lip-service to the laird. The man had not earned any respect. On the contrary his cowardly attack on Arran and his blatant attempt to destroy him meant that, as far as Arran was concerned, when the time came, he would show Bairre no mercy.

But before he carried out his plan, he sought out Craig in his chamber.

He knocked at the old timber door and heard his friend call “enter” so Arran pushed the door open and entered the room. Craig was seated before the fire with a tankard of ale by his side and leaped to his feet when he caught sight of Arran.

“Good God man, where’ve ye been all this time?” he cried.

The two men each took a seat in one of the leather chairs by the fireside, Craig looking expectantly at Arran.

“Me friend, I didnae ken what tae think. I was expecting tae meet with ye at training every morning as we always dae. When ye didnae appear days ago I went tae search ye out. I saw what looked like the disarray of a struggle in yer chamber but when I questioned the servants none of them had seen hide-nor-hair of ye. I began tae fash that mayhap some ill had befallen ye.”

“Ye didnae ask the lady Dahlia if she’d come across me at some time?”

Craig looked puzzled. “Why would the lady ken yer whereabouts if the guards and the servants hadnae seen aught of ye?”

The response from Craig suggested to him that his old friend had no idea that Arran and Dahlia had been together. Had he been able to fool Craig into believing that there was nothing between him and the lady? He’d never mentioned his feelings about her to Craig and he’d never breathed a word even to his friend he’d been the one who had attempted to rescue Dahlia four years ago when she’d been held prisoner by James Mackinnon.

Whatever it was that had held him back from revealing his heart to Craig, Arran was unsure.

“Truth tae tell, Craig, I’ve been keeping myself out of sight ever since an attempt was made on me life.”

Craig gasped. “Who would wish such evil on ye, me friend?”

It was on the tip of Arran’s tongue to tell Craig about Bairre but he was reluctant to do so. Instead, he feigned ignorance.

“’Tis unsure I am. I’ve given it much thought but I cannae think of one who hates me enough tae end me life.”

“Mayhap ye’d upset one of the guards. Or ye’d been his jousting partner and dealt him a sore blow and the man was taking vengeance.”

“Aye. Mayhap that is so. But, after, I decided tae keep tae mesel’ and let whoever it was come tae terms with his own rage.”

“So ye think ‘tis safe now tae resume yer place again as the laird’s lieutenant?”

Arran gave a mirthless laugh. “Nay. I dinnae believe anywhere is safe for me in Castle Mackinnon. Whoever wanted me dead is likely tae still have me in his sights.”

“Then ye must keep yer wits about ye if ye’re tae stay in the land of the living.” Craig laid his hand across Arran’s shoulder in a brotherly gesture. “I dinnae wish tae lose me best friend.”

“Never fear, Craig. I’ve nae intention of putting me life at risk. I value it too highly.”

“Then join me in a tankard of ale before ye go on yer way.” Craig filled another vessel and handed it to Arran. “Slàinte mhath. Tae yer heath, lad.”

After downing a convivial ale with his friend, Arran bade him goodnight and took his leave. The time had come for him to finally confront Bairre.

He found the laird exactly where he’d expected as he pushed open the heavy oak door to Bairre’s chambers without bothering to knock.

Bairre was seated in his robe and nightshirt in front of the fire, a glass of whisky on a small table by his side. He rose hastily to his feet as Arran entered the room.

His hand flew to his mouth, which sagged open in shock.

Arran smiled grimly, amused to have caught Bairre off guard. “Ye seem surprised to see me.”

Bairre straightened his shoulders giving Arran a disdainful look. “Nae at all. What surprises me is that ye dare enter me chamber without knocking on me door and waiting fer an invitation tae enter.”

Keeping a close eye on Bairre’s face, Arran moved toward the second chair by the fireplace. “I trust ye will invite me tae partake of yer hospitality.” He looked at the glass and the whisky decanter on the table.

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