Highlander’s Evil Side by Shona Thompson

Chapter Thirty-Three

Fraser

Fraser stared at the people crowding the kirk. They stared at him in confusion. Several of his men were already unsheathing their swords. He found Ian, looking between him and Finnegan, his mouth ajar.

“What is this?” Laird Gordon shouted while stumbling towards him. “Who are ye?”

Men gathered around Finnegan, brandishing their swords, a cruel smirk on their faces. Fraser’s eyes narrowed at the men wearing his colors—Logan, Wallace, and Finely. They were the same men who had taken the gold, the same ones who had turned him over to Murdo. They were not the MacClery Clan’s men. They were thieves and brigands, those belonging to Finnegan.

“That man,” said Finnegan while pointing a finger at Fraser, “is the one who burnt down the western village.”

There was a pregnant pause as men and women stared at Fraser, their mouths hanging open. Several maids clutched at their chests. The silence swallowed everything whole. All Fraser could hear was his heart thudding against his chest.

“That is a lie,” said Fraser while stepping forward.

The whistle of swords being unsheathed gave him pause. Scott lunged forward, pushing his body between Fraser and the MacClery men, those who wore the MacClery colors and had not given him over to Murdo and the brigands. They stared back at him with confusion and worry. Ian had his sword in hand, yet he looked between Fraser and Finnegan, not knowing where to point his blade.

“He speaks the truth!” Scott shouted. “Listen to yer laird and not the scoundrel before ye.”

“Listen to me!” shouted Finnegan while dragging Beitris towards him. “For I am yer laird.”

“Mother,” Fraser pleaded, his eyes landing on Helga standing in the corner of the room. “How can ye help him?” He gestured to Finnegan. “He killed Father, Mother. Please, only ye know the truth. Tell them.”

Helga gasped, her hand clutching at her chest. She turned towards Finnegan, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Is it true?” she whispered.

Finnegan did not answer. His eyes narrowed, and his hand went to his hilt.

“Please, tell me it’s not true,” Helga sobbed.

“Please, Mother,” Fraser pleaded. “Speak the truth. Tell them it is I, their laird, and not this man before them.”

Helga grasped her hands in front of her. All eyes turned to her. She took a step back, bumping her shoulders against the wall. Her eyes held Fraser’s. He knew she knew him, knew exactly who and what he was. Fraser reached for her, but the shake of her head made him pause.

“Come, dear Mother,” said Finnegan while holding out his hand towards her. “Speak the truth. Ye know it is I, Fraser, Laird of the MacClerys and not this fool of a man.”

“I-I—” Helga stuttered. Her trembling hands grasped her face as she looked between Fraser and Finnegan.

“Tell them,” Finnegan ground out, his gaze going dark.

“Please,” Fraser begged.

Helga bent forward, wailing into her hands as everyone surrounded her.

“Lady MacClery?” Laird Gordon whispered, coming to her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Please, tell us what is going on.”

Helga peaked through her fingers. Her hands slowly slipped from her face, and she stared in horror at Fraser. He had never seen her look so broken at that moment, and now, knowing everything that had happened, Fraser felt pity for his mother—pity to have her husband taken too soon from her and having to keep a secret for so long, one that could destroy the MacClerys.

Helga batted Laird Gordon’s arm away from her and stepped forward. She pressed a hand on the guard’s arms, putting down their swords as she stepped towards Fraser. “I can nae longer lie,” she said bitterly as she turned to Finnegan.

“Don’t ye dare, woman,” said Finnegan, his hand grasping the hilt of his blade. “Ye promised me a life of my own.”

“Aye,” Helga said with a curt nod. “I promised ye a life before I knew what ye did.” She shook her head. “Ye killed yer own Father? Ye hit yer future bride?” She made a face. “How can I help ye now? After everything ye have done.”

“Then it is true,” said Laird Gordon while nodding towards Fraser. “He is the true Laird MacClery.”

Fraser watched his mother striding towards him, looking upon him with love and sorrow. “It is true,” she whispered, stopping in front of Fraser. She stroked the side of his face while smiling sadly up at him. “This is Fraser, Laird of the MacClerys.”

“Mother!” Finnegan shouted, releasing Beitris and stalking forward. “Ye cannot do this to me.”

“Aye, I can, and I must,” Helga said sternly. She straightened her back while turning towards Finnegan, jutting out her chin and staring him down as if she was admonishing a child. “I can nae longer do this, Finnegan. I can nae longer stand idly by while ye destroy the lives of the people I care for.”

“Ye promised me!” shouted Finnegan while swiping at the air with his arm. “Ye told me ye would give me aid.”

“Who is this man, Helga?” Laird Gordon asked while stepping around Helga and going to stand at Fraser’s side.

Helga sighed and shook her head. “He is also my son. One that was taken away from me long ago by my husband.”

“Two lairds?” a woman breathed in the crowd. “How is it so?”

Helga nodded. “Aye, I gave birth to two healthy sons, and my husband, fearing for the clan, sent one away.”

“But why?” Fraser asked. He couldn’t understand why his father did something so wretched to his own son.

“Because there had been too many battles within our clan. Too much strife over who would be laird, and he would rule. We had only achieved peace with yer father’s lairdship, and he worried what would happen if the village heads preferred one son over the other.” She paused, her gaze going to the stone floor as if she remembered that night so long ago. “I didn’t have any say in the matter,” she breathed. “I never wanted to send ye away, Finnegan.” Helga gazed at Finnegan, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “But yer father promised me he found a well-off family for ye. He promised me ye would be looked after.”

Finnegan scoffed. “Aye, he found me a family. And then it went to ruins. My father,” he spat while pointing a finger at Helga, “wrote to yer family begging for air, and yet it was never given. Ye forgot about me!”

“Nae!” Helga shouted while shaking her head earnestly. “Nae, we would never. The missives were never received. There were brigands and highwaymen stealing and killing.”

“Liar!” Finnegan shouted.

Helga shook her head. “Nae, I would not lie. Not about this. We would have aided ye and yer family if we received the missives. I know my husband. He wouldn’t have left ye to die.” She wiped at her eyes. “I loved ye, from the very moment I laid eyes on ye.” Helga turned to Fraser, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And ye, as well, Fraser. I loved the both of ye. I wanted the best for both of ye. Will ye ever forgive me?”

Fraser didn’t know if he could believe what she spoke of his father. He had been a good man; however, if there had been so much strife, perhaps he would ignore the letters sent. Fraser didn’t know what to believe. He never thought his father could do something so cruel as sending a child away. Nevermind the internal strife within the MacClery lands. Fraser questioned his father’s morality. But he knew, staring at his mother now, she would have done anything for the both of them. She would have sent the money, provided care from afar.

“Nae!” Finnegan shouted, making Helga flinch. “I will never forgive ye for what ye did to me.”

“Finnegan, my son, please,” said Helga while stepping towards him. Fraser tugged on her hand, worried she would get hit or worse by his brother. “I understand yer anger. I always have.” She glanced over her shoulder at Fraser and Laird Gordon. “That is why I aided him as I did. He had every reason to hate me, to hate our family. I wanted for a happy family reunion.”

“Maybe it can still be,” said Beitris.

Fraser’s gaze went to her, standing behind Finnegan. His mouth fell open at the bruise on her cheek, dark and purple. He bit his tongue, not wanting to ask who had hurt her, already suspecting the perpetrator.

“In time, that is,” said Beitris, her gaze lowering. “After he has paid for his crimes.”

“What?” Finnegan breathed. He stood alone in the room, his men slowly slipping out of the kirk.

“Aye, after ye pay for yer crimes,” said Fraser while slowly stepping towards Finnegan. “Yer still my brother. We can find a way to be a family in time.”

Finnegan scowled at Fraser. “Nae. I can never be yer brother.”

“And why is that?” Fraser gestured around him. “Forget yer plans of revenge and stay with us. Ye can be happy here. Ye can—”

“Nae!” Finnegan roared. “Ye must live as I have. Ye must suffer like I suffered.” He slammed a fist down on one of the pews. “Ye must know what it’s like to starve, to not have a friend in the world, to feel as if everyone is against ye. Ye must know what it’s like.”

“Please,” Beitris whispered. “Let me go, and let us be. If ye do not wish to be with yer family, then forget this madness, this need for revenge. Ye do not need to do any of this.”

Finnegan chuckled bitterly. He stumbled towards her, grabbing her hand before she could step away from him. “I did all of this for ye,” he said while leering down at her. “So bonnie, so sweet.” Fraser watched him stroke Beitris’s cheek, noticed the shudder of revulsion going through her. “Do ye not remember the first time we met?”

“Aye,” Beitris said angrily. “I fear I do. That time in the gardens haunts me to this day.”

Finnegan chuckled. “Nae, that was not our first time, lass.”

Beitris’s eyes widened. Fraser looked around, wondering how he could get to her without Finnegan noticing.

“Ye were in the village near Dunbar Castle, and I was on the path, donned in beggars garments with a cup in hand. Ye gave me some coin and a loaf of bread.”

Beitris shook her head. “But that meant naething. I was only being kind.”

“I had never met anyone any sweeter than ye.”

Fraser unsheathed Kenneth’s sword and stalked towards Finnegan. He needed to get Beitris behind him. If Finnegan smacked her, he could do far worse. If he wouldn’t give up on his revenge, Fraser suspected he would take it out where he saw fit.

“I did this so I could marry ye, Beitris,” Finnegan said, his voice cracking and his eyes wild and crazed like a wolf caught in a trap. “Ye think I would give ye up? Ye think I would permit ye to marry my brother? When he’s already had everything given to him?”

“Let her go,” said Fraser warningly. “Let her go now.”

Finnegan cackled and unsheathed a small blade from his boot. He pointed it at Beitris’s neck. “If I cannot have ye, Beitris, then nae one will.”

Beitris shrieked as she tugged at his hand, trying to be rid of him. Fraser saw the blade coming down. He ran to her, but before he could get to her, Helga ran between them, shoving Beitris to the ground. She cried out, clutching at her shoulder, at the blade sticking out of her.

“Mother!” shouted Fraser, watching as she fell to the ground, clutching at her wound while crying out in pain. Beitris went to his mother, stroking her hair away from her face and holding onto her hand.

“Foolish woman was in the way,” Fraser heard Finnegan say bitterly.

Fraser jerked towards his brother, holding out his sword. Finnegan smiled cruelly while unsheathing his sword—his father’s sword, the one he had stolen from Fraser.

“Why are ye doing this? Ye do not need to throw everything away for yer revenge.” Fraser shook his head. "Don't do this.”

Finnegan scoffed. “I would watch the world burn for my revenge.”

Finnegan swung, moving fast. Fraser clenched his jaw, feeling the brunt of Finnegan’s sword vibrating through him. He shoved Finnegan off, sidestepping another lunge. Gasping, he blocked another attack. Finnegan was well trained, his strikes quick and strong. Fraser could barely dodge, could barely swipe. He didn’t know how much he could hang on. His gaze flew to his mother, weeping on the ground, the blade still sticking out of her.

“We are brothers,” Fraser shouted while lunging forward, taking Finnegan by surprise and shoving him against the wall.

Finnegan leaned forward. “We will never be brothers.”

Fraser swiped his sword, but Finnegan dodged, stepping forward and striking again. He laughed as he moved, but Fraser dodged a strike, twirling around and stabbing his blade through Finnegan. Finnegan choked, blood spilling from his lips. His eyes widened as he slowly fell to his knees. Fraser pulled his sword out of Finnegan, watching him fall backward onto the floor. His eyes stared up at Fraser, shocked, before lowering and becoming lifeless.

Fraser threw down his sword and ran to his mother. Beitris moved out of the way as he crouched low, taking his mother’s hand in his. Helga smiled up at him, her breath coming out in pants. “I am quite alright.”

“Call for the healer!” Fraser shouted over his shoulder. “Now!”

“Please, Fraser,” Helga murmured, drawing his attention back to her. “Please, forgive me. Please, I beg of ye.”

“Of course I forgive ye, Mother.” Fraser glanced at Beitris. “Ye saved the love of my life.”

* * *

Fraser stared at Beitris sitting on the bed next to his mother. His gaze lingered on her bruise, hating how dark it looked and how it took up most of her cheek. He wanted Hamish to have a look at it, but Beitris insisted it was fine. Fraser’s gaze shifted to Hamish looking over the bandage wrapped around his mother’s shoulder. Helga winced, biting back a cry as his fingers worked deftly. Fraser bit back his worry, fidgeting from side to side while grasping his hands together.

“Will she live, Hamish?” Fraser asked, his tone worried.

Hamish nodded. “Aye, she’ll live. The wound will leave a scar.”

“That’s quite alright, Hamish,” said Helga while sitting up in the bed. “I am no longer a young, bonnie lass. A scar or two is quite acceptable so long as I live to see my grandchildren.” She gave Beitris a knowing look, which brought a smile to Fraser’s lips.

Beitris turned away, pressing a hand against her mouth to hold back her laughter as she met Fraser’s gaze.

“I’m just happy to know ye will be fine,” said Fraser while stepping closer to his mother’s side.

“She may have a fever,” said Hamish while gathering his things. “I will keep an eye on her for the next few days.”

“Thank ye, Hamish,” said Helga.

“We should go,” said Beitris while rising. She strode towards Fraser and took his hand, tugging him towards the door. “Yer mother will need her rest if she is to get well.”

Fraser frowned. “Ye will let the servants know if ye need anything.”

Helga nodded. “Of course.”

“And ye won’t leave this bed until Hamish says so.”

Helga chuckled. “What am I, a child to ye, Fraser?” She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “Go. I will be fine. Ye can bother me in the morn.”

Fraser nodded, making a note in the back of his head he should visit his mother as soon as the sun was up. The feeling of fingers lacing with his brought his attentions to Beitris, who guided him out of the room.

“Will ye be well, Fraser?” Beitris whispered. “I know today has been long and painful.”

Fraser grimaced. He nearly lost his mother. He nearly lost Beitris, and his brother, one he had never known about, had died in the process. Fraser didn’t know what to think. He felt for Finnegan. The man had led a life filled with strife. He found himself unable to blame his brother for some of his actions. His father had done something dreadful. He had split up a family in order to protect the clan, but was it truly worth it?

Fraser shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it now. He didn’t want to think ill of the dead—ill of his father. Thankfully, his attentions were taken by Hendry and Scott, standing outside the door.

“All is well, I hope?” Hendry asked while glancing between Beitris and Fraser.

Fraser nodded. “Aye, she should make a recovery.”

“That is good.” Hendry smiled brightly.

“Thank ye, Hendry," said Beitris while stepping forth. "For everything. If it wasn’t for ye…" Beitris paused, her hand going to her mouth as she turned away. Fraser wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, stroking her hair while she nuzzled into his warmth.

“I’m just glad I made it in time," said Hendry.

Fraser nodded. "As are we.”

Hendry smiled as he glanced between Fraser and Beitris. "Now, I hope ye will invite me to yer real wedding whenever yer bound to have it.”

Fraser smiled, and Beitris stifled a giggle. “Aye, of course,” said Fraser while stroking the side of Beitris’s face, watching as she leaned into his touch and feeling his heart swell with love. “Yer most definitely invited.”