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Aidan shot her a speaking look. She’d seen his papers that day. He didn’t know what she’d read, but he’d rather she told him before getting her father involved. “I’ll find proof,” he said definitively, cutting her off.
Her father’s placid expression spoke volumes about just whom he did and did not deem trustworthy. “You won’t find any proof, because I ken a respectable man when I see one. ”
Aidan didn’t care about the slight. He cared that this daft old man, who equated a pricey waistcoat with respectability, was going to sacrifice his only child for financial gain.
He stepped into the older man’s face. “So you’re simply going to throw your daughter to a stranger?”
“Aidan,” Elspeth whispered, “don’t fash yourself. I’m sure Da and I will discuss this. ”
He heard the plea in her voice, but couldn’t help it. A great weight was pressing upon his chest. Fury, frustration, disbelief all crushing down, making his lungs tight.
“You see? I’m not throwing her. All Elspeth has always wanted was to help out her family. ” Her father gave her a careless wink. “Isn’t that right, girl?”
“Oh, and you know so well what she wants?” Aidan clenched his fists, wishing for an outlet for his rage.
“Aidan, please. ” Elspeth placed a gentle hand at his back, and his tensed muscles flinched at her touch.
He’d treasured those tender hands, and now they were being stolen from him. Like everything else in his life he’d ever cherished. “You’re the
only family she has,” he said, stabbing a finger toward her father. His jaws were clenched, each breath a labor now. “And by now you should know better how to take care of your own self, old man. ”
“I care for myself and for her,” her father said, indignant. “Have all these long years, and all by myself, too. ”
Disbelief and outrage roiled in Aidan’s belly. “You call what you do taking care of her?”
“She’s been well tended. She has what she needs. The lass even has her own room. ”
“Truly?” Aidan exploded. “And that’s proof that you know her heart?”
“What do you know of her heart?” her father snapped. “What can you know of anything? You’re naught but an indentured, fresh off the boat. Of course your head is turned by the first skirt you see,” he said, waving a dis-missive hand in Elspeth’s direction.
Aidan’s vision turned red and black. He sprang at the man, punching him squarely on the chin.
“No!” Elspeth shrieked as her da fell hard to the ground.
Her father rubbed his face, working his mouth open and closed. “Damn you. You’ll pay for this. ”
Elspeth’s eyes were wide with shock, and Aidan stared at her, wallowing in his own shame and frustration. Perhaps her father was right. Perhaps he was, and ever would be, nothing more than another man’s servant. Perhaps he’d never be good enough for something—for someone—so fine. “I’m sorry, Beth,” he said, his voice hoarse with feeling. “But you deserve more than that. You are more than that. ”
Eyes narrowing, he turned to glare at her father. “You don’t understand Elspeth. You may think you do. But really you’re not worthy to call her your daughter. ”
Rubbing his hand, Aidan stormed from the cottage.
Chapter 21
He’d lost his head. He’d punched Elspeth’s father.
Aidan scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear the memory, but it was no use. It’d hounded him all night. His mind brimmed with episodes he’d rather forget, and this was one more to add to the lot.
First he’d punched Cormac, and now this. Perhaps Farquharson’s accusations had been right—he was naught but a common laborer, unschooled, violent, and not to be trusted.
He upped his pace, walking the docks as briskly as he could without breaking into an actual run. The wind whipped off Aberdeen harbor, chilling him to the bone, but he embraced it. Though the weather was turning, he’d fled Dunnottar without a cloak, happy to freeze to death if it meant his mind would finally know peace.
He stopped abruptly. He’d reached King’s Quay, marking the general vicinity of the offices of Dougal Fraser and his much-lauded “Knitted Goodes” enterprise. He scowled, thinking how Elspeth’s father had raved about the man’s brilliance, his wealth.
But a fat purse didn’t make someone a man. And it certainly didn’t entitle this Fraser to Elspeth.
He stormed up one of the roads that spiked from the harbor, in search of Fraser’s offices, but slowed his pace as a flicker of doubt seized him. Perhaps this knit mer-chant was worthy. Perhaps he’d love and care for Elspeth in a way that Aidan was unable to.
