Page 84 of Taming the Highland Misfits
“I hope ye dae, Mistress,” Mhairi replied, her voice anxious. “An’ if I may say somethin’ else, watch out for that steward. He has never done anythin’ tae me but I dinnae think he is a good man.”
“Thank you, Mhairi, but the warning is not needed.” Freya frowned deeply and clenched her fists as if about to strike Patterson. “He is a snake, and that is an unkindness to snakes! I learned a long time ago to keep the eyes in the back of my head open when he is about.” She gave Mhairi a final smile before she left, feeling as though she were a soldier marching into battle.
9
All the servants she passed wished Freya a good morning with admiring glances that morning. She knew that she did not have to impress her father, of course, but she felt a little less nervous since she had dressed up a little more carefully that day. She had asked him to meet her alone in the Great Hall, since that was the place he had his most important meetings, especially when there were a number of people involved. For example, he saw the tenants there once a week so that they could air their problems, and he also received their quarterly rents there. As well as that, it was used for ceilidhs and clan meetings, and for family celebrations. Freya hoped that by asking the Laird to meet her here she could signal her intentions without words, and make him see how important this matter was to her.
Freya’s heart was beating nineteen to the dozen as a manservant opened the door for her, but as she stepped inside she froze. Her father was waiting for her, as he had arranged to do, but so was Aidan, and his scowl was so hostile that he might have been trying to murder her with it.
She was utterly shocked, and absolutely furious. She had specifically asked her father to be alone, and even if she had wanted him to bring someone else, the last person on earth she would have invited would be Aidan.
Freya glowered back at him with an equally loaded glare, then turned to her father and looked at him with a question in her eyes,What ishedoing here?
Laird Murdaugh ignored his daughter’s enquiring look. He motioned her to sit down, then frowned at her, but to Freya the expression looked a little artificial, as if he was acting a part. That was when Freya knew she was on safer ground.
Despite himself, he could never stay angry with her for long, and Freya knew it. She was his only daughter, and although he pretended to be strictly impartial and tried not to favour one of his children over another, Freya knew that she was the chosen one amongst them. Men always wanted sons, of course, but sons had to be treated firmly and with strict discipline, whereas daughters could be indulged to some degree.
She hoped that she would still be the favourite after her father heard what she had to ask. Her stomach was full of butterflies, and her heart was beating so hard and fast that she was surprised her menfolk did not remark on it.
Determined not to be hurried, the Laird poured them all a glass of ale and invited Aidan and Freya to help themselves from a plate of oatcakes and cheese on the table. The Laird obviously thought that this was going to be a hurried affair, since there had been no proper breakfast, and it was clear that he had better things to do than indulge his daughter with spurious meetings about frivolous matters.
As she caught Aidan’s threatening stare again, Freya’s mind went back to the incident when he had attacked Alex, and her hatred for her brother grew into a flame so hot that she felt it might consume her. How could this odious creature possibly be her brother? They were so unlike each other in so many ways; in looks, in the things they liked to eat and drink, and especially in temperament. Aidan was rigidly logical and sometimes seemed to be completely without feelings. If he said something was just so, then it was, and that was the end of it. He would never admit when he was wrong.
Freya was his complete opposite, being impulsive, emotional, and liable to fly into transports of joy or bonfires of fury in a split second. The only thing they had in common was their rock-hard stubbornness. When confronted with a problem, each was liable to stand their ground so firmly that “it would take an earthquake to shift them”, as their father was fond of saying. Needless to say, this had caused endless amounts of grief over the years.
At last her father was ready to speak, much to Freya’s relief. However, she was not going to allow him to have the first word. If this was going to be a battle, her sword would strike first. “Father, what is Aidan doing here?” she demanded, flinging out an arm to point at her brother. “I asked to see you alone, and he has no business interfering in the matter that I have to discuss with you. Send him away!”
The Laird cast his eyes heavenward before glaring at his daughter first, then his son. He was beginning to regret his decision not to have a full breakfast that morning, because this was clearly going to be a fierce fight for which he would need all his wits about him.
“You are right, Freya,” he agreed, then fixed his eyes on Aidan. “But because of what happened yesterday, and because of numerous other matters which we are not going to discuss now, I have decided to keep your brother by my side at all times. Obviously, since he is the person who will inherit my estate when I pass on, he needs to know how to behave, and attacking and injuring the Captain of the Guard is not a good example to set for those who depend on us. I have decided, therefore, that he will stay by my side under my supervision until I see fit to let him go.”
Aidan stared at his father with a look that spoke of black, bitter anger. “You are treating me like a child,” he growled. “I do not deserve this!”
If Aidan had expected Douglas Murdaugh to disagree with him, he was disappointed, since his father only nodded and said mildly, “Yes, I am, because that is exactly how you are behaving.” His tone might have been gentle, but his gaze was not, and the two men glowered at each other fiercely for a long moment until Freya’s father turned his attention back to her. “And you do deserve it. In fact, you need this treatment in order to learn to deal with people properly.”
Freya could see that her brother had turned beetroot red, and he was not only furious, but also embarrassed. It was a dangerous combination of emotions, and she knew that the safest reaction was to school her face into a mask of indifference, but she simply could not.
She managed to summon enough self-restraint to stop herself from laughing out loud, but Freya could not help the small, mischievous smile that crept onto her face. After that, she was afraid to look at her brother lest her self-control desert her.
She opened her mouth to speak to her father, but before she could say anything he held up his hand for silence. There was a look on his face that she very seldom saw, but when she did, Freya never interrupted him; however, although she realised that the matter was serious, she could see that the Laird was irritated but not furious.
“Now, before you start to speak,” Laird Murdaugh said, “we need to address the matter of your running away yesterday. That kind of behaviour, especially from a member of my family, will not be tolerated by me. We were discussing important clan business, and it is most annoying. I am a patient man, Freya, but when I hear the servants gossiping, whispering amongst themselves, and laughing at us, I tend to lose my temper!”
“I wanted to discuss important business matters with you too, Father,” she told him, “but the nature of this matter is rather private and I would rather Aidan was not listening to our conversation.”
Aidan was munching on oatcakes, not because he was hungry, but because it was something to do. If he had to listen to Freya’s troubles all day he was sure he might expire of boredom. No, that was not strictly true; his anger would keep him awake.
Freya was fizzing with impatience, wondering where on earth Alex was. Had he forgotten their appointment on this, the most important day of their lives to date? Had he changed his mind and not told her? She dismissed that thought straight away; he had faults like everyone else but he was not lacking in integrity. He was one of the most honest people she had ever met.
Then where was he? Freya began to worry, imagining all the possible reasons why Alex might have been delayed, until she realised that she was driving herself into unnecessary panic.
Aidan was watching her closely, and since he knew her so well he was almost able to read her mind, Freya tried to school her face into an impassive mask. She picked up an oatcake and bit into it, merely wishing to occupy her hands and stop herself from twisting them nervously in her lap. Where the hell was Alex?
“What did you want to ask me, Freya?” the Laird asked impatiently. “I am a busy man and I do not have time for all this.”
“I wanted Alex to be here when I spoke to you, Father,” Freya answered.
“Why?” Aidan asked sharply.
