Page 22 of Highlander’s Evil Side

Chapter Ten

Beitris

Beitris groaned, turning in her bed as something thudded in the distance. Her eyes blinked open, her vision blurry with sleep as the pounding continued, growing slightly louder. Slowly, she rose, hissing when her feet touched the chilled brick floor. She shoved her feet into a pair of slippers lying near her bed and reached for her shawl, wrapping it lightly around her shoulders before stepping towards the door. Light glimmered in the room, making her wince. She wondered if she slept past breakfast. It wouldn’t be so surprising given the state of things. Sleeping in a dark castle without knowing a single person, feeling as if things were slipping through her fingers, Beitris felt like she could sleep for centuries.

She cracked the door, peeking through and seeing a maid with an elderly man standing behind her. The maid dipped into a quick curtsy, her cheeks flushed and her hair tied messily into a low plait hanging over one shoulder.

“Apologies, my lady,” the maid whispered, keeping her gaze to the floor. “The carpenter has arrived quite early.”

“Oh,” Beitris breathed, pushing the door further open. She clutched her shawl, heat rising in the back of her neck as she realized she wasn’t properly groomed for guests. “I didn’t know—” Beitris paused, taking a moment to turn around and stare at the maze of trunks filling her chamber. She would need time to dress, but she felt rude asking the carpenter to wait. Beitris didn’t think he would come so quickly.

Did Fraser send for the carpenter as soon as he left her?

Beitris’s heart fluttered. Why did he care? Or was this his way of showing his desire for their arrangement to succeed? She swallowed the lump in her throat, yet breathing was difficult. Her heart was swelling with joy and surprise, and she didn’t know what to say or do first.

“I will give ye a moment to change,” came the carpenter’s deep voice.

“Please,” Beitris breathed, turning her attention back to the carpenter and the maid. “Could ye escort Mr.—”

“Clark,” the carpenter finished for Beitris. “Owen Clark, my lady.”

Beitris smiled and nodded. “Could ye please escort Mr. Clark to the great hall, where he can break his fast? I will be down shortly, once I have changed into proper attire.”

“Of course, my lady,” the maid whispered before quickly turning on her heel and guiding Mr. Clark through the dark halls.

Beitris closed the door, leaning against the wood and pressing her head to the threshold. Her skin felt hot, her heart swelling with immense joy. She truly didn’t think Fraser would send for a carpenter. Of course, she hoped for it. She wanted a good home for her books, a place for them in this dark, unknown fortress. The past couple of nights, she missed seeing her shelves, the ones her father had made for her when she was a little girl.

At least now she had something.

She had hope.

Perhaps, she could be friendly with Laird Fraser MacClery. It was kind of him to think of her, to offer this wonderful gift to her. She smiled as she thought of him the previous day, standing before her, yet keeping his distance. These last couple of days, he had tried everything within his power to make her comfortable.

However, his face still reminded her of the man from the garden. Her smile fell, and her stomach twisted as fear prickled her skin. Her gaze drifted to the floor, and her hand tightened around her shawl as she tried to fight those feelings.

Fraser had been kind to her, but what if he hurt her? she wondered. Beitris grimaced. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. He was not that man from the garden. She knew it. They had discussed it thoroughly. He was completely different, yet she couldn’t stop feeling the way she did. She couldn’t stop protecting herself from feeling that pain. She would never permit another man to touch her like that, to take from her. Fraser was not that man,she reminded herself. He called for a carpenter. He placed guards at her door. It wasn’t even possible for him to be at the Dunbars given he was still traveling. She should feel grateful for all he had done for her.

However, she never wanted to feel vulnerable nor weak ever again.

Beitris pushed away from the door, moving as fast as she possibly could so as not to keep Mr. Clark waiting too long. She nearly stumbled over a trunk filled with books on her way towards her garments. Throwing open the lid, she frowned at the dresses greeting her. She grabbed one, brown and simple, and wrinkled her nose in distaste at the bent and twisted fabric staring back at her. This wouldn’t do, she thought while shoving the dress to the side and grabbing a dark green one. It was just as wrinkled as the brown dress, yet its dark color masked the bends and twists better than the other.

It would have to do, she surmised after a long moment of staring and wondering.

After donning her garments and splashing water on her face, she strode from her rooms and walked through the corridors. Her movements were slow as she focused on tying her hair into a simple plait. She stopped before the staircase, finishing with her hair before stepping downwards and towards the great hall. Silence greeted her. Only the slight flickering of the candelabras met her ears. There were hardly any windows as she stepped down the staircase. Her hand pressed against the stone, using it to guide her slowly towards the ground floor.

Light beamed through the open doors of the keep once she stepped onto the landing. A soldier strode into the hall, followed by a squire. If Beitris had to guess, she supposed the sun only rose an hour at most before, meaning the castle was only beginning to awaken. She held her head high, nervousness piercing through her and making her hands grip at one another. It had only been a day since her father left, and without him here to guide her, she felt lost—unsure of herself.

Beitris inhaled deeply, trying to calm her breath. She edged towards the hall, forcing a smile as she entered inside. The large room was beaming with light while a handful of soldiers sat at the long tables, bent over their plates filled with bread and cheese. They talked softly amongst each other.

Beitris’s gaze was captured by Fraser sitting at the front. He hadn’t noticed her. His attentions were fastened to the table, his head bent low as he listened to the golden-haired guard speaking lowly at his side. Beitris remembered the soldier from the night of the feast yet did not recall his name.

“My lady,” she heard someone speak at her side and quickly turned. Her smile turned genuine when she found Mr. Clark hovering near her. “May I tend to yer room now?”

“Aye, of course, Mr. Clark.” Out of the corner of her eye, Beitris saw Fraser’s head perk up, and once again, her stomach fluttered with something new and strange, something she had never felt for anyone before. “Thank ye, so much.”

Mr. Clark shook his head. “Ye should be thanking the laird, my lady.”

Beitris opened her mouth, yet she promptly closed it, not knowing what to say but knowing the carpenter was right.