Page 21 of Echoes of a Forgotten Warrior (A Highland Ruse of Love #2)

20

C onnor was lying in his cell, staring at the ceiling while thinking about the desperate situation he was in. Fortunately, he was not in solitary confinement, but the smell inside this cell was utterly disgusting; a stench of mould, urine, and the noisome ammoniac reek of rats. The floor, the walls and the bars of the cell were beyond dirty, but absolutely filthy, and the pattering of rats was a constant accompaniment to his thoughts.

He had no hope that his father would come to his rescue, since Errol Lovatt was a much weaker character than his counterpart, Cameron Sutherland. Finian and Blaire had been forced into a compromise that neither wanted, but they had been obliged to accept to save his life.

Yet, what kind of life would it be for the next twelve years? He looked around the bare cell that contained the very basics for life. He was lying on a thin straw mattress, and the only protection he had from the cold was one threadbare blanket. Apart from that, he had a bucket to relieve himself in, and a thin towel.

He had been informed that he could have a cold bath once a week, but when he asked how he could wash his clothes, he was told he could not. No reading material would be provided unless it was brought by a visitor, and they were only allowed once a month. He had already been told that Finian and Blaire would not be allowed to see him.

The thought of twelve years of boredom and isolation absolutely terrified Connor. He had always been an active person, and years of riding, running, and wrestling, as well as his recent labour at the blacksmith’s shop, had honed his body to that of a muscular athlete.

He had always had a good appetite and was especially fond of meat, but he knew that prison fare was likely to be not only sparse, but very poor in quality. He had received no nourishment for a whole day, but although he felt weak and tired, his chief concern, and his biggest regret, was Blaire.

He knew that both his brother and his beloved had agreed to be married for his sake, and in a few hours they would indeed be husband and wife. However, when he thought of them consummating their marriage, kissing as he and Blaire had done and indulging in even more intimate acts, he wanted to weep.

I should be with her, he thought sadly. I should be the first man with whom she shares her body, not Finian. Oh, my love, how am I going to survive without you?

He doubted he would ever leave the dungeons alive, to see her again. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, listening to the rats and the distant conversation of the guards at the entrance to the prison. He could not make out what they were saying, but the sound of their voices was oddly comforting, reminding him that there was a world outside his cage. He supposed that in time he could even begin to regard the rats with some fondness if he became really desperate, then laughed sadly at the thought.

Presently, he heard the tone of the guards’ voices changing. They were suddenly shouting, and Connor could hear the clashing of swords and banging as if heavy objects were being hurled around. Abruptly, a scream of pain rent the air and Connor jumped to his feet then grasped the bars of the cell and rattled them as hard as he could in a futile attempt to alert someone—anyone—to help him. He was convinced that Laird’s Sutherland’s men were on their way to murder him.

Then he realised that it did not matter. What was his life without Blaire, anyway?

A LL TEN OF the men from the Lovatt faction of the guards were waiting outside the castle. One of them was Mitchell McDonald, Finian’s best friend. When Finian walked in, followed by a very tense and anxious Blaire, the men stared at her, frowning in puzzlement before looking quizzically at Finian.

“Mistress Blaire,” Mitchell greeted her, bowing politely. “I hope ye are well.”

“I am fine, thank you,” she replied with a stiff smile, “but you don’t have to concern yourselves about my welfare. I am only here for Connor.”

Finian quickly briefed the men on what would be required of them, and after a few more questions, they pronounced themselves ready for action. Blaire watched them all as they strode past her, and each one seemed to be more intimidating than the last.

Finian brought up the rear, then, turning to her, he asked, “You know what to do, Blaire?”

“I do,” she replied nervously, and gave him a pained smile. “Good luck, and look after yourself.”

Finian watched her as she walked past the Lovatt men, who were waiting on the stairs that led down to the dungeon. They may have been well armed, but they were used to walking silently and staying absolutely still, so they resembled statues as she passed in front of them.

Blaire’s heart was beating wildly as she reached the guards’ station at the entrance to the dungeon. Her gaze swept around quickly, taking in the keys on hooks, which had a number of the appropriate cell on each one.

Unfortunately, she had no idea which one was Connor’s, but she had a way of finding out. She would use her charm. However, as it happened, she had no need to. She walked up to the three men who were sitting around a small table drinking ale, and smiled widely at them.

They looked as though they had been drinking something stronger than beer since there was a distinct smell of whisky in the air. However, whisky was an expensive commodity, well beyond the means of any guard. It had likely been stolen from Laird Sutherland’s private store.

The biggest of them stood up and walked towards her, carrying a small flask in his hand. “I would like to see the new prisoner, please,” she asked politely, pointedly glancing down at it.

The man followed her gaze. He looked as though he were about to refuse, then he wobbled slightly on his feet and almost fell. Blaire reached out a hand and grabbed his elbow, then looked him in the eye. “I am guessing you’re not supposed to be drunk on duty?” she asked. “ I’m Laird Sutherland’s daughter. Let me in, and I will not tell him you are all drunk.”

The man reached out and plucked a set of keys from a hook, but just as he seemed to be about to hand them to her, his companions stood up and began to advance towards her threateningly, but then all hell broke loose. Finian’s men hurtled down the stairs and dived on the drunk Sutherland men, who were completely outnumbered and out-armed. They put up a token show of resistance, but it was all over in minutes, although the altercation had been noisy in the extreme.

Meanwhile, Blaire had grabbed the keys from the hand of the guard and ran towards Connor’s cell. As soon as he saw her, he thrust an arm through the bars of the cell to try to touch her, hardly able to believe the evidence of his own eyes, which were wide with disbelief.

“Blaire,” he cried. “What is?—”

“No time to explain!” Blaire answered hurriedly.

She wrestled with the keys for a moment, her face a picture of frustration, before she finally managed to shove the door open. She grabbed his hand, but when he tried to wrap his arms around her, she pushed him away.

“Later!” she snapped. “We have to get out of here!”

They passed Finian and his men on the way out. They were shoving the drunk guards into a cell, but Finian looked up and gave his brother a quick smile, which Connor returned. He hesitated for a moment, but Blaire tugged his hand urgently, and he was obliged to follow her again as she ran down the narrow corridor.

“Where are we going?” he yelled, as Blaire descended a narrow staircase, still keeping him in tow. She gave no answer, but after they reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned to her right along another passage and led him into what turned out to be a small bedroom. It had no furniture except for a single narrow bed in it, but it had obviously been prepared in advance, since there was a lamp standing on the floor giving some feeble light in the darkness.

“Where are we?” he asked, puzzled as he looked around the bare space.

Blaire put two fingers over his lips to indicate that he should lower his voice. “The extreme end of the servants’ quarters,” she murmured. “Waiting for your brother. They will kill you tonight if we cannot escape, Connor, and if they did that I would rather die too.”

“Don’t say that!” he said desperately, keeping his voice low. He folded his arms around her and let out a long sigh. “I never thought I could ever love any woman the way I love you, Blaire. You mean everything to me, so if we do escape, will you marry me?”

Blaire looked up into the cool depths of Connor’s eyes and smiled. “We will escape,” she told him firmly, “and I will marry you as soon as we find an cleric, but first we have to get out of here. Now kiss me.”

“Yes, my lady,” he whispered, smiling.

When their lips met, Connor felt as if he had been carried away to a place where no one else existed but him and his love. Blaire’s lips were the balm he needed to soothe his troubled spirit, and he felt as though her body was the only bed he would ever need to lie on.

Blaire gently withdrew herself from his embrace and smiled at him. Despite the urgings of her body, she could not allow herself to go any further down the path of pleasure, even though it was almost unbearably tempting.

“We don’t have time,” she said softly, “but?—”

Just then, the door burst open, and Finian rushed through it, flushed and breathless. He sat down beside Connor and put his arm around his brother’s shoulders while he recovered his breath, then looked up at him, searching his face as if to commit every detail of it to memory.

“We must go now,” he said urgently.

“We have left a couple of sacks loaded with supplies in the stables,” Blaire told Connor. “Come, and hurry, we don’t have much time.”

Finian led the way until they came to the stables, where they found the sacks, a large one for Connor and a smaller one for Blaire.

“Here is a map—” Finian held out a folded sheet of paper. “This will take you to the village of Kirkhaugh, where Isla Galbraith lives.”

“Isla Galbraith, the woman you love?” Connor asked as he remembered the name.

Finian nodded, then paused for a moment as if collecting himself. In the dim light, they could not make out his expression too well, but his voice was husky and sad. “Please take a message for me.” He gave Connor a letter sealed with his own personal crest. “Tell Isla I love her.”

“Are you not coming with us?” Connor asked fearfully.

Finian took a deep breath. “No, Connor,” he answered. “It is time I atoned for my sins and did penance. I have caused so much pain to so many people, including you, and now I must pay the price.”

“No!” Connor yelled. “What are you talking about? Come with us!”

Finian put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “I cannot, Connor,” he said gently. “My conscience will not let me. But I will see you again, I swear.”

“But why?” Connor was desperate, then a horrible possibility occurred to him. “You are not going to do anything stupid, are you? Please, please come with us!”

Finian shook his head. “No, Connor. I love you, my brother.”

Then, before Connor or Blaire could stop him, he ran back into the castle and into the hands of the Sutherland guards.

Connor was frozen with shock for a moment, but Blaire tugged his hand and pulled him away.

“They will be following us soon,” she told him. “And probably on horseback. We will have to be very careful.”

They sneaked out through a tiny gate that led through the curtain wall from the kitchen gardens. Connor was so distraught he could hardly speak during the journey to Kirkhaugh. They arrived in Kirkhaugh a few hours later. The Galbraith house was a sizable red brick mansion, but they were admitted with some reluctance by the servants due to their unkempt appearance. However, when Isla Galbraith laid eyes on Connor, she rushed up to him and embraced him tightly. “Connor!” she cried. “You are here! Is Finian with you?”

To his complete astonishment, Connor remembered her. He returned the embrace and smiled at her. “It is a very long story,” he said gently.

When Isla heard the news about Finian’s choice to stay at Rosskern, she was devastated. However, she did not burst into tears or faint with shock, but kept a dignified silence before straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. “I have always been taught to be brave,” she told them. “And I know I will see Finian again because there is no other man for me.” She looked at Blaire and gave her a determined smile. “And you two?” she asked. “Where are you going?”

“Is there an inn here?” Blaire asked.

“Would you not rather stay with us tonight? I think you will enjoy our hospitality.”

Connor smiled widely. “Thank you, but we will go to the inn. It’s safer that way. We wouldn’t want to put you in any danger,” he replied, and when he looked at Blaire, who smiled at him.

T HEY WERE fortunate that the inn was almost empty that night, and they wouldn’t risk exposure.

Connor lifted Blaire up in his arms as he kicked the inn’s chamber door open, then he laid her tenderly on the bed. She looked around her—the place was indeed as Isla had described it, and was hardly the place she would have chosen for her first experience with Connor. However, this was their first night together, and nothing really mattered but that.

Blaire knew that she had one final mission to accomplish, and since it was not one she relished, she decided to get it out of the way sooner rather than later. She desperately wanted to be in Connor’s arms, to experience the feel of his hands on her flesh, but she hoped that whatever was in the letter from Finian would comfort him.

“I have something to give you,” she said gently as she took the missive from her pocket. “This is a letter for you from Finian. If I am right, it will explain everything that has happened since Katrina’s death.”

Connor took it in his hands and looked at it carefully before breaking the seal. His eyes widened with shock as he read it, then he gasped, and put his hand over his mouth as tears glittered in his eyes. When he had finished reading, he looked at Blaire and asked, “Did you know about this? About Finian arranging the ambush of the carriage?”

“I only found out a few hours ago,” she replied. “May I read the letter?”

Connor handed it to her and put his hands over his eyes.

Dear Connor, it read.

B Y THE TIME you read this, I will be in the place I deserve to be. This is because I, and I alone, have been the source of all the harm that has befallen everyone since before the night of Katrina’s death. I am the monster who engaged the bandits to attack you, through some idiotic notion that if I scared Katrina away, I would manage to spend a little more time with Isla. I had no intention of hurting anyone, and definitely not killing them, and had I known you were there I would have made sure I took your place before you left. I have cursed myself ever since that day, and I don’t think I will ever shake off the guilt.

Connor, now that you know the truth, can you please find it in your heart to forgive me? I know I do not deserve it, and if you cannot do so, I can certainly not blame you. All I can say is that I am deeply sorry, and I love you, my only brother.

I wish you and Blaire all the happiness in the world.

Y OUR FOOLISH brOTHER,

Finian.

B LAIRE PUT the letter down and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “He did not mean for any of this to happen, Connor. He loves you, he says so in the letter, and I know he hates himself for everything that has happened. He is doing penance for it now.”

Connor nodded slowly. “I know he is.” His voice was hoarse. “And I know he is being punished. When I think of all the happy times we spent as boys and young men, it makes me feel sad, but all of these trials and tribulations led me to you, so I know that I can forgive him.”

“Oh, I am so glad,” she whispered, looking into Connor’s bright blue eyes and smiling, just before Connor’s lips descended on hers and caressed them tenderly and lovingly, setting her senses on fire as she responded to him.

This was going to be Blaire’s first introduction to what really went on between a man and a woman in the marriage bed, and she was aroused and terrified all at once. Connor drew away from her, and she saw that his ice-blue eyes had darkened with desire. He smiled at her and said softly: “I adore you, Blaire. You have made me so happy. If it were not for you, I would not even be here, and I will thank you every day for the rest of my life.”

Blaire’s gaze settled on his firm, full lips that she knew were deceptively soft and tender. “Thank me by making love to me,” Blaire whispered. “I cannot wait any longer, Connor.”

He chuckled, then kissed her again and began to undo the row of buttons on the front of her dress. Her skin had become so sensitive that every touch of his fingertips sent a little trail of fire behind it.

“I am glad I wore this dress,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling.

“Because it’s so easy to remove?” he asked, then planted a soft kiss on her lips.

“Yes,” Blaire replied, laughing softly.