Page 95 of Taming the Highland Misfits
“The Murdaughs are not our friends.” His voice was dull. “I have heard that they want to break our alliance and try to take over our land.”
Alex was shocked into silence for a moment, then something occurred to him. “From whom did you hear this, Uncle?”
“I have someone in Kilkenrigg who sometimes hears things,” he replied. “Not a spy, exactly, but you know how servants gossip, Alex. It seems that Aidan Murdaugh and Gerald Patterson are thick as thieves, and my informant overheard them talking one day through an open door.”
That made sense, Alex thought. He would not put anything past those two. However, if they were plotting something, he doubted if Laird Murdaugh knew anything about it. He knew the Laird to be an honourable man, and the kind of subterfuge necessary to this kind of criminal activity was simply not in his nature.
“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “And your informant, is he reliable?”
Laird MacNeill hesitated for a moment. “I think so,” he replied slowly. “At least, he has never let me down before.”
Alex felt a surge of pure rage go through him as he glared at his uncle. He stood up and leaned over the table to look into his eyes. “So on the basis of this one man’s word, which may or may not be true, you are saying I cannot marry Freya?” he growled. “Because I will do so whether you like it or not, Uncle. I am a grown man and you cannot stop me.”
“That is true,” the Laird agreed, nodding. “But I can tell you a few things that may change your mind. Sit down, Alex.”
He did so, but continued to glare at his uncle threateningly across the table.
The Laird sighed. This was going to be difficult, he knew, but it had to be done.
14
Alex sat for a few moments and poured himself another glass of wine, wishing it were whisky; he felt he needed something stronger to calm himself. His hands were shaking as he picked up the glass, and he had to physically force himself to relax.
“I need you to tell me everything–absolutely everything–about this, Uncle.” As well as being extremely angry, Alex was now curious. “Freya Murdaugh is my whole world, and there is no reason I can think of that will make me give her up, and I know she feels the same way about me. We are destined to be together.”
“I have no doubt she does feel the same, Alex,” Laird MacNeill was nodding slowly. “She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, and one of the most intelligent. As well as that, she has a wonderful sense of humour.”
Alex watched his uncle closely. He knew him inside out, and could tell when he was trying to butter him up and stall for time. He was doing both of these things now as he nervously ran his fingertip around the rim of his wine glass, avoiding Alex’s eyes. The praise for Freya was meant to assuage his anger, but it had the opposite effect. It only made the flames burn hotter.
“Go on,” Alex was impatient. “Tell me what you mean, Uncle.”
The Laird looked up and slowly began to speak. “Her father’s steward has been looking around for a husband for Freya.” His voice was slow and hesitant, but his movements were jerky and nervous, and he constantly twisted the signet ring on his right middle finger until Alex felt like slapping his hands.
“And while he was doing this, he told the other clans that the alliance between the Murdaughs and the MacNeills was rather fragile. This attracted more attention to her, because her father is wealthy and many other clans would like to be allied to him through a marriage to Freya. As well as that, as I said, she is a very attractive woman, and very few men would turn her down. Laird Murdaugh is worried that if she does not marry soon, men will feel she is too old.”
“What?” Alex gave a scathing, incredulous laugh. “She is in her early twenties. She has at least twenty more years ahead of her for childbearing, if not more, if that is what’s worrying them.”
The Laird shook his head. “It is not that. He is worried that she might lose her looks and no man will want her anymore.”
Alex knew it was unfair, and that he should not feel violent towards the bearer of bad tidings, but the cause of them, but at that moment he was so angry that he almost threw his wine in the Laird’s face. “That is the most stupid, asinine thing I have ever heard!” he yelled. “Freya is gorgeous. Every man who sees her wants her! Lose her looks? That will happen to all of us, but not for years.”
“Alex,” Duncan came over to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Alex shook it off impatiently. However, Duncan, although of a relatively placid nature, was as stubborn as his big brother. “Look at me.”
Alex looked into his brother’s blue eyes with a fierce scowl, but the steely determination in them cowed him somewhat.
“Uncle Lachlan is doing his best to explain this very complicated matter to you,” he pointed out, “but it will not help if you lose your temper. He is not the one to blame for this, as you will see if you bother to listen.”
A wave of shame washed over Alex. He did not know what demon had taken possession of him; he had never behaved like this before, but then he had never felt anything quite so intensely before. He nodded slowly and patted Duncan’s hand. “You are right, Brother,” he conceded. “I am sorry. I am sorry, Uncle Lachlan. I don’t know what got into me.”
“I think it is called ‘love’,” his uncle suggested, with a twinkle in his eye. “I understand, Alex. Apology accepted.” He frowned and paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then went on.
“While all our inquiries were going on, I bumped into a close friend of mine, John Andrews, the estate manager at Largleith. He was looking for one of Laird Armstrong’s workers who had disappeared with a large quantity of liquor from his employer’s wine cellar. The man was a known thief, although Armstrong did not know that when he employed him. Between you and me, he’s not clever enough to add three and three together and make six!”
Alex laughed. “So I heard. Apparently, his daughter is the power behind the throne there!”
“Very true,” the Laird agreed. “The man who marries her will be a very fortunate man indeed. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, Andrews. He is a very sharp, intelligent man, and he can read people as easily as you or I could read a book. Do not ever try to lie to him, because he can see right through a lie. In some ways, I find him absolutely terrifying.
Anyway, in the course of looking for this piece of human rubbish, he had to visit many seedy, disreputable places, and he told me that he saw many things that appalled even him. He had always thought he was an astute student of human nature, and had seen the worst behaviour of which mankind was capable, but he told me that even he was shocked many times. But I digress.”
