Page 51 of The Mad Highlander
“Come, sit with me and have some food. Some wine will warm ye, too.”
“Aye,” Iris agreed.
“I did tell ye it would be refreshin’,” Cayden said, delaying what he really needed to say.
“It was,” Iris agreed.
She followed him over to the panic basket, and when she sat on the grass, she brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them. Cayden took care of unpacking the basket.
There was a small woolen blanket on top of the basket, not big enough to sit on but big enough to place the food on. He took out the wooden bowls and plates next, setting them down before unwrapping the paper and cloth parcels.
Oatcakes and bannocks were placed on the first plate. Fresh fruit was added to one of the bowls—raspberries, apples, blackcurrants, and plums. The meat and cheese Robyn mentioned were arranged on a wooden plate, along with some salted fish. A flagon of ale was packed for the Laird, but he left it in the basket for now, opting for the wine. He poured two cups and handed one to Iris.
He rubbed her back again with his free hand. “Drink up some of that to get yer blood flowin’.”
“Thank ye,” she replied.
He drank as she did, and he felt it warm his throat and stomach. He had not put his shirt back on yet, preferring to stay bare-chested beneath the afternoon sun. He could feel the moisture drying from his skin—it would take longer for his and Iris’ clothing to dry.
“Feel better?” he asked.
Iris nodded. “Aye.”
“Take some food as well. Have yer fill.”
Iris did as she was told, but there was a nervousness in her actions. He had worried her with his talk of telling her who he really was. In truth, he was worried, too. He would care if it was someone else, and they could run for the hills after for all he cared, but he didn’t want to drive Iris away, not when he had growing feelings for her.
I should just get it over with and tell her.
“So, ye want to ken why they call me the mad laird?” he asked.
Iris looked down at her plate of food. “I dinnae ken if I do, but I think ye need to tell me.”
“Aye, I think I do.” He took a deep breath. “They call me the mad laird because I killed me faither and everyone within the clan who was loyal to him. I slaughtered dozens of men.”
Cayden was expecting a gasp or look of shock, but he didn’t get one. He did not know if that was a good sign or not. He hesitated in telling her more.
“What were the reasons?” Iris asked. The question was calm and emotionless.
“He killed me older brother,” Cayden managed.
The anger came flooding back, and he could feel his blood boil. It was not the act or the sight of the sword in his brother’s chest but the way his brother had looked at him for the final time. His brother’s features had not been grotesque, twisted, or pained. He looked at peace. He had a look that said to Cayden:I am fine, and so will ye be. Don’t react to this. The time will come.
“Take yer time,” Iris said. She took a small sip of her wine and then chewed on a morsel of salted fish.
“When I was growin’ up, me faither ruled with an iron fist. He kept the clan safe, and he was respected for it, but his stern nature did not stop at our enemies. He kept the clan in line with wicked punishments, and most people were happy withthat. If someone stole, they should be punished. If ye kept out of trouble, ye were fine. Only the minority were affected, so the majority didnae care.” Cayden took a breath and then a large mouthful of his wine, almost draining the cup. “He acted the same with his family.”
Iris still looked down at her plate as the Laird told his story. She had a mix of worry and compassion on her face.
“He was abusive toward me maither. I didnae ken anythin’ about it until me older brother informed me. He was abusive to him, too, and the only reason he was not abusive toward me was because of me brother. He acted as a shield from me faither. Faither had expectations toward both of us boys. Me brother would become Laird when me faither passed, and he would rule with an iron fist, too. I was a spare—nothin’ more than an extra heir should me brother die. That’s all I meant to him.”
Iris looked up from her plate and finally stared at the Laird. She looked more horrified by that than anything he had said so far, but she still did not speak.
Cayden finished the last of the wine in his cup. He didn’t refill it. He would not get through the story without draining the cup again if it were filled.
“There were a lot of battles when we were growin’ up with the Murdoch clan being the one we fought against all the time. Me faither and Laird Murdoch hated each other. I wouldnae be surprised if me faither still hates him from beyond the grave. I grew up quicker than I would have liked and found meselftrainin’ from a young age, me faither pushin’ me to be on the battlefield as soon as possible. I was only the spare, after all.
“Me brother was by me side the entire time, and I think he was the one who kept me off the battlefield. When me brother became old enough, he planned a mutiny. I didnae ken at the time. I dsinnae think he wanted me to ken until he was successful. Me faither found out about it. I remember that day like it was yesterday. He called me to the great hall, and I found me brother there, bloody and beaten. Maybe the tales of blood on the stone of the great hall are not so outlandish.”
