Page 5 of Highlander’s Evil Side

Looking around, he noticed his room was just as he left it, with a trunk lying across from his bed and a desk by the window, overlooking the meadows. He could see the edge of the wood where he had just come from. Puddles were already forming on the path towards the castle. With a heavy heart, he realized in the next coming days his things would be moved to his father’s quarters and study.

Fraser shook his head. Those matters can wait, he told himself while stripping off his drenched leine and hose. The fabric stuck to his chilled flesh, and he was happy to be rid of them and in freshly cleaned clothes. He had spent most of his journey wearing the same attire and knew he must smell terrible.

The leine was tight around his shoulders and his waist, yet he was thankfully able to move. The wool hose was even tighter around his muscled thighs, but the boots were a perfect fit. As soon as he was dressed, he returned to the foyer of the keep, hearing humming coming from inside the great hall. He padded inside, his attention caught by the family banners decorating the large walls with the MacClery coat of arms. It was strange for him to be here after so long. It was oddly welcoming, yet the darkness shadowing the room and his mother’s humming left an eerie feeling shuddering through him.

He turned to his mother, his eyes widening as he found her staring up at a large portrait of his father. Her hands were clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists while her entire body trembled. Fraser walked towards her, sidling up close and gazing up at his father’s painted dark eyes shrouded in dark hair. His father appeared strong and powerful in the painting, and his mother looked happy standing by his side with her hand on his shoulder. Looking between the two, Fraser could see he was a blend of both, with his father’s dark hair and his mother’s blue eyes.

“Ye-yer the laird now,” she said, her voice soft and shaking.

Fraser lifted his arm, going to wrap it around her shoulders, but stopped himself when she flinched in response. Perhaps it was the shock of her husband’s death that had her behaving in such a manner. It had been a shock to him, as well. His father had seemed well. Often they exchanged letters, and never had the man mentioned any ailment. Guilt had seized Fraser’s heart when he received the last letter informing him of his father’s passing. It had been so sudden; he didn’t know if he could believe the words written on the paper. He had cursed himself for foolishly not returning sooner. He didn’t know why he insisted on staying, only that, by living abroad, he believed he was furthering the MacClery Clan name. His father had urged him to return home sooner, yet Fraser always assumed he had time.

He assumed wrong.

“Ye have no time to waste,” his mother said harshly while turning away from him.

Fraser stared at her back, confused by her words and her cold manner. “What do ye—”

“Ye must marry to procure an alliance.”

His frown deepened, and he fought the need to argue with his mother. It had been less than an hour since he returned to Castle Dunnegan, less than a week since he returned to the highlands, and already his mother was discussing his future bride. Assuredly, he had plenty of time to look for a wife, he thought while watching his mother’s trembling shoulders.

He took a deep breath. His mother was only looking out for him, he told himself. Father’s death probably took its toll on her. He had been a strict man but a loving husband. Of course, his mother would take his death hard and worry about things that need not be worried about.

“As soon as I am fed and rested, I will arrange a celebration of my return.” Fraser smiled brightly, hoping his willingness would make her feel more relaxed. “I’m sure there will be plenty of bonnie lasses keen to bless me with their hand.”

“Nae,” his mother whispered hoarsely.

His brow furrowed, and he closed the distance between them. With one gentle touch on her shoulder, she whirled around. Her bloodshot red eyes fastened on him while she rushed out, “I have already spoken with Laird Gordon. He has promised his only daughter to ye.”

Fraser blinked, not quite understanding her words as they washed over him. “What?” he breathed.

“She and her father will be here within the next two weeks.”

Fraser’s mouth opened and closed. His fists clenched as both confusion and rage blurred within him, leaving him wobbling on his feet and his head dizzy. “Two weeks?” he repeated, his voice slightly louder than intended, making him wince at the harshness of it.

His mother’s curt nod only worsened the churning in his stomach. “Most probably less, depending on good weather and nae brigand to trifle with.”

He was to wed a woman he had never met. How could his mother do this? How did she even know they would get along well? He hardly knew of the Gordons. The name was familiar, but his father had never hosted them within his halls. They had never broken bread together or drank from the same cup.

Had his father’s death made his mother desperate? Was she so terrified of currying favor she made an alliance with a clan she hardly knew?

Fraser needed to sit. The thought of marrying a girl at this very moment made him feel ill. Instead, he pressed his fingers to his temples, massaging the dull ache.

“Fraser,” said his mother, her voice filled with worry.

He sighed and turned towards her, straightening his back. His mother looked so small and tired standing before him. She had lost her husband two months ago. Clearly, she was still in mourning. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, making his heart twist with guilt for wanting to deny the alliance. Maybe if he just met the girl, came to know the Gordon Clan, then perhaps a marriage between them would be in the future.

Fraser forced a smile and nodded his head. “Alright then,” he said. His mother’s eyes widened in surprise. “We’d best prepare rooms for our guests and scrub the halls for their arrival. I shan’t suppose they’d enjoy a dismal-looking castle. We’ll have a celebration in their honor.”