Chapter 11

11

A lasdair, his fury hot and red, burst from his study. He gripped his sword hard in his hand as he barreled forward. His rage propelled him through the hallways, and he cried out with a voice of thunder, commanding the guards to scour the castle for his missing son.

"Send everyone," he barked at the nearest guard. "Find Ben, now."

"One minute, he was there, the next, he was gone," Orlaith cried. She trailed behind him, tears still streaming down her face. Charlotte followed as well, trying to comfort the woman.

"We'll find him," Charlotte said, and she asked Orlaith where they had been and the last place Ben was seen, but Alasdair couldn't listen. He moved with the urgency of a man who had no time for questions. He needed to find his son, and he would do whatever it took to do so.

"What's going on?" Hayden asked, joining them in the hallway. The movement of the guards must have roused him.

"It's Ben," Alasdair said. "He's missing."

"I'll saddle the horses."

Hayden was off, racing down the hallway. Alasdair was comforted by the man's quick-thinking, and he continued his path, gathering soldiers along the way. Charlotte and Orlaith continued behind, whispering with one another.

"The library," he heard, but Alasdair kept his head forward. He was thinking about horses and checking the perimeter for hoofprints. And though he tried hard to push it aside, he was thinking about that night…

He felt a hand on the back of his arm, and suddenly, Charlotte was next to him, pulling at him.

"Leave me be," he cried, suddenly angry. He wouldn't have anyone stopping him. His mind was filled with the cries of his son and his wife, his ears filled with the clash of swords. He swore he could smell the metallic scent of blood in his nose.

"Do you have a library?" Charlotte asked, continuing to hold onto him. Her voice was loud and insistent, cutting through Alasdair's fear. He blinked at her, but it was Orlaith who answered.

"Aye," she said. "It's just up ahead."

He walked quickly, grasping on to any thread of hope he could find. He didn't know why Charlotte suggested this place, but he wouldn't leave any stone unturned. The library needed to be checked just like the rest of the castle.

Alasdair rushed forward, nearly sliding his way into the library. At first, he saw nothing, only a wide-open space and the tall shelves filled with dusty books. But then, Orlaith gasped, and he looked to the windowsill where Ben was seated, pieces of paper scattered around him.

"Ben!" Orlaith cried, and they were all rushing forward as the boy looked up, afraid of their enthusiastic approach.

"It's alright," Alasdair said, holding his hands out to slow Orlaith and Charlotte. He forced his own feet to slow down, so he could approach at a walk. And then he scooped the boy into his arms, pulling him tight to his chest.

"Ben, are ye alright?" Alasdair asked. He put the boy on the ground and stayed low, bending down to look at his face. "We were worried about ye."

Alasdair saw fear in his son's eyes and a sadness that brought a tightness to his chest. The boy held two pieces of paper tight in his hands, and he held them out to his father, dropping his eyes to the ground.

"For me?" Alasdair asked. He felt Orlaith and Charlotte behind him, looking on with curiosity. Alasdair took the paper and saw a drawing. A tall, muscular man stood beside a boy. Alasdair recognized himself by the scars that crisscrossed his face and arms.

"This is us," Alasdair said. He was pleased when the boy nodded. Alasdair flushed with pride to see the boy had drawn them, but then Ben pushed another paper into his hands. It was smaller and folded carefully in half.

Alasdair opened the page and saw careful letters in a child's hand.

I'm sorry, Da. Please daenae be angry with me.

Please daenae hate me. Please.

The note brought a chill to Alasdair's spine. He had to read it three times before fully taking in Ben's words. What did this mean? How could his son think he hated him?

Alasdair closed his hand, crunching the note as he felt despair course through him.

"Ben," he said quietly, looking up. He saw tears gathering in the child's eyes and wanted nothing but to erase them. He took Ben's hand. "I daenae hate ye. I could never hate ye."

Alasdair flashed back to the argument he had with Charlotte. He remembered the pressure he put on his son to tell him where he had been. Guilt flooded through Alasdair as he remembered his behavior at lunch. Had this made Ben run away from Orlaith today?

Ben looked down to the ground, and he turned away, walking back to the windowsill. Alasdair stood as Orlaith and Charlotte stepped up to him. He kept his eyes on his son as he passed the note to Orlaith. Shame flushed through him as his aunt read the note.

"Talk with him," Orlaith urged. He felt her hand on his shoulder briefly before it dropped away, and she turned to Charlotte. "Let's give them some time."

He couldn't look at Charlotte. He was too worried that she would be angry with him. Not that he didn't deserve it. Alasdair kept his eyes on his son as he felt Charlotte and Orlaith leave the room.

"Best to leave them alone," Orlaith said, patting Charlotte's hand in her own. She took Charlotte's arm, and Charlotte allowed herself to be guided down the hallway.

"Do you think they're all right?" Charlotte asked. She had read Ben's note over Orlaith's shoulder, and everything inside of her was screaming out to turn around. What if Ben needed her?

"He's with his faither," Orlaith said, trying to assuage her fears. "It will take some time, but it's good for them to have some time together."

Charlotte sighed, trying to convince herself that Orlaith was right. She knew it was important for Ben to reconnect with his father. But she couldn't forget those words, scrawled in his hand: Please daenae hate me. Why did Ben think his father hated him? Her stomach churned in unease as she walked further and further away from the library.

"Join me for a moment," Orlaith said, still holding Charlotte's arm. She brought Charlotte into her sitting room, adjacent to her bedroom. The room was lush with saturated fabrics and warm colors. There were deep blues and purples throughout with oversized furniture perfect for lounging on.

"How nice," Charlotte said, looking around. The room was a bit elaborate for her taste, but she enjoyed circling the room, taking in the detailed tapestries that hung on the walls.

"Come," Orlaith said. She led Charlotte to a couch and sat next to her. "Ye asked me yesterday about Ben's mother."

Charlotte turned her eyes from the tapestry to take in Orlaith's face. Yesterday, she had seemed upset by her mention of the topic, but today, Orlaith looked clear-eyed. Charlotte waited, unsure how to proceed.

"I understand why ye were asking," Orlaith said. Charlotte couldn't read the woman's expression, and she found herself squirming slightly under Orlaith's gaze. What was she getting at? Charlotte suddenly wondered if Orlaith had found it odd that she and Alasdair had both come out of his study. Could she have guessed about the kiss?

"I know ye care about Ben," Orlaith said. "And ye want to know about his mother, so ye can help him."

"Yes," Charlotte said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. She was glad when Orlaith continued.

"It happened the same night Ben was kidnapped," she said. "There was an attack, and Isabella was killed while she was trying to get to her son."

"Where was Alasdair?" Charlotte asked.

"There. In the thick of the fighting. But Isabella and Ben were separated. No man could have saved them both. Especially not one who was injured as badly as Alasdair was. We thought we would lose him too."

"I can't imagine the pain of that," Charlotte said, trying to wrap her head around so much loss and confusion. "His wife was dead, Ben was gone, and then you had to worry about Alasdair's life as well."

She saw Orlaith squeeze her lips together and swallow hard.

"'Tis why I daenae talk about it," she said. "But it's important for ye to ken, so ye can help Ben."

Charlotte nodded as Orlaith gave a gentle smile.

"Alasdair is clumsy with the boy. I might even say he's a bit out of practice. But ye can help. I've seen how Ben trusts ye."

"He's a good boy," Charlotte said. "I only want him to be happy."

"Aye," Orlaith said, patting Charlotte on the hand. "So ye will help. Ye should spend more time with Ben and Alasdair. With the three of ye together, I'm sure they'll be back to normal in no time."

The thought of spending more time with Alasdair sent Charlotte's mind to all the wrong places. She remembered the quiet privacy of his study and the warmth of his mouth. But she forced the thoughts aside. Orlaith was right. She needed to repair Ben and Alasdair's relationship and then go home.

Charlotte glanced at the woman to see her pulling a book from the side table. She tucked her legs beneath her like a girl as she opened the book, already disappearing into the story. Charlotte wondered if she should leave, but then she heard a noise on the other side of the room.

The door opened, and Charlotte saw Ben enter the room, his father close behind. She scanned their faces for any signs of strife, but they were remarkably similar in their neutrality.

"Well now," Orlaith said, "did ye have a nice chat?"

Ben went immediately to Charlotte's side, tucking into the couch beside her. She gave him a warm smile and whispered a hello.

"Aye," Alasdair said. His eyes floated to Charlotte, and she felt a spark as soon as their gaze connected. She looked away, determined to push aside memories of his mouth laying kisses along the tops of her breasts.

"I've told Ben," Alasdair said, standing tall to address the room. "But I'm planning a bit of a celebration. A small feast to welcome Ben back home."

"That's a wonderful idea," Orlaith said, clapping her hands together. "It's been too long since we've had fun around here."

She returned to her book, and Charlotte felt Alasdair's eyes on her, silently asking her opinion. Instead of responding, Charlotte looked down to talk to Ben.

"What do you think, Ben?" she asked. "Would you like to have a party?"

The serious expression opened to a broad smile, and Ben nodded. His smile was infectious, and Charlotte felt it spread across her face.

"Good," she said. "It sounds lovely."

"Perhaps we can invite Laird McEwan and his wife," Alasdair suggested, watching her carefully.

"Molly!" Charlotte cried. "Oh, I would love to see her!"

Alasdair beamed at her, clearly pleased with her reaction.

"Good," he smiled. "Then it's settled."