The Beast of Clan Kincaid (7 page)

“Word travels quickly through a castle.”

He nodded slowly. “I should have spoken to you before now.” His expression softened with tenderness. “It's just that this old man doesn't like the idea of his dearest daughter leaving him. You are so much like your mother. I have kept you here with me this long only out of selfishness, to comfort myself. Forgive me. I know you must want a husband and bairns of your own.”

“I'll stay as long as you wish.” Elspeth squeezed his arm. “And yet if it is time for me to marry, I will not refuse.”

They were the words she knew she ought to say, and she meant them, though her heart was not without desires of its own. Unbidden, the memory of the mercenary came into her mind.

“That's my daughter, fair and dutiful.” He reached and touched a tendril of her hair, the smile fading from his lips. “You know that for some time the Alwyn has been escalating discord between our clans, and making assertions that much of what now belongs to the MacClarens was intended for him—”

Her temper sparked, and her spine went rigid. “Aye, based upon some old map we have not had the benefit of seeing for ourselves.”

His eyes darkened. “I fear he will formally petition to have the property reapportioned—”

“No, Father,” she insisted reassuringly, reaching to squeeze his hand. “The map, if it exists, is most certainly falsely put forth. A forgery or some such, to support a nonexistent claim. Secondly, too much time has passed. To ask for a reapportionment now would be a complete folly on his part.”

The laird nodded. “It would be, yes—if he did not have such a powerful ally in Alexander Stewart.”

Her heart grew heavy at hearing the Earl of Buchan's name, because it reminded her that her family and clan would not be allowed to simply live their lives. There would always be unwelcome interference from faraway Stirling or Scone or Edinburgh, in some form or fashion.

“Any alliance with Buchan is a pact with the devil,” he responded bitterly. “His alliances change like the wind blows.” He rubbed his creased forehead, as if soothing a sudden flare of agitation, and burst out with a rush of heated words, “Worse yet, I have learned that Buchan and the Alwyn have formalized an alliance, by way of a betrothal between the earl's ward and the Alwyn's son Hugh.”

Elspeth's stomach clenched at the import of his words.

“That is indeed troubling,” she murmured. Buchan—the youngest of Robert the Second's sons—held great sway over his father who had the power to dissolve clans or force them to renounce claim to their lands as punishment for rebellions or perceived slights.

Her father leaned forward in his seat. “And so, it seems the Alwyn has the devil on his side, and we find ourselves with very few guardian angels. We must do what we can to bolster our defenses, and our alliances, so that we can weather any challenges or attacks that may come upon our clan.”

He nodded, and grinned, albeit a bit sadly. “As for the matter before us, for some time now I have been approached by men offering all sorts of promises in hopes of having you for their own—”

Not just her, but her
tocher
. Her father had promised her a generous dowry that included the old MacClaren properties and stronghold, where her family and their clan had lived before relocating to Inverhaven, after the crown rewarded her father with its extensive lands for his support in the regional tumult that had once divided their corner of the Highlands. Those had been different times.

He sighed. “They are all unworthy of you, at least according to the overly critical eyes of a loving father, but the time has come that I must think more with my mind, which is strong, and not my heart, which has always been weak where you are concerned.” He looked at her a long moment. “However, I want it to be you who chooses from this … narrowed selection of suitors.” He raised his hands, holding them close together. “I want you to be happy.”

His words gave her some measure of solace. She would at least have some say. “May I ask whom you have invited?”

She was almost too afraid to hear the answer.

“Ah … that.” He lifted a finger. “Even I do not know. Your stepmother, the Lord bless her, has put herself in charge of selecting the most promising candidates from those set forth by the council, and I agreed because she is a woman, like you, and would do a much better job at matchmaking than I.”

At hearing this, a prickling sensation of alarm arose on the nape of her neck.
Bridget
?

“Like you, she is very astute in matters of diplomacy.” He nodded, and eased back into his chair, oblivious to her concern. “There are only so many men in these
hielands
worthy of my daughter's hand, who would meet with the approval of the MacClaren council. I'm certain their names and faces will be familiar. Perhaps the Lady MacClaren will tell us when she arrives momentarily.”

A loud burst of laughter came from the direction of the great hall. Shadows flickered on the wall as several of the laird's most trusted hearth warriors approached the door, as they did each night in preparation of escorting him and Bridget to dinner—which meant Bridget would be here any moment.

It was now or never, she realized, feeling anxious now, about speaking the words. “Father, there is also something I must speak to you about.”

“What is it, child?”

Though it felt as if a large stone weighted her soul, she forced the words out. “It gives me no pleasure to tell you of this, but it is my duty as your daughter.”

The laird's brows furrowed in concern and he leaned toward her. “Go on.”

Elspeth swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “This morning, I witnessed something very troubling take place. Between the Lady MacClaren and her man, Duncan—”

The MacClaren nodded sharply, and held up a hand, as his face transformed into a scowl. “Yes. I know.” He nodded. “She, too, came to me with this.”

Elspeth's breath caught in her throat. “She … did?”

“Aye, lass.” He shifted in his chair, as if uncomfortable. “She told me that this cur Duncan”—his lip curled—“had forced unwanted attentions on her this morning, and that she had fought him off.”

That wasn't right. Elspeth had seen them. There had been no struggle. No imposition by Duncan. And yet she clenched her teeth tight and listened.

Her father closed his eyes, visibly seething. “She begged that I not kill him for the slight—as his family has long been respected in her clan, and that I instead remit him to her father for punishment. I … agreed, eventually. What is important is that he is gone, and he's not ever coming back, so you don't have to worry that he shall harm or dishonor your stepmother.”

A shadow fell over them. Elspeth looked up and found Bridget staring at her. “You're discussing all the unpleasantness that occurred with Duncan.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I told your father you had witnessed his shocking transgression against my person, and that you would testify against him if necessary, but the laird did not wish to distress you further, loving father that he is.” She cast a sweet smile in the MacClaren's direction. “Come, my love, our guests will be arriving soon.”

With a hand beneath his elbow, Elspeth helped her father stand and walked with him toward Bridget.

“I assume your father has informed you that your betrothed might very well be a guest here tonight?” she said, her pale hair shining in the candlelight.

“Indeed he has,” Elspeth answered woodenly. “Can you tell me who has come? Whom you have chosen for me?”

Bridget laughed, deep in her throat. “And spoil the surprise?”

“What a wicked woman you are, to tease my daughter so,” the laird chuckled in a lighthearted tone and escorted Bridget toward the door. She wrapped her arm into his, and glanced back over her shoulder at Elspeth, with a gaze that was both dark and punishing.

“It would seem that I am,” she said.

Elspeth followed, dreading the moments to come, but reminding herself that her father had told her she would have a choice. She could rely on his assurances. He had never given her reason not to. Taking heart in this, she followed them to the great hall and entered the room behind them. A cheer went up at the laird's entrance, and the music of the minstrels spiraled into a triumphant and happy tune. Only
she
didn't feel happy. She followed them down the center aisle toward the dais.

Just then, Cat bounded out from the crowd, laughing and carrying a wooden sword, only to come face-to-face with her father and Bridget. Barefoot and dressed in a tunic and short trews, her roughly shorn hair only made her look more unkempt and wild.

Bridget stepped toward the girl. “Oh, you misbehaving child. Come here
now
.”

The child backed away—bumping into a heavy wooden candelabra ablaze with lit candles.

The fixture teetered and
toppled
—but Conall lunged forward and caught it. Even so, several candles fell to the rushes, where others retrieved them, quickly stamping out the flames.

Cat disappeared into the crowd. Bridget turned to Elspeth, and closed her eyes, visibly seething. “Go get her, or I vow,
I will
.”

Behind her, the laird wore a haggard expression, one of regret. Elspeth experienced a flare of annoyance that he did not simply tell Bridget to let the child be. After all, Catrin had simply been playing—like countless other children who were present, and had caused no harm until Bridget confronted her so unkindly. Elspeth brushed past her stepmother, following Cat's path as she wove in and out of their clanspeople. The child made her way toward the immense doors of the great hall, as if intent on escape.

“Cat, come here.” She moved faster, nearly catching up with her. Just then, the crowd parted and Cat halted and stepped back, bumping backward into Elspeth.

Because a man blocked her way, dressed in a floor-length cloak. A dark and imposing shadow in a room of faces, sound, and movement—

A gloved hand came up to push back the hood.

Startled, Elspeth gave a small gasp. She almost didn't recognize him, but it was the stranger. The
béist
.

He looked different now. He had shaved his beard and cut his hair, leaving his face, with its strong cheekbones and angular jaw, bare to her gaze. Cool blue eyes looked into hers.

“How fortunate for me,” he murmured, with a tilt of his head. And yet somehow, in the din of the room, his voice was all she heard. “You're just who I was looking for.”

Elspeth's cheeks flushed. She opened her mouth to reply—

But his gaze dropped to Cat.

“I have something for you, little one.”

Cat peered up at him, uncharacteristically still and silent.

He crouched, and swept back one corner of his cloak—

To reveal Cat's puppy, cradled in his other arm.

 

Chapter 5

The stranger placed Puppy into Cat's open arms who, wide-eyed, seized the animal and gave a happy shriek of joy. The stranger's expression warmed, a smile turning the corner of his mouth. Elspeth all but melted, watching.

She knew she stared at him, and she knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help herself. She felt compelled to examine him, to memorize his every feature—as if he might disappear in the next moment, a vision borne of her dreams.

Candlelight illuminated his skin, carving shadows beneath his cheekbones and reflecting off the silver in his blue eyes. His appearance was ethereal. Noble. Like an ancient
fae
warrior-king, come to mingle with lesser mortals.

He was not merely attractive. No. She had seen attractive men in her father's hall before. They spoke to her in softly teasing tones and looked at her with eyes warm with appreciation. Men from their clan and visitors alike. While she had enjoyed gazing upon their pleasing features and spending time in their company, this man …

This man was something
more
.

She could not even define what, precisely, made him so compelling. She only knew that every fragment of her being had taken notice of his smile. His stature. His bearing. It was as if the world had stopped moving. It was as if her heart for the first time had …
awakened
.

In a quiet, deep voice, he counseled Cat. “You must remember that animals are much better swimmers than we are. Almost always, they will save themselves from peril so please don't put yourself in danger again. Aye, little one?”

She doubted the child heard a bit of what the man said. She was too excited about the animal in her arms, which wiggled and licked her face.

Sounds filtered back into Elspeth's ears, voices and the minstrels' melody. The memory of the words her father had spoken to her of duty and clan alliances. Of her reality. She knew she must go. Her suitors, still unknown to her, waited to be greeted. This man was not one of them.

She exhaled evenly, and counseled herself to be satisfied with having witnessed such a wonderful moment, and to get on with the responsibilities of her life. She must thank him for bringing Cat's puppy, and again for saving their lives. Then she would take him to her father's table, and the laird would welcome him as he saw proper.

“Thank you,” the little girl exclaimed. “Thank you for always and forever, sir.”

The puppy barked and sprang free, scampering away.

“Puppy!” she called after him. “Puppy, you come back here.”

She darted off, leaving Elspeth alone with the mercenary.

He stood, and as he did so his long cloak unfolded to swirl around his boots. Again, his gaze met hers.

“You're staring,” he said, his smile fading.

“I don't mean to—” she answered, heat filling her cheeks. “It's just that you look very different from when I saw you last.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head and touched his ear, indicating the noise around them was too loud. He took one step toward her, all the while his silvery gaze held hers.