Page 79 of Highlander’s Evil Side

“Aye, I can, and I must,” Helga said sternly. She straightened her back while turning towards Finnegan, jutting out her chin and staring him down as if she was admonishing a child. “I can nae longer do this, Finnegan. I can nae longer stand idly by while ye destroy the lives of the people I care for.”

“Ye promised me!” shouted Finnegan while swiping at the air with his arm. “Ye told me ye would give me aid.”

“Who is this man, Helga?” Laird Gordon asked while stepping around Helga and going to stand at Fraser’s side.

Helga sighed and shook her head. “He is also my son. One that was taken away from me long ago by my husband.”

“Two lairds?” a woman breathed in the crowd. “How is it so?”

Helga nodded. “Aye, I gave birth to two healthy sons, and my husband, fearing for the clan, sent one away.”

“But why?” Fraser asked. He couldn’t understand why his father did something so wretched to his own son.

“Because there had been too many battles within our clan. Too much strife over who would be laird, and he would rule. We had only achieved peace with yer father’s lairdship, and he worried what would happen if the village heads preferred one son over the other.” She paused, her gaze going to the stone floor as if she remembered that night so long ago. “I didn’t have any say in the matter,” she breathed. “I never wanted to send ye away, Finnegan.” Helga gazed at Finnegan, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “But yer father promised me he found a well-off family for ye. He promised me ye would be looked after.”

Finnegan scoffed. “Aye, he found me a family. And then it went to ruins. My father,” he spat while pointing a finger at Helga, “wrote to yer family begging for air, and yet it was never given. Ye forgot about me!”

“Nae!” Helga shouted while shaking her head earnestly. “Nae, we would never. The missives were never received. There were brigands and highwaymen stealing and killing.”

“Liar!” Finnegan shouted.

Helga shook her head. “Nae, I would not lie. Not about this. We would have aided ye and yer family if we received the missives. I know my husband. He wouldn’t have left ye to die.” She wiped at her eyes. “I loved ye, from the very moment I laid eyes on ye.” Helga turned to Fraser, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And ye, as well, Fraser. I loved the both of ye. I wanted the best for both of ye. Will ye ever forgive me?”

Fraser didn’t know if he could believe what she spoke of his father. He had been a good man; however, if there had been so much strife, perhaps he would ignore the letters sent. Fraser didn’t know what to believe. He never thought his father could do something so cruel as sending a child away. Nevermind the internal strife within the MacClery lands. Fraser questioned his father’s morality. But he knew, staring at his mother now, she would have done anything for the both of them. She would have sent the money, provided care from afar.

“Nae!” Finnegan shouted, making Helga flinch. “I will never forgive ye for what ye did to me.”

“Finnegan, my son, please,” said Helga while stepping towards him. Fraser tugged on her hand, worried she would get hit or worse by his brother. “I understand yer anger. I always have.” She glanced over her shoulder at Fraser and Laird Gordon. “That is why I aided him as I did. He had every reason to hate me, to hate our family. I wanted for a happy family reunion.”

“Maybe it can still be,” said Beitris.

Fraser’s gaze went to her, standing behind Finnegan. His mouth fell open at the bruise on her cheek, dark and purple. He bit his tongue, not wanting to ask who had hurt her, already suspecting the perpetrator.

“In time, that is,” said Beitris, her gaze lowering. “After he has paid for his crimes.”

“What?” Finnegan breathed. He stood alone in the room, his men slowly slipping out of the kirk.

“Aye, after ye pay for yer crimes,” said Fraser while slowly stepping towards Finnegan. “Yer still my brother. We can find a way to be a family in time.”

Finnegan scowled at Fraser. “Nae. I can never be yer brother.”

“And why is that?” Fraser gestured around him. “Forget yer plans of revenge and stay with us. Ye can be happy here. Ye can—”

“Nae!” Finnegan roared. “Ye must live as I have. Ye must suffer like I suffered.” He slammed a fist down on one of the pews. “Ye must know what it’s like to starve, to not have a friend in the world, to feel as if everyone is against ye. Ye must know what it’s like.”

“Please,” Beitris whispered. “Let me go, and let us be. If ye do not wish to be with yer family, then forget this madness, this need for revenge. Ye do not need to do any of this.”

Finnegan chuckled bitterly. He stumbled towards her, grabbing her hand before she could step away from him. “I did all of this for ye,” he said while leering down at her. “So bonnie, so sweet.” Fraser watched him stroke Beitris’s cheek, noticed the shudder of revulsion going through her. “Do ye not remember the first time we met?”

“Aye,” Beitris said angrily. “I fear I do. That time in the gardens haunts me to this day.”

Finnegan chuckled. “Nae, that was not our first time, lass.”

Beitris’s eyes widened. Fraser looked around, wondering how he could get to her without Finnegan noticing.

“Ye were in the village near Dunbar Castle, and I was on the path, donned in beggars garments with a cup in hand. Ye gave me some coin and a loaf of bread.”

Beitris shook her head. “But that meant naething. I was only being kind.”