Page 11 of Echoes of a Forgotten Warrior (A Highland Ruse of Love #2)

10

B laire looked from one man to the other, seeing what seemed to have been so obvious to everyone else. She had never met the older Lovatt brother until a few days ago; otherwise she would have seen the startling resemblance at once. It was quite clear that James Smith could easily be mistaken for Connor Lovatt, brother of Finian. Was Finian so desperate to find his brother and make such a mistake?

The two men continued to look at each other as if they were in a contest where one competitor out-stares the other. There was no hostility on Finian’s part, but James was glowering at him, his body as taut and quivering as a bowstring pulled too tightly. Blaire was terrified for him. One false move could see Finian unleash his guards on James, and despite the fact that he had a stiletto sword and was built like an ox, he could not hope to prevail against so many adversaries. He might be strong, but he was still only one man.

She touched his arm and he instinctively shook it off and turned to Blaire, raising the stiletto. When she cowered back, lifting her hands and turning away from him, he realised what he had almost done, and he recoiled from her, horrified at himself.

James was lost in a fog of confusion, anger, and fear. He was staring at a man who claimed to be his brother, and he had been given a name which he was not sure he really owned.

“Blaire, I’m sorry,” he said desperately. “I?—”

“I know, James,” she replied, attempting a conciliatory smile. “I know you would never hurt me.” Blaire was trembling inside, but did not want James to see it. When he had raised his weapon, she had truly thought her life was over. Although she knew that he was only reacting the way a soldier had been trained to, and what he had done was an automatic reaction, it had still terrified her.

James tried to think clearly. Did he know Finian Lovatt? He studied the face looking back at him and realised that indeed they bore a striking resemblance to each other—however, that might be nothing but a coincidence.

What if this was all a trick to fool him into letting his guard down? Then he reasoned that was only an ordinary member of Laird Sutherland’s garrison, of no particular value to him, and certainly not worth ransoming. What would their motive be for sending in a force of men to save him? No, in Laird Sutherland’s eyes he would be a nobody.

James’s mind was becoming so muddled that he felt as if he would like to bang his head against one of the castle walls in the hope that the shock and pain would clear away the thick haze inside it. He desperately wanted to scream his frustration out loud, but that was a step too far—Blaire would lose all respect for a man who abandoned his dignity in that fashion.

“Your name is James?” Finian asked gently, taking a cautious step forward. “Will you not sit down and talk with me? It’s clear that something is not right with your head.”

James said nothing for a moment, then he bared his teeth in a silent snarl and glared at Finian, his face a mask of hate. “You are not my brother,” he said, in a voice that was throbbing with rage and contempt. “My brothers are out there at the border fighting you, Lovatts, and trying to avenge the murder of Laird Sutherland’s daughter. You are nothing to me!” He pointed to Blaire. “And if you have harmed one hair of Blaire’s head, or touched her in any way without her consent, you will answer to me, and I will not be merciful!”

Blaire looked at him pityingly. How could James possibly harm Finian, who had god alone knew how many guards around him? Clearly, in his rage and bewilderment, he was not thinking straight. She wanted to weep for him.

Finian’s eyes filled with unshed tears as he realised that his brother meant what he said. The man who called himself James did not recognise him, his own brother. It broke his heart to see that the boy he had grown up with, his best friend, was looking at him with so much hatred in his eyes.

If their positions had been reversed, he thought, he could not imagine ever forgetting who Connor was, and how it would feel to look at everything around him and not recognise any of it. His home, his family, the whole history of his life—all would be gone. Finian had no idea how his brother had survived all these months, but it was a testament to the strength of his character that he had managed to do so, though he suspected that Blaire had helped him a great deal.

Finian shook his head slowly, unable to believe Connor’s denial of him, but the gesture seemed to infuriate him as his brother charged forward and grabbed Finian by the lapel of his jacket. Then he pulled him forward so that their faces were only inches apart.

Blaire stared at them in astonishment. She was almost convinced of it now; how could these two men look so alike and not be related? Each had blue-black, glossy hair, and although the colour of their eyes was slightly different, their features were cast in a similar mould and they were exactly the same height. James—or Connor—was slightly sturdier in build, but otherwise. She could not understand how she had not noticed when she first saw Finian.

Yet, her instinct was still to deny the truth because if this man she called James was Connor Lovatt, he was a marked man. The Sutherlands would stop at nothing to punish him for the crime they thought he had committed, but she knew that she would do anything within her power to stop that from happening. It might involve grovelling in front of her father again, but she would be happy to do it to save James’s life.

For a moment, Blaire thought that James was going to attack Finian. She knew that Finian was quite capable of standing up for himself, of course, but he might hold back, given James’s delicate mental state. Then, Blaire had no idea what might happen.

“You would never do that,” Finian said, smiling.

Blaire thought James might explode as he flushed with rage and raised his hand to strike Finian. However, the blow never fell, as Blaire rushed up to them and pushed them away from each other with every ounce of strength she had.

She was not strong enough to separate them, but her action unbalanced James sufficiently to stop him from hitting Finian, who backed away just far enough to be out of his reach.

Blaire stood in front of James as he was about to lunge towards Finian again. His eyes were fixed on him, but he could not move towards him because to do so he would have to shove Blaire out of the way. He would never do that, however, since he had sworn that he would never lay a finger in anger on any woman, especially not her.

“Calm down, James,” she whispered. She pulled his head down and kissed his forehead, then laid it against her own. “Shhh, I am here, and nobody has harmed me. Finian has been very kind to me, in fact. Now close your eyes, take in deep breaths and let them out slowly as I taught you before. Breathe in.” She put her hand on his stomach just below his ribs and felt his diaphragm as he breathed in and out, fast at first, then more and more slowly until Blaire was satisfied he was calm enough to talk to her.

“That’s better,” she said soothingly. She put her arms around him gently and laid her head on his chest to listen to his heart. It was beating strongly and steadily, not racing as it had been doing before. “You must not let yourself become so excited, James. Finian is not your enemy, as you would find out if you listened to him. You must relax, remember to breathe deeply, and think of something that makes you happy.”

James gave her a tentative smile. “There is only one thing—or one person—that makes me happy,” he replied softly, “and that is you, Blaire.”

“Then let’s talk,” Blaire suggested. She turned to Finian, who was now surrounded by four sturdy guards. “Finian, may I be alone with James for a moment?”

Finian looked as though he might refuse, but, eventually, he nodded. “I will leave you, but talk quietly if you want your conversation to be private because I am going to be standing not far away.” His deep voice held a note of warning.

Blaire smiled at him. “Thank you, Finian,” she said warmly. She took a deep breath, hoping that she would say the right thing. James was very fragile, and she did not want to damage him.

James’s gaze followed Finian as he walked away and passed under the arch into the castle. As soon as he was out of sight, he gave a huge sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around Blaire, then closed his eyes, breathing in her scent as he laid his cheek on her hair. “You have no idea how worried I was about you,” he whispered. “I thought you might be dead when I heard that the wagon had been ambushed. I was so afraid, Blaire. I cannot live without you—not any more. You are my whole world.”

“And you are mine,” Blaire replied, giving him a soft kiss on the lips as she gazed into his sky-blue eyes, marvelling at their colour. “But you do not have to be concerned, James. My job is to make people well, and I do not concern myself with loyalty to this side or that. All people are the same to me when they are hurt or ill.”

“Do you really believe that?” he asked in tones of deep incredulity. “I cannot agree with you, Blaire. The Lovatts are thugs. They murdered an innocent woman for their own wicked ends, and Laird Sutherland is quite rightly trying to avenge his daughter. I would do the same if I were in his position.

How can you say you would save the life of a murderer? If you did, he would only go out and kill again. After all, there were no consequences the first time he did it.”

“But if I find him, he could be brought to trial,” she pointed out. “Then he could be punished, and it would serve as a warning to everyone else. Please talk to Finian, James. There might be some way out of this useless feud.”

Instead of replying, James tightened his arms around her, and they stood for a long time listening to each other’s breathing, loving their closeness, the feeling of security that comes with absolute love. They could have stayed that way forever, but both of them knew that this nearly perfect moment could not last. James, looking over Blaire’s shoulder, saw that a group of guards were silently gathering, ready to pounce the moment they parted from each other.

He sprang away from Blaire then grabbed her hand and they both began to run towards the main gate. There was no moat, but its portal was made of solid oak and reinforced with iron bars which ran upright and across the structure to fortify it even more. The vertical bars ended in vicious spikes, and when the mighty gates were closed they were nigh on impregnable.

James and Blaire had been standing some way away from the giant doors, but as they approached them, the gates slammed shut in their faces.

James pushed Blaire out of the way as the guards advanced towards them, making an impenetrable wall with their bodies. She felt her arm being tugged and looked up to see Finian pulling her away from the fray.

“They are going to kill him!” she cried in panic. There were half a dozen men fighting James, but Blaire could see that he was still fighting, still resisting, in spite of being outnumbered and out-armed. As she watched, however, she could see his strength slowly ebbing. He would not be able to hold out for much longer.

James was surrounded, and although he knew he would never win the battle, his every instinct told him to keep on fighting. His small weapon was almost useless against the huge broadswords his adversaries were wielding. Strangely, though, the soldiers, who could have killed him swiftly with one swipe of their blades, seemed to be holding back. Therefore, he was able to inflict a number of cuts and gashes on each of them which were not serious but would be painful.

However, there was only so much James could do against so many, and after being knocked to the ground, hauled back up again and disarmed, he realised that it would be useless to put up any further resistance. Anyway, he was exhausted, and he had already shown himself to be weak and stupid to the woman he loved most in the world.

Finian had been standing with his arm around Blaire’s shoulders, watching the fight and feeling the tension in her body as she began to weep.

“Is he dead?” she asked desperately. “Please say he isn’t.”

“I instructed my guards to go easy on him,” Finian replied. “They overcame him by their number, not by brute force. He is exhausted, but he has likely done more damage to them than they have to him.”

At last, James emerged from the crowd of guards, glowering fiercely at Finian. His hair was tangled and there were small patches of blood all over him, indicating that he had not been badly wounded. There was nothing wrong with his voice, however, as he yelled at Finian. “You had better not harm Blaire, you—” He let out a word that made Blaire flinch. Even though she had heard it many times before, she had never become used to it.

It seemingly had no effect on Finian, however, since he had stayed outwardly calm, even though he was weeping inside. He was desperately sad that his brother had still not recognised him; he had thought that by now his memory would have returned, but then the mind was a strange thing. There was no doubt in his mind that this was his brother. Even his frowns and smiles were the same, but how could he make him see the truth?

Blaire stood glancing from one to the other, unable to make up her mind if Finian was making up a story for some devious purpose of his own. Yet for the life of her, she could not think of a reason for him to do such a thing; nothing seemed to be making sense any more.

Presently, the guards surrounding James began to tie his hands together.

“No!” Blaire cried, jumping to her feet. “There is no need for that!”

Finian glanced at her, then called: “I think we can do without that.” However, he did not stop them from dragging James inside the castle, and Blaire thought she knew where he was being taken.

“The dungeon?” she asked. He nodded, and at that moment, Blaire felt her heart breaking.