Page 22 of The Beast

Just then Darach returned, and with him, his sister, his mother, Isobel, and finally a red-nosed Beatrice.

His mother gave him a worried smile and came to him. She placed a hand on his arm and leaned into him. When he hugged her, it was apparent she wanted to soothe him. “Ye need to cut yer hair,” she teased when he pushed his shoulder-length hair back.

Darach looked to the women seated. “Duncan cannot marry ye, Miss Beatrice.”

A worried gaze met his for a fleeting moment before Beatrice looked to his brother. “I do not wish to marry anyone.”

“That choice is not an option,” his brother stated. “Ye will marry Caelan instead.”

His usually calm brother choked on the whiskey and began coughing. Ella hit his back until he shook his head. By the time he spoke, his face was red.

“Why me?”

Beatrice gawked at Caelan. “Why do ye act as if it were a punishment worse than death?”

“Because I am not one to be ordered to marry,” Caelan retorted. “Miss Beatrice, no offense, but I do not wish to marry ye.”

“And I have no desire to marry a dandy like ye.”

“Dandy?” Caelan’s eyes rounded. “What makes ye think…”

“Stop,” Darach ordered. “There is no other solution. Duncan cannot marry and if the Macdonald’s hear of this, they will demand marriage. If Beatrice is already married, then it will soothe things.”

“What about Stuart or Gideon? Both are more than able to fulfill this . . . this . . . situation,” Caelan pointed out.

“What about what I want?” Beatrice stood and stomped her foot. Fury blazed from her eyes as she looked at every person in the room, including him.

“I do not care what any of ye think. I will return home immediately and handle the situation myself.”

She whirled to face him, her blue eyes blazing. “How dare ye not wish to marry me. I thought ye a man of honor. I understand not wishing to be forced; however, ye could have at least stood up for me. Convinced them nothing happened. Tell them ye and I are not suitable. But do not sir, just state: ye cannot marry me.”

She spun and stormed from the room.

“I like her,” Darach said looking at him. “A misfortune ye cannot marry her.”

Duncan walked into the parlor and found Beatrice staring blankly at the view of the sea below them. By her furrowed brow and the tightness of her lips, he knew she remained furious. It was not the time perhaps to point out that everything could have been avoided if she’d remained there and waited for him to come.

It was stupid to try to reason with a woman, Duncan considered. He’d never argued with his mother or sister, or any woman for that matter. Most of the time if one grew angry with him, he would walk away or remain quiet until they gave up.

When Beatrice turned to him, her eyes widened. It as if she’d expected to find someone else. Perhaps her sister.

“What is it?” she asked in a tight voice. “If ye do not have a solution, I suggest ye leave me be as I struggle to come up with one.”

“I do not wish to insult ye by refusing to marry ye. It has nothing to do with…”

When she made a slashing motion with her hand, he stopped talking. The beauty neared and circled him.

“Are ye married already?”

He shook his head.

Beatrice came back to stand in front of him, her gaze lowering down the length of his body. “Not fully able to fulfill yer obligations as a husband?”

Duncan cleared his throat. “That is not the reason.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What is so horrible about ye then?”

The fact she used the word horrible was apt. What he harbored inside was indeed horrible. He took a breath. “Darach and Isobel will speak to ye about it. It is best that I do not.”