Page 11 of The Beast's Bride
Despite her now waspish mood, Rhona found herself smiling. “Has she?” Milish was a wolfhound bitch—a matriarch that ruled the pack of dogs her father kept.
“Taran has Milish and the pups in one of the stables,” Adaira replied with a grin. “I’ll take ye to them.”
“Go on then.” Rhona’s smile widened. “Lead the way.”
The young women left the keep and descended the steps into the bailey. Adaira called out cheerfully to servants and guards as she passed by, and they acknowledged her in turn with smiles and waves. It didn’t surprise Rhona how popular her sister was—for she had a warm smile and kind word for most folk. However, her sister’s open, trusting nature sometimes worried Rhona.
As it had earlier.
The look Baltair had given her sister was alarming; Rhona wondered if she should warn Adaira about him.
Warn her of what?
A bold stare wasn’t forbidden—and it seemed that Rhona was the only one at the table who had noticed or cared. Adaira would tell her she was being a goose. Maybe it was best to keep her observations to herself.
They found Milish with her litter in a straw-lined stable. The bitch wore a serene expression as six small bodies wriggled against her udders, their eyes screwed shut.
Rhona knelt down next to the hound, stroking her grizzled muzzle. “Haven’t ye done well, lass?”
“Aren’t they beautiful?” Adaira’s eyes gleamed with tears as she gently picked up one of the pups and cradled it against her breast. “So tiny and defenceless.”
“Not for long they won’t be.” A male voice intruded. Rhona glanced up to see Taran looming in the stable doorway. “Soon they’ll be yipping, fighting, and causing no end of trouble. Enjoy the peace while it lasts.”
Rhona smiled. She knew Taran’s grumblings were just a ruse—for it was he who was in charge of her father’s hounds. She’d seen the bond he shared with them.
“Can I have one, Taran?” Adaira asked, turning to him. She still clutched the puppy. It was a fat-bellied creature with tufted grey fur.
The Beast of Dunvegan gave a rare smile. It softened those disfiguring scars and made him appear younger. Rhona realized then that she had no idea how old Taran was. She had thought him at least thirty, yet now realized he was younger than that.
“Ye will need to ask yer father, Lady Adaira,” he replied, leaning against the door frame and folding his arms across his chest. “But if he agrees then, aye—ye may have one.”
Adaira beamed at him. She then turned and carefully placed the wriggly puppy back with its mother. “I shall ask him now. Then I’ll go and tell Caitrin about the puppies.”
“Tell Caitrin, I’ll be up soon to see her,” Rhona said as her sister made for the door, cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Aye,” Adaira sang, sliding past Taran and out into the sunlight. “See ye shortly.”
Alone with Taran in the stables, Rhona sighed. “Adaira will love ye forever now.”
He chuckled, a deep warm sound. “And she didn’t before, Lady Rhona?”
Rhona gave him an arch look and rose to her feet, brushing straw off her kirtle. “Adaira thinks well of most folk … as ye know. Sometimes it worries me.”
His expression turned serious, and the Taran she was used to returned. “Why … has something happened?”
Rhona shook her head, suddenly wishing she’d held her tongue. Taran was as loyal as the hounds he tended. Any threat to Rhona or her sisters and he became fierce.
“No … it’s just that … sooner or later she’ll be wed,” Rhona replied. She looked away, her gaze dropping to the feeding puppies. Suddenly, she felt uncomfortable confiding in Taran. “I know she’s a woman now, but there’s something childlike about Adaira … I won’t be able to protect her anymore.”
“Of course ye will.”
She glanced up, meeting his gaze.
“Ye have heard about the games?”
He nodded. “Ye are displeased?”
Rhona snorted, not caring that the sound was unladylike. “I’m livid … but Da doesn’t care. I’m just a problem he wants dealt with.”
