Page 106 of Taming the Highland Misfits

Freya whipped around to face him, her eyes blazing. “When did I give you permission to use my given name?”

Gerald’s mouth dropped open. Clearly, he had not expected this. “I am so sorry, Mistress,” he said in an apologetic fashion. “I forgot myself. Forgive me, please.”

“Perhaps you had better stop speaking altogether,” Freya said acidly.

“No, let him go on, Freya,” the Laird said wearily, “let us get it all out in the open.” He looked Freya in the eye and said sternly, “Please sit still and listen, Freya.”

“I will try,” Freya replied, nodding. However, she knew that if Patterson said anything bad about Alex, she was quite capable of doing him bodily harm, and she gave him a venomous glare before turning her attention to her father.

Gerald began to speak very slowly and carefully. “Alex MacNeill is not who he seems, Fr- Mistress,” he began, carefully avoiding Freya’s gaze. “He has come here with the express intention of taking over this clan, this castle and all its lands.”

At that, Freya jumped out of her seat and lunged towards him, her hands extended like claws. Her hatred of Gerald Patterson at that moment was akin to a fire flaring up inside her, and she wanted to quench it, and him, as quickly as she could. She wanted to rake her fingernails down his face, but just as the thought entered her head, her arms were gripped tightly and pulled roughly behind her.

She let out a squeal of pain and began to squirm and struggle, but Bearnard was holding onto her too tightly. Having seen the expression on her face, and knowing it well, he decided to forestall any trouble. It was the last thing they needed.

“Freya,” he said hoarsely. “Attacking Patterson will avail you nothing. He is merely telling the news, and whatever he says is not his doing. He is only the messenger. Will you calm down now?”

Freya nodded and willed herself to be still, but she was still glaring at Patterson as if she would like to murder him on the spot, which was something that she had thought of doing many times. Of course, fantasizing and actually committing to action were two different things, but it did not stop her from thinking about it.

Seeing that Freya was not going to be allowed to harm him, Gerald began to speak again. “One of our maids was cleaning Alex’s bedchamber when she found a book under his bed. It looked as though it had been there for some time, but that is not a part of the room that is cleaned often. She is illiterate and thought nothing of it, but Aidan happened to be passing the open door and saw her with it.

On closer inspection, we found a pile of letters between the bottom of the bed and the floor, and they had obviously been hidden there to escape detection. I recognised Laird MacNeill’s handwriting at once, of course, because your father and I have dealt with him many times.

Anyway, the correspondence said this: Alex is an agent of Laird MacNeill’s. We always thought the family were allies but it seems not to be the case. Alex wants to marry you in order to gain entrance to Kilkenrigg. He wants to become a part of the family and lull you into a false sense of security. Then he will kill your brothers, and he will take over here.”

“Why did the MacNeills not just attack us, then?” Freya asked defiantly.

“Because you are too strong and your defences are too good,” Gerald replied promptly. “So they decided the only way to do it was by stealth–from the inside. Remember the ambush in the carriage?”

“How could I forget it, you stupid man?” Freya was so angry that she was shaking with rage, her hands clenched into tight fists.

“That was organised by the MacNeills,” Gerald Patterson stated. “Alex killed the guard so he could make himself look like a hero and your father would give him the position of Captain of the Guard. From there, he could work on you, Mistress, and make you fall in love with him.”

“Oh, yes?” Freya put her hands on her hips and raised her chin so that she could look down at the man she detested. “And where is your proof? Where are these letters?”

“The letters are hidden,” he replied quickly.

“Surely you can let me read them, otherwise how do I know you are telling the truth?” She turned to the Laird. “Have you seen them, Father?” she demanded.

The Laird nodded, looking uncomfortable. He looked at the table and said nothing for a moment, then he spoke, sounding deeply unhappy. “Gerald is right,” he told her. “He has no reason to lie to me.”

Freya could have disputed that, but she chose to keep her own counsel for the time being and looked at Aidan, who had said nothing up till now. “What do you think, big brother?” She loaded the word ‘big’ with sarcasm. “You are very quiet, and that is not like you.”

Aidan looked at his sister sulkily. “I never trusted him,” Aidan replied. “I knew he was a bad lot the first time I saw him, but our father would not listen to me.” He glared at Laird Murdaugh, but his father did not meet his eyes.

“He is not a ‘bad lot’ as you so eloquently put it,” Freya declared hotly. “He is the opposite. He is a good man who is being attacked out of jealousy. None of you even comes close to being the kind of person Alex is, so you are trying to discredit him in any way you can. You are all despicable. I expected something like this of you, Aidan, and you, Patterson.” She gave him a scathing glance. “But you, Father?”

“Not me, Freya,” Bearnard said firmly, speaking up for the first time. “Alex is one of the best men I know, and I have always looked up to him. There is either some kind of misunderstanding here or this is a plot to discredit him. I refuse to believe he is a criminal, and you,” he looked around the others, “should be ashamed of yourselves.”

He had come to the head of the table and was looking sternly down at his father, who was sitting at the other end, and suddenly Freya could see something she had never noticed before. Bearnard had become a man. Physically, of course, he had been one for years, but now he had a new authority about him; he had suddenly matured, and there was an air of confidence about him that had not been there before.

Freya came to stand beside him and put her hand on his shoulder, and he put his arm about her waist.

“Bearnard,” the Laird said irritably. “I have not said these things lightly, and I assure you that I felt the same when I first heard them and read the letters, but I can assure you that everything I say is true.”

“Then show me the correspondence.” Freya looked steadily at her father for a moment, but her glance flicked sideways when she saw Aidan and Gerald Patterson exchanging glances.

“I am afraid that is not possible,” Gerald told her.