Chapter Twenty-One #2
Jamie’s expression changed from one of anger to one of acquiescence. He bowed to Gracie. “Forgive me. I’ll not intrude on your life again.” He spun on his heel and stalked away without saying another word to his sire.
A moment later, Alex shouted after his son, “Jamie, in the stables at high sun on the morrow. Be there, or I’ll come and find you.” He said it without looking at him.
Chapter Twelve
Jamie knows enough to watch out for that tic in his father’s jaw. So here I reprint the entire chapter. Why? Because this is Alexander Grant. Enjoy!
Jamie strode toward the stables, tipping his head back to check the sun.
He hadn’t found Gracie last night, so he’d vowed to find her sometime later today.
If he survived this meeting with his sire, he’d find her right away and explain his foolishness to her.
He’d go with her if she had to go to the baron’s land—of course he would.
Staying behind was just unacceptable. What the hell had he been thinking?
His sire’s voice called out to him as soon as he entered the stable. Jamie sighed. From the sound of his da’s voice, he knew exactly where he was—Mac’s stall.
That’s what he’d called it for as long as he could remember.
Mac had chosen a stall for himself. He’d had a storage closet built into it so he could keep all his tools there for when he groomed the horses.
He always kept sweet treats for the wee ones and the horses in his special closet.
It was a place where Jamie had spent a great deal of time as a lad.
“Why here, Papa?” He noticed all the stable lads were gone, not a good sign.
His father stood from the bale of hay where he’d been seated. “Why not? You are acting like a horse’s arse, just as you did shortly after Mac passed on. Do you not recall?”
Jamie did not want to look at his sire. That time had been so painful for him, but he had not let himself cry. Instead, he’d become so furious with the world, he’d sniped at each and every person who crossed his path.
“Aye, I recall. But I was young, Papa. Every time I came here ‘twas painful for me. Why mention it now? No one has died.”
“Your mother and I believe the way you’re acting now is exactly the same way you were acting then.”
“So your plan is to fight me until I start crying? If I recall, ‘twas what happened the first time. You swung your sword at me until I was so upset that I cried and cried. I was a lad then. You’ll not be able to make me cry now. I tell you, the two situations have naught to do with each other.”
“I think they do,” his sire’s voice came out in a whisper, and he stood there as he always did—calm and controlled.
Telling Jamie what he thought.
Telling Jamie what to do.
Telling Jamie how to run his life.
Jamie did not care to listen any longer.
His sire narrowed his gaze at his son and lifted his chin, spinning his sword with his hand, acting like he knew everything. “I think ‘tis exactly the same.”
And Jamie’s temper blew. “I do not, and I’m tired of everyone telling me what to do, where to go. The bastard deserved to be thrown off our land, putting his hands all over Gracie.”
His sire just leveled him with a look.
He’d never known anyone who could control his temper like his father could.
Alex could be furious and one would never know it, but Jamie had learned the subtle signs that meant he was close to losing his temper.
He’d see that wee tic in his sire’s jaw and he’d nod to Jake, telling him to start running.
That tic hadn’t started yet.
“You and Mama taught me that a Highlander should protect women. I protected Gracie against Sean and Chisholm and the baron just as you raised me to do. Why was I wrong?” He could feel his voice growing louder, but he did not care.
It felt good to yell at his father. “Did you ever consider that mayhap I did not want to protect her, that it was our clan’s code of honor that made me go after the baron? ”
The tic in his sire’s jaw started to wiggle. It did not matter. He could not stop now.
“The way the men all circled her, you should have assigned her a team of protectors. Mayhap had three guards follow her everywhere. The lass draws men like bees to a honeycomb—all of them flitting around her, trying to sniff her, trying to lick her, trying to…”
“Get your arse outside and draw your sword, lad.”
Jamie stared at his father, at the tic of his jaw, at his narrowed gaze, another bad sign.
But he didn’t stop, plowing ahead without any thought of the repercussions. The anger had grown in him over the past weeks, peaking last night. “They wished to stick their cock in her like she was a common wench, a whore…” he growled.
His sire’s voice bellowed through the rafters. “Get your arse outside and draw your weapon, lad, or it’ll be my fists.”
Jamie hollered back, “Suits me. Kick my arse any way you want. Mayhap I’ll kick yours.” He stalked outside, took his shirt off, and grabbed his sword.
His sire came at him with a roar, his blade poised over his head, waiting for Jamie to ready himself.
Once they were far enough from the building, Jamie charged toward his sire, forcing the confrontation.
He would hold back nothing. Metal clashed against metal, and though Jamie’s muscles begged for mercy, he would not stop.
He could not. He swung and swung, stopping his father’s advances.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jake and Connor, but they stayed back. This was between him and his sire.
He’d had enough. He could take no more of watching those bastards flitting around his Gracie. His Gracie! Aye, he was supposed to protect her, but he’d failed.
He swung his sword from the side, hoping to catch his sire off-guard, but Alex was faster, and he swung with a force that knocked him on his arse.
He hadn’t protected her as he ought to have. Those bastards had touched her.
He jumped up and ran straight at his father with his sword, and again his father knocked him on his arse.
Laird Chisholm had kissed her. Kissed his Gracie.
Jumping to his feet, he spun in a circle and brought his sword down on his father’s weapon so hard that sparks flew.
Sean had kissed her…his Gracie.
He swung again and his father knocked his weapon out of his hands. He grabbed it quick and ran at him again, but he knocked him away.
The bastard baron had kissed his Gracie!
His sire stood in front of him, heaving, his sword down in front of him. “Jamie, this is no different than before. You couldn’t handle losing Mac. Can you not see what’s bothering you?”
“Nay. Naught is bothering me. Draw your weapon, Papa.”
His father lifted his sword again, but with a different attitude. “Can you not see what you’re doing? You’re deliberately keeping your distance from the lass. She’ll not hurt you like Mac did.” His father let up a touch, though he continued a light parry while they talked.
“Aye, she could,” he said, choking on the words.
“You’ve lost loved ones before, I know that, but have you watched them die in front of you?
Da, a bolt of lightning shot down out of the sky and sucked the life right out of him, and there was nothing I could do but watch.
I’ll never put myself in such a position again. ”
“What happened to Mac was a terrible accident, but it wasn’t a common one. We did not raise you to be afraid of life, Jamie. Stop hiding from it.”
“I held him in my hands, Da. As soon as I touched him, I knew he was dead. Women die in childbirth, from the fever. What if…” He couldn’t even say it. The thought of Gracie dying made him ill.
They continued to move and spar, but Jamie said naught. He told himself that the water around his eyes was only sweat, but part of him knew better. He’d never forget that night. Never forget seeing someone alive one moment and dead the next.
His sire’s voice came again. “You need to knock that wall down, lad. If you do not, I’ll do what I can to knock it down for you. You need Gracie in your life and you know it. You’re afraid you’re losing her. ‘Tis why you are fighting everything and everyone around you.”
Jamie spun in a circle and attempted to knock the sword out of his sire’s hands, but his father did something new, twisting his sword in such a way that Jamie lost his grip. The weapon flew out of his hands, and his sire flipped him onto his back, putting his foot on his chest.
He stared up at Alex, shocked that his sire had beaten him so easily.
“Now, son, you’re going to listen to me and I do not wish to hear a word from you.
” His voice fell to a whisper, low enough so no one else could hear them.
“You lost to me because your emotions are ripping you apart, both your mind and your heart. You couldn’t handle losing Mac, and you are about to lose another person you love, Gracie, and you cannot handle that either.
I came out here to knock some sense into you, hopefully, and help you realize that your heart belongs to that wee lassie you loved many moons ago.
Her smile might melt a thousand men’s hearts, but her heart belongs to you.
Now you have to be smart enough to accept that truth and offer for her.
If you do not, you will lose her, and she’ll be gone forever.
You cannot spend your whole life being afraid to love. You must trust your own heart.
“Now, I have a letter that was written a long while ago, and it belongs to you. I set it in Mac’s cupboard. When you’ve finished reading it, come see me at the door to the stables. We’ll see if we cannot come up with a plan to end this foolishness.”
His sire picked up his sword and strode into the stables, leaving him flat on his back. He stared at the sky for a long time, not moving, thinking about all his sire had said.