Page 12 of Highlander’s Evil Side

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.”