He might have saved his father, if they hadn’t died.
After he’d gone to live with his uncle, Donald Fraser, in Edinburgh, he’d vowed that one day, he would become a doctor. Although it wouldn’t bring back those he’d lost, Paul wanted to save the lives of others. He’d taken the knowledge passed on by his mother, intending to use it to prove he was worthy of acceptance into medical school.
But then, his uncle had revealed a secret that had ripped the foundation of his life apart.
His father had never spoken of his brothers, only saying that they were from Edinburgh originally and that he’d left to wed Bridget. Paul had never met his paternal grandfather, nor anyone from that side of the family. Not until he’d been sent away.
When his mother had forced him to leave after his father’s death, he’d thought it was banishment. Now he wondered if she hadn’t been trying to mend her husband’s broken past. By sending Paul away, she’d given him the chance for another life. Yet, from the first moment he’d met his uncle, he had believed Donald Fraser despised him.
“So, Bridget sent you to me, did she?” His uncle Donald rubbed absently at his salt-and-pepper beard. His eyebrows tufted above his eyes as if he were a bird staring at its prey. “How old are you, boy?”
“I’ll be eighteen in a few months.” Paul straightened, trying to appear older. Exhaustion weighed down upon him, for he hadn’t slept for more than a few minutes at a time on the journey south from Ballaloch. Most of the trip had been on a farmer’s wagon, with nothing to shield him from the rain. He’d spent days miserable in cold, wet clothing.
“That would make you seventeen,” Fraser corrected. “Answer the question correctly, and don’t bother me with information that doesn’t matter.” His eyes narrowed upon him. “Your mother says they hanged your father for a crime you committed. Is it true?”
“I killed no one.” Frustration and grief poured through him at the raw memory. “It was my friend Malcolm who wanted to raid.” His hands clenched into fists. “He and my father are dead because of Lord Strathland.” The bemused expression on his uncle’s face angered him even more. What reason did he have to smile when Paul’s life had come crashing down around him?
“I suppose you think to avenge their deaths? Having all the wisdom of a lad who believes he’s a man.”
“Strathland will pay for what he did, aye.”
Fraser studied him from head to toe. “You haven’t two coppers to rub together, and you’re naught but an uneducated Highlander. How could you ever be anything except dirt under the earl’s feet? You’re nothing and never will be.”
The mockery sent Paul’s fury over the edge. He grabbed Fraser’s shirt and shoved him against the wall. “Don’t be talking to me like that. I will bring him down. I swear it, on my life.” His blood thundered through him at the taunt. He didn’t care if no one believed it but him.
“If you attack him with that sort of rage, itwillcost you your life.” Fraser pressed him back gently, straightening his coat. “You haven’t the first idea of what it takes to bring down a man of his rank.” He lowered his voice, and it held an edge Paul had never guessed. “Unless you put aside your anger and learn.”
The words quieted his anger, offering him a pathway of hope. “What do you mean?”
“You want him gone from Scotland, am I right?”
Paul nodded, letting out a slow breath. If the earl abandoned his property there, they could live in peace with no one to tell them how to live. “I do.”
Fraser walked over to a bookshelf containing leather-bound volumes. He reached inside and pulled one out. “Killing Strathford won’t make him go away. His heirs will only rise up and grow stronger. A man of his power will yield only to a greater power. And you, lad, have no power at all.” His uncle handed him the book. “Can you read?”
Paul nodded, for his father had taught him since he was a lad. “Well enough.”
“Good.” He pointed to the shelf of books. “Your education will be the gateway to power. Learn quickly, and you can change yourself.”
He might have suspected his uncle would try to fight his battles without fists. Paul didn’t believe it for a moment. What good were books and learning when it came to Strathland, who could twist the law into what he wanted?
“Why should I? I could wait a few months, return, and burn his home to the ground.”
“The coward’s path,” Fraser chided. “And what then? You’ll go back to herding sheep until they bring you to trial and hang you. Just like your father.”
Before Paul realized what had happened, Fraser grabbed his shirt and slammed him against the bookcase. His head knocked against the wooden shelf, and he saw stars for a moment. “And here I thought you were smarter than that.” His uncle eyed him with distaste.
“Iamsmart,” he gritted out, tasting blood on his lip. “But books willna avenge my father’s death.”
Fraser released him. “Go back to Scotland, then, if that’s what you want. Kill the earl, and waste your life. I won’t grieve for the loss of a brainless lad.”
“I canna let it go,” Paul insisted.
“Don’t you understand, lad? Dying is easy. Wouldn’t you rather he suffered for his sins? Would it not be a greater punishment for him to live in the same poverty he put you in?”
Paul hadn’t considered that, but his uncle’s words made him hesitate.
“If you were a more intelligent lad, you’d know that patience would bring a greater fall to the earl. As it is…” His uncle lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “You’ll hide away in Edinburgh for a few months, return to Ballaloch with a loaded pistol, and end both your lives.” He shook his head, his mouth curling with a dark smile. “Because you’re too eager to act now, instead of learning how to truly bring down your enemy.”
