Page 57 of A Flawed Scotsman

Her mother rushed to them upon their entrance. The poor woman looked about to faint as tears streaked down her face. “Thank the heavens ye are alive,” the woman wailed, hurrying to keep up with him as he climbed the stairs and up to their bedchamber.

He kissed her gently on the lips and lowered his wife onto the bed. She was immediately surrounded by her mother and other women who began to pepper her with questions.

“Allow her time to rest. She was taken by guards who are now facing punishment,” he informed the women.

He rushed back down to the great room just as Laird Fraser rushed out to the courtyard and Ruari followed.

In the center of the courtyard, both men were on their knees, hands bound behind their backs.

Ruari stood beside the laird who’d stopped and looked down at the men, both hung their heads, not daring to look up.

“Ye’re cowards and there is no place for ye in my clan.” The laird looked to the rest of the guards who were lined up and silent. “If any of ye ever dare to do anything against my family let this be a warning to ye.”

He drew a jeweled dirk and stalked to the already bleeding man whom Keithen had shot with an arrow. Grabbing the guard’s hair, he yanked the man’s head back. “Ye are a coward and meant to kill my daughter.” The cut across the man’s throat was clean and swift. There was a shocked expression upon the man’s face just as he fell face first onto the ground.

“Ye promised to let me l-live,” the other blubbered. Ruari didn’t wish to hear the squalling of a grown man. He went to the man and did as the laird had done, pulling the man’s head back by the hair. “I never did. However, ye did take an oath to protect the laird and his family.”

Seconds later, the man joined the first, their blood seeping into the dirt. A cart was brought, and the bodies quickly loaded onto it.

Several men neared with buckets of water, pouring it over where they’d bled. Soon after, it was as if nothing had occurred.

Keithen, Ruari and the laird went into the great room. They settled at a table and immediately were served ale.

Laird Fraser met Ruari’s gaze. “Ye are a good husband to my daughter.”

Unsure about what to say, Ruari remained silent, considering what to say if the man once again repeated that he and Esme should go live on Ross lands. He mentally prepared to argue against it.

“Perhaps it was a good idea that ye remain. Although I hate what Esme went through, I am glad to know the truth of what happened to her in the forest.”

“They were wrong to be hunting without permission, and that is probably why they made such a horrible decision to leave her there to die,” Keithen said.

“Fools,” Ruari added.

The laird drank deeply from the cup and refilled it from a pitcher left on the table. “Ye are welcome to remain here if that is what ye wish.” The man met Ruari’s gaze. “I fear that my wife cannot withstand another blow at the moment. She is fragile from all that has happened and Esme leaving could kill her.”

For the first time in his life, Ruari felt the fullness of his responsibility to a wife. He was to care for her and ensure that she would always be well and provide for her security and safety.

Glancing to the stairwell, he wished nothing more than to be with Esme. But first, he would go to the nearby creek and wash away the dirt and blood.

As they finished the ale, only he and Keithen at the table, Ruari met Keithen’s gaze. “Why did ye not kill him at the farm?”

“I did not want his mother and my sister to see it.”

Ruari nodded and stood. “Ye are a good man.”

When Keithen’s gaze met his, there was pride. “I am honored to have ye as part of my family.”

Chapter Eighteen

It had been several days since her harrowing experience and Esme was back to her routine. Putting down her sewing, she stood and stretched. Catriona sat in a chair by the window, but her gaze remained fixed downward. Shoulders rounded, her hair pulled back, she looked to have aged ten years.

The normally vibrant woman seemed to have lost all caring for life, her outlook as bruised and ugly as the bruising marring her face.

“Would ye like to go out for a walk?” Esme asked, forcing a bright tone. “It is a beautiful day. We can have a picnic.”

“No. I would rather remain here.” The reply was as lifeless as her friend. “Ye do not have to stay here so long. Go, please.”

Esme settled into a chair and lifted up a basket. “I have been avoiding sewing and mending. It’s best I do it while there is plenty of light. Would ye like to help?”