Page 2 of Highlander’s Evil Side

I expect you in the next five days or so. Do travel carefully, daughter. Though the Black Stags have disbanded, I fear there are more brigands to fear.

Your loving father,

Laird Stewart of the Gordon Clan.

Beitris’s frown deepened. She stifled the need to tear the letter into pieces, knowing it would do her no good. So, her father took advantage of her absence and promised her to another while she was away. To this Laird Fraser no less, who, according to her father, spent the last ten years living elsewhere. She suspected the Laird MacClery probably knew more of the world than the highland’s ways, giving he preferred traveling than remaining with his clan. He would probably expect her to act like a dignified lady of the French court rather than a woman with her own mind. What were French women like? she wondered, which only made her grimace with worry.

She threw the letter onto the table and grabbed her goblet, downing the contents quickly before waving over a young girl carrying a pitcher of wine.

“More, my lady?” she asked in a high-pitched, shy voice.

Beitris held out her goblet. “Most definitely, my dear.”

As soon as her goblet was filled, she took a very long drink until her mind was no longer plagued with images of her father shaking hands with some laird, selling her to some unknown man without her approval.

Honestly, she shouldn’t be surprised. Her father had nagged her about finding a suitable husband for several years now. This was bound to happen sooner or later. She just wished it wasn’t while she sat with her friends, celebrating their prosperity. Her gaze swiveled towards Peigi and Hendry, who leaned into each other, smiling while watching their people dance and laugh. One moment she wished she was them, and now she knew it could never be. One letter had swept her dreams away.

She was going to be married to a man she never met.

Beitris rose from her chair, stumbling forward as her hem caught on one of the legs. She smiled awkwardly at the ladies and men around her before quickly excusing herself. Her face flushed, and her head swam from the wine numbing her pain and anger. Pushing one door open, she found herself in the kitchen, a place she and Hendry used to spend making mischief by stealing biscuits from the cook. She leaned against the threshold, smiling to herself while recalling those days, feeling as if they weren’t so long ago.

“Are ye alright, my lady?” asked a servant.

“Oh,” Beitris uttered, perking up when she found the woman standing behind her, carrying a large platter of dirtied plates and cups. “Aye, I’m fine.” She quickly strode deeper into the kitchen, moving to the sides so as not to get into anyone’s way. As the door shut, the noise from the hall muted.

Beitris heard giggling and whispers vaguely behind her, but she didn’t stop to eavesdrop. Most likely, the castle gossip was about Hendry rather than herself. On the other side of the kitchen, she knew there was a door leading out to the garden, and she was desperate for some fresh air to calm her blushing skin. Perhaps having that last goblet of wine wasn’t such a good idea, after all, she thought while stepping out into the night sky.

She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling content in the silence with the soft chirping of crickets surrounding her. The wind rustled, chilling her heated face. The fresh floral scent of the budding flowers made her stomach settle and the worry ebb away. Opening her eyes, she continued deeper into the garden with arms stretched wide. Her fingers grazed the soft petals of the primroses and heather.

Did the MacClery Clan have such a beautiful garden?She wondered while stopping in the middle of the path. Were the people kind and joyful, like the Dunbars? Her hands clasped together in a tight hold, and she couldn’t stop the worry twisting her insides once more. She knew no one from the MacClerys. Never had she visited their castle or met their clansmen. She had heard their name once or twice before but didn’t recall much about them. Would she even find it possible to make a new friend or two there?

“Good evening.”

A gasp escaped Beitris’s lips as she whirled around to find a man before her on the path. She stared up at him with wide eyes while pressing a hand to her throat.

“Do not be alarmed,” he said while taking a step towards her. His lips twitched upwards into a smirk as his gaze ravaged her body. “I only came for a bit of air.”

“O-oh,” Beitris breathed. Quickly, she looked around herself, finding no one on the surrounding walls. The man stood between her and the door. She briefly wondered if anyone would come if she shouted.

“It’s alright, lass,” said the man while closing the distance between them, holding his hands outwards as if he was taming a frightened mare.

Beitris took a step back, not knowing if she could trust this man. The moonlight illuminated his blue eyes, glimmering with amusement while his dark scraggly hair stuck to his face. He was handsome, despite the scruff growing along his jaw and the scars marring his forearms. She noticed even deeper scars going up his bicep and hiding underneath his wrinkled leine.

“I won’t let any harm come yer way.”

Beitris jutted her chin out. She didn’t know why, but something was odd about this man. He seemed kind, yet her insides were telling her to run.

“Please, allow me to accompany ye this evening,” he said while holding out his hand between them.

Her gaze flicked from his face to his flattened palm. His fingers wiggled for a moment as if they were beckoning her towards him.

“It’s dark, and a lady like yerself shouldn’t be out on yer own.”

Beitris sighed, finding no ill will in his gaze nor his logic, and placed her hand in his. His warm fingers curled around hers, and with a sharp tug, she stumbled into him, bumping her head against his hard chest. She blinked up, her eyes widening with alarm as he stared down at her. His tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip, and once again, a creeping feeling crawled down her spine, telling her she must leave at once.

“Apologies,” she murmured while straightening herself.

“No apologies needed, my lady,” he said while guiding her deeper into the garden. “Does the lady have a name?”