The Beast of Clan Kincaid (6 page)

“That is true,” Elspeth answered softly. She raised her arms and Ina slipped the gown over her head.

Ina straightened the seams at her shoulders. “You seem very quiet tonight.”

“It is nothing.” Elspeth looked into her eyes. “Just that life is changing, and will change even more very soon.”

The maid touched Elspeth's cheek, affectionately. “I have never heard you complain about your future.”

“And I do not complain now.” Elspeth shrugged. “It is my duty by birth to marry for my clan. I have been raised to it, and I understand the reasons why.”

Ina's hands deftly tightened the laces at the front of the gown. “Are you … afraid?”

“Perhaps just a little. Only because I do not know what to expect.”

“Perhaps you will already be acquainted with the man you wed,” the maid said reassuringly.

“Perhaps he will be a stranger.”

“Maybe he will be young and handsome.” Ina grinned hopefully.

“Or old and
smelly
,” Elspeth countered facetiously.

The older woman's features softened. “I hope he will be kind.

“What if he is … indifferent?” Elspeth raised her hands. “What if he has a
mistress
?”

Ina gasped. “What if he has
three eyes
?”

They both laughed.

“I think it is normal to feel the way you are feeling.” Ina moved to the back, and finished the laces there.

“I
do
look forward to having a husband, and children. A family of my own.” Elspeth nodded. A family, yes. She did want that. “I will do everything in my power to be happy and content.”

“Unlike Bridget,” Ina murmured.

Ah … yes, Bridget. Elspeth's stomach twisted in anxiety. Tonight, she had no other choice but to seek out her father and tell him privately about what she had seen take place between Lady MacClaren and Duncan. It gave her no pleasure, but what choice did she have? She couldn't just remain silent.

There'd been no opportunity to speak to the MacClaren alone this morning after they'd returned from the river. He'd been so relieved she and Cat were safe, and had listened carefully about how they had been saved by the mercenary, but all too quickly he had grown weary and had retired to his chambers. She hoped to find him alone for a few moments before the evening meal began, if he was well enough to attend.

“There,” said Ina, stepping back to admire her. “You look lovely, which is only fitting given the occasion.”

“What occasion is that?”

“Everyone belowstairs is talking about the man who saved you. He will be here tonight, will he not? You must take extra care to make him feel welcome.”

Just remembering the way he had looked this morning—intense, drenched, and powerful, with the river rushing behind him—made her pulse pound with excitement. Such anticipation, when in truth, they probably wouldn't even be allowed to speak more than a few polite words. Conall had already warned her off speaking to him.

She sighed crossly. “I do believe it will be Father and Conall who entertain him. And Bridget.”

“But certainly you will at least greet him, in a hospitable way.”

Yes. She would at least be allowed that, before being sent to sit at the far end of the table, like a little child with her younger sisters.

She was glad Ina had chosen the green gown. No matter how fleeting her interaction with the mercenary, she wanted to look her best. Suddenly, it seemed very important that when she saw the man again tonight that she look very different than the wet and shivering, blue-lipped girl he had pulled from the river. She wanted to meet him as herself this time.

She wanted to meet him as a woman.

Ina retrieved a comb. “Now sit and I will fix your hair—”

“Oh, please! Let me!” declared another voice. It was Mairi, Elspeth's twelve-year-old half-sister.

As the eldest, Elspeth had been given her own private chamber just off the bower, the larger room where her younger half-sisters passed much of their time and slept each night. Mairi often joined her before the evening meal to help her dress or to fix her hair.

“Yes, come, Mairi,” answered Elspeth. Looking at her maid, she raised her eyebrows teasingly. “
Clach
. We don't need you here. Now, go.”

“If you insist.” Ina handed the comb to the girl, a happy flush rising to her cheeks.

The thought of spending time with her husband clearly gave her pleasure, which made Elspeth glad for her, but wistful for the same experience.

When Ina had gone, Mairi smiled and gasped. “That is my favorite gown of yours!” She urged Elspeth to sit on a stool. “It's
perfect
against your skin and with your dark hair. It also makes your bosoms look
divine
. I hope I have bosoms like yours one day.”

“
Mairi
.” Elspeth laughed, though she was not at all shocked.

A thin rail of a child on the precipice of maturity, Mairi was fascinated by all things womanly and wasn't shy about voicing her thoughts and curiosities.

She skimmed her hands over Elspeth's unbound hair. “I think a circlet of braids, perhaps intertwined with some of that gold cording, and the rest left falling down your back? Do you agree?”

“Whatever you choose,” answered Elspeth, with an encouraging wave of her hand.

Another girl entered just then, her hair as fair as Mairi's, dressed in a linen undertunic and woolen stockings, seventeen-year-old Derryth. “Elspeth, I need to borrow your red shoes. I can only find one of mine. I do believe Cat's puppy ate it.”

Elspeth turned to her and said in a quiet voice, “Don't talk about Puppy so loudly, where Cat can hear. She is still very sad and you complaining about him will only upset her more.”

Derryth breezed past her, her pale hair rippling behind her. “She's not here, so she can't hear what I say, now can she?”

“What do you mean, she's not here?” asked Elspeth.

“She's gone—belowstairs, I'm sure. I don't know.” She bent over Elspeth's trunk, and rummaged until she straightened again, holding two red leather shoes in her hands. “I can't watch her all the time.”

Elspeth said, “You know she isn't supposed to just go wandering about without someone to watch her. She gets into trouble.”

“You mean she gets into trouble with
Bridget
.” Mairi made a face.

It had been a very difficult afternoon. At some point when no one was watching, Cat had cut all of her hair off so she now looked even more like a boy, which had infuriated Bridget.

“Yes, she gets in trouble with Bridget,” Elspeth conceded. “Mairi, hurry, I need to find her. Just forget the gold cording, if you will.”

“I wouldn't, if I were you,” said Derryth in an I-know-something-you-don't-know tone. “You should look your very best tonight.”

“Why do you say that?” Elspeth asked.

Derryth's face lit up, as it always did when she had all the attention in the room. “Because the maid who brought the linen a moment ago told me the kitchen had received instructions from Bridget that tonight's meal cannot be just a meal, but instead must be a feast. There are going to be special visitors.”

“The man who saved you and Cat today,” exclaimed Mairi.

“Not only the barbarian,” Derryth coyly replied.

Elspeth frowned. “He's not a barbarian.”

“That's not what I heard,” she teased, leaning forward, before backing toward the door.

“Who told you otherwise?” Elspeth demanded.

“All the maids are talking about him. He was seen in the village this afternoon. They said he's terrifying, with tattoos and Devil-black hair all in braids that fall down his back. Yet for one so terrifying, they all seem very flustered and excited that he will be a guest here.” Derryth shrugged—then
winked
. “But he is only a soldier. What I must tell you is that the maids also said Father has invited a number of potential suitors to pass the night.”

“Suitors?” A trickle of alarm went down Elspeth's spine. In a blink, it felt as if the four walls of her room closed in. Why hadn't she been told?

Mairi excitedly squeezed her shoulder. “Perhaps your future husband is arriving even now.” Yet it seemed as if her voice came from the end of a dark tunnel.

“And one never knows—perhaps even mine,” declared Derryth excitedly, before disappearing again into the bower.

Elspeth shook off the feeling of unease. Of dread.

Suitors. She would have liked to have been informed. But she would accept her future bravely, and not hide in her room like a frightened child. She waited impatiently for Mairi to finish braiding and coiling her hair, with the gold cord and the threaded pearls that had once belonged to Elspeth's mother, and when she was done together they went belowstairs.

Voices sounded, loud and boisterous. The lively sound of a lute and a harp carried throughout. The great hall of the castle was indeed more crowded than on most nights, and yet she did not enter or look too closely at the faces there to see who might have been invited by her father to offer for her hand. She would know the answer to that question soon enough.

She bent toward her sister. “See if you can find Cat, and take her to the table. I need to speak to Father alone for a moment.”

“About your suitors?” Mairi's brow creased. “Oh, Elspeth, it's exciting to think of you marrying, but I don't want you to leave me. Not ever.” The young girl took both of her hands and squeezed them tight.

“It's all very unsettling, isn't it?” said Elspeth, squeezing back. “For me as well. But I'm going to speak to him about something else.”

“About what?” the girl asked, tilting her head upward.

“About
something
.” Elspeth widened her eyes at the girl, and grinned, playfully letting Mairi know the subject was none of her concern.

“Oh, very well!” Mairi rolled her eyes, and ventured off into the throng. “I'll see to Cat.”

Elspeth turned her attention to finding her father. Usually the MacClaren remained in a private room near the great hall, speaking to his counselors until almost time for the evening meal, at which time he would make his entrance with Bridget, and greet his men and his guests before joining the rest of his family at the head table.

She prayed he was alone now. Turning the corner, she found that he was. For a moment she stood on the threshold, still and silent, looking at him sitting in his chair, his gaze fixed on the fire instead of the scroll of parchment in his lap. So far away, and withdrawn to a place in his mind, as he had seemed so often of late.

Kermac MacClaren had once been young and strong and full of vigor. Elspeth remembered those times, though distantly, and often heard their history repeated in the songs sung by their old bard, Murdoch. Perhaps it was her own sentimental memories of the past, but after her mother's death his spirit seemed to have dimmed, and never fully revived as strong as before.

Affectionate and loving in one moment—and sharp and distant in the next—he wasn't always the easiest man to love, but she loved him anyway and worried over his happiness and what the MacClarens would do when inevitably he was gone, as there were no clear successors to his chieftaincy. No son or brother or nephew, and Conall, the warrior he had relied on for so long as war captain and council member, was just as old as he.

With his recent bouts of illness, the MacClaren clan council had out of caution pressed Kermac to name a successor, and yet he had stonily resisted, finding fault with every candidate set before him. She knew all this because she attended every meeting of the council. She also knew that his refusal had sent a ripple of unease through his people—and if Elspeth's intuition was right, discontent in the more ambitious men of the clan. Despite the smiles that continued to welcome her each day, and the outward displays of fealty everyone displayed toward her father and his family, she sensed that doubt, worry, and jealousy hovered like black shadows in every corner of the castle.

“Father,” she said, entering the long and narrow room. Two large sconces burned at either end, in addition to a well-tended fire. Above them, a vaulted ceiling cleaved upward, supported by sturdy timber beams. Of all the rooms in the castle, it was her favorite, because she found it the most impressive for the history and beauty it displayed. At the same time, the room offered privacy and comfort, and reminded her of their old home—a smaller and simpler place where life had been so happy—at least in the memories of a little girl. Sadly, her mother had died not long after coming here, to this much finer castle and the wide, sweeping lands that had been awarded to her father by the same king he now despised.

“Daughter.” With a huff of air from his lips, and visible effort, the MacClaren stood from his chair and reached for her, smiling out from a closely trimmed beard, his once brown hair now mostly taken over by gray. Tonight he wore a rich robe of dark blue, trimmed with fur, and a gold chain at his neck. Despite his age, he was still imposing and yes—handsome.

“You are feeling better?” she inquired.

“Yes, much,” he answered heartily, though she could not help but take note of the dark shadows that underscored his eyes and that the hollows of his cheeks appeared to have deepened, nor could his smile mask the tension that surrounded him like a dark storm cloud.

Embracing her, he pressed a kiss on her forehead. “I'm glad you have come. There is something I have put off speaking to you about that can wait no longer.” He gestured that she should take the armchair beside his, which she did, and they sat side by side.

“Might it have something to do with finding a husband for me?” she asked, her voice more strained than she would like.

His smile slanted sideways. “Aye, lass, so you have heard?”