Highland Supplanter (Book 2)

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Hamish had been silent since she had cleared the table. Sat solemnly staring into the hearth, the dancing flames seeming to captivate his attention, holding him prisoner. She wanted to ask if she could lighten the burden, only she did not feel confident enough yet, not knowing if she had the right to ask for such from him. She pottered about, trying to be useful, not finding enough jobs to complete so going back to the first task and making sure she had completed it correctly.

As she was stacking some of the crockery in the small cupboard. He startled her as he cleared his throat. She spun nearly taking the stack of platters to the floor, and only just managing to catch them before they fell. He had shot up in concern and seemed to stumble as if he did not quite know how to help, and stood there helplessly his hands held before him as if to catch something from afar. As she righted everything into safety once again, she turned her attention fully on the male who still had not changed position across the room.

He finally cleared his throat once more, and held a hand out to the stool she had occupied as they had eaten. Cautiously, without taking her gaze from him, she slowly made her way to the stool, and lowered herself as she noted the anxious aura he exuded. Her brow furrowing as she waited for him to explain whatever was troubling.

He sat as slowly as she had. Rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. His nervousness rubbing off on her. As she ended up fidgeting with a loose thread upon her new, serviceable dress. Her head lowering and her gaze still trying to keep him in view through her lashes. Did he not want her anymore? Did he want her to leave? Had someone told him tales about her? She tried to frantically think of anything she could have done that would change him so. Her breathing increasing, unnoticeable to Hamish in his state at that moment, though it did not help to calm her.

Hamish cleared his throat once more. His hands resting clasped on the table before him now. His thumbs entwining and releasing in a rhythmic pattern. As Fyfa focused upon the movement to calm her breath once more, she almost missed as Hamish began to speak. In the softest voice she had ever heard him use. The crackling caused by the flames meaning she had to strain to hear him. But the words he spoke hit home like hammers to her chest. Her breathing once more difficult. Her chest constricting the more he spoke.

“Fyfa, there is something that I must tell you. I was planning on informing you when I returned, but seeing you in pain it…” He waved a hand trying to explain his feelings without words, then rubbing the back of his neck as if to relieve the tension that had knotted there. “Something happened while I was on guard duty. There was a scuffle,” the way she said the last word made it sound more severe than the word implied, she was dreading what was to come, and she could not take the unknown for much longer. “I was called towards it. Fyfa…Fyfa it was you father.”

He snorted a laugh, no humour within it, it was grating rather than something to join in with. “Not that he deserves that term, he was in fact only the male that helped to create you, he has done nothing for you since you mother died.” He paused and waved his hand in the air, as if sweeping aside the tangent he had gone down. “Anyway, lass, your father, he. He had crawled out of whatever hole he had drank himself into a stupor in and heard about our hand fasting. He had wanted to extort more coin from you. When he could not find you at his cottage, he went searching for you. Artair was the first to come upon him. And at the news, he lashed out.”

He reached across, holding his hand out to her, and she placed her tiny one in his and it engulfed hers. Causing a tiny smile to lift the corner of her mouth, before she realised how serious the situation was. “Is he hurt?”

Hamish shook his head. Unable to believe the compassion held within this timid woman with a spine of pure steel. She could not see her own strength, but he could not let her feel sorry for her father, he had made some threats that he would not divulge. She did not need those images within her mind, adding to everything else she had to suffer through. Giving another squeeze of her hand, to prove he was there, the comfort was a part of the life they were trying to build. And they had to learn to share certain things. This being one of them. But he still reserved the right to protect her, from physical harm, and from words. As he was in this case.

“Cam had him taken to one of the rooms in the Keep.” At her expression he was quick to reassure her. “No, he did not have him thrown within a cell, but in a locked room with a guard. He was still inebriated.” He paused, but needed to give some clue as to what was to happen. “Fyfa, he made some threats.” He shook his head as she went to speak, he was amazed how he seemed to know what she meant so quickly.

“I will not let you know what was said. I will not let him heart you in any way again. But you need to be careful of him Fyfa. I just need you to know, if he is released from the room soon, stay away from him.” Making sure their gazes were locked. “You need to give me your vow Fyfa.” It took a few minutes, but he did not let her gaze wonder, keeping up the pressure on her hand. Eventually he saw her give a small nod, and the relief surged through him. She was letting him protect her without questioning him.

Now he just had to figure out a way to keep her safe. Safe from those that he should not have to worry about. But would take apart limb by limb if he needed too. And he had vowed to make sure that nothing harmed her again…and he kept his vows.