Page 80 of Taming the Highland Misfits
“Well, the weather is good for a change.” Alex was hoping to change the subject, but his effort failed miserably.
Archie laughed heartily at that. “Well, Captain,” he said, shrugging, “I cannae force ye tae tell me, but I am happy for ye as well.”
With that, he walked away, and Alex realised that his love for Freya was indeed an open secret. He might as well trumpet it from the topmost turret of the castle! Then he decided that it would be better to wait for the Laird’s formal consent, since he did not want to tempt fate. He could do nothing about the speculation of the guards, the maids, and the rest of the staff, but he had to be circumspect until the moment he placed the ring on Freya’s finger. Nothing must go wrong now!
* * *
Gerald Patterson was not thinking such pleasurable thoughts. He would love to have seen Aidan end Alex’s life then pretend that he was merely defending himself, but when he saw how much blood Alex had shed he was truly alarmed. Aidan had obviously become carried away in the heat of the moment; it must not happen again or his father might take some serious action against him.
He knew that Laird Murdaugh had the power to disown his eldest son and give the Lairdship to Bearnard. If all else failed he could even give it to Freya, but that was a last resort, since women were not usually judged capable of shouldering such heavy responsibility. Her husband would effectively be in control of the estate, and Aidan would have nothing but regrets.
Every single thing about Alex MacNeill annoyed Gerald Patterson; he was everything women loved in a man and everything he, Gerald, was not. He was tall, but Alex was taller, more muscular, and more handsome, although Gerald was not a good judge of other men’s attractiveness.
However, judging by the way the ladies, from the lowest of the maids to Freya’s wealthy friends looked at him, Gerald decided that he must be. As well as that, there was a certain something about him, something he could not put his finger on, but he could see the effect it had on everyone, not just women. A spike of jealousy pierced him.
If only I had what he has!he thought bitterly. Just then, as if he had conjured him up, the object of his thoughts came walking towards him, looking grim. Gerald immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He had not realised till this moment how much he hated this man. Now, he was determined to do his level best to ruin him once and for all.
Alex was in a daydream, and was paying no attention to what was going on around him. He was fiddling in his pocket for the key to his room when a familiar and deeply unwelcome voice said, “Good day, Alex.”
Alex had been walking along thinking about Aidan. His injury had stopped stinging, helped by the salve Aileen McColl had given him. Now, startled out of his reverie, he jumped and looked up.
Gerald was smiling at him in a very self-satisfied manner, glad of the fact that he had startled him. “Oh, I am sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “I did not mean to frighten you.”
“You didn’t,” Alex replied flatly. “Now if you will excuse me, I must clean myself up.”
“Before that, I would like to speak to you,” Gerald said, his voice hostile as he moved to stand between Alex and the door. He drew himself up to his full height and pushed his chest out, squaring his shoulders as he faced him. “I have a few things to discuss with you.”
“Do you, now?” Alex mirrored his stance, but put his hands on his hips and planted his feet wide apart for good measure. He looked enormous, and Gerald took an unconscious step backwards. “Perhaps we could talk inside my room, like civilised people,” he suggested.
“Of course,” Gerald agreed.
Alex unlocked the door and they stepped inside.
Gerald looked around himself, surprised by what he saw. The room was small, but it was definitely not the chamber of a servant. The bed was not ornate, but it was fashioned from fine-grained wood, probably walnut, with a quilt of greyish-blue satin on it.
A chair and table, made of the same wood as the bed, sat in the corner of the room next to the window. The fireplace next to them was carved, made of local stone with a flat mantle on which stood some little ornaments, mainly of animals. The curtains on the bay windows were made of heavy pale blue brocade, and the rug in front of the fire was a Turkish one woven in jewel colours. Gerald had never seen anything quite like it.
A small wardrobe, also fashioned in walnut, completed the furniture. There was only one picture on the wall, that of a local landscape which had been painted by one of the more prominent local artists. Gerald reflected that the artwork and the rug must have cost Alex a pretty penny, then he reminded himself who his family was.
Gerald did not come from noble roots. His father was a wool merchant, and although he had never wanted for anything, he had never been rich either. At that moment, he acknowledged the burning jealousy inside himself. Was there anything this man did not have?
“This used to be the housekeeper’s room,” Alex informed him, seeing Gerald looking around. “The Laird did not like the idea of me sleeping with the ordinary men so he put me in here, since my position in society evidently puts me a cut above the ordinary men.” The tone of his voice expressed his disgust at that point of view. The Laird was a good man, but he was the product of a society that valued status above virtue.
He ushered Gerald into the chair and opened a bottle of wine which he took from a small cupboard beside the bed. He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should share his drink with the other man, then decided against it. He had only one glass, for a start, and he was the one who needed to be soothed, not this arrogant pig of a man who had no respect for anyone but himself.
“I only have one glass,” Alex said shortly, pouring the wine. When it was full, Gerald extended his hand to take it from him, but Alex turned away and moved to stand in front of the door, then nodded to indicate the bottle. “Help yourself,” he said, his eyes gleaming with evil humour. Gerald’s mouth dropped open in shock.
“You cannot expect me to drink out of the bottle!” he cried, outraged.
“Why not?” Alex shrugged. “We have all had to do it at one time or another.” He took another sip of wine then said impatiently, “What do you want? I have duties to attend to as I am sure you do too.”
Gerald sat looking at Alex furiously. He tried to hold his gaze, to stare him out, but Alex’s willpower was too strong, and eventually Gerald dropped his gaze to the floor.
“Now tell me what you want,” Alex said impatiently. “I am not paid to stand here wasting time!”
“It is time you went back to your clan,” Gerald answered, trying to sound calm, even though he was shaking inside.
It was not the answer Alex had expected, and he stood, taken aback for a moment, then he burst out laughing. “The only person who can tell me to do that is the Laird, and he does not seem to be dissatisfied with my performance. Do you think you could tell me what is really on your mind instead of wasting any more of my time?”
