Page 13 of Highlander’s Evil Side

“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.