Page 122 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
The formal garden sprawled before them with raised flower beds, neat hedges, and bare trellises with stems waiting for next year’s roses. He stood with her in silence, willing her his strength. He was the big brother now.
“Is it wise for Lisbeth to be alone?” Jamie finally asked and gazed past the lawn to the well-worn path on the other side of the garden gate.
“She’s not unaccompanied. John escorted her at Ann’s request, over Lisbeth’s heated protest.” She turned to him. “I haven’t thanked you for coming to us. I know The Maxwell has his demands and the travel is a hardship.”
He patted her hand with understanding. When he looked at her he knew she was lost in thought. He waited.
“It’s difficult to comprehend we’ll not see Richard again.” Laura’s voice choked and she shrugged with resignation despite the tears that threatened on the edges of her eyelids.
“I know,” Jamie said, his voice low and a bit hoarse. He had the same thoughts.
“How long are you staying with us?” she asked in a quiet tone.
“I return to Caerlaverock tomorrow.” He took a deep breath and pushed aside his grief.
“Then we best return to the others. They’ll want to spend time with you, too.” They moved on toward the hall.
“I have no words, nothing to say to comfort you.”
“Your presence is enough.”
He held back a nervous smile. He visited to give the family comfort. Instead, she comforted him.
“You’ll let meknow your decision, Wesley. I want to make the announcement as soon as possible. With Richard gone and Glen Kirk so close to the Scottish border, you need someone strong to hold back the devils.” Lord Bryce Mitchell of Ravencroft, the manse next to Glen Kirk, stood with Wesley and Darla as Jamie entered with Laura.
Jamie stiffened when Laura’s pulse skittered into a panic beneath his fingertips. His free hand covered hers until the beat settled into a more normal rhythm.
“You didn’t waste any time getting here.” The rude remark directed toward Jamie raised his temper. Bryce wasn’t foolish to pick a fight with him, at least not here.
Bryce, a regular in their childhood group, took aim at him whenever possible. Richard and the girls rallied to his defense, but the underlying ancestry of Jamie’s Scottish background stayed near the surface.
Bryce panted hard, seething after having lost a foot race to him.
“You’re nothing. A filthy Scot beggar. Go back to your tribe of mongrels. You’re not fit to be here.” Bryce pushed him hard.
Shortest of the three boys, Jamie didn’t go down. Not satisfied, Bryce rushed at him again, this time with fists. Jamie ducked and backed off. Bryce kept up the assault.
Jamie didn’t care for bullies or being baited by them.
“Here, here Bryce. That’s enough.” Richard grabbed his friend’s arm but Bryce shook him off.
“Stay out of this,” Bryce screamed at Richard then turned to Jamie. “Fight, or are you a puny coward, too?”
Jamie said nothing. His hands fisted at his side, he stepped back again.
The fight started in the yard, progressed to the field, and finished near the pond. A small group of people followed them and urged Jamie to defend himself.
Bryce’s punch caught Jamie in the chest. He didn’t flinch.
“You’re not making this easy for me. You should be lying on the ground by now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Bryce took aim. Jamie pulled up his arms to protect his face. He didn’t retaliate.
Bryce’s jab bloodied Jamie’s nose. Still, he didn’t strike back.
“Fight, damn you,” Bryce shouted and followed with a quick barrage of solid body punches.
Jamie held his position and didn’t fight back.
In a close clinch, Bryce muttered for Jamie’s ear only. Jamie let go his constraints and pushed Bryce away. The years of restraint from Bryce’s insults and attacks disappeared with the boy’s maliciously whispered words.
