AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Rowan said nothing. All the anger and fight seemed to have drained out of him, and he hung his head, looking utterly defeated.
“I do not know how you thought you would have enough men to do this.” The laird shook his head, then his voice dropped so that it was low and full of menace. “But you can answer that question when we interrogate you.” He jerked his head at a guard, who took Rowan’s arm and led him away.
At the door, Rowan turned and looked back at Fraser. “I wish ye nothin’ but misery,” he said in a voice that was full of hatred and bereft of all hope.
Fraser said nothing because he felt nothing.
When the door closed on him, he turned back to the laird. “Do ye need me for anythin’ else, M’Laird?” he asked.
“Not at the moment.” Gordon Gilchrist smiled. “But I am amazed that you are still alive and very glad that you are still with us. You are one of my best men, Fraser.”
Fraser smiled. “I think I might be alive because o’ ye, M’Laird,” he replied.
The laird gave him a puzzled look. “Why is that?” he asked.
Fraser withdrew the dagger from its scabbard on his hip. “I killed Davie Morrison wi’ this. I have a feelin’ it might be yers.” He handed it to the laird and watched as his mouth opened in amazement, then his expression changed to one of absolute joy as he kissed the dagger’s handle. He looked at it in disbelief.
“My father gave me this,” he breathed. “I lost it when I was hunting. We looked for it everywhere but the forest is a big place and we could not find it. How did you come by it?”
“Evanna found it buried under some tree roots in the forest,” Fraser replied. “I saw yer mark on the back.”
The laird turned it over. “Why did ye not sell it?” he asked in disbelief. “It is worth a small fortune.”
Fraser shrugged. “I am an honest man, M’Laird,” he answered simply. “An’ Evanna is an honest woman. Anyway, who ’round here could afford it?”
“You are a very good man,” the laird observed. “Thank you, Fraser. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will never be able to repay you properly.”
“No need, M’Laird,” Fraser answered, grinning. “The look on yer face is a’ the reward I need.”
16
That night, Fraser slept in a bunk in the castle with the other guards, and although he missed Evanna, there was something deeply enjoyable about the rough-and-tumble camaraderie of men. He had not forgotten the swearing, the ribald jokes, the snoring, and the unashamed discussion of bodily functions of every kind that could never be mentioned in the company of ladies. As well as that, there was something very satisfying about not having to watch every word he said.
Everyone wanted to know what had happened to him, and he told them, but he tried to keep Evanna out of it as much as possible. He did not want her to be the subject of men’s fantasies. He preferred any fantasies to be his own.
* * *
Although he was desperate to make his way back to the tavern, Fraser was kept busy by the laird, who needed him to begin the training of some new recruits. After a short while, however, he could see that Fraser’s heart was not in his work. His mind was dedicated to someone else.
Accordingly, on the fourth day after he had imprisoned Rowan McLachlan, Laird Gilchrist was standing in his study looking out of the window at the rain driving against it, wondering how he had been so deceived by him.
He had only realized shortly before that the man was motivated by nothing but jealousy, and it had almost resulted in the death of one of his best and most loyal men. He could not replace the likes of Fraser McLachlan. His integrity and honesty were unshakeable, and he could not believe that he had been deceived into thinking otherwise.
Just then, a maidservant came in and announced that Fraser had arrived. The laird bade him come in and watched while the tall, muscular man entered and saluted him.
“M’Laird,” he said politely, then waited while Gordon Gilchrist poured them a glass of whiskey.
“I am sure you are ready for one of these.” The laird smiled as he held up another glass.
Fraser laughed. “What a question to ask a Scotsman, M’Laird!” He took the glass that was offered and sat down at the other man’s bidding. “We could no’ live without this glorious spirit.”
“Agreed!” The laird laughed as he lifted his glass. “Sláinte Mhath! To honor!”
“To honor, M’Laird!” Fraser replied, grinning. “Sláinte Mhath!”
They both settled back in their seats. The laird folded his hands over his stomach, looking at Fraser. “You know, Fraser,” he said thoughtfully, “I should be going down on my knees begging for your forgiveness.”
Fraser frowned in puzzlement. “Why, M’Laird?” he asked.
