Page 52 of The Mad Highlander
The plate in Iris’ hand trembled a little, and a nugget of cheese rolled off. She stared at the Laird, transfixed, and a single tear ran down her cheek and dropped to the grass below. Cayden reached out and wiped the wet streak from her cheek.
“I had to watch him stab me brother through the chest with a sword. I watched the light leave me brother’s eyes that day, and me faither nodded his head when it was done as if it were somethin’ to tick off his list. Me brother only wanted to toss me faither in the dungeons, and in return, me faither killed him. It was all because he had a spare: me.”
Cayden felt his throat go dry, and he couldn’t clear it. He poured out a small amount of the ale and used it to wet his whistle. He cleared his throat successfully after that. He didn’t look at Iris again. He didn’t want to see her weep for him.
“I bided me time,” Cayden continued. “I had a rage in me that could not be sated. Me faither killed me brother, and therewas naythin’ I could do to stop it. Me brother protected me all those years, and I couldnae protect him. I grew stronger, always trainin’ for battle, but me fight was nae against our enemies. It was against me faither. I kenned many didnae like what he did, but they wouldnae dare say anythin’. I waited and waited and waited, and finally, the day came. I took all the rage and hurt and pain I had inside me, and I used it to avenge me brother. I killed me faither, and anyone who was still loyal to him. There werenae all that many when it came to it.
“The folk of me clan were glad to have him gone, but word soon got out, and it was the other clans that donned the mad laird moniker. Still, it brought about peace for a while. Me faither had many enemies, but I didnae. And not many wanted to fight with the man who had killed his own faither and slaughtered some of his clan. I couldnae save me brother, but I could protect me maither and Robyn from him. That’s why I am like I am. That’s why I am the mad laird.”
Cayden breathed heavily through his nose as he looked out at the loch—the water had stilled again and reflected the trees. He watched the birds fly through the water, a reflection of the sky. He was glad he had told her everything but was terrified of what came next.
“That’s horrible,” Iris muttered.
“Aye, it is,” the Laird admitted. “That’s who I am.”
“Nay, nae ye,” Iris clarified. “What ye had to go through. I cannae believe ye had to go through that as a young lad. Nayone should have to live through that, and most who do would have crumbled under the weight of it. I dinnae condone killin’ anyone, but yer faither deserved it. What he did to yer brother was unforgivable. It was justice for him to die.”
“Ye think?”
“I ken,” Iris confirmed. “And it couldnae have been easy to do it, either. Ye had to grieve yer brother and ken yer faither killed him, and then ye had to kill yer faither. It is nae only the trauma of yer brother dyin’, but the trauma of killin’ yer own faither. That’s a lot for a young lad to carry around, let alone a man. Ye are certainly nae mad for what ye did.”
“Ye dinnae think so?” He finally turned to her. He had been expecting shock and horror from Iris, not understanding.
“I ken for sure ye are nae mad,” she stated. Iris placed her hand on the Laird’s cheek. “Ye are a good man, and ye did what needed to be done. That’s all I ken.”
“I have ne’er thought that.”
“Well, ye should.” Iris’ cheeks were starting to redden as she became more passionate about him understanding what she said. “Yer faither would have either killed ye or made ye just like him, and I dinnae ken which would have been worse. Ye are nothin’ like him, and ye should be glad of that every day. I ken yer brother will be lookin’ down on ye, and he would be proud of what ye have accomplished.”
Cayden had to look away. The last time he had cried was when his brother had been killed. There was not only his brother’s blood on the stone floor of the great hall but Cayden’s tears. His father had smacked him across the face for shedding tears before sending him away.
The Laird wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before looking back at Iris. “That’s me story. That is everythin’ ye need to ken.”
“And I am glad ye told me all of it,” she replied. “Now that we have cleared the air, we can properly enjoy our picnic.”
Cayden felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders—a weight he had been carrying for many years.
22
Cayden poured himself some more ale and a little more wine for Iris. He raised his cup in silence and clinked his against hers. They both drank from their cups. Cayden took deep breaths as he looked at the water.
Iris had lost her mother and father at a young age, but she didn’t need to talk about that. She’d lived a happy childhood, and her uncle had been generous enough to take them in when they were still young. Her uncle was not a good man, but they had kept out his way enough until their cousin Tristan had become laird. Tristan had been good to them.
As they clinked their cups together, Iris mourned not only the loss of the Laird’s brother but of her mother and father, too. She would talk about them another time, but the mood needed to be lightened. There should be no more talk of death.
Yet, the threat of the Laird leaving in two days still hung over their heads.
“Look,” Cayden said, pointing toward the loch.
Two ducks emerged from the reeds on the other side of the water and paddled to the middle of the lake, disturbing the mirrored reflection. Iris watched them as she nibbled on cheese, meat, and fruit.
She could not be sure, but the fruit seemed to taste sweeter than before. She took one of the raspberries and handed it to the Laird to consume. He popped it into his mouth and chewed on it. Iris took up another one and ate it—the sweetness exploding.
She reached out her hand and placed it on the Laird’s leg as he sat beside her. She squeezed his thigh.
“Thank ye for tellin’ me that. I ken ye more since comin’ here, but I ken ye even more now. I can see the man ye are, and I can see how ye became that man.”
Their picnic by the loch felt more intimate. Iris knew that he had not told many people that story, but she was now one of them, and it made her long for his lips again. The story was the saddest she had heard, but it buoyed her. She was closer to Cayden, and she wanted more closeness.
