Page 57 of Highlander’s Evil Side

Chapter Twenty-Four

Beitris

Two days had passed since Beitris went with Hamish. Two days since she and Fraser announced to their clan that their wedding day was set to be celebrated in seven days' time. Despite their announcement, the days had been uneventful. The double did not make himself known, and the Black Stags had remained invisible.

The days had passed by quickly despite how uneventful they were. Beitris had spent the last two days preparing for the wedding day. Five days seemed too little to plan a wedding, and Beitris worried it would not be enough time to gather information on the Black Stags' whereabouts or the double.

Hamish had returned the other day, informing her with a bright smile that the lad lived to see another day. Beitris had broken down, tears streaming down her cheeks. She hadn’t realized how much it meant to her to know the child lived until that point. Once the MacClery Clan lands were safe again, she wanted to visit with the woman and her son.

Beitris stood in the middle of her chamber, holding out her arms while the tailor took her measurements on a long, thin paper. He worked diligently and quietly, muttering to himself something she didn’t comprehend.

“Would ye like the primroses or the bluebells to decorate the hall with, my lady?” asked a servant standing to her left, smiling brightly at her while holding out a sample of the flowers.

“Don’t forget about the heather,” said another servant, rushing forward and displaying the small pink flower.

Beitris pursed her lips as she glanced at the three types of flowers, her brows furrowing in confusion. Her arms ached from holding them up for too long, and she felt frustrated by the constant questions she received every day about the wedding.

“I suppose the primroses will do,” said Beitris.

As the two servants left, she instantly regretted her choice, thinking the bluebells would look prettier, but they were already gone, and she didn’t want to speak on the subject of flowers again until the tailor had left. Their forms were quickly replaced by two more servants, and Helga following shortly behind them.

The servants beamed up at her while holding out different colored cloth in their hands. “Should the tables be decorated with the green?” asked one.

“Or blue?” asked the other.

Beitris frowned as she glanced between the two. “Green,” she said sternly, hoping no more servants asked her any more questions on how to decorate the great hall.

“Will the dress be done in time?” Helga asked while gripping her hands in front of her.

Beitris frowned at the elder lady. She looked thinner than before. Briefly, she wondered if the woman had been eating, but her attentions were taken when the tailor answered, “I should have it ready the day before. Ye can lower yer arms, my lady.”

Beitris held back her sigh of relief. She rubbed her arms, massaging the ache from them while she moved towards the window. Her gaze slipped to the soldiers training in the courtyard, smiling when she spotted Fraser speaking with Scott. There was a deep frown marring his brow, and she only assumed they were making plans on how to capture the fraud.

“Perfect,” came Helga’s stern voice. “Please, see that ye do.”

The tailor gathered his things and quickly left, leaving Beitris alone with the elder MacClery. Beitris fidgeted under Helga’s haunting gaze. Dark circles stained her eyes, making her appeal nearly ghoulish. She stepped slowly towards Beitris as if movement hurt. She smiled at Beitris, the small expression looking as if it pained her while she stared at her daughter-in-law with bloodshot eyes.

“I wanted to speak with ye,” Helga said, her voice shaking. “I know these things should be explained by yer mother.” Her smile dissipated, and she grimaced. “I know that is not possible for ye. I hope what I can offer is helpful.”

Beitris shook her head and stepped towards Helga, wanting to wrap her arms around the feeble woman and help her whatever way she could. “I do not understand, my lady. What is it ye wish to speak with me about?”

Helga wrinkled her nose. She grimaced while heaving a deep sigh. Her gaze lifted to hers, and she said in a commanding tone, “The wedding night.”

Beitris’s face flushed, and she faltered.

“I wish to inform ye what is expected of a woman.”

Beitris winced, not knowing if now was the time to explain to her mother-in-law that her wedding night was already two days gone. However, she could see how important this was to Helga, and so she nodded her head, moving to the table. Both sat in the chairs at the table, opposite each other. Beitris stared back at Helga, waiting for her to begin, yet the elder woman remained silent.

The clanging of swords crashing against each other wafted into the room, followed by the songs of birds tweeting and fluttering past. Time had slowed as Beitris stared at Helga, waiting for her to begin. She fidgeted in her seat, not knowing if she should request answers; however, she knew not what to ask, given she already did the deed.

“Marriage is a very important time in a lady’s life,” began Helga, a wince marring her face. She spoke her words slowly, choosing them carefully. “And the wedding night sets the precedent of what the marriage will be. Yer body is an offering to yer husband. Treat him well, and he may return the favor.”

Beitris frowned. Her hands squeezed each other in her lap as she stared at Helga, not knowing if she heard the woman correctly. “Treat him well?” Beitris asked. As soon as the words were spoken her face heated, reminded of not so long ago the way she had touched Fraser and the moans emitted from his mouth.

Helga nodded. “Yer body is for yer husband, and should he ask for it, ye must comply.”

Beitris clenched her jaw, her face growing cold at the implication behind Helga’s words. “And should I refuse?”