Page 9 of Highlander’s Evil Side

Fraser held back his chuckle while the stable master waved his hand at the lady’s chair, trying to find the right words yet failing miserably. He could hardly blame the man. It wasn’t common to see a woman riding side-saddle. Fraser had only heard of a few women accomplishing the act, and they were all strong queens.

He supposed his future bride also had their determined temperament, which intrigued him all the more.

Lady Gordon was quite a tenacious one, he decided, and as he watched her dismount from her horse, he couldn’t help the desire pooling within him. Not only was she a beauty, but he enjoyed seeing the strength exuded in her manner. She walked with her head held high, her stride purposeful as she approached the keep. Clearly, she chose to ride on her own for a reason. First impressions were important, after all. Perhaps she knew how to read, and if she did not, he would rectify it at once. He hoped she wouldn't be just his wife but a partner he could rely on in times of need.

“Beitris,” he heard Laird Gordon say harshly as if scolding her.

Beitris, Fraser repeated in his head, enjoying the way her name tickled his ears. He watched Beitris’s approach slow, her hand now on her father’s arm while her eyes glanced from his mother to him. For a moment, he wondered what she thought as she looked upon him. She seemed to appraise him until her eyes suddenly widened with alarm and horror. His brow furrowed in worry, wondering if she was suddenly feeling nervous at meeting him this way. He supposed it would have been better if they had a proper introduction before. Still, Fraser hoped they would spend the next several days courting each other before the wedding. Maybe they wouldn’t fall in love, but perhaps they could be friendly with each other.

His stomach churned when she refused to move any closer. He was vaguely aware of Laird Gordon speaking. The words flowed through one ear and out the other while he watched Beitris glance over her shoulder. Was something wrong? he wondered. He had half a mind to smell his leine but stopped himself. His clothes were fine, he told himself. They were a bit tight, but he had ensured they didn’t smell of musk.

Did she find him unappealing to look upon?

“‘Tis a pleasure to see the both of ye at long last,” came his mother’s voice, slightly louder than needed, as if reminding him that at some point he needed to speak to both the laird and his daughter. “I am Lady Helga of MacClery.”

Fraser shook himself from his thoughts and bowed low. “And I am the Laird of the MacClery Clan.” Maybe she needed some time to get used to him, he thought. “Ye may call me Fraser, if ye wish. I pray the journey was in yer favor?”

“Aye, it was,” said Laird Gordon.

Once again, the laird’s booming voice continued on, but Fraser was no longer paying attention. His attention was caught by his future bride’s deep frown and dark glare.

Had he already offended her? Was he that homely to look upon? His hand tightened on the bouquet he hid behind his back. He had been away from Scotland for so long; maybe he simply forgot the ways of highland women. They were built a bit stronger than the women he met in France, given the drizzly weather and the constant battles over land. From what he remembered, they were quite straightforward as well, which he preferred, given the constant mind games the French and Edinburgh court provided, leaving him frustrated. At least he and Beitris would be able to speak freely amongst themselves.

“Thanks be to the heavens,” Fraser murmured once the laird finished talking.

His lips parted, and he tried to think of anything that would make her frown lift into a bright smile. He knew this was difficult for her: being in a foreign place with people she did not know. By marrying him, she would be leaving behind her friends, her clan, her family. The flowers, he told himself. Give her the flowers.

He stepped forward, holding out the bouquet of flowers while saying as gently as possible, “For ye, my lady.”

But she did not approach. Beitris stared at the flowers as if they were black and wilted—as if he was offering her a bag of rotten apples rather than a bouquet filled with pink and lavender blossoms.

“Beitris,” Laird Gordon said harshly.

He watched his intended stumble forward and snatch the bouquet from his grasp. Without thinking, he took her hand, holding it gently. “It is a pleasure to meet ye, Lady Beitris,” he said before grazing his lips against her knuckles.

Her hand slipped from his grasp, and before he knew it, he felt something hard sting against his cheek with a resounding slap. He blinked, not quite understanding what happened. Pain singed into his skin. His hand lightly touched his cheek, wincing at the bite spreading through the area.

“Beitris!” Laird Gordon shouted while Fraser’s mother gasped.

Fraser turned toward her. His mouth hung open in shock, not knowing what to say. “Thank ye,” he murmured, his brows furrowing in confusion at his own words.

Thank ye?he asked himself. Why in the heavens would he ever say ‘thank ye’? Clearly, something was wrong with him if he was thanking the lass for harming him.

“My apologies,” said Laird Gordon, looking horrified while glancing between Fraser and his own daughter. “I don’t know what has come over her. She—”

Fraser forced a smile. “Apologies are not needed,” he said while at the same time wondering what in heaven’s name his mother got him into. He glanced at his mother, watching her hand slowly lower from her mouth before returning his gaze back to Beitris. He smiled tightly, the act forced and hard to keep as he regarded Beitris. There was something definitely wrong with this lady. He had never been smacked before, although he had seen it from the cads and scoundrels lurking in the pubs, forcing themselves on women.

“Lady Beitris is clearly tired from her long journey,” he said, choosing his words carefully in order to save face. “Perhaps she’s a wee upset by how our union is organized. I thank ye for reminding me of my place.” He nodded towards Beitris, whose scowl grew darker. “We must get to know each other better before we-we—” he waved his hand as he searched for the words, “exchange pleasantries. I’m sure after we’ve spoken a bit more, all will be well.”

Fraser didn’t understand why Beitris was so angry. Here he was, making excuses for her impolite decorum, and still, she appeared to be holding herself back from smacking him again. She was a beauty, but he worried about her sanity.

“Still, please forgive me,” said Laird Gordon while bowing low. “My daughter has spent her life without a mum. She only knows what I have taught her, and I fear I have misled her—"

Fraser held up a hand, and Laird Gordon’s mouth instantly closed. “‘Tis alright.” He turned around, nodding to a group of servants standing behind him. Their mouths were still parted in shock while they stared at Beitris in horror.

So much for having a celebration in their honor. He doubted his intended would enjoy anything he had planned for her.

“Please see to the lady and laird,” Fraser said to the servants. “Draw a bath and ensure they have settled into their rooms properly before the feast tonight.”

“Yes, my laird,” the servants said in unison while curtsying.

Fraser took several steps back, making as much space between him and his intended as possible to ensure his other cheek didn’t meet the same demise. Beitris shot him another foul look before following her father and the servants into the castle’s keep. His gaze swiveled to his mother, who held a hand in front of her mouth while she watched both father and daughter. Slowly, he approached her, waiting for the doors to close.

“She’s bonnie, isn’t she?” his mother rushed out while forcing a smile.

“Aye, that she is,” Fraser said between clenched teeth.

“This is good. Yer union will make a wonderful alliance.”

“I’m sure it will.”

His mother nodded. “Eventually, the both of ye will—" His mother grimaced, unable to continue whatever it was she intended to say.

Fraser sighed and shook his head. “Ye have very successfully found me the maddest wife in all the highlands, Mother.”