Page 116 of Taming the Highland Misfits

Alex screwed his eyes shut and ignored the other man, tensing his whole body in preparation for what was coming next, whatever that was. As he heard the gates of the cell crash open and felt Patterson’s presence near him, he leaped to his feet, catching him in the act of bending down to haul him up.

Alex had the advantage of height since he was already upright, and he reacted instinctively like the fighting man he was. He joined his hands together and brought them down on Patterson’s neck as he was straightening up, then caught one of his wrists, spun him around and twisted his arm up behind his back.

Patterson cried out and the guard rushed back, but Alex had already let go of his opponent. He had expected Patterson to strike him, but he backed away, his face twisted in pain as he massaged his elbow.

“You surprised me,” Alex told him, shrugging. “I reacted as I have been trained to do.”

Patterson stared at him with eyes full of hate. “You acted like the savage you are, Alex MacNeill,” he replied. “But you know, it need not have come to this. I told you to break off the betrothal with Freya when you came back from your uncle–we shook hands on it. All you had to do was go back to the MacNeills and forget about her, but then, for some reason best known to yourself, you reneged on our agreement.”

He took a step forward toward Alex so that their noses were almost touching and poked a finger in his chest. “Not only did you break your word, but one of my men saw you talking to each other, then kissing ‘in a very passionate way’, as he told me. He followed you, and he saw you leading Freya into your room.”

“Nothing happened,” Alex protested. “We talked, that’s all.”

Patterson eyed him for a moment before bursting out laughing. “Do you think I am a complete moron?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “That is exactly what I expected you to say, and if I were in your shoes, I would say the same thing. Please do not insult my intelligence, MacNeill! She is a beautiful woman, and everyone knows you have been in a relationship for years; it is an open secret. I will give you credit for not embarrassing yourself by flaunting it everywhere, but please do not lie to me.”

“I am not lying,” Alex said hotly. “I am telling you the truth, but if you choose not to believe me, I am afraid there is nothing I can do about it.”

The two men faced each other for a long moment, glaring fiercely but it was Patterson who dropped his gaze first.

“And now look where you are,” Patterson said, pretending to be sad. “You are on the brink of death, and I welcome it because after all of this is over, Freya can put you behind her and get on with her life. Then she can marry the kind of man she was always destined to marry–someone worthy of her who can give her fine children.”

“And who did you have in mind?” Alex cocked a cynical eyebrow. “Yourself, perhaps?” A stab of jealousy pierced him. This could have been Gerald Patterson’s motive all along.

To his surprise, Patterson looked shocked, then shook his head firmly. “Is that what you think?” he asked. “You are very much mistaken. I am to be betrothed to someone else, and the identity of the man chosen for Freya will be the choice of her father.

You deserve everything you get, MacNeill, and as I promised you before, if you breathe one word to her, I will personally slit her throat to stop her from telling anyone. You know that I am a man of my word.” Then he did something utterly horrifying. He pulled a dagger out of his pocket, removed its leather scabbard, and showed Alex the lethally sharp blade that gleamed even in the dim light. He said nothing; he did not have to. The look of savage glee on his face said it for him.

Alex felt a surge of pure rage course through him, but knew that his fury was impotent. Freya’s safety was all that mattered now. He said sadly, “I will accept my fate without complaint as long as nothing happens to Freya.”

Then he turned his back on Patterson and lay down again.

Gerald Patterson cast him a glance that was full of hatred and began to walk away.

23

After a sleepless night spent counting down the minutes that were left of his life, Alex finally saw the dawn coming up. He almost welcomed it, because soon the agony would be over. He wondered what the hanging itself would be like, and found that he was interested in the experience instead of being scared of it. If it were painful, it would only be for a second or two, he was sure. All that worried him now was that he would somehow make a fool of himself by being sick or wetting himself at the last moment. He shuddered at the thought of the indignity.

Still,he thought,after that, I will no longer have to worry.He went over to the bucket to wash himself then dried off with the piece of coarse linen that masqueraded as a towel and sat back waiting for his meagre breakfast to arrive.

His breakfast came, but it was not meagre. He frowned as he saw eggs, black pudding, sausages, porridge, cheese and newly-baked bread, as well as a flagon of good ale.Another hearty meal for the condemned man,he thought, laughing at the ironic thought that a man who would be dead in an hour was eating so well.

The maid who was delivering it gave him a sad smile. “I’m that sorry, Captain,” she said gently as she put down the tray. “We are a’ thinkin’ o’ ye upstairs, an’ we a’ know who is really tae blame.” She shot him a sympathetic look. “We will look after the Mistress.”

Alex swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thank you, Agnes,” he said huskily. “Freya will need all the friends she can get.”

Agnes took his hand and squeezed it, a greatly daring thing for a maid to do to a man of his status. “God bless ye,” she whispered, before tiptoeing away.

Alex looked down at his food and decided that he might as well enjoy the last few minutes on earth by eating the delicious spread that had been prepared for him. He thought about Freya and their picnics by the loch while he was eating it, and smiled as he remembered the day she had gone fishing with him.

It was the first time she had ever tried to catch a fish, and she was very nervous about handling the wriggling little earthworms they were using as bait. “Are you sure the fish will eat these?” she asked doubtfully. “They don’t look very appetising.”

“They do to the fish,” he assured her. He showed her how to cast the line and hook into the water and they sat down to wait for a bite. “This might take a while,” he warned her.

“Then it’s a good thing I have you to talk to,” she said, smiling as she took his hand and kissed it.

“What would you like to talk about?” he asked wickedly, as he reached for her.

Suddenly, the rod jerked in her hand and the line tightened, then Alex helped Freya pull out a large, silvery fish which wriggled and danced on the end of the line. Alex disengaged it, then bashed its head on a rock to kill it.