Page 49 of The Beast

When she took a shaky breath, Orla gave her a worried look. “Ye seem about to cry. What is wrong?”

“I am so very tired. Some days I wish I were back home in North Uist and not be so impetuous to do things.”

The entire ride to her home, Beatrice’s mind was awhirl. Could she possibly speak to Duncan about Farlan’s allegations? She feared his reaction more than anything. Even if what the man had said was true, Duncan could retaliate violently. But not with her, of that, she was sure.

She closed her eyes thinking perhaps it would be best to avoid him altogether. By the time they returned it would be close to last meal and she could claim a headache and go straight to bed.

With a plan in mind, she felt better.

Too soon they arrived at the house. Duncan emerged from the house to meet the carriage; his demeanor warm as he helped her climb out. Insisting on carrying her purchases, he waited for her to go inside and followed.

“Did ye enjoy the village?” he asked as they placed the bundles on a table in the great room.

She met his gaze hoping to sense something from him that she’d not seen before. Instead, she saw warmth and genuine interest.

“Orla and I ordered dresses from the seamstress. She is a lovely woman and was so grateful. We also bought fabric and baskets.” As she spoke, Beatrice pulled out several bundles and showed the items to Duncan. “Before leaving, I introduced myself to every merchant in the square and purchased something from each one as well. I did enjoy that very much.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Beatrice said lifting her foot. “I got new boots.”

He inspected her foot. “The shoemaker does good work.” He lifted a small bag and sniffed it. “What is this?”

“Herbs for teas and some for poultices and such. I purchased a few different ones and some jars to keep them in.”

Duncan snatched her right arm and lifted it. “What happened to yer wrist?”

“Oh… I stumbled and got it caught in…” She couldn’t think fast enough.

“The truth Beatrice.” His gaze locked with hers. “Ye are not a good liar.”

She let out a breath. “Promise me ye will not get angry and do something rash.”

Duncan stared at her wrist. “I cannot promise.”

“Then I will not tell ye.”

For a few moments they locked gazes, until Caelan walked into the room. “Am I interrupting?”

Beatrice turned to Caelan. “Duncan wishes me to tell him what happened to my wrist, but he will not promise to not become angry.”

The men exchanged looks. “Ye should tell him. Duncan is not a violent person, he will go for a walk and put stones upon his wall if angered.”

She wasn’t sure either of them was prepared for what she had to say. “I am not sure if I should divulge what happened to both of ye, or just ye,” Beatrice met Duncan’s gaze. “Perhaps, I can tell Caelan, and he can find the best way to convey the information to ye.”

“Just tell me,” Duncan said. “There are no secrets between me and my brother.”

“Hmmm,” Beatrice thought about what Farlan had said.

“Very well,” Beatrice said. “Let us go to the parlor.”

They walked into the parlor, which seemed so much smaller with both men inside.

“Yesterday, while ye both were at the tavern, Orla and I went for a short walk. We picked the lavender.” She motioned to the flowers in a vase. “A man appeared and congratulated me on our marriage. He claimed to know ye, Duncan. He asked me to convey his good wishes and I invited him to come to the house and see ye.”

When neither spoke, she continued. “I saw him again at the village today. This time he tried to avoid me. I followed him and asked why he’d not responded to my invitation. He took me by the wrist and said I should forget ever seeing him and not to mention it to ye.”

“What else?” Duncan said his voice seeming hollow, his gaze boring into her.

“He said ye and he were once very close.” Beatrice leaned forward and looked at Caelan. “Very close.”