Page 47 of The Beast

“Do not hit me. I will do whatever ye want.”

Sobbing sounded.

“No, please, I will do whatever ye want. It hurts so much.”

Beatrice woke with a start to find that she was still in Duncan’s bed. It was still dark, and he was still asleep. At least she thought him to be.

He was curled into a ball, his arms around his head. “Not again. I cannot take more.” He sounded weak, desperate, and helpless. His entire body shook as the dream seemed to take a horrible turn.

When he arched and screamed as if being struck, Beatrice slid from the bed and lowered down to her knees on the opposite side of where he slept.

“Please stop. I beg ye. I am begging. I will do what ye ask.” This time his cries were quiet as he seemed to accept whatever fate his tormentor had asked of him.

Beatrice did not wish to imagine what he’d been forced to do all those years as a captive. What had been done to him, against his will. She covered her mouth with both hands to keep from crying out when he began to sob again.

When morning came, Beatrice was back in her own room. After dressing for the day, she went down the stairs. No one was about, so she went to the kitchen to pour herself something to drink. The aroma of cinnamon reminded her of home and early mornings in the kitchen with her mother.

By the time she drank her tea, Orla informed her that Caelan and Duncan were in the dining room. “They do not look well at all.”

“Too much drink. I remember mornings after my brothers overindulged,” Beatrice said with a grimace. “They would have the worst tempers.”

She refilled her cup and made her way to where the men were. Duncan’s gaze immediately met hers, he seemed to be gauging her mood. She made sure to keep her expression blank.

“How are ye husband? Caelan?” she asked sitting down. “Ye both do not look well.”

Caelan replied, “I must take the blame for insisting Duncan celebrate yer marriage. We ended up drinking more than we should have.”

“Is that true?” Beatrice asked turning to Duncan.

Her husband’s eyes widened just a bit. “Aye, we did celebrate.”

“Am I to assume more than one woman was involved in this …celebration?” She focused on a love bite on Caelan’s neck. He rubbed the spot and immediately inspected Duncan’s.

“Only one and she was with me,” Caelan said.

Duncan’s reddish eyes met hers. “I will never violate my vows to ye.”

“Orla and I are going to the village,” Beatrice informed her husband. “Creagh is taking us.”

The men exchanged glances. “Should a guard accompany ye?” Caelan asked.

“How far is it?” Beatrice asked.

“An hour at most,” Duncan replied. “I believe having Creagh along may be enough.”

The rest of the meal was eaten mostly in silence. Caelan made an effort to ask her what plans she had for the house and staff. For the most part, he seemed in agreement and Beatrice was glad for it. Despite not knowing Duncan’s half-brother well, she felt they could get along.

“I am going to do a bit of work,” Caelan informed them and then looked to Beatrice. “I do the bookkeeping. If ye have any questions or would like to know anything about the finances, please come to my study and I will explain.”

After he walked out of the room, Beatrice gave Duncan a pointed look. “Ye smelled of flowers last night.”

“When did ye smell me?” he asked seeming genuinely perplexed.

“Must I remind ye that we have adjoining rooms? I overheard ye arriving and checked to ensure ye were unharmed. That is when I smelled both the whiskey and the fragrance.”

For a long moment he considered what to say. It was obvious by the changing expressions that he discarded one idea after another.

“I do not remember clearly. However, I am prepared to get on one knee and promise that nothing occurred between a woman and myself.”