Page 114 of The Laird's Masked Passion

“Me faither killed me maither.”

The words entered the room without warning. Elspeth stopped breathing.

Colin stood with his face turned toward the fire. The flames outlined the hard angle of his profile but offered no warmth to it.

“She gave him one living son,” he continued. “Me. There were other babes after, but none lived long enough tae be named before the clan.”

“Oh, Colin.”

“He blamed her.”

His voice remained even. That was worse than if it had broken.

“He wanted more sons. More heirs. Men like him always want proof that the world will continue wearing their name after death.” His uninjured hand rested against the mantel. “When she couldnae give him another, he treated her as though grief were disobedience.”

Elspeth remembered Morven’s trembling hands. She remembered advice whispered in terror and the pain swallowed beneath Thomas Fraser’s eye.

“What did he dae?”

Colin’s fingers curled against the stone.

“He neglected her when she was ill. Denied the healer until it was too late. When she begged tae be taken from the castle, he struck her.” His throat moved. “He said if she died, it would be because she had chosen weakness.”

Elspeth felt tears sting her eyes. “Did ye… see it happen?”

“Aye.” The single word held a boy’s helplessness inside a man’s voice. “I was twelve.”

Elspeth crossed the last step between them. She wanted to touch him, but fear made her hesitate. He seemed held together by so severe an effort that tenderness might undo him.

Colin looked at her at last. “He could be charming when it suited him. Generous before witnesses. Men praised his strength and called his temper the burden of command.” Bitterness sharpened his mouth. “When he died, they began finding him in me.”

“Who did?”

“Everyone.”

His gaze fell from hers.

“They said I had his eyes, his stillness, his temper. Whenever I ordered punishment, someone saw him. Whenever I grew angry, someone waited fer me tae become cruel. At first, I hated them fer it.”

“And then?”

“Then I began tae wonder whether they were right.”

Elspeth understood then why he held himself so tightly, why every affection became danger, why every impulse was chained before it could move.

He did not fear that he lacked feeling. He feared what feeling might permit him to become.

“Colin…” She placed her hand against his chest.

His heart struck hard beneath her palm.

“Ye are cold sometimes,” she told him. “Unreasonable often. Commanding always. And there are mornings when I believe the entire castle conspires tae keep sharp objects from me.”

Something almost human moved across his face.

“But cruel?” she continued. “Nay.”

“Ye saw me below.”