Highlander’s Evil Side by Shona Thompson

Chapter Thirty

Beitris

Beitris reread the letter in her grasp. Hendry’s name stared back at her. He was coming. He would aid them. She sighed in relief. The thundering of hooves called her attention away from the letter, and she looked out the window, a smile taking hold of her as she saw Fraser’s men in the distance. He was safe. He had returned to her.

She ran out of her room, shoving the letter into her pocket while nearly skipping down the steps towards the courtyard. Beitris couldn’t hide the joy blooming within her as she passed the servants. Rain drizzled down onto her as she entered the courtyard, but she did not care. Fraser had returned, and she would welcome him home with open arms.

As the horses filed inside, her smile slipped when she noticed Gavin and Kenneth were nowhere to be found. She searched the crowd of guards, finding Fraser riding next to her father. Her hand flew to her throat, and a sob surfaced, taking hold of her as tears sprung to her eyes.

“Father!” she called while picking up her skirts and running towards him. “Father!”

“Beitris!” Laird Gordon shouted while dismounting, smiling widely.

Beitris lunged for her father, throwing her arms tightly around his waist while burying her face into his chest. “I’m so happy yer alive,” she whispered. “I was so scared.”

“I’m fine, my dear lass,” said Laird Gordon while stroking the top of her head. “Naething more than a wee scratch.”

Beitris lifted her gaze, frowning up at the small cut on his cheek and the dark bruise surrounding his eye. His leine was stained with dirt, and his boots were soaked and covered with mud, but other than the little scrape, nothing appeared out of sorts.

“If it weren’t for yer husband to be, I don’t know if I’d have ever escaped.” Her father nodded behind him, and Beitris followed his gaze, finding Fraser standing a foot away. He smiled at her, his blue gaze filled with something she couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the love and adoration she was often used to. His hair was dirtier than before, his face pallid, but she pushed those thoughts away. He was home.

“We were attacked,” said Fraser, his voice gruffer. “There were many. Unfortunately, we lost a few men.”

Beitris’s breath hitched, and she looked around once more for Gavin and Kenneth. They couldn’t be gone, she thought. They were strong, valiant, and skilled swordsmen, often found sparring with Fraser. She closed her eyes, willing away the sorrow tempting to take hold of her. There were no bodies, she realized when she opened her eyes. None they could bury. The thought made her frown. Fraser would never leave a fallen soldier behind.

However, Fraser needed to do whatever it took to get her father, which probably involved going to dirty places and fighting brigands. Maybe they were forced to leave the fallen comrades due to nearly being killed themselves. Beitris did not know. The only time she had fought brigands was her time at the falls.

She watched Fraser hand his horse to the stable master. He didn't seem like a man grieving over fallen friends. Perhaps, Gavin and Kenneth were merely scouting the wood in search of more brigands, or they were aiding the encampment of villagers. She noted the difference in gait as Fraser strode towards her and the way his clothes seemed to slightly hang off his form. He was alive, Beitris told herself. He had returned to her.

“Fraser,” she breathed while running towards him and throwing her arms around him. “I’m so glad yer back. I was so worried.”

Fraser’s hands wrapped around her, pulling her towards him. His embrace was unusually tight, like a starved man being given a loaf of bread. “Ye had nae need to worry,” he said haughtily. “Of course, I’d return to ye." Her eyes widened as his hands slipped below her waist, grazing her bottom. He chuckled as she wiggled in his grasp, trying to push him away given they were in public. “Ye should have more faith in me, Beitris.”

Beitris quickly pushed him away at the feel of his palm on her bottom. She stared up at him, wide-eyed and horrified Fraser would act this way in front of her father. Glancing over her shoulder, she found Laird Gordon, thankfully looking away, his gaze on the keep and Helga standing outside of it. Her gaze fixated on Helga, with her mouth slightly ajar and her eyes glimmering in the dim sunlight.

“Are ye alright, lass?” she heard Fraser, his voice slightly gruffer than she was used to.

“A-aye,” Beitris said, quickly shaking her head, ridding herself of the ache pulling at her. “I’m fine.” She turned to him and patted his shoulder. “I’m so happy yer home.”

“My laird,” came Scott’s voice. He stalked through the courtyard, dodging guards moving towards the barracks. “Where are Kenneth and Gavin?” His gaze searched the courtyard frantically.

Fraser bristled, his gaze looking worried and shocked for a moment before shaking his head. “They gave their lives saving Laird Gordon.”

Beitris gasped, covering her mouth with a hand as she imagined Gavin and Kenneth’s bodies lying on the dirt path. She had hardly known them, but she knew they had been close to Fraser. They had also been very kind to her. She clutched Fraser’s arm, yet he remained still, as if in shock, as if their deaths hadn’t yet reached him.

Scott blinked, his shoulders slumping. His bottom lip quivered, and he clenched his jaw, breathing deeply before asking in a strangled voice, “They’re…they’re gone?” He looked around. “And their bodies?”

Fraser winced. “We did not have time to retrieve them.”

Scott stepped back, looking as if Fraser’s words had stabbed through him. “And so ye left them?” Scott shouted, his tone angry and his gaze filled with alarm and grief. “To have their bodies picked at by the crows?”

Fraser sighed. “We needed to get Laird Gordon home before we were attacked again.”

Scott opened his mouth, but Helga stepped between them before he could say anything. She pressed a hand against Fraser’s cheeks, tears dripping from her eyes as she smiled up at her son. “Yer-yer here.” She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a fierce hug. “At long last, yer here.”

Beitris glanced at Scott, who shared her worried look. She knew there was a chance Fraser would return. She knew this journey was deadly, and she could have lost both her father and intended. However, he had not been gone all that long—nearly two days. Helga acted as if Fraser had been gone years.

“Ye should have a bath and a healer look at ye,” Helga said while pulling away from Fraser. Beitris’s frown deepened as she watched the elder woman wipe her eyes with a shaking hand. She wobbled as she turned towards the keep, nearly falling to her knees in the courtyard. Laird Gordon quickly grasped her hand, his gaze filled with worry as he helped Helga become stable.

Helga gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, and Beitris wondered if the woman would break down into tears. She looked to be holding herself back. Helga’s eyes clamped closed, and she inhaled deeply, her shoulders shaking with the effort.

“Are ye alright, my lady?” Laird Gordon asked, craning his head towards her.

Something was wrong, Beitris realized as she watched Helga open her eyes and turn to Beitris’s father. Was Fraser’s mother so fearful he wouldn’t return? She acted as if she was in shock.

Helga nodded. “I’m fine. I will have a bath prepared for ye in yer rooms, Laird Gordon,” she said while stepping away from Beitris’s father and towards the keep. “Ye must be exhausted from yer adventure. If ye follow me, I will find a servant to tend to ye.”

“Thank ye once more, Laird MacClery,” said Laird Gordon to Fraser before following Helga into the keep.

Beitris moved to follow her father and Helga, but a sharp tug on her wrist propelled her backward and into Fraser’s arms. She held back a cry as Fraser’s arms wrapped tightly around her, his hand cupping her bottom. Beitris stilled in his arms, staring up at him with worry and shock.

“Fraser,” she whispered harshly, looking around and finding Scott standing and mirroring her horrified look. “This is not the place nor the time.”

A mischievous gleam glinted in Fraser’s gaze, and his lips tipped upward into a dark smirk she had never seen before. “Of course, my lady,” he spat while releasing her. He stroked a stray hair behind her ear while leaning in close, breathing, “I will join ye in yer chambers after I have washed.”

Beitris frowned as a spider-like crawl shivered down her back. Instinctually, she stepped away from him. His breaths smelled of rot and ale, sending her back to that time in the garden. Her hands fisted at her sides as she watched Fraser stalk towards the keep, looking around the courtyard in an appreciating manner she had never seen him convey before.

She heard movement at her side and turned, finding Scott hovering near her. “Something is very wrong, my lady.”

Beitris nodded. “Indeed it is.”

“Fraser would never leave our men behind. Not without a proper burial.” Scott grimaced. “Gavin and Kenneth were our friends—his friends. He would never leave them to be eaten by animals. He wouldn’t—” Scott stopped, looking away. Beitris noticed the clench of his jaw, the tears threatening to slip from his eyes. His hands fisted, as if he would sooner hit something than break down into tears.

Beitris felt his pain. Kenneth and Gavin were good men. They did not deserve to be left behind. She clamped her eyes closed, fighting the need to cry for their loss. The need to run in search of them filled her very being, but she kept her feet rooted to the ground so as not to flee.

“I know,” she breathed. She shoved her hand into her skirt pockets, bringing forth Hendry’s letter. Opening her eyes, she pressed the paper into Scott’s grasp. “Ye mustn’t tell a soul,” she whispered while looking around. “I have written to Hendry Dunbar. He and his men are riding towards us as we speak.”

Scott nodded, holding her gaze. “I will ride to him now.”

“Ye should take—”

Scott shook his head. “I will go on my own. Now.” He glanced around them, a dark look shadowing his gaze. “We do not know who can be trusted behind these walls. We’ll need good men to help if need be.”

Beitris nodded, watching Scott turn on his heel and stride briskly towards the stables. She straightened her shoulders, and with a long inhale, strode into the keep, knowing she would need to do something about her husband-to-be.

* * *

Beitris was sitting at the desk, gazing out the window at the saturated fields, when the knock thudded at her door. She rose slowly, her legs trembling as they brought her closer towards the entrance, knowing exactly who stood outside. Her hand paused, hovering above the handle. The knock thudded again, but she didn’t move. Perhaps, if she feigned exhaustion or simply did not answer, he would leave her be.

But what if she was wrong?

What if Fraser’s strange acts were due to his grief. Losing two soldiers, especially ones that were close, had to be difficult—it had to take something from the soul. Beitris had read and heard of men acting strangely after a battle. She remembered hearing the haunting screams filling the castle walls after returning from several days filled with battle and blood. Perhaps, this strange behavior could be akin to that. She didn’t want to leave Fraser all alone with his pain, given everything he sacrificed to save her father.

The knock thudded again, harder this time, and Beitris flinched. She grasped the handle and yanked it open, coming face to face with Fraser. Two guards stood on either side of her door. Men she did not recognize, but who wore the MacClery colors. Her gaze turned on Fraser, and her heart fluttered at his blue eyes gazing back at her with such love and adoration. Yet, something predatory lurked beneath, making her take a step back.

“I have missed ye,” Fraser breathed, stepping inside and kicking the door closed. “It’s been far too long.”

Beitris raised her hand. “Wait, my laird.” She took a step back, followed by another, wincing when the backs of her legs hit her bed.

Fraser smiled wide and toothy, reminding her of a snake about to strike. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Fraser took one step forward, and Beitris didn’t wait. She slapped him clear across the cheek. Fraser blinked back at her while Beitris held her breath, waiting for his answer, praying to the heavens that this feeling twisting inside her was wrong. She shivered as Fraser’s smile dissipated. Anger and amusement gleamed back at her. His hands fisted at his sides while he tilted his head.

“Say it,” she breathed, her body quivering in fear. “Say the words.”

Fraser seized her hand, wrenching her towards him. His grip on her fist was tight, nearly bruising, and he peered down her, his mouth open, like a snake about to swallow its prey whole. “I’ll permit that just this once, Beitris,” he said darkly. “But don’t think ye can hit me again and get away with it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Unless that’s what ye enjoy when we’re in bed.”

Beitris trembled, her legs giving out. She fell onto the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the bedsheets as she inhaled deeply. The air was thick. She couldn’t breathe properly. Her vision was dizzying, and she feared she would faint at any moment.

“Yer not Fraser,” she rasped.

The man before her tossed back his head, bursting into a fit of dark laughter. “Nae, I am not, my dear Beitris. Wonderful of ye to notice. A smart one, now aren’t ye?”

Beitris clutched at her chest, feeling as if it would burst from her at any moment. She inhaled, yet no matter how hard she tried to breathe, she couldn’t get any air. “Who are ye?” She croaked, her face heating while tears streamed down her cheeks. “Where’s Fraser?”

“Fraser is gone,” said the man while planting his hands on either side of her, making her jump.

Beitris scrambled to get away from him, but the man was too fast, too strong. He grabbed her hand and pinned it to the mattress while leaning over her, his breath nauseating her senses. Bile rose, and she felt as if she was going to be sick.

“What did ye do to him?” Beitris’s voice cracked on the words. “Where is he?”

“That doesn’t matter, sweet Beitris,” he whispered while pushing her hair away from her face. “I am Fraser now. That’s all that matters. And soon, we will be man and wife.”

“Nae,” Beitris sobbed while shaking her head. Her heart was breaking. She felt as if the world was falling away from her and darkness was swallowing her whole. “Never.”

“Aye, ye will.” This Fraser standing before her grabbed her chin harshly, lifting her gaze to him. “Ye will marry me tomorrow, or yer father will die.”

Beitris’s eyes widened; her body went cold. “I will never marry ye,” she whispered.

“Aye, ye will.” He shoved her away from him and straightened. His hands ran over his leine, smoothing the wrinkles of his garments.

Her gaze moved to the sleeves, noticing the scars peeking out from underneath. Seeing them now was like a punch to the gut. She should have seen them before; she should have known to question him the moment he entered beyond the walls. Her worry for Fraser had blinded her, and now she had to pay the price.

“Ye will do exactly what I tell ye to do,” said this man while stalking towards the door.

Beitris rose from the bed, her anger taking hold. “Ye may have taken Fraser’s place, but yer naething like him. Ye will never be like him. Yer naething but a pathetic shell of a man. Everyone will see it. Everyone will—”

Beitris gasped as she felt a hand slam against her cheek. Her legs gave out, and she fell to the floor. The ache in her cheek stung her eyes and made her head pound. The pain spread through her face, and she held her hand to the injured skin as she bit back a whimper. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw boots, felt the man’s body hovering above her.

“Ye know naething!” he shouted. “Yer naething but a woman, and I am laird. Ye will obey me.”

Beitris flinched and clamped her eyes closed, worried he would hit her again.

“Remember that, my lady.”

Beitris bit back a sob. The sound of boots stomping and the door slamming closed gave her leave to cry. She sobbed into her hands, crying for the death of her love and the life she must live. There must be some way out of this, she wondered. Her tears ebbed, and she perked up, forcing her body off the floor. She needed to warn her father. They could leave. The Gordon men were here. They would stop this imposter from marrying her.

She threw open the door, but before she could take one step into the hall, the two guards standing on either side of her door stepped in her path. Beitris gasped, taking a step back as they approached her.

“Let me pass,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Yer to stay here, my lady,” said one with a leering look.

“Laird MacClery’s orders,” said the other.

Beitris opened her mouth but quickly closed it when she felt the tears threatening to take hold. She stepped back into her room and slammed the door shut, bolting it in case the soldiers got any better ideas. They weren’t MacClery men. She could trust no one, and she had no clue how to get a message to her father. Beitris strode towards her window, gazing out at the fields and the narrow path snaking through the lands. Her future was in Scott’s hands. She only hoped he would get to Hendry in time.