Page 64 of Highlander’s Evil Side

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Beitris

Beitris awoke early and by herself. Her gaze lingered on the place Fraser once laid. She stroked the blankets, frowning at the coolness greeting her fingertips. He had left long before, most probably to ensure no maid discovered his presence. She rose, clutching the blankets to her bosom as the chilled air prickled her skin. The sounds of raindrops pattering on her window tickled her ears and heightened her senses. Her gaze drifted to the window, at the dark clouds hovering over the fields, casting the highlands in darkness despite the sunlight attempting to shine through.

She quickly dressed, donning a simple green garment before leaving her rooms in search of Fraser. He would most likely be with his men, she surmised as her feet took her through the corridor and down the steps towards the hall. She frowned as she sidestepped several servants running past, carrying cloth and flowers, too busy decorating for the grand wedding to utter an excuse to their future lady.

Beitris was surprised when she entered, finding Fraser sitting at the head table, scowling down at his plate filled with cheese and bread. She expected him to be with his men in the barracks, but she supposed even he needed to break his fast. Although, given his full plate, he couldn’t muster much of an appetite. She didn’t blame him. With everything that had happened, she found it difficult to eat, as well.

Scott hovered above him, whispering something in his ear that made her worry all the more. Fraser’s blue gaze turned to her, and he immediately straightened, his lips thinning as she strode towards him. Scott stepped away, clasping his hands behind him while giving her a curt nod in salutation.

“My laird,” Beitris greeted with a sly grin, hoping to provide some sort of amusement for Fraser.

The dark circles under his eyes and the pallor of his face made her worry about his straits. He was working too much, and she suspected he was hardly sleeping. She wanted to take his worries away. Her face flushed as she recalled their transgressions from the night before.

Fraser appeared to remember them as well. His gaze heated as his attentions dipped to her lips. “My lady,” he said while slowly rising. “I hope all is well. I have just spoken to Scott about yer father. I will be writing him in the evening.”

All heat dissipated from Beitris’s face and her body became unusually cold as if the wind had surged through the castle’s walls and brittled her bones. “But, my laird,” she began calmly, her voice low while she chose her words carefully, not wanting to make a scene in front of the servants and the guards. “I thought we came to an understanding last night.”

Fraser nodded. “Aye, we did.”

Beitris’s hands fisted. “And I thought we decided I was to stay with ye.”

Fraser sighed, his shoulders slumping. Beitris’s fists trembled, and it took everything within her not to crumble before him. She knew he worried for her. This wasn’t him demanding she obey him. There was more to it than that; however, she still couldn’t help but feel as if the rug had been taken out from below her feet, that she was losing control over her own body. She was a grown woman. She could make her own decisions. Beitris wasn’t some foolish child that needed to be carried off.

“My laird,” she said harshly, hoping if she explained her fears to him, he would understand where she was coming from. “Ye asked me before to help ye, and I offered myself willingly to ye. I cannot be sent away now when I fear for yer safety. If ye would only listen to me. I worry—”

“My laird!”

Beitris turned around sharply, her neck aching at the sharp movement as she watched a man soaked to the bone run inside the hall, dragging in water behind him. His face was unusually pale. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. There was a cut across his cheek. Her eye widened on the attire he wore, recognizing the colors and the stag clasp holding the man’s shawl to his shoulders. She hardly recognized the man, but she knew he was one of her father’s soldiers. Her feet wavered, and she clutched the table, steadying herself as she watched the man stumble to his knees before her and Fraser.

“My laird,” the man whispered, his eyes so wide as if he had seen a ghost. “My lady,” he said as he turned to her, his head bowing. He clenched his hands, his shoulders shaking. She heard his sharp intake of breath, saw the blood staining his leine. It couldn’t be his. There was no way he could run or move so well with such an injury.

It belonged to another.

“Where’s my father?” Beitris shouted while stepping towards the man. Tears streamed down her face. “Where is he? Is he well? Is he—”

Fraser’s hand on her shoulder halted her questions, and she wobbled, her vision becoming blurred. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her pounding heart, but her shaking wouldn’t stop. Her vision was becoming fuzzy. A whimper escaped her as she clasped her hands over her face. She leaned against the table, hearing the sharp screech of wood scraping against stone.

“Where is Laird Gordon?” Fraser’s voice sounded commanding, yet at the same time, it sounded so far away. Her whole body was becoming numb. She clamped her eyes closed, allowing the darkness to take her. Her mind swarmed with images of blood soaking the grass, of her father lying on the ground, staring lifelessly up at the sky, his leine soaked with blood.

“Nae,” she whispered, shaking her head while digging her fingers into her scalp.

He couldn’t leave her. He promised he would return to her. She wasn’t ready to be alone in this world. She wasn’t ready for him to be gone. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm the pounding of her heart and the tears stinging her eyes. Her father couldn’t possibly be dead.

“He has been captured,” the guard said, his voice echoing in her ears.

Beitris sobbed, clasping a hand over her mouth as the words echoed through her mind. Captured, she told herself. He could still be alive. He could still return to her in one piece.

“We were riding to ye for yer wedding. And then—” the soldier paused, and Beitris opened her eyes. She ground her teeth as the soldier shook his head, his eyes staring at the floor as if he was watching the events unfold once more. “They came out of nae where,” he breathed. “From all sides.” The soldier shook his head. “I can’t remember it all. Everything happened so fast. Many of our men—” He choked on the words, unable to speak as they hung in the air, tainting the aura around them.

Beitris cried. She could no longer contain her tears nor remain in control. Her body dropped to the floor, her knees hitting the stones hard. She wailed into her hands and shook her head, trying to force the images of her father injured and alone far from her mind.

“Beitris,” Fraser whispered, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her towards him.

She sobbed and fell into his arms, burying her face into his shoulders. He stroked her back as she cried. She knew all along something was wrong. She knew something terrible was bound to happen, and there it was, in a form she never suspected it would take shape in. Fraser had thought she would be taken. Beitris had thought Fraser would be killed.

She never thought her father would be captured and his men killed.