Page 13 of Echoes of a Forgotten Warrior (A Highland Ruse of Love #2)

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J ames had an ominous presentiment of doom as Blaire came to sit in a chair in front of him. Her face was wearing an expression of uncertainty that he had never seen before, and he felt suddenly afraid that she was going to tell him something dreadful. Was he about to be imprisoned? Executed?

Then he reasoned that if Finian Lovatt had wanted to do either of those things, he would have done it already. James was thoroughly confused.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Finian began. He wanted to make a gesture of goodwill, but James was too afraid to accept it. Anything could be in that glass.

“No,” he replied tersely, glaring at Finian. Who was this man, and why was Blaire so friendly with him? James looked around the bedchamber once more, and again his eyes fell on the colourful quilt on the bed. A picture of a woman came into his mind, but it was gone before he could grasp it. He felt like roaring to the heavens in frustration, but he could do nothing while Blaire was there to see him.

Finally, Finian spoke, and when he did, his voice was infinitely gentle. “My name is Finian Lovatt,” he said. “My father is Laird Errol Lovatt, and we live in Strathburn Castle. This is our country estate, we use to station our armies. Do you recognise this place? We used to spend a lot of time here, especially during the summer months.”

James glared at Finian fiercely before looking around again and shaking his head. “No.” he said furiously. “Now will you stop playing this game and tell me why I am here?”

Finian took a deep breath. “Blaire has been telling me how you got your name, James Smith,” he began. “And you know that is not your real name.”

“Yes, I do because she has told me so,” he said irritably. “What of it? Are you going to tell me my true name?”

“Your true name is Connor Lovatt,” Finian told him. “And you are my brother. You are also the only man who can put an end to the conflict between the Lovatts and the Sutherlands.”

James stared at Finian for a long moment, looking stunned, then he threw back his head and let out a howl of laughter. “I think you may be confusing me with someone else,” he said scornfully, shaking his head. “We are not related.”

“Do you not see the striking resemblance between us?” Finian asked in disbelief.

“I do not spend my time looking at other men!” James’s voice was scathing.

“Connor—” Finian began, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted as James leapt to his feet and stood over him, his face a mask of rage.

“Do not call me that!” he yelled. “I may not know my real name, but it is not the same as yours.”

Finian stood up and put his hands on James’s shoulders. “I am trying to help you,” he said gently. “Surely, it will do no harm for you to listen to me for a moment?”

“James.” Blaire’s voice was soothing. “Please listen to him. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

James dithered for a moment, trying to make up his mind what to do, but, eventually, he sat down again. Blaire took his hand, and they sat gazing at each other for a moment. He felt himself calming down as he looked into her apple green eyes, which were smiling at him encouragingly.

Finian began to speak. “I was betrothed without my consent to Katrina Sutherland, whom both our fathers thought was a suitable match for me. Katrina was not consulted either.

We knew each other socially but not well, but when we first began to court officially I thought she was a pleasant enough young lady, if a bit aloof. I put that down to wariness at first, because we were both being forced into a situation we did not want to be in.

Anyway, we carried on with what turned out to be a very short courtship, although I was not enthusiastic about it, and I don’t think she was either. Still, I did my best to be polite and courteous, but the more I came to know Katrina, the less I liked her, and the thought of spending the rest of my life with her filled me with dread. As well as that, there was a lady in my life whom I loved with all my heart, and I could not bear the thought of having to leave her for a woman I disliked intensely.”

He paused and sighed, then ran his hand backwards through his hair, looking utterly dejected. “But I did my best, although when I thought of the wedding night I was filled with complete dread. I told myself I would get through it somehow, though, since it was my responsibility to produce the next heir to keep our family name alive.”

Finian paused again to gather his thoughts, and Blaire had to resist the impulse to console him and tell him that everything would be fine because he looked as though he was in agony.

“After only a few weeks, Father organised our betrothal ceremony. It was very sudden. I was supposed to go to collect Katrina,” he went on, “but at the last minute I backed off cowardly, so he sent Connor—you—instead, without me knowing. I had no idea why our father was in such a hurry, since we had only announced the wedding a short time before that, but I could not disobey him, so I made up an excuse. The truth was that I simply could not face her.

But you, Connor, were happy to do as he asked, although I think he suspected the truth. I wish I had had the courage to go and face up to my responsibility. Katrina was probably murdered by a crowd of bandits, but the Sutherlands think you did it. Yet, I know in my heart that you did not!”

Finian’s last words were delivered like a series of hammer blows, and his face was flushed with fury, then it became gentle as he said dejectedly, “So you see, Connor, this is all my fault.”

“My name is not Connor,” James growled. He stood up, and Finian did the same so that they were once more facing each other, and if Blaire had had any doubts before, she had none now. The two men were so alike that they had to have come from the same womb, and she could not see how James—or Connor—could deny it.

As James stood glaring at Finian, he felt a sharp, throbbing pain in the middle of his forehead which was so agonising that he screwed his eyes up and groaned through his clenched teeth.

When he opened his eyes again, the figure of Finian was blurred and shaky, and blackness was slowly creeping over his vision until it was nothing but a pinpoint of light. The last thing he saw before he descended into darkness was Blaire rushing to help him, but by the time she reached him, he was unconscious.

Finian caught James before he crumpled to the floor, then gently carried him over to the bed before laying him on it. Blaire admired his strength, since James was no lightweight.

Fearing the worst, she bent over James and felt for a pulse on his wrist, then breathed a great sigh of relief when she felt a strong, steady beat under her fingers. “Thank god,” she said to Finian. “He is alive.”

“You always were a prankster,” Finian said, with a gallant attempt at levity. He turned to Blaire. “Do you know what is wrong with him?”

“I think it might be something to do with shock,” she replied. “I could be wrong, but if you were suddenly told you had an identity that was completely foreign to you, and you might be a murderer, how do you think you might react? This faint could be his body’s way of coping with a shock like that by taking him out of the stressful situation until he has time to deal with it. The human body is a remarkable thing, you know.”

“Do you think that’s why he lost his memory?” Finian asked curiously.

Blaire nodded. “I am certain of it.”

“ S INCE YOUR brOTHER is too busy to go and carry out his responsibility,” Errol Lovatt told his son angrily, “you will have to do it for him, Connor.” He rounded in Finian’s direction, who had left them a moment ago. “Make sure you are back in time! I do not want to have to tell our guests that your brother thought the steward was more important than they are!”

Connor felt very sorry for Finian, knowing that he was madly in love with someone else whom he could not marry because she did not come from the right rung on the social ladder. However, he did his duty and went to collect Katrina. She did not look at all pleased to see him, feeling that she had been slighted somehow.

“Where is Finian?” she demanded as soon as she saw him.

‘He is ? —’

He was suddenly transported to another scene, a much more pleasant one.

He was lying on a bed with his eyes closed, and when he opened them again he looked into a pair of long-lashed, bright-green eyes. They belonged to a beautiful woman whose long curly light-brown hair tumbled over one shoulder, and presently she smiled at him.

“Am I dead?” he asked. His voice came out as a croak, as if he had not used it for a while.

The young woman laughed. “No, you are not, I’m glad to say. We think you were involved in an accident and were brought to me for treatment. How do you feel?”

“My head is a bit sore,” he replied. He was mesmerised by the sheer loveliness of her face, and could not bring himself to look away from her.

“You bumped it very hard,” she replied, “but I will give you something to ease the pain. Now, my name is Blaire. What is yours?”

He opened his mouth to answer her, and that was the moment when he found that he had no idea who he was. His mouth opened and shut, seemingly without his volition, and he frowned, racking his brains. Who was he? He looked up at Blaire in panic and shook his head. “I have no idea,” he said blankly.

She did not seem to be concerned. “Sometimes this happens after an injury,” she told him. “But it usually sorts itself out in a few days.”

Then another half-remembered dream came into his mind, and a feeling of deep sadness washed over him.

A carriage was leaving the castle, and in it were a dark woman and three little girls, who were both weeping, as he himself was. This dream faded quickly, as if it hurt too much for his mind to cling to it.

Then James found himself returning to consciousness as though he were resurfacing from a dive into deep water. Abruptly, he opened his eyes and found himself alone in the room he had been told was his bedchamber. He lay still for a moment, remembering what had happened before he fainted, then looked around himself.

The room felt familiar somehow, but perhaps that was because Finian had told him that it had been his bedchamber, and the power of suggestion had a lot of strength.

He stood up warily, and felt his legs shaking for a moment before he managed to find his balance. He left the room and found himself in a long corridor, then followed it until he found the entrance to the castle. It was surprisingly easy, as if he had done it many times before.

B LAIRE AND F INIAN were sitting in a small parlour that was only a few yards away from the main gate of the castle, talking about James, except that Finian called him Connor, which was very confusing.

“I will call him James until he recovers his memory,” Blaire suggested. “He becomes angry otherwise.”

“He has to start using his own name.” Finian said angrily. “Otherwise, he will be stuck with one that is not his own, and his identity will be completely gone. Is it not better to call him by his true name? If we do, perhaps it will help him to regain his memory.”

Blaire sighed and put her head in her hands, wondering how she had become tangled up in this mess to start with.

“Blaire?” Finian asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I wish I could just wave a magic wand and make this all go away,” she answered. “I truly feel there is nothing more I can do.”

Finian stared at her. “Then perhaps you should leave,” he suggested. “If he is alone with me in the surroundings he grew up in, then his memory may return more quickly.”

At the thought of this, Blaire felt a pain that was so acute it was almost physical, but deep inside she knew it was for the best. “Where do you suggest I go?” she asked.

“Back to Rosskern,” he replied. “I can give you a horse and send a few of my men with you, and we can keep in touch so that I can tell you about Connor’s progress.”

“But what about his health?” Blaire asked. “He still needs to be cared for.”

“Leave some of your medicines and instructions for using them,” Finian said. “I will take care of him. You know I want only the best for him, Blaire.”

Blaire put her hand to her head and rubbed her forehead, which was beginning to ache. She could not just abandon James—particularly when he needed her the most. After all, he was the man she loved—or was he? If he was the real Connor, he could be a murderer, despite what Finian said. After all, he was speaking out of love for his brother, and it was in his interest not to tell the truth. She was torn. The Lovatts were her clan’s enemies, and if she stayed there, it was tantamount to a betrayal of them.

Yet, she loved James—Connor—desperately, and the thought of leaving him behind made her feel as if she were being traitorous to him too.

What should I do? she asked herself. She had to make a decision quickly because Finian was beginning to frown and fidget. He was losing patience.

After a few more moments of agonising debate, Blaire made her decision. “I will go back,” she told Finian. “Although I hate to leave him.”

There were tears in her eyes as her decision settled in. “Look after him, please, Finian,” she begged. “I love him very much, and I cannot imagine life without him. I will send some preparations back with one of your men so that you can take care of James—Connor.”

“I will,” he replied, “and I love him too, Blaire. He is my brother, and I will make sure no harm comes to him. You have no need to worry, you are doing the right thing.”

“I truly don’t want to go—please tell him that.” Blaire looked at him beseechingly, begging him to understand. “I am so afraid that if I wait for him to wake up, once I see his face, I will never be able to go. Please explain that to him and tell him that I’m not being heartless. And give him all my love.”

“I will,” Finian replied. “Take care of yourself, Blaire.”

She nodded and made her way to the waiting wagon, and he watched sadly as she left. Although he understood why she had made the decision to go, he was sorry to see her leave because she was a good woman, and she loved his brother; perhaps she could have been a good friend, too.

He knew that Connor would be very upset, and he steeled himself for what was coming next; he would have to be the calm, rational one while his brother processed his grief.

Just then, he heard Connor’s voice calling Blaire’s name, and he left the parlour to go and meet him. Connor looked pale, his hair was tousled, and his clothes dirty. Finian felt infinitely sorry for his poor brother.

“Connor,” he said gently, “you found your way here alone? That is a good sign. How do you feel?”

“Never mind me,” James answered. After his strange dreams, and seeing the familiarity of his surroundings, he was starting to wonder if he was who Finian said he was. As he looked around himself, the castle was becoming more and more familiar. He was confused and puzzled, and the pain in his head was making it spin so that everything around him was blurred and out of focus.

However, he managed to get himself under sufficient control to ask Finian, “Where is Blaire?” He kept his voice calm, sensing that this was not the time to be aggressive.

“She went back to Rosskern,” Finian replied, trying to sound as gentle as he could. “Short of tying her up, I could not stop her, Connor. She said she was needed there, and you know that she takes no sides in this matter.

I thought at first that she had allowed herself to be taken because she was a spy for the Sutherlands, but there is something about her that has convinced me otherwise. She has the kindest heart I have ever seen.”

“I know,” James agreed. “She is a wonderful woman, but I thought she might stay long enough to greet me when I awoke—at least long enough to say goodbye.”

Finian could see the hurt in his brother’s eyes as he said the words, and his heart ached for him. “She would have,” he replied, “but she knows she is needed in Rosskern too. She has a duty to do. She looked very sad, but you know how seriously she takes her work.”

James nodded slowly. “Perhaps I am being selfish,” he murmured. He was still not quite convinced of who he was, but since he had entered the castle and seen his surroundings in more detail, he kept having flashbacks, pictures in his mind of people and things he felt he had seen before. “I love her more than life itself, and it hurts me that she might now think I am a murderer.” His voice was trembling at the thought of never seeing her again.

Finian patted James’s shoulder. “I think I have set her mind at rest on that point. Have you remembered anything?”

James shook his head and tried to focus his mind on his other problem. “Not yet, but a few things have come to mind that have made me wonder. You may call me Connor if it pleases you.”

“It pleases and very much, Connor,” Finian answered as he put an arm around his shoulders. “Now you must eat and bathe, then you and I can go for a stroll and talk.”