Highlander’s Evil Side by Shona Thompson
Chapter Six
Fraser
Fraser sat at the head of the great hall, dressed in an emerald leine that was slightly roomier than the other. The fabric clung to his arms and chest, but there was space around his shoulders and waist for him to move. His mother sat to his left, watching several servants carry in platter after platter filled with mince pies, an assortment of cheese and fruit, and dried bread to feast on. Fraser’s gaze lingered on the roasted boar sitting in the middle of the table with sliced apples surrounding it. The village heads dotted the room, speaking amongst themselves while women whispered and gossiped from their seats.
The bard stood in the corner to Fraser’s right, plucking his strings while he prepared his verses. With each new guest arriving, the chatter softened slightly while the man standing near the head table presented their names. Fraser was still trying to memorize his people’s titles. His father had often told him it was a sign of respect. He worried he would never be able to manage such a feat since there were so many of them.
Fraser’s gaze kept returning to the entrance, wondering when his feisty bride would make her appearance, if at all. His cheek no longer stung where she slapped him, but his heart still fluttered every time he recalled her fiery gaze. She was just like the roses growing in the French gardens. Beautiful, but with sharp thorns protecting her. He suspected she would prick him again if he wasn’t careful.
“Do not fret,” said his mother while patting his hand. “She will come.”
He glanced at his mother, his lips twitching into a smile while she watched the entrance. “Is it ye or I who worries more about my bride?”
His mother chuckled, but the sound was immediately stifled, and her face fell into sadness once more. Her head bowed, and she shook her head while murmuring, “I probably worry for her more.”
Fraser opened his mouth to say something, but all thoughts and words left him when he glanced towards the entrance. His heart fluttered as he watched Laird Gordon enter the hall with a hand on his daughter’s elbow, guiding her inside. The chatter silenced, and he didn’t know if it was due to his bride or the fact he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from her. She looked beautiful donned in green. Her hair was done in an intricate plait, pulling her locks away from her face with the tendrils falling down the length of her back.
Her eyes landed on him as she slowly approached. All air left him, and he didn’t care if he would ever be able to breathe again so long as she looked at him. His body took on a mind of its own, and he felt himself rising from his seat and bowing his head before her. However, the magical aura enchanting him broke as her face fell into a deep frown. She took a step away from him as if she might run back to her quarters and lock her doors. Laird Gordon held her still, his jaw clenching while his grasp tightened on his daughter’s arm.
“May I present, Laird Stewart of the Gordon Clan and his—” the man cleared his throat, glancing awkwardly at Fraser before saying, “his daughter, Lady Beitris.”
“Laird Fraser,” began Laird Gordon after a quick bow. He released his daughter’s elbow and took Fraser’s hand into both of his, giving it a firm shake. “I thank ye kindly for yer wonderful hospitality.” He turned toward Fraser’s mother, who remained seated. “And the same goes for ye, Lady Helga.”
Fraser tore his gaze away from Beitris and forced a smile. “I hope ye found yer rooms to yer liking.”
“They’re wonderful,” said Laird Gordon while glancing at his daughter, but she refused to meet his gaze. Fraser’s insides twisted with worry. He didn’t know what to expect from her, only hoped they could get past the slap and perhaps learn more about each other.
But it seemed as if Beitris had already made up her mind about him.
Laird Gordon winced before returning his gaze to Fraser. He cleared his throat awkwardly while pulling at the collar of his leine. “I hope ye found the dowry to yer liking. I can always provide for more now that we are to be family.”
“‘Tis not needed,” said Fraser. “Ye were more than generous, and the stallion is beautiful.”
“I hope he will be of use to ye.” Laird Gordon winced while glancing between his daughter and Fraser. Fraser wondered if Beitris was going to say anything, but she remained silent while standing next to her father, nearly moving herself completely behind him. Laird Gordon cleared his throat and pushed Beitris forward. "I believe my daughter wishes to say something to ye.”
Beitris glanced sharply at her father. Her lips thinned, and her jaw clenched in spite, earning a deep scowl from Laird Gordon. The laird nodded at Fraser while Beitris’s gaze narrowed. If Fraser didn’t know any better, he would have assumed they were speaking to each other through magic. This father-daughter duo seemed to have other manners of speaking rather than with their mouths.
Finally, Beitris sighed in frustration and turned her beautiful gaze upon Fraser. He waited for the woman to speak, yet fear entered her eyes, followed by fiery rage.
Laird Gordon’s scowl darkened. “Out with it, lass.”
Beitris’s hands gripped each other tightly in front of her while she sighed. “I apologize for my little outburst before,” she said. Fraser noticed she wasn’t quite looking at him but focusing her attention on a banner decorating the wall behind him.
“And?” her father added.
Beitris’s brows pinched together in frustration. “And it shan’t happen again.”
Laird Gordon beamed with approval. “Well, now that is out of the way, I hope, Fraser, ye and the lass may be able to become acquainted with each other.”
Fraser’s smile dimmed as he stared at Beitris, who refused to look at him. He hardly felt her remorse. She was gripping her hands so hard he worried she might prick her skin with her fingernails. He wondered if there was anything he could do to ease her tension. Even if she was a bit mad, he needed to ensure their marriage worked somewhat for the both of them.
His eyes widened as an idea came to mind.
“Would ye care for a small walk, Lady Beitris?” he asked while holding out his hand to her.
Her eyes peeked up at him before frowning at the hand hovering between them.
“We could go to one of the machicolations in the high tower. It has the best view of the night sky,” he added quickly when her stare darkened. “We could get to know one another a wee better.”
“Oh, what a lovely idea,” came his mother’s voice. She clapped her hands excitedly while Laird Gordon nodded vigorously.
“Absolutely splendid,” said Laird Gordon while nudging his daughter forward, closing the meager distance between them. “She would love to join ye.”
Beitris glanced over her shoulder at her father while her hand hesitantly touched Fraser’s palm. He watched the exchange between father and daughter: the dark look of the laird and the fearful gaze of his daughter.
After a moment, Beitris’s head slightly bobbed up and down, and she faced Fraser, not meeting his gaze as she said softly, “As ye wish, my laird.”
His fingers clasped around Beitris’s, and he moved around the table, feeling as if time was moving slowly. Her touch was light in his, her hand much smaller. He gently guided her through the throng of merrily drinking and eating people, ignoring their curious looks.
“My laird,” came several greetings from the village heads and farmers as they walked past.
Fraser bowed his head to them, forcing a smile. He noticed the tension in Beitris’s shoulders, the trembling in her hand, as they approached the doors. Her face paled, and he worried being alone was too soon for her.
He recognized a familiar face standing near the doors, with his golden curls and his green gaze watching Fraser mischievously. Scott, he thought while he nodded to the guard. Scott’s smirk widened, and he lifted his ale in salute. He must have just returned from the villages, Fraser surmised. No doubt he heard of his meeting with Beitris. Fraser stifled a groan while passing his childhood friend, knowing he was in for a long bout of jeering. Lady Gordon’s slap was probably the castle gossip, given Fraser hadn’t been struck since he was a wee lad.
The corridor grew silent as the doors closed behind them, silencing the chatter and the merrymaking. Fraser swallowed the lump in his throat while guiding Beitris through the hall, wondering what he could possibly say to the lass. They continued through the keep in utter silence. Even the torches flickering in the slight breeze offered more solace than his soon-to-be wife.
“Careful," he said softly while guiding her up the winding staircase into one of the great towers attached to the keep.
Beitris didn’t say anything. Her hand slipped from his grasp, and she grabbed her skirts, hiking them up while stalking upwards into the tower. Only the sounds of their heavy breathing graced his ears.
Fraser tried to think of anything to say. He wanted to know how she learned to ride side saddle and if she rode often. He wanted to ask her if she enjoyed reading as much as he did and if she wanted to venture to the falls at some point. But most importantly, he wanted to know how he offended her so much to warrant a slap. She certainly didn’t seem mad, merely scared, and he would be, too, if he had to venture across the lands to marry someone he did not know.
However, they reached the top of the tower without saying a single word, and Fraser cursed himself when she drew even further away from him. The stars greeted his gaze, dotting the night sky and twinkling down upon them. Not a single cloud marred the view. He watched Beitris stride towards the machicolations, which were boarded with large, thick planks as a safety measure. Her hands braced against the battlements while she gazed outwards. The subtle wind blew a stray hair over her forehead, making her appear ethereal in the moonlight.
“Do ye like it?” he asked awkwardly while slowly approaching her. As soon as the words left him, he winced, wishing he had come up with something charming to say.
Beitris didn’t say anything. Her jaw clenched while her fingernails dug into the stone wall.
“I used to come up here when I was a boy,” he continued. “My father didn’t much like it. He was worried I would fall through one of the machicolations, and besides,” he chuckled awkwardly while running a hand through his hair, “I had my studies to attend to. He always told me a good laird doesn’t look to the stars for answers but in books.” He knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t seem to stop his lips from moving. Beitris still didn’t say anything, and he was desperate to fill this ongoing silence. “Do ye perhaps know how to read?” he asked while stepping closer. He reached a hand towards the stray strand, about to brush it back into place. “If not—”
Beitris smacked his hand away before he could touch the tendril. Her eyes widened with fear while she stepped away from him. “Is this what ye wanted?” she asked harshly, staring up at him as if she despised him. “To get me alone so ye can finish what ye started last time?”
Fraser’s brows pinched together in confusion while his head tilted. “I do not know what ye speak of,” he said while shaking his head.
“Ye know exactly what I speak of,” she said with a bitter tone while taking another step away from him. “I’ll have ye know, sir,” she spat, “ye cannot get away with what ye did. I won’t permit it.”
Fraser blinked. Had the woman gone completely mad? “What is it ye believe I did, my lady?”
Even in the dim lighting, he could see Beitris’s face flushing a deep red. Her hand clutched at her throat while her gaze hardened. “Ye-ye—” she shook her head. “Why do ye want me to say it?” she shouted, her voice cracking on the words. There was fear and desperation in her gaze, making him feel as if he truly did something despicable to her. “Ye know what ye did!”
Fraser shook his head. “My apologies, my lady,” he said gently, stilling himself. He didn’t want to chase her away. This was the most they had spoken to each other since she had come to Castle Dunnegan, and he wanted to resolve whatever it was that haunted her. “I do not know what I have done. Please, tell me, so I may apologize to ye properly.”
Beitris’s eyes glimmered under the moonlight. Her bottom lip twitched, and he didn’t know if she would sooner burst into tears or slap him again.
“Ye kissed me,” she rushed out.
Fraser’s eyes widened. He had never kissed this lady, but he could see in her gaze she was not lying, nor did she seem mad. She truly believed he had been ungentlemanly with her. He opened his mouth, yet no words escaped. There were too many questions taking hold of his mind, and he didn’t know if she could be the one to answer them.
“Ye grabbed me,” she said, her voice hoarse while tears filled her eyes. “And ye forced yer lips upon mine in the garden of the Dunbars.”
“I’m sorry, my lady,” he began slowly, watching her wipe the tears from her eyes. He felt like he was being ripped into two as he stared at her. He wished there was something, anything he could do for her, but she was accusing him of something he did not do, would never do. “But it was not me,” he said, earning a scoff in response. “Truly, it was not me. I have never been to the Dunbars, nor have I ever kissed ye. I apologize that happened to ye, my lady.”
Beitris’s gaze darkened, and her hands fisted at her sides. “Lies!” she shouted.
