Highland Supplanter (Book 2)

Chapter 12

Happy new year! Hope you all have a good 2014!

Chapter 12

The sun had already set. Though with a Highland winter being what it was, it was still early. As Hamish left the Keep. He had cried off from his friends as they had called for more drink. Only allowed to leave after he had promised to come back in time for the evening meal. He just needed some time alone. Now that he was committed to the plan at hand. He would not deviate. And yet, his solitude would be forever gone when this went into effect. For the plan to succeed he also needed to make sure his cottage was something she would want to call her own.

Not that it could be any worse than what she was coming from. She would resist. She would fight. But he needed to show what she could have. He just needed to make sure he was proud in his abode, and be able to show her the best of his belongings. His cottage was his mother’s pride and joy and he had tried to keep to her standard since she had moved on.

Walking up the path to his front door, he was sure one of his neighbours had cleared it. There had been a lot of snowfall throughout the day. And his boot crunched only a thin layer of snow, while the banks either side had increased dramatically. It always surprised him when someone did such a thing for him. Cam often told him, upon his wondering aloud, that it was due to all the help he did. That the help was a part of his nature and the clan wanted to give their thanks in any way they could. He had never truly believed him, but this went a little way to making him more acceptable to theory.

Picking up some of the dry logs on his way in, his first task was getting the fire lit. Cloak off, snow pounded off his boots, and fire roaring, his stood by the hearth and took in the room with a critical eye. The little decorations he remembered as a child were no longer in place. But that was a womanly thing, if Fyfa wanted them she could have them. But he was not one to place flowers on the table. It was clean, tidy and everything had its correct place.

He had food, he had warmth. He owned a cottage that was actually functional for the purpose it was created. It kept him dry and gave him his own space. No holes in walls, no problems with the roof, and most importantly no drunken male to cause pain and misery.

Sighing and seeing no issue with the main room. He headed through to the room his parents had once slept in. The bed was still there. His father had carved it himself. It had taken him months of painstaking work. But when he had finished it had caused his mother to cry. His father had even allowed him to help. A few areas of the design were rough work, and he had not been impressed. His father, however, had been incredibly proud, or so he had said. That he had tried his hardest and improved. Running his hand over the work, as he stood at the end of the bed. Not much room for anything else in the room, except for the two chests over by the wall underneath a small window.

This room had been full of laughter when he was younger. Then had been full of pain after the death of his parents. He could not enter it for months afterwards. He had never managed to sleep in here. But he could assure Fyfa that she would be safe here. He would keep to the pallet in the main room. He could go through with the plan for her safety. But he could not let his heart once more be taken and crushed, for it had hardened over the years until he feared he could love no one as he had loved one woman before. Her betrayal had shredded him, he would not let that happen again.