Page 14 of The Beast

He handed her the plaid and walked out into the rain before Beatrice could stop him. He could have just gone to the opposite side of the room and turned his back, now the man would return soaked.

It was best to hurry, so she removed her wet dress and shift and wrapped the plaid around her waist, and expertly pulled the front and back up to tie at the shoulders making a dress that covered her well. The fabric fell from the knots to cover her arms and the bottom of it fell to her ankles.

Makeshift dress completed, she rushed to the door. “Duncan, please come inside.” Her voice got lost with the storm. But just a moment later, he appeared from the back of the house drenched.

“I pulled the horses into a back room. They will be dry there.” He took in her appearance with a look of approval that made her insides giddy. “This is not the first time ye have had to wear a plaid to cover up.”

Beatrice huffed at the implication. “My mother taught us how after trips to the seaside. Often our clothing ended up wet or dirty. It is a necessary trick for women of the isles.”

With a nod, he brushed past to near the fire. Beatrice did her best to ignore how the wet tunic clung to his muscular back and arms.

After draping her gown and other clothes to dry, Beatrice settled on the floor on a makeshift pallet that had already been in the room that Duncan draped his bag from the saddle atop. He sat on a stool and stared into the fire in silence.

Beatrice wasn’t sure what she could say about the situation. It was all her fault of course and now if someone found out they were alone, in a building with her undressed, the consequences could be high. She studied the quiet man for a moment, unsure how to begin the uncomfortable conversation.

Seeming to sense her regard he looked to her. “Ye want to say something, but struggle? Somehow I find it hard to believe.”

He joked. At a time like this. It could be he had not realized the predicament she’d put them in. Yes, that had to be it. If she brought it up, then how would he react?

“It is just that… well, I have put ye into yet another situation.” Beatrice let out a breath. “Please forgive me.”

He frowned. “The storm will pass, and we will be on our way. It is still early in the day. I am sure it will stop raining before dark.”

Did he think her scared of the storm? “Ye are aware that if it does not, and it is found out we spent time here alone, the consequences could be dire?”

“No one will ever dictate to me what I must do,” he replied with nonchalance. “Ye should stop worrying yerself and rest.”

Beatrice huffed. “I do not need to rest. I am perfectly rested, I assure ye. I will have to insist that ye take our situation with more seriousness.”

A soft sound stirred Beatrice and she woke with a start. She’d fallen asleep curled up on the pallet. With a gasp, she sat up. Outside the rain continued and it was quite worrisome. However, what was worse was that it was dark outside.

Night had come and they were still in the abandoned house.

Alone. Together.

“Duncan?” She blinked at the fire first and then around the room. He was not there. Beatrice gasped again. Had he waited for her to fall asleep and then left? She jumped to her feet and ran to the door. When she opened it, the cold rain made her step backward and she closed the door.

Where had the man gone? Surely he’d not left her alone to be found by bad men, who could bring her harm.

She crossed her arms as anger surged. “He will pay for this.” Hurrying to where her dress hung, she felt it and was relieved to find it fully dry. Her shift was dry as well. Beatrice untied the plaid and let it fall to the floor, then standing before the fire fully bare, she grabbed the shift from the branch, turned toward the fire, and gasped.

Duncan sat on the stool, back to the wall, his gaze moving over her body.

“Ahhh!” Beatrice held the flimsy shift in front of herself and screamed. “Why did ye not make noise to tell me ye were there?”

“I thought ye saw me,” he replied and once again gave her the once-over. “Why are ye angry?”

Beatrice sputtered, “I-I, ye… ye’re here and I am undressed.”

A frown was followed by a shrug. It occurred to Beatrice that he did not seem at all surprised nor discomfited by her nudity. If anything, she would have expected him to attempt something, to make advances. Instead, he remained sitting and looked at her as if were an everyday occurrence.

“Turn yer head,” she finally spat. “I cannot believe this.”

He turned and she quickly pulled her shift over her head allowing the folds to fall past her hips and down to her knees. When she looked over to him, Duncan had his head turned away, but his eyes where still on her.

“Ye are looking.” She stomped to where he was and hit him on the shoulder as hard as she could. “How dare ye.”

To her further annoyance, he grunted and gave her a bland look. “How could I not?”