Page 58 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

“Ye’re right, lass. Mayhap ye recall that I was forced tae take such action because of yer continued defiance of me wishes.”

She pouted. “Methinks I should be treated with proper respect. Yer braither James behaved most horribly toward me when he contained me within the dungeons here. I had expected that, given King Robert’s interest in our marriage, ye would treat me with a greater measure of courtesy than ye’ve done.”

“I regret that me behavior is nae tae yer liking melady. But I am a reasonable man, prepared tae reconsider a situation when things change. Can I trust ye now tae dae as ye’re told? Nay attempt tae flee the castle and return to the Isle of Skye at the first opportunity?”

“Indeed.” She crossed her fingers against the lie she was telling. “I have nae intention of leaving Castle Mackinnon. Ye are doing a great disservice tae treat me, yer future bride, as a common criminal with an odious man tae watch over me.”

He laughed softly. “So, are ye telling me that ye find me cousin Arran tae be repugnant tae ye?”

“Aye, indeed I dae. He is quite repulsive tae me.” She knew full well Arran could hear every word of their conversation. She could only hope he understood why she was insulting him as she was. Making up her mind to explain herself to Arran as soon as they were alone together, she nodded, adding. “Aye. He is a most unpleasant creature.”

This was obviously pleasing to Bairre, who took another swig of his ale, regarding her with an expression of satisfaction.

“I wish I could relieve ye of the company of this offensive man, melady. But I’m afraid I dinnae trust ye any more now than I did when ye first arrived here. Just remember, we will soon be wed. Once ye’ve taken yer marriage vows and the priest has declared us tae be man and wife – and only then – will I remove the guard from yer door. Fer when ye are mine, according tae the laws of the land, ye will nae stray away from me castle on pain of death.”

Dahlia could scarcely restrain a shudder at his words. Yet she consoled herself with the knowledge that she and Arran would soon be on their way into the mountains. The marriage would never take place. There was no way Bairre could force her to recite the marriage vows and take him as her lawful husband.There was only one man she would give herself to and soon they would be ridding themselves of the castle and leaving the reach of Bairre’s authority.

“Now, ye must excuse me,” Bairre rose, bowing slightly from the waist. “I have some discussions tae follow up with some of the members of me guard. Yer jailer will escort ye tae yer chamber when ye are ready tae retire fer the night.” He took her hand and pressed it to his ice-cold lips. “I bid ye goodnight, lady Dahlia.”

He snapped his fingers as he passed Arran. “I fancy sparring with ye tomorrow morning. Attend me at the training yard, first thing. We’ll practice our swordplay and I’ll best ye at archery.”

He moved out of sight down the passageway leaving Dahlia filled with dread.

She rang the bell for Beattie who appeared almost at once.

“Are ye ready tae retire fer the evening, melady? I have turned down yer bed and left ye the warming pan under the sheets and laid yer night shift out tae warm up.”

“Thank ye Beattie. I’ll nae need ye again this evening. Arran will escort me tae me chamber.”

Beattie shot her a knowing look and a grin. “Very well, Lady Dahlia. I shall attend ye in the morning.” She pivoted on her heel and disappeared in the opposite direction to Bairre, heading towards the servants’ quarters.

Dahlia gave Arran a rueful smile and his eyes twinkled as he glanced at her. “The laird has given his orders. I must escort ye tae yer chamber.”

She nodded, wishing he could take her in his arms. Instead, he held himself as straight as a ramrod, displaying no emotion, the perfectly disinterested soldier carrying out his duty with no feelings for her at all.

Head high, she strolled along the corridor and up the stairs, with Arran keeping a respectful two paces behind his lady.

She paused outside her door so that he could step forward and open it for her. As he bent to undo the latch, she was able to whisper to him one word. “Later.” Then she stepped inside her chamber and the door closed, leaving Arran standing guard outside.

Dahlia slumped into one of the chairs by the fire. Tonight’s encounter with Bairre had left her drained and her whole body was shaking.

His final words to Arran were filled with menace. After all, what better setting could there be for cold blooded murder than the training yard, where knights sparred ruthlessly with their long swords and dirks and fired wicked arrows that could even pierce a man’s hauberk.

After staring into the flames and wishing for some ghostly hand to reach out and offer a solution to her problems, she jumped toher feet and paced the floor. Surely there was some way out of the situation, a way to escape Bairre’s murderous intentions.

But whatever might await her and Arran in the morning, the night was theirs and she longed to be in his arms.

Opening the creaking door, the merest fraction, Dahlia’s heart bounced at the sight of Arran standing so strong and dependable just outside.

“Come inside,” she whispered.

He looked up and down the passageway, which was still lit by a candle contained in a sconce a few feet from Dahlia’s doorway. Satisfying himself there was no one lurking in the gloom, with one swift move he snuffed out the candle with his fingers and the corridor descended into darkness. Now there was no way someone attempting to keep Dahlia’s doorway under a watchful gaze could see what was going on.

She opened the door and Arran tiptoed inside her chamber. Once he was inside, she pushed the door closed behind him and he enfolded her in his embrace with a deep sigh of longing.

In the flickering light from her fire his eyes burned dark gold, his long fair hair formed a bright halo around his face and it seemed to Dahlia as his mouth descended to take hers there had never before been such a beautiful man.

Kissing like two lost souls who had at last discovered each other in the outer reaches of hell, she wound her arms around his neck and took a fistful of his hair, holding him as if she would never release him. With a grunt he hoisted her in his arms and strode with her into the bedchamber. There he gently lowered her onto the piled-up pillows and coverlets spread across the giant bed.

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