Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
God help me. He is a laird.
The notion caught her off guard. He had been acting so gruff and intimidating that she had never considered him to be a laird.
Eleanor let out a heavy breath, trying to compose herself as the healer distracted him. She had been so close to his naked body, too close for a young woman who had never been touched. Her eyes raked down his body again, taking in the rock-hard muscles of his chest.
Heat crept up the back of her neck again as she quickly averted her gaze. She almost felt as if something were wrong with her. He had been threatening her moments earlier, yet here she was feeling a stirring of something new in the pit of her stomach.
“There is nae use in questionin’ the lass, Callum Fraser. Ye may as well tell her yer name. She dragged ye here out of her own free will.” Fiona shook her head and shut the door behind her.
Outside, the storm was beginning to subside as light rain pelted the thatched roof of the cabin. Only a wisp of a breeze was now shaking the leaves in the canopy.
Callum Fraser? It cannae be.
Her head whipped back in his direction as the healer said his name again. Had she not also addressed him as Laird? Her heart began to race furiously as her mind spun. Was he the man that her brother had gone in search of? And if he was, what did that mean for Andrew?
“Are ye Laird Callum Fraser?” Eleanor asked him boldly, feeling her breath catch in her chest.
Callum turned to her, eyeing her suspiciously as he clenched his jaw. “And what would it mean to ye if I am?” His eyes darkened again.
Heaving a tired sigh, Fiona shook her head and crossed the room to the table in the center. “It is late, can we please sit and discuss matters like sensible people?” She pulled out a chair and sat, tapping her fingers impatiently on the table.
Eleanor stood still, waiting cautiously to see what the man would say.
“Ye are certain she isnae a spy?” He clenched his jaw, looking from Eleanor to Fiona.
The healer seemed tired as she dipped her head and ran her fingers through her hair.
“Those are fightin’ words, me Laird, and ye are nae a healthy man.
Men without stitches and wounds get to ask all the questions and keep their names hidden.
Now, sit.” She lifted her head and nodded toward the chair on the opposite side of the table.
As if her words had reminded him of his pain, Callum winced and lifted a hand to his ribs, gently covering the bandages.
“It is like I said, me Laird, sit,” Fiona said more firmly with a sharpness in her voice.
He muttered a profanity under his breath and did as he was told, scowling at the healer as he sat.
“Ye can bring us the tea that ye were brewin’.” The healer spoke to her, sitting back in her chair with a contented smile.
Eleanor eyed Callum suspiciously, still unsure of who he was or if he would threaten her again. She took a deep breath, sidling toward the hearth as she kept an eye on the man.
“He willnae bite ye,” Fiona chuckled under her breath, seemingly enjoying the situation.
“That depends on what she plans to do next,” Callum grumbled, making Eleanor turn away from him sharply.
What is wrong with the man?
Anger coursed through her veins as she glared at him. He was constantly grumbling instead of speaking politely.
“The tea should be strong enough, lass,” Fiona called to her.
Quickly composing herself, Eleanor took a deep breath and reached for the cloth beside the hearth, lifting the kettle from the hook above the fire. She carefully crossed the room, placing the pot on a wooden round in the center of the table.
Fiona nodded her approval and gestured to the set of cups beside the plank. “You may pour our tea. Laird Fraser here will fill ye in on who he is,” she said calmly.
He glared at the healer, but she simply shrugged. “The lass dragged ye half-dead to me door, me Laird. If she wanted ye dead, she would have left ye out there in the storm.”
Laird Fraser.
Eleanor froze with the kettle poised above the cups. Was this brute of a man truly Laird Callum Fraser? The man her brother had risked his life to warn. But if it was him, where was her brother? Her heart went cold as a single breath escaped her lips.
Please be safe.
She almost mouthed the words, but quickly shook off the feeling of dread and poured their tea. Once everyone was served, she chose the chair beside the healer and waited.
Callum spoke first, glaring at them both as he rubbed the tips of his rough fingers against his palms. “Ye have heard. I am Laird Callum Fraser, now who are ye?” He raised an eyebrow.
Feeling her heart drop to the pit of her stomach, Eleanor focused her gaze on her own cup of tea. “Me… Me brother was lookin’ into matters that he ought not to have been lookin’ into.” Her voice was stiff as she fought back her fears.
If the Laird he had been trying to protect had been in such a bloodied state, what could possibly happen to Andrew if he met the wrong men?
The Laird held her gaze as she looked up, unflinching as he waited for her to continue.
She heaved a sigh and lightly shook her head. “He was lookin’ into land deeds. Transfers that made nay sense and names that seemed to repeat themselves. He had been lookin’ into the matter for quite some time, that was until ye went missin’, me Laird.”
Something in his gaze shifted as if he understood what she was saying.
It must be him.
The pit of her stomach knotted with dread as she gulped down the bitter tea, hoping that it would help her compose herself before looking up again.
“If ye are who ye say ye are, then me brother was tryin’ to warn ye.
He left a week ago when the news of yer disappearance reached us in Edinburgh.
” Her fingers began to tremble slightly as her corset suddenly felt too tight.
“Ye still have nae given me yer name, lass,” he said quietly, all hints of anger and resentment gone.
“Eleanor Whitacker, me Laird. Me brother is Andrew Whitacker. We took over the family business when me father fell ill. Ye should ken his name.” She tested him, watching carefully to see if he was truly who he claimed to be.
Trust was a luxury that neither of them could afford, and she was not about to take any chances just because the healer had vouched for the man.
His eyes bore into hers as he clenched his jaw. “Yer father and brother handle all of the deeds for Clan Fraser. I ken the name Whitacker very well.” He seemed almost sympathetic. “If yer brother truly was tryin’ to warn me, then he was a brave man.”
“Is a brave man,” she corrected him quickly.
“We cannae ken whether he is dead or alive.” Tears almost began to well up in her eyes.
If she ever lost Andrew, she would not be able to forgive herself.
She had only one brother left in the world, and the first had died many years prior in her presence.
The Laird simply nodded at her. “We cannae ken. If he went after the men who wanted me gone, he placed himself in a very dangerous situation, but we cannae ken for certain.”
She met his gaze then, seeing his thoughts without him having to speak them aloud.
He thinks Andrew is dead.
She swallowed hard, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup of tea as she looked down, her heart breaking.
Breaking the silence that had formed, Fiona chimed in. “That is all good and well now that everyone kens who everyone is, but the question is, what will ye both do?” She offered Eleanor a sympathetic smile before casting a sterner gaze at Callum.
“Both of us?” Callum asked, his brow furrowed with confusion.
Sitting back, Fiona flung one arm lazily over the back of her chair.
“Ye have to come up with a plan. Ye cannae just walk back up to yer own castle, me Laird. Everyone thinks ye are dead. And the lass here is in danger because her brother offered his life to try and save yers. It sounds to me like the two of ye should stick together.”
Callum glared at her. “If ye are suggestin’ that I daenae have a plan, then ye are wrong.”
“And what plan would that be?” Eleanor continued to glare at him, resenting his tone even toward the healer who had helped him.
Lifting her hand to her face, Fiona pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers and thumb.
“The Lord have mercy on me for havin’ to deal with the two of ye.
” She cleared her throat before looking at Eleanor.
“Where do ye plan on goin’ now, lass, now that ye ken the man who yer brother was lookin’ for isnae dead? ”
Her brow creased into a frown as Eleanor chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully.
She could go back to Edinburgh with her father, but that would leave her wondering if Andrew was dead or alive.
She could not very well go looking for him if the men were indeed as dangerous as the laird would have her believe.
And there was always the possibility that she, too, would be in danger because of her name.
The healer nodded as if she could read Eleanor’s thoughts before turning back to Callum. “Would ye care to tell us yer plan, me Laird?”
The change in his demeanor was instant as Callum made a fist beside his cup and cracked his knuckles.
Tearing his eyes away from Fiona, Callum looked at Eleanor. “I cannae just walk back into Castle Fraser. A missin’ laird suddenly comin’ home will draw too much attention and make men act, but a laird with a bride…”
Realizing what he was saying, Eleanor sucked in a sharp breath. Being tied to the Fraser name would certainly provide her with more protection, but it was mad to think that she could tie herself to this man. “Ye mean, pretend we are betrothed?” she blurted out quickly.
Turning toward her, Callum smirked this time.
“Aye, we must pretend to be betrothed while the enemy waits and watches. Because waitin’ men can only grow impatient, and impatient men make mistakes.
But ye must understand, lass, for people to believe our story, ye must stay by me side, and I shall help ye find out what happened to yer brother. ”
“And after we find me brother and settle the matter with these men, what of the betrothal then?” Her heart pounded furiously as she waited for a reply. Would a man as powerful as Callum Fraser allow her to walk away?
He sat quietly for a moment, his eyes searching her face. “Ye walk away with yer life, lass. Stand with me, and they must face us both. Stay hidden, and they will hunt ye down…” his voice trailed off on an ominous note.
Saints preserve me. He is nae askin’.
She exhaled slowly, feeling her hands trembling.
How was she to trust a man she had only just met?
Forged titles and deeds meant nothing if she lost her life.
There was a chance, even if she did not want to admit it to herself, that if this man was Callum Fraser, her brother had died trying to reach him.
And what would she do if that were the truth? She and her father would be in danger. Callum Fraser was a powerful man; he could protect her and help her build a new life if that was what she needed.
She began to tap the tips of her fingers against the cooling cup in her hands. There were not many options at her disposal, and even less time to make the decision.
Leaning over the table, Fiona reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Choose life, lass. Laird Fraser can protect ye.”
Her insides stilled as Eleanor looked into the older woman’s beautiful eyes. There was trust there, more trust than she could say she felt toward Callum.
She exhaled slowly. “Very well, but I shall leave the moment that we find me brother. We can start our lives anew once the matter is settled.” Her heart skittered when his smile turned to a smirk.
“Trust me, lass. I shall nae keep ye any longer than ye are willin’ to stay. I have better things to do with me time than look after ye.” He placed his hands flat on the table on either side of his cup, pushing himself up as he held her gaze.
This man will be the death of me if I am nae careful.