Page 22 of Echoes of a Forgotten Warrior (A Highland Ruse of Love #2)

Fourteen months later…

J AMES AND B LAIRE had been living happily in Kirkhaugh, where Blaire had set up her own healer’s practice again, and Connor worked for the Galbraith’s horse breeding business. It was humble work, but he had been obliged to find a way of earning money. As well as that, he had no desire to let Blaire be the only breadwinner, especially since she was expecting their first child.

At the beginning, many of his fellow workers had distrusted him because of his rather upper-class accent, but Connor, remembering his days as James, soon managed to become one of them. He soon formed a small circle of friends amongst the villagers.

With Blaire by his side, he was happier than he had ever been before in his life. They lived in a small cottage at the edge of the Galbraith property, and benefitted greatly from the family’s generosity.

Then, one day in October, Blaire gave birth to their son. She had contacted Rosina during the last month of her pregnancy to come and assist her. Even though she had delivered dozens of babies, she had never delivered one of her own before, and was more than a little frightened.

“A boy,” Rosina said with a wide smile as she handed the tiny form to Blaire.

Blaire looked down in wonder at the baby’s wrinkled red face, then shook her head and smiled as he began to weep the heartbreaking wail of a newborn. “I know what you want,” she told him, laughing as she put him to the breast. The crying suddenly stopped, to be replaced by a comical gurgling, sucking sound.

Rosina laughed. “He is angry that he has suddenly been turned out of his warm, dark home into the blinding light of day.”

“He will have to get used to it,” Blaire remarked as she kissed the little forehead. She could hardly believe this was happening, and she was filled to bursting with joy.

Connor came home a little later from an exhausting day at work to hear the cry of a newborn child coming from their chamber. His heart skipped a beat, and he rushed into the bedroom to see Blaire holding the tiny form of their child in her arms.

Connor stood in the doorway for a second, astonished, but incandescent with joy to find that there were two people to love now instead of one.

“Oh, Blaire, you are wonderful,” he breathed. He took the tiny little form into his arms reverently and looked down at the infant in wonder. “Do we have a son or a daughter?” he asked.

“A son,” Blaire replied, smiling.

“How beautiful he is,” Connor murmured, then he looked at his wife, frowning. “Was Rosina with you?”

Blaire smiled. “Yes, but she stepped outside to give us a few moments alone while you meet your son.”

“I love him already,” Connor said gently, as he placed a soft kiss on the baby’s forehead. “And I love you for giving him to me, Blaire. What shall we call him?”

“Finian?” Blaire suggested, as she took the baby from Connor. Then she looked up at him and smiled. “Finian James.”

Connor wrapped his arms around his wife and son and hugged them tightly. “Perfect,” he said happily.

However, as life thrived on keeping things in balance, as a new life came into the world, an old one left it.

Errol Lovatt died a lonely death. He had caught a chill, which turned into an illness that manifested itself in bouts of uncontrollable, hacking coughs that rendered him so short of breath and was unable to eat more than thin gruel and some weak ale, which resulted in him becoming thinner and thinner until he resembled a skeleton.

Eventually, he could no longer walk, and spent his last few days alone, until one morning he was found lying cold and still in his bedchamber, having passed away during the night.

Finian heard of his father’s death a few days later from one of the Sutherland guards, who had heard it through the servants’ grapevine. Then he did the last thing that anyone expected of him. He threw back his head and laughed heartily for a long, long time. He even asked for a glass of wine to celebrate, although, of course, it was denied.

However, Laird Lovatt’s death left the council of elders in something of a quandary. With the oldest male heir, in prison guilty of the heinous crime of murder, their position became precarious, and when Laird Sutherland also died very suddenly of a heart attack, they realised that something had to be done.

The power of the two clans was dwindling, since they were being threatened by a powerful warlord named Laird Angus Murray. He viewed the land on both estates as superior to his own, and wanted it for himself. He had a formidable garrison, big enough to challenge both the Lovatt’s and Sutherland’s forces. Separately, they were weak, but together they were strong enough to fight him off.

The death of the two Lairds had been most opportune for him, since both clans were now leaderless and consequently weaker than before. In Laird Murray’s eyes, they were like low-hanging fruit, ripe for the picking, and he was preparing his forces to reap the harvest.

Then, one morning, Connor received a letter from the head of the Council of Elders summoning him to Strathburn, where he was told that with the consent of the Sutherlands he was now Laird of both Strathburn and Rosskern.

“Blaire!” he called as he walked through to their bedroom. She was feeding the baby, but looked up at the urgency in his tone.

“Connor? What is the matter?” she asked fearfully.

“I’ve been summoned to Rosskern,” he replied, frowning at the sheet of parchment in front of him. “It seems that both my father and yours have died, and I have been asked to attend an urgent council.”

Blaire tried to find a spark of regret within herself at the news of Cameron Sutherland’s death, but she simply could not. He had been a stranger to her, and on the odd occasion they had been together he had treated her with such disdain that his death meant nothing to her. However, Connor might feel differently.

“I am sorry for your loss, Connor,” she said gently.

“Don’t be sorry, Blaire,” he told her with a bitter laugh. “I cannot find a particle of sorrow within myself. He showed no love for Finian and me, and I’m glad he is gone.”

R OSSKERN C ASTLE WAS JUST as Connor and Blaire remembered it. It was an incredibly ugly building, with no apparent thought having been given to its design. It looked like a wild creature that had chosen to lie sprawled on the hill, but when inspected more closely, it was a formidable fortress that had withstood many attacks and sieges.

James and Blaire arrived in a carriage that had been lent to them by the Galbraiths, but they knew that everything within the massive building was now theirs, and they would never need to borrow anything ever again. However, having discussed which castle to live in, they had decided on Strathburn.

However, first, they had come on another mission—as Laird and Lady Lovatt, they had the authority to free anyone they liked from the dungeons, and now it was Finian’s turn.

Connor looked around nervously, remembering the last time he had been in this place. Even though he now owned it, he still harboured a feeling of dread as he looked around.

Blaire, sensitive to his every move, said gently, “Connor, we are here to do something wonderful!”

Connor’s face lit up suddenly, and he began to run towards the staircase to the dungeons, leaving Blaire far behind him. However, far from being hurt, she laughed, imagining that she would feel the same way in his situation, and she wanted to give the brothers a few moments together.

Connor hurtled downstairs, snatched the keys from the guard and sprinted along the passage to the cell, then stopped in front of it. He was so shocked that he stared at his brother for a long moment before saying anything.

Finian was lying on his back on a dirty straw mattress, staring at the ceiling. He had lost weight, Connor observed, probably because the food was inadequate and unappetising. His clothes were filthy and tattered, and because he had been unable to shave, he had grown a thick black beard. As Connor watched, a rat scampered along the floor, but his brother did not react at all, no doubt accustomed to the sight of the disgusting creatures.

“Finian,” Connor said.

He had not spoken loudly, but the words had an electrifying effect on his brother, who jerked upright at once and stared at Connor in disbelief. He rubbed his knuckles against his eyes as if trying to wake from sleep as Connor unlocked the gate.

“Connor? Are you real?” he asked, shaking his head. “Or am I dreaming?”

Connor stepped forward and hugged him. “Does this feel like a dream?” he asked as he breathed a great sigh of relief. He was holding his brother again after all these months, and his heart was full of love.

Finian put his arms around Connor tentatively, still not quite believing that he was not some kind of phantom, then as reality dawned, he tightened his embrace and began to weep. “I thought I would never see you again!”

“But you told me you would!” Connor reminded him. “And you are a man of your word, Finian. Blaire and I have come to set you free.”

They held on to each other, both weeping with relief, before Finian said, “I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you, Connor. I will spend the rest of my life making up for it.”

Connor put Finian away a little to look into his brother's eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said gently. “I would not change a thing because it all led me to Blaire.”

He turned to greet his wife as she walked into the cell holding young Finian.

Blaire felt deeply sad as she looked at her brother-in-law, who was a skinny, dirty shadow of his former self.

“It is so good to see you, Finian,” she said, smiling at him.

“And you, Blaire,” he replied, returning her smile. He looked at the baby. “You are as beautiful as ever. And who is this?”

“This is wee Finian James,” Connor replied. “Our son. He is almost six months old.”

“You called him after me?” Finian gave them a delighted smile. “Thank you! When did you marry?”

“We were married soon after we escaped, but it is a long story,” Blaire told him. “Now, you must bathe and eat, then we can talk.”

“And then I can hold my nephew,” he said fondly.

I T TOOK a great deal of scrubbing and two changes of bath water to cleanse Finian properly, as well as a serious amount of shaving to rid him of his thick beard, but at last he was presentable. His old clothes were sent away to be burned, and he was wearing some borrowed clothes of Connor’s which hung on him like a loose sack, but he was glad to be clean and sweet-smelling at last.

The first thing he did was to reach out for his little namesake and gather him into his arms. “Oh,” he breathed as he looked at the little face. “What a handsome boy you are.”

Indeed, young Finian had the best features of both his parents, with his father’s dark hair and eyes that were already bright green like his mother’s.

“I will be the best uncle ever, I promise,” he said softly.

Young Finian responded with a deep chuckle and a wide smile that showed his first two tiny teeth.

Uncle Finian smiled back and kissed his nephew’s forehead. He seemed reluctant to let the child go when he had to hand him back to Blaire.

When they sat down to eat, Finian looked at the food in disbelief, as if he had forgotten what it looked like. He was unable to eat much, but he listened while Blaire and Connor told him about their lives during their absence.

When Blaire mentioned Isla, Finian’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward in his chair. “Is she well?” he asked eagerly.

“She is wonderful, Finian,” Blaire replied. “And very worried about you.”

“She has not given up on me, then?” he asked hopefully.

“Definitely not,” Blaire answered. “I know that she would be very happy to see you, Finian.”

Finian took a sip of his wine and smiled from ear to ear. “Is she still so beautiful?”

“Yes, and she is waiting just for you, Brother,” Connor answered.

“But look at me,” Finian looked down at himself. “I am so shrivelled and ugly.”

“You are neither of those things,” Blaire reassured him. “All you need is clothes that fit, and I will arrange that. Never fear, Blaire, is here!”

“And she can do anything!” Connor said, laughing.

Finian went to sleep just after they had eaten, and so did the baby, giving Connor and Blaire some precious time to themselves. They stood by the window in their bedchamber, looking out into the deepening twilight. Connor’s arms were wrapped around Blaire as he stood behind her, and he kissed the back of her neck, making her giggle.

“I never thought I could be so happy,” Blaire murmured.

Connor chuckled. “Let me make you even happier.” Connor began to undo the fastenings on the back of Blaire’s dress, then let it fall to the floor so that she was wearing only her flimsy shift.

Connor tore off his clothes as though they were burning him, then stood still for a moment so that his wife could admire him, something she always did before they made love.

Their lovemaking this time was not tender, and Connor was not gentle, but that was the way they both wanted it. He held both of Blaire’s hands tightly above her head as he plunged hard into her, and she arched her body up in order to feel him better. She cried out as the almost unbearable pleasure built inside her, accompanied by the slap of his skin against hers as he drove them both towards a titanic climax.

When she reached the peak of ecstasy, she screamed and tightened her legs around his hips, while he shouted out her name, then they both lay still for a moment as spasms of pleasure shook them.

Finally, they came back to earth again, and lay joined together as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“What did I do to deserve a husband like you?” Blaire asked with a sweet smile.

Connor kissed her very gently. He had treated her with such tenderness since she had given birth that sometimes Blaire felt as if she was being worshipped.

He chuckled. “It must have been something terrible.”

Blaire cuffed him playfully. “I love you, you silly boy,” she whispered in his ear.

“And I adore you, my love,” he replied, his blue eyes shining. As he stroked her tenderly, relishing the feel of her warm skin against his, a fierce protectiveness came over him. He would kill or die for her and their child. There was no lust or passion in him at that moment, just pure, unadulterated love.

For her part, Blaire felt secure and safe, knowing that Connor would shelter and love her and their son from danger as long as they lived, because wherever Connor was, she was home.

Thank you for reading my story!