Page 8 of Echoes of a Forgotten Warrior (A Highland Ruse of Love #2)

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F inian was deeply frustrated. He and his small band of men had only intended to do a quick surveillance of the Lovatts’ defensive capabilities, which should only have lasted a day at the most. Hence, they had only taken supplies for one overnight camp, but they had constantly been forced to move to avoid being discovered. They had now spent two nights and three full days camped on the border of the Sutherland Estate and were running out of food.

Finian had sent some of his men to buy some provisions at the small village of Inchkirk a short distance from their camp, but they had little to spare, and the soldiers came back with nothing but a few loaves of bread.

Now, everyone was hungry and irritable. Finian improvised a fishing rod out of a straight tree branch and a bent nail, but the trout in the stream were not in an obliging mood that day, and none of them would allow themselves to be caught.

“What are we goin’ tae dae?” one of his men asked, after he had just drunk the last drops of a cup of ale. There was no more left.

“We will have to go home,” Finian said reluctantly.

The crops had already been gathered for the year, and all the fruits and nuts of the bushes and trees were long since gone, too. Hunting was out of the question since bow shots might alert the enemy to their presence, and visibility was poor.

They decamped quickly and loaded their gear onto their horses. All the men were depressed and dispirited; the mission had availed them nothing. They had gained no intelligence at all, indeed, all they had to show for their troubles were scratches and grazes from stumbling through bushes in the dark. They thought they had been spotted by the Sutherlands, but their supposed attacker had been a large stag intent on pursuing a doe.

Now they began to trudge home in the early winter twilight, trying to hurry as best they could. Suddenly, one of the men hissed, “Look!” He pointed to the shape of a horse and cart moving slowly along the dim track in front of them.

The cart’s path was lit by a small oil lantern hanging from a bracket on one side, which made it very easy to see. It was moving slowly since it was fully laden with cargo they could not quite make out.

“Dougie,” Finian whispered to the man who had spotted the cart. “Go and see what that cart is carrying.”

Dougie immediately dismounted from his horse and crept towards the wagon, then returned a few minutes later with some welcome news.

“It’s carryin’ vegetables an’ some meat—pork, I think. It must be for Rosskern Castle. I cannae see that amount o’ grub goin’ anywhere else.”

“In that case,” Finian said grimly, “it’s fair game. Come on, lads!”

They rode forward, closing the distance between them and the wagon in seconds. The carter, a young man in his twenties, stopped his horse at once, looking scared to death. There was someone else with him, a young woman, and Finian stared at her, trying to work out where he had seen her before. Even in the dim light of the lantern, he could see that she was extraordinarily beautiful. She was looking at him directly and showed no sign of fear, which made him feel irrationally angry. He was armed and dangerous; why was she not cringing and begging for mercy?

“Well, mistress,” Finian said smugly. “It seems you have something I need, so I am afraid it now belongs to me. I am not a violent man unless challenged, and I certainly never hurt women and children, so you are free to go.”

The woman looked around her fearfully. Winter darkness came early, and then the dangerous creatures like wild boars who carefully hid during the day came out to hunt and forage. Even her thick cloak, the jumper, and wool dress she wore underneath it were not going to protect her from the perishing cold of a late November night. She would not last an hour in the freezing air. But a thought crossed her mind, one she couldn’t ignore. Since she couldn’t stop James from being conscripted, maybe she could be close in case he got injured. And what if she manged to find the Lovatt lad who was the cause of all this? Her father had said he wanted him to be brought before him and the animosity would stop. If Connor Lovatt were found, then James would be safe and the peace restored. She had to infiltrate the Lovatt camp now more than ever.

Finian studied her for a moment, and realised that he could not let her find her own way in the night. She was tall for a woman, but she was lightly built, and was already beginning to shiver in the cold night air. He could not simply abandon her to the dangers of the darkness. He decided that leaving her to fend for herself was out of the question; she would have to come back to the Lovatt camp with him.

“I am the healer from the village of Rosskern,” she told him gently. “I take care of everyone, no matter what side they are on. The most seriously injured come first, and the least badly wounded are treated last. I do not care whether you are a Lovatt or a Sutherland—you are all human beings to me, and everyone is worthy of being helped.”

Finian threw back his head and laughed heartily at that. “Do you really believe that?” he asked in disbelief. “Even the wickedest people? The ones who rape and pillage and murder?”

“It is not my place to judge,” she replied calmly, although she was on shaky ground. Did these people deserve to live? Yet when she was tending to her patients, she had no idea what they had done or might have done. They were just hurt, bleeding people who needed her help.

“Do you want me to let you go now?” he asked. “I do not harm people except in self-defence, especially women, and I appreciate what you do for all of us. I happen to think that healers are very special people. You have a calling, just as priests and ministers do, and that makes you very valuable to all of us.”

“No,” she replied. “I want to do my duty. Where there is warfare, there will be wounded men, and that is where I must be. Will you let me help you?”

Finian thought for a moment, weighing up his options. Could this young woman be a spy for the Sutherlands? He had no way of finding out, but there was something—a certain wholesomeness—about her that made him inclined to trust her. Then he thought of one problem.

“But you are only one person,” he pointed out. “You are going to be taking on a lot. Do you not have anyone to help you?” He looked concerned.

“I do, but she is back in Rosskern,” she answered. Then she studied Finian closely for a moment. “But even if I save only one person’s life, my time will have been well spent.” To emphasise her argument, she remained seated on the cart, as the Lovatt soldiers attached it to their horses.

Finian mulled over that for a while. It was a very good and honourable attitude, and she was right, he supposed, but then she was a very intelligent woman, as well as being an extremely attractive one. He could imagine himself coming to love her had he not been hopelessly in love already.

At the thought of Isla, he felt a stab of longing so acute that it was almost a physical pain; he had made up his mind; he would never marry anyone but her, and if that was not possible, then he would never marry at all. The thought did not fill him with terror; it was far more frightening to contemplate taking a wife that he did not love or respect.

“Are you Finian Lovatt?” she asked as they began moving.

Blaire was quite aware of Finian’s scrutiny, but she said nothing as she waited for him to answer. She was trying to work out where she had seen him before, but the dim light did not help. She had seen him from a distance several times before the Lovatts and Sutherlands began to quarrel with each other, and had heard a lot of good things about him.

She had heard that Finian Lovatt was a man of honour who did not inflict unnecessary pain on his enemies. Indeed, he could have killed or injured both her and the young carter tonight, but he had not done so. He had turned his back for a moment, and the young man had slipped away into the darkness to find his way home. Finian cursed himself for letting him get away, but not because he wanted to harm him—quite the opposite. He was worried about his safety. Blaire, too, hoped that he made it to his home without any harm coming to him.

All the time that she had been with Finian she had been working out a plan, and to make it succeed she had to try to make Finian trust her. Perhaps she could work on the problem of stopping the fighting from the Lovatt side. She had never considered herself a peacemaker, but the fighting was becoming worse and worse, and she was beginning to feel desperate. There were so many young men, sons, brothers, fathers and friends, who had given their lives or been seriously injured despite the fact that nothing could bring Katrina back.

Maybe she could appeal to his good nature and ask Finian to work on his father. She was the daughter of one Laird, although that was not known, and he was the son of the other. Maybe they could work together. Was it possible? She had to believe that it was, but she would have to tread very, very carefully.

“I am,” he replied, frowning. “Why do you want to know?”

His whole posture was defensive, and Blaire felt a stab of momentary fear. “I have heard that your brother is missing, and you are trying to find him.” Her voice was very gentle.

For a moment, Finian’s eyes blazed with anger, then he sighed and ran his hand backwards through his dark hair, a gesture that looked oddly familiar to Blaire. Suddenly, his eyes were full of misery. “My brother Connor is my best friend,” he said sadly. “And we were rarely apart. When my father announced that I had to marry Katrina Sutherland, he spent hours comforting me because on that day I thought my heart had broken.”

Blaire looked at the agonised expression on his face and wondered what was going through his mind. Had he been in love with her sister? Or was it another woman who was causing him such pain? She had never known her sister, who was two years older than Blaire, and sometimes she keenly regretted it. She often wondered if they had resembled each other—her father had never told her, but then she had only spoken to him a dozen times in her entire life. Perhaps she had looked like the dark, brown-eyed Lady Sutherland, who, because of the shame of her husband’s infidelity and the birth of his illegitimate child, had become a near recluse.

As well as wondering about Katrina’s appearance, Blaire wondered if they would have been friends. She knew that sisters often shared a close bond, but she had never had the chance to find out if she and Katrina could have liked or even loved each other. She had missed so much love in her existence, with the death of her mother, the rejection of her father and the murder of her sister. The only constant in her life was Rosina, but she was simply a close friend, and no matter how affectionate she was, she could never replace the mother Blaire had lost. Then she thought of James—was he to be the source of all the love she had missed up till now?

“So you were not happy to be betrothed to her? Was she hateful, or ugly, or is there someone else in your life?” Blaire asked, studying him intently. She sensed that he was opening himself up to her.

For his part, Finian felt instinctively that he could trust the healer, and it was a relief to let go of emotions that he had kept locked up for so long. He nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “There is someone I love very much.”

“I won’t ask you her name,” Blaire said. Her voice was soft, and she regarded him with a sympathetic gaze. “But I do understand your plight, Master Lovatt.”

“My name is Finian,” he told her. “But I don’t know yours.”

“Blaire,” she told him.

“No surname?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Mackie,” she answered promptly. It had been her mother’s surname, and the only one she would use even if she had had the choice. She was only a Sutherland by accident of birth, and she hated the name with a passion.

“I would like to see this war between the clans ended, but until there is peace, I must do my best to heal whoever I can from either side. It is not only something I want to do, but I consider it my duty.”

Finian looked at her and smiled. “That is a very honourable thing to do,” he said, voicing what he had been thinking earlier.

“Thank you.” Blaire felt pleased, and they rode on in the cart for a while, enjoying a comfortable silence.

Blaire broke it by asking gently, “Can you tell me what happened to your brother, Finian? How did he come to be lost?”

Finian wrestled with himself for a moment. Should he tell her? What if she really was spying for the Sutherlands? Then he thought about the honest way she had spoken to him, and the fact that she had put herself in such a vulnerable position. He was a big, strong man and she was a slightly built woman. At this moment, he could do anything he liked to her, and she would be helpless to stop him. If she could trust him, he supposed that the least he could do was return the favour.

“I was betrothed to Katrina Sutherland,” he began. “I have known her for years, but I always found her a little snobbish and vain, and when my father arranged a match for us, I was devastated. I knew I could never make her happy, and I was absolutely sure she could not make me happy.

I am in love with someone else, as I told you. She is the love of my life and I never want to be with anyone else.

My father wanted to send me to escort Katrina to our home at Strathburn Castle, but I was unable to think straight. Connor volunteered to go in my place, without me knowing. They were late, and we waited for them for hours, but they never arrived. My father sent out a search party, but they only found Katrina’s body. She had been crushed under the carriage which she had been travelling in when bandits attacked it, and Connor was nowhere to be found. Everyone thinks he killed her, but I know he did not. He simply does not have that kind of evil in him.”

“And what would his motive have been if he had done it?” Blaire asked curiously.

“He did not kill Katrina,” Finian said firmly. “But if he had, I could only guess it would be to stop me having to marry her, knowing how much I wanted to avoid it. But he had no part in her murder—I know it. Now all I want to do is find him and try to prove his innocence.”

“Who accused him of this crime?” Blaire asked, although she thought she already knew the answer.

“Laird Sutherland,” Finian answered bitterly. “Who else?”

Blaire thought for a moment. “Who do you think committed the murder?”

Finian shrugged. “Bandits, probably,” he answered. “There are a lot of them around these parts.”

They moved over a slight rise in the ground and Blaire saw lights in the distance. As they went on, she could see a small group of tents and half-a-dozen men gathered around a small fire.

Blaire suddenly felt a shiver of fear, and it must have shown on her face because Finian said calmly, “None of these men will harm you. They have all been hand-picked by Connor and by me for their loyalty, bravery and honour. But be aware, Mistress Blaire, that you are not one of us, we do not know you, so you will be watched.”

Blaire swallowed nervously, but tried to look confident as she tilted her chin up and looked Finian in the eye. “I would expect nothing less,” she said.