Page 25 of Savage Kilted Highlander (Temptation in Tartan #9)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T he man she knew must have been her mother’s lover, Laird Ewan Kerr, was standing before her, in front of a large mahogany desk, radiating an air of command. Clad in a black velvet coat, full kilt and trews, he made an imposing figure, tall and powerfully built, with broad shoulders. It gave Constance a momentary jolt to see that his dark auburn hair was the same colour as her own, but his was streaked with silver at the sides, giving him a distinguished look.

There was no doubt he was a handsome man for his age, which she estimated to be in his late forties. His piercing hazel eyes were intense as they swept critically over the tableau before him. Yet Constance thought she saw reflected in them a deep sorrow. A long, silvery scar ran across his forehead and into his hairline, hinting at a lifetime of battles, and his stern, weathered face spoke of many past hardships endured.

“Will someone tell me what is goin’ on?” the laird boomed, his dark brows beetling.

The soldier who had taken charge spoke up. “M’laird, we found this man in the woods,” he jerked his thumb at Bane, “about tae abduct Lady Agnes.”

Laird Kerr’s expression changed to one of shock, and the look he gave Constance as he stepped towards her was one of grave concern. “Agnes, is this true? Did this man try tae abduct ye? Has he hurt ye? If he has, he’ll suffer fer it.”

Constance, realizing this was a crucial moment, took a deep breath, drew herself up to her full height, and spoke up boldly, “As I have tried many times to tell these men, I am not Agnes. I am Constance Ashbourne, and I believe you are my father.”

The laird stared at her in stunned silence for several moments, which prevailed until the lead soldier broke it. “I dinnae think she’s hurt, but she’s had a terrible shock, m’laird. She daesnae ken what she’s sayin’.”

“Aye, it would seem so,” the laird said slowly, stepping yet closer to Constance, scrutinizing her intently. “Tell me what happened, daughter? How did this man get hold of ye? How is it ye were outside the castle walls?” The gentle tone of his voice surprised and moved Constance. It was the voice of a loving father.

“Surely you can see that I am not Agnes,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes so he could look at her face clearly. “And if you cannot see it at this moment, you must be able to tell by the way I speak.”

Again, he stared at her, but this time with growing amazement evident on his stern features. “Can it be so?” he asked in a low voice, as though talking to himself. “Is it really ye, Constance?”

“Yes, it is me.”

He came right up to her, a look of pure incredulity on his face as he examined every detail of her features. “But how? Ye’re in England. Ye should have never kent about me… us. How is it that ye’re here?” he asked.

“I left England, for reasons which I will explain later, and came here to see you, my true father, and to meet my twin sister. I only learned about her existence a short while ago, and I just had to come and find you both,” she explained, relieved that he was actually taking her seriously.

But suddenly, his expression became stern again, and he said commandingly, “Show me yer neck.”

Realizing he wanted to see her birthmark as proof of her identity, Constance turned and lifted her hair aside, showing him the mark. He looked at it and let out a long breath. “It is ye, Constance, me daughter,” he said, leaning back to look at her, seemingly stunned by the revelation. And in truth, Constance was stunned too, because she saw many similarities between them, in the shape of their faces, their eyes, and their auburn colouring.

“Everyone get out,” he suddenly ordered, making her jump.

“Aye, m’laird,” the lead soldier said. “Shall we take him with us?” he asked, pointing at Bane, who still lay insensible on the floor, blood from his mouth trickling onto the polished floorboards.

“Do not lay another finger on him,” Constance said sharply, rounding on the man and glaring at him. “You have done enough damage as it is.”

But then Tav stepped forward and said, “I cannae go, m’laird. He’s me braither.” He nodded at Bane.

“Yes, Tav should stay,” Constance agreed, nodding at him.

Her father regarded them both with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. After a moment, he said, “Very well. Tav may stay, and ye can leave the prisoner. The rest of ye can go. But send someone right away tae find Agnes and tell her tae meet me in the parlour at once.”

“Aye, m’laird,” the lead man replied.

There was an air of general bewilderment among the soldiers as they filed out of the room. Tav closed the door behind them and moved silently closer to his brother’s side. Constance went over to them and bent down, resting her hand on Bane’s shoulder as she inspected him. “He is still unconscious,” she told Tav worriedly as she straightened up. “And I am not surprised.” She glanced at her father, unable to entirely hide her anger. “That man hit him very hard. It is a wonder he was not killed.”

“That man was actin’ in me best interests,” her father replied. “He believed ye tae be Agnes. ’Tis his job tae protect her.”

Constance found she could not argue with that, so she said nothing. “Now, are ye gonnae tell me what all this is about?” the laird asked, looking from her to Tav and back again.

Tav was the first to answer. “He’s me younger braither Bane, m’laird. Apparently, he’s been lookin’ fer me, and that’s why he’s here at the castle. I was out on a patrol and just happened tae come across him with…” He paused to glance at Constance doubtfully before continuing, “this lassie near the woods. He wanted tae talk tae me, tae find out where I’ve been this past year. The men thought he was kidnapping yer daughter, so they went after him, beat him, and took him prisoner. The rest ye ken.”

“I see. I didnae even ken ye had a braither. I never forbade ye tae contact yer family as long as ye stayed here. Why didnae ye?” the laird asked him.

Tav shrugged. “’Tis a long story, m’laird. All I can say is that I had me reasons and I apologize if me decision caused any inconvenience tae ye.”

“Well, ’tis a shame ye didnae think tae write tae him. If ye had, he would likely nae be lyin’ there bleedin’ all over me floor. But what I dinnae understand is what me daughter has tae do with all this. Ye say they were together?” The question was addressed to Tav, but her father looked at Constance.

“Aye, m’laird. I was shocked when I saw her with him. I thought he was tryin’ tae make off with Lady Agnes as well. I dunno what the meanin’ of it all is,” Tav finished with a helpless look.

“Well, I’m sure Constance will be able to shed some light on that presently,” her father said, fixing his piercing gaze upon her. Constance wondered how she was going to explain it all and persuade her father not to punish Bane. But she loved him, and she was determined to do it somehow. She would stand by him, even if it cost her her last breath.

“But in the meantime, wait here,” her father instructed and promptly left the room.

“Where’s he goin’?” Tav asked, looking after him in obvious confusion.

“I think he’s probably gone to tell Agnes that I am here,” Constance replied, filled with nervous anticipation at the prospect of shortly meeting her twin. “Well, actually, she does not yet know of my existence,” she corrected herself. “I only recently found out about her, and I know it is going to be quite a shock for her when she finds out she has a twin.”

Tav came closer to her and looked at her curiously. “So, ye really are Lady Agnes’s twin sister?”

“Is it not obvious?” she asked. “I am told we look almost identical.” She could not help staring at him, fascinated both by the similarities and the differences between the brothers. Tav was equally as tall as Bane, and he looked just as strong and capable, but where Bane was broad and muscular, Tav’s build was lean and wiry.

His dark, brown hair was cut very short, but he shared enough facial characteristics with Bane for her to easily see the family connection.

Tav’s face was leaner, harder, and more weathered than Bane’s. There was something hawkish about him, which his bright blue eyes added to. He looked like a man who could take care of himself. In fact, she thought, he looked like a killer. Yet she did not find him at all intimidating.

“Aye, I can hardly tell the difference between ye. Ye’re as alike two peas in a pod,” he agreed, looking her over with an expression of wonder. “I really thought ye were Lady Agnes back there in the woods.”

“Bane made the same mistake,” she explained. “But surely, you can tell by my accent that I grew up in England?”

“Aye, I didnae notice it at first, I admit, with all the fuss goin’ on. But now, ’tis obvious. So, tell me… Lady Constance, is it?”

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, feeling an instant kinship with him. “Just Constance to you, Tav. I have heard so much about you from Bane, it would not sit right with me for you to address me so formally. I feel I already know you.”

He looked a little dubious. “What’s he been sayin’ about me?”

“Oh, do not worry. He thinks the world of you. That is why he came all the way here, to find you.”

“Aye, so he said.” There was something odd about his tone as well as his expression as he spoke, something almost shifty, she thought, finding it puzzling.

Why is he not overjoyed that Bane has sought him out?

“So, was he abductin’ ye or nae?” he asked.

Before Constance could answer him, the door opened, and both their eyes turned towards it. Her heart leapt into her throat as her father entered, and she began to tremble when she saw the young woman who stepped tentatively into the room behind him. Constance stopped breathing for a long moment, stunned to see an almost perfect mirror image of herself standing just a few short feet away. Agnes’ expression reflected the tension that charged the air, a mixture of shock, excitement, and curiosity. An instant connection seemed to crackle palpably in the air between them.

Time stopped. The room, Tav, Bane, their father faded to nothing. The world consisted of them alone.

“Sister?” Agnes murmured questioningly, not taking her eyes from Constance. At the sound of her twin’s voice, so like her own, a great bubble of joy welled up inside Constance and burst forth in an irrepressible smile of joy. She took a step towards Agnes, every fibre of her being wanting to be near her twin.

“Yes, Agnes, it is me.” Then, for some reason, she found herself saying, “I am very pleased to meet you.”

Agnes’ features lit up as she stepped towards Constance. “I had nay idea until a few minutes ago that I had a sister, let alone a twin,” she said, her Scottish brogue the only discernible difference between them.

“I know. It must be a great shock to you, as it was to me when I first found out about you,” Constance replied, her voice shaking as they moved nearer. She held out her hands to Agnes not wanting to push her too much. “I hope you are as happy to meet me as I am you.”

“Happy is nae the word,” Agnes said, and suddenly they were both laughing uncontrollably as they rushed towards each other and embraced, as people who love each other do when they have been parted for a long time. The emotions that rushed through Constance as she held her sister in her arms, and felt Agnes arms enfolding her tightly in return, were almost overwhelming. She could feel Agnes shaking just as she was. Their laughter was punctuated by tears of joy as they continued to hug each other, then draw back to look at each other in delighted amazement, before falling on each other again, as though they would never let go.

Their reunion was everything Constance had hoped for, and much, much more. She felt it as an indelible bond that nothing would ever break.

“We shall never be parted again,” she whispered to Agnes.

“Aye, never!” Agnes whispered back as they continued to hold each other, laughing and crying at the same time.