When Fate Dictates (26 page)

Duncan’s blue eyes, piercing and sharp,
flittered from Simon to me, surveying us with the hatred of an
enemy. My head swam as I fought to comprehend my husband’s words,
to make sense of why he would turn our only son against us. With
horror I realized our family was broken, our lives destroyed and
our son lost to us as surely as if he had followed the Highlanders.
A loud crash filled the silence of the room as my mug dropped from
my hands to the floor. I looked at Simon and slowly shook my head.
“Why, Simon? Why are you doing this to us again?” My voice was
little more than a whisper but he knew the meaning of my words.

“I am doing this, Corran, to give our son a
future, to see that he is one day free of the tyranny with which we
have lived. It matters not if the lad hates us for it. What matters
is that he has a future.”

“Oh Simon, no, no, we can’t do this. Please,
just let us stay here as a family? We have been so happy here.”

“Aye, and for each day that we have been here
we have lived fearing the return of the English soldiers. No,
Corran, I won’t condemn our son to a future of fear without a
fight.”

“And your son?” demanded Duncan, “Does he not
get a say in his future?”

“No lad, you don’t get that privilege until
you have proved yourself a man.”

“Then let me join the army and fight as a
man,” he said.

“You think then, Duncan, that running away
with the army to fight for a cause you have not lived long enough
to understand; to stand firm in battle and then die at the hands of
the enemy; for the passion of those who have been wronged, you
think this makes you a man? No, boy, that makes you a fool – a
young, headstrong fool who seeks adventure and excitement wherever
he can find it.”

“And you, Father? I know you were a soldier.
You fought, so why will you not let me do it?” Shaking with temper
Duncan kicked the chair in front of him. It fell heavily, its legs
smashing as it hit the floor. Simon rose from his seat and moved
toward his son. As if in slow motion I watched as he raised his
right fist, swung it back and then with a pounding thump hit the
boy on the side of his face. Duncan fell backwards, stumbling as he
fought to regain his balance. I rushed toward my son, but Simon
grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “Leave him be,” he growled. “This
is between me and my son.”

My hands shook, my stomach cramped and my
legs froze keeping me rigid as I was forced to watch, with horror,
the battle between my husband and son.

“Come on then lad,” he said, his voice deep
and menacing. “Show me what makes you a man? Is it the boy with the
temper who fights because he has been shamed? Or is it the boy who
walks away because he doesn’t understand the fight? You decide
which one is it to be? Will you fight or will you walk?”

I stared at the two men as they stood face to
face. Duncan, fists clutched, shaking and red-faced, Simon, stock
still, hands by his side, calm and composed. I waited, praying that
Simon would see sense and stop the fight. But he just stood there,
watching as Duncan fought with the instinct of his youth. Small
trickles of blood seeped through Duncan’s fingers as his nails
pierced the skin of his palm. I wanted to go to him, to hold him
and comfort him, to let him know that we loved him. Suddenly the
stalemate ended. Duncan turned from his father and stormed from the
room. I heard the front door slam shut.

Hysterically I ran at Simon, pounding his
chest with my fists, as tears streamed down my face. “What have you
done?” I begged. “He is our son. Why Simon, why did you have to
bring the Highlanders here?” I fought wildly as he grabbed my fists
and held me at arm’s length. “I hate you,” I shouted, swinging my
leg at him in the hope that my foot might connect with his
shin.

He stared at me, his look menacing and cold.
“We will leave tomorrow morning, without the boy, make sure you
pack light.”

“Simon you can’t fight in a battle, you will
not live through another gunshot wound. Have you forgotten that?” I
cried.

He turned to face me. “You know damn well
that I haven’t forgotten,” he said, his voice little more than a
whispered growl, his face grave and dangerous. “But what you
forget, Corran is that all that makes me is a man. No different to
any other man on a battlefield, and I would rather fight as a man
and die, than live as a coward.”

“Then stand and fight me, cousin.”

“Oh dear God,” I said as I turned my head to
the recognition of Angus Campbell standing in the doorway to the
kitchen.

“Get out, Corran, go now and don’t come back,
not for anything,” Simon said, pushing me roughly away. His eyes
were fixed on the man in the doorway. “Let her go Angus. Your
argument is with me, not the girl.”

The man did not move, his eyes locked on
Simon’s.

“Oh, but Simon you are wrong there.”

“Oh aye?” said Simon, raising his eyebrows
above his dangerously dark eyes.

“The girl lied to me in York.”

“You had just shot her husband and had
threatened to kill her, what did you expect she would do?”

I felt my body shaking as I stood, sandwiched
between the two men.

“Drop that pistol and let her go,” Simon
growled.

“Sit down, woman,” Angus said, waving the
pistol in the direction of a chair.

I looked up across at Simon. He shook his
head. But I backed up toward the chair anyway, not taking my eyes
off Angus, I slowly sat.

“No, Corran, don’t listen to him,” Simon
warned.

“It’s alright Simon.”

“How did you find me?” Simon asked.

The red-haired man smiled; a malicious, devil
induced smile.

“Oh, cousin, you don’t know me at all, do
you?”

“I know you well enough Angus,” Simon replied
under his breath.

The red-haired man reached into his jacket
and pulled out a flask. Emptying its content into his mouth, he
lifted his arm and wiped it roughly across his mouth.

“Do you want some?” he said, throwing the
flask at Simon. He did not move to catch it. His eyes stayed fixed
on Angus.

“No, Angus. It will be a cold day in Hell
before I share a drink with you.”

“I know your secret, Simon,” he whispered
dangerously.

“Aye, cousin, and I know yours,” replied
Simon, calmly pulling his dirk from its belt. “The question is
Angus; was Dundee your first? And was York mine?”

“What makes you think I don’t know the
answer?” said Angus.

“If you knew for sure, you would have pulled
that trigger by now,” said Simon. “But if you pull that trigger and
I don’t die, then you know that I will slit your throat, just as I
did in Dundee.”

I shot Simon a look, realizing he had lied to
me in Dundee. The pistol was steady in the man’s hand as he pointed
it at my husband; I held my breath, watching as the two men faced
each other.

“Go on then cousin, pull the trigger, and
let’s see if I die.”

“Aye, Simon that is what our father said...
before I shot him.”

I watched as the color drained from Simon’s
face and his hand tightened on the handle of the dirk. “Our
father?” he growled. “Duncan wasn’t my father.”

“Oh aye, little cousin... oh, did I say
cousin? Silly me, it’s brother, not cousin,” he said, a smirk
crossing his mouth. “Did you not know then?”

“You know damn well I didn’t know. Where did
you get this nonsense from?”

“The horse’s mouth... so to speak,” he said,
as he threw his head back and laughed.

“Make sense man,” Simon shouted.

“I wouldn’t think you are in any position to
be ordering anything of me,” Angus said, his face twisted and dark.
“But, as I can’t wait to see your reaction when I tell you, just
this once, I will do as you ask,” he paused, his eyes filled with
the devil. “Your ma was quick enough to tell the truth when I had
the pistol at our father’s head.”

Without warning, Simon launched himself at
Angus. I sprang from the chair, throwing myself in front of the
pistol. “No, Simon!” I shouted my eyes locked on Angus. Facing the
red-haired man, I raised my hand to the pistol and covered the open
end of the barrel with my palm, gently pulling it into the centre
of my abdomen. “If you are going to fire that pistol at him, then
you are going to have to do it through me,” I whispered through
clenched teeth. The red-haired man laughed and pulled the pistol
away, waving it erratically in the air.

“You foolish woman... you would die for a...
bastard,” he choked. He lifted his head and met Simon’s eyes. “And
you, my blood brother, who hides behind a woman. Aye, the bastard
has the weakness of his father.”

“Move, Corran,” Simon whispered, dangerously.
“I have unfinished business with this man.”

Slowly, I slid my free hand into the pocket
of my skirt. I could feel the cold, sharp edge of the metal dirk. I
lifted my eyes to the man in front of me. The height difference is
going to be my biggest challenge, but if I could only get behind
him... I thought as my mind raced. I frantically calculated my
chances of getting the dirk to his throat.

“Do as he says, woman. Move! Your husband
isn’t the only one with unfinished business.”

“Listen to him Corran, he won’t think twice
about firing the pistol through you.”

“Aye, perhaps, but I can see only one barrel
on this pistol. If it is you he wants, he won’t waste his shot on
me,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.

“The question is; can I reload it quicker
than you can cross the room, little brother?”

“Fifteen seconds if my memory serves me right
Angus? Oh aye, I think we both know I will reach you quicker than
that.”

Behind the man with the pistol appeared my
son. Duncan’s eyes met mine and I held his look, trying desperately
to warn him. I shook my head frantically as he opened his mouth to
speak.

“Father...”

Angus swung around to face the boy, the
pistol fired and my son fell. I ran toward him. Simon was behind
me, his dirk raised, charging at his brother. Angus leapt over the
body and fled, Simon following him.

I dropped to the floor beside my son and
watched as the blood drained from his heart. The room swayed and I
fought to focus, realizing, too late, that I was about to
faint.

******

I could hear my husband’s muffled distant
voice as I slowly raised my eyelids to the light of the room.
“Where is he?” I demanded, fighting to sit up. Someone had hold of
my arm and was pushing me down. “No, Mrs. Lamont, you must lie
down.” Turning my head I put a face to the voice. “Eilidh, where is
Duncan?” I shouted.

“Shh, please Mrs. Lamont, he is alright.”

“Alright? Don’t be so silly girl, I saw him
myself, shot through his heart, he is dead Eilidh... dead. Now let
me sit up.”

The girl let go of my arm and helped me up.
“Where is his body? Tell me Eilidh?”

“I am here ma.”

I looked up to see Duncan staring down at me,
the front of his shirt stained with blood. “But... how Duncan? What
happened and where is your father?

“Don’t worry lass,” echoed the familiar sound
of my husband’s voice. “I am still here.”

“Then what happened? Will someone please tell
me what is going on?”

“There isn’t time now Corran; explanations
will have to wait.”

“It’s alright Mr. Simon, I will tell Mrs.
Lamont.”

He nodded, “Alright, lass,” he turned to face
his son. “Duncan, go and get Thomas Fraser, don’t tell him
anything, just bring him straight here. Oh and change your shirt
boy, it looks like someone just died in it.”

“Alright pa, will you be alright on your
own?”

“Aye, just go lad and be fast about it.”

“I will be back before Duncan is. Don’t leave
the house, either of you,” said Simon.

I pulled myself up off the kitchen floor and
reached for a chair. Eilidh sat opposite me, pushing Simon’s mug of
whisky from earlier in my direction. “Here Mrs. Lamont, you will
need this.”

“Tell me Eilidh, what is going on?” I asked,
confused.

“He killed my parents, Mrs. Lamont,” she said
so softly I could hardly hear her.

“Dead?” I stared at her in shocked
horror.

“Eilidh, how and why?”

“It was the man, Mrs. Lamont, the one who
looks like Duncan. He came to our house, looking for Mr. Simon but
my pa wouldn’t tell him anything. I was outside the cottage, in the
garden, but I heard him in the cottage. I crouched underneath the
window and saw him with his gun. I heard him shouting at my pa to
tell him where Mr. Simon was and then I ran to find you, Mrs.
Lamont, but you weren’t in the fields, nor was Mr. Simon, so I
headed back to the house to tell you. But when I got here, you had
fainted and Duncan was laid on the floor, covered in blood. Then he
suddenly sat up and Mr. Simon came in all covered in blood and saw
me and he told me my parents are dead.” Great rivers of tears ran
down her face as she sobbed progressively louder and louder. I
reached across the table and took her hand in mine, willing her to
find strength in my touch.

“I am so sorry Eilidh,” I whispered, “They
were good people, your ma and pa.”

“I don’t understand, Mrs. Lamont. Who was
that man and why did he want to hurt us?”

I shook my head sadly. “He is a Red Coat,
Eilidh. A bad man, and he doesn’t care who he hurts.”

“What I also don’t understand is how did
Duncan survive? Even you thought he had died, but then he just got
up, a bit confused, but strong and healthy, not even a groan from
the pain of the wound.”

“Eilidh, there are things in life we
sometimes just have to accept, even though we don’t understand
them, and I think this is just one of those things.”

I heard the front door open and turned my
head sharply to see who it was. “You scared me, Simon.”