Page 32 of Highlander’s Dangerous Love

“Come now. We’ll have some ale by the river ‘afore we begin the day.”

Colin took one last look at the sunrise before following his father into the shop.

It could only go up from here, couldn’t it?

The beauty of the sunrise was forgotten as the day progressed. Despite the autumn chill, it was hot in the shop. The fires had been burning almost all day, and Colin had done nothing but work since that morning. Sweat even flew from his brow and landed on the anvil, sizzling as it hit the hot metal. With each strike of his hammer against the iron, flashes of memories between him and Bryce invaded his mind. The memory of their first hunt together as boys, the first time they ever got drunk and tried to hide it from their fathers; even their first successful scouting mission and the congratulations that had followed. It was as if his own mind were mocking him with those good memories. There was almost no feeling worse than betrayal — almost being the key word, since lost love topped his list.

When those memories of him and Bryce faded, they were replaced with the lovely ones of him and Gemma; all the times they’d flirted as young adults, sought out each other’s company as children, and made love as man and woman.

But now both of his closest relationships had changed. The news that his father had shared in the tavern a couple nights ago was jarring at first, but…even if Colin had stayed at the castle, it still might have happened. It was no use pondering, really. He could not change the past or other people’s actions; he could only look forward and be responsible for himself.

So lost in thought was Colin that he did not hear his father asking for him until he yelled, jerking Colin out of his endless sea of angst.

“Colin, my boy! I’ve been callin’ out tae ye for ages,” his father said, gripping his son’s arm for attention.

Colin set down his tools and wiped his forehead on his sleeve.

“Sorry, father. I was thinkin’ about…everything,” he admitted.

“I ken. Ye had that look on yer face. But in light of…recent events, I feel I must tell ye about…some things.”

Well, this did not bode well.

“What…things?”

“I think it’ll be easier over a drink, aye?”

Colin shrugged and took off his apron, laying it neatly on his workbench.

“Should we tell Uncle Angus we’re leavin’?”

“I did. An’ he’s got Robert for anyone who comes in needin’ help.”

What could his father possibly have to tell him at this hour that would require a drink in order to say it? Surely enough damage had been done already with the official news that Gemma and Bryce were betrothed to one another.

When they reached the tavern and settled in at a comfortable table by the window, his father flagged down the red-faced barmaid and ordered ales for the both of them. Then, with a dramatic sigh, his father looked at him fondly. It was like staring into his own face twenty years from now. Douglas Frazier had the same sharp jawline, green eyes, and red hair as his son. From far away, they might be mistaken for brothers, but up close, one could see crow’s feet framing his eyes, and his shoulders droop a little. So much handling of weaponry and time on the field of battle had aged him faster than was normal.

“Colin, why do ye think Bryce sent us away?” he asked, as if he were asking a small child a question to which they should already know the answer.

Colin was utterly confused by the question and the manner in which it was asked, as Bryce had made his anger known that night at the fire.

“He said he caught ye abed with his mother. Are ye about tae tell me ‘tis not true? Because that information would have been very handy several months ago,” he said, feeling his anger rise.

“Nay, ‘tis the truth. I was abed with Laird MacNeill’s wife.”

“Unless that changes our circumstances, I dinnae see why ye had tae bring me here an’ tell me this.”

“It was convenient for Bryce tae send ye away, too, so he could have that Gemma lass tae himself,” his father said.

“I dinnae want tae think of it that way. Bryce may be entitled and have a prideful attitude, but he is not the schemin’ type.”

Douglas Frazier sighed.

“I am an old man. There isnae much left that I havenae done. I have fought an’ been victorious in battle, I’ve loved a good woman, I’ve raised a good lad.”

“Father, dinnae speak as if this is the end,” Colin chided, wary of the rest of this conversation.

“I speak that way because I am willin’ tae go back an’ confess, tae clear the family name an’ face the consequences of my actions.”