Douglas FitzJames Posted June 4, 2010 Share Posted June 4, 2010 Extrapolating from a certain thread that a certain mod is running *pokes the Hope* -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The wind blew sleet against the window of his office as Captain FitzJames mused over the reports on his desk, one hand idly rubbing the old scar on his right leg which always ached when the weather was foul; when he was tired he walked with a limp. The hand that rubbed the scar was missing it's little finger, lost instead of his life when Douglas had proven that you could block a sword with your bare hand providing you got the angle right and were very, very lucky. Time had added more scars to his skin including one that ran along his cheekbone, had peppered his black hair with salt and given him a distinctive white forelock. It hadn't slowed him much however, he still made his living by sword and pistol, and still expected that one day he would die by them. There were many, no doubt, who were surprised that he hadn't done so already. The door to his office swung inwards admitting a draught and a tall, rangy figure who dragged his heavy cloak off his scarlet coat and stamped the sleet off his boots. "No sign of the blackguard Captain, he must have run for the hills." Broad shoulders shrugged as Sergeant Lauchlan Whitehurst moved to warm himself by the fire without bothering to ask permission. "Whit, nae heroic chase an' capture frae ye an' yer men?" Douglas replied dryly, manner of speech unchanged over the years. "Ye didna track him through th'wilds an' bring him tae groond?"* "Weel, we didna hae oor fearless Cap'n wi' us, did we Uncle Dougie?"** Lauchlan replied, mimicking Douglas's accent flawlessly. "Ye kin stop that wee Lauchie; dinna tak th'piss oota yer Uncle."*** Douglas retorted easily, his voice surprisingly mild. "It's blowing fit to freeze the balls off a bull out there and dark besides, no one could track a man in that. He didn't get what he came for, that's the important thing." The young man pointed out. Douglas tilted his head in silent agreement as he regarded his nephew who showed promise to be a good officer one day, perhaps even with a little more sense than his Uncle, who likely would have still been out there in the blizzard. With James MacBain dead Douglas has been the best man at Fiona's wedding to 'Wee Willy Whitehurst' as Douglas had persisted in calling Charles's brother. With Lochend to support them the couple was assured a comfortable life, even if William had proven to be a wastrel like his brother Charles and Fiona had often sought out her sister or brother in tears. Increasingly it had been her brother she had turned to; they had been close since he had re-appeared in London all those years ago. Opening the bottom drawer of his desk Douglas withdrew a bottle of whiskey and two glasses and poured a finger of the amber liquid into each. Standing he tried not to limp as he came around the desk and offered one of the glasses to his nephew. "Here, git that inta ye, t'will warm ye better'n ony fire."# Lauchlan accepted the glass with a tilt of his head as Douglas perched on the edge of his desk and the two men drank in companionable silence, matching cobalt-blue eyes regarding each other across the short distance. The MacBain blood was strong, that much had been obvious to everyone. Lauchlan's hair was a dark brown not unlike his father William and he had height coming in from both sides, but the rest was pure MacBain. A rangy, lanky build, features that would have been almost pretty if they weren't so angular, long fingers, long lashes and eyes that bizarre shade of deep blue that seemed to be a characteristic of the MacBain males. No one could see Douglas and Lauchlan together and doubt they were family. They had always been close too, ever since Lauchlan had been born his Uncle had been there for him, taking time out to play with him when his father was busy, making sure he had the adventurous youth a young boy should have. That had grown into a close friendship as Lauchlan had grown into a man, and though both lived busy lives they often shared a bit of time as they did now. Sometimes they talked, sometimes there was no need. Sometimes it was enough just to be. Still, there were things and people a young man wanted to be out and doing, and after a few minutes Lauchlan threw back the last of the whiskey and set the glass on the mantlepiece. "Thank you Uncle Dougie, but I'd better be going. Elizabeth's expecting me." That was his latest crush, not the first and unlikely to be the last. With a smile and a wink the lanky young man dissapeared out the door to his intended assignation, and Douglas watched him go. Lauchlan's birth had brought a certain amount of peace to the family. William had stopped blaming Fiona for failing to provide him with an heir, Fiona found a contentment in her marriage and a delight in her son, and while Douglas would never forgive his father for not marrying his mother, he had at last been able to put it behind him. It was true that some things couldn't be changed, that he would never be the Viscount of Lochend, but he could live with that in the knowledge that one day his son would. Subtitles * "What, no heroic chase and capture from you and your men? You didn't track him through the wilds and bring him to ground?" ** "Well, we didn't have our fearless Captain with us, did we Uncle Dougie?" *** "You can stop that, little Lauchie; don't take the piss out of your uncle." # "Here, get that into you, it will warm you better than any fire." Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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