Page 2 of Highlander’s Evil Twin

“Alright Father, I understand. When will I get to meet her?” he asked.

“In two days. In fact, the whole family is coming over,” his father stated.

Hiram swallowed hard. So soon? He loved being the single son of the Laird, one who could pick and choose from the local women. If he married…that would have to end. Or would it? Perhaps not, if she hated the idea as much as he did. They could marry. She would bear him a son and then they could lead separate lives. Is it possible they could even strike up an agreement? Respectability and title for turning a blind eye to his dalliances? He liked the idea of that.

It was too much to take in right now. Too sudden. He wished his father had included him in the decision-making process. Maybe there were other options. Sighing, he headed out to the training field to practice his swordsmanship and basic defense skills. It was the only way he could chase the cobwebs from his mind. His father had hired the best teachers of the fighting arts—it had made them all strong. Hiram knew that he was good already, however, it was easier to focus on this than to think of the woman he would be marrying. Training enabled him to stay in good shape, but he wished his father exercised more. In recent months, he had noticed that his father was becoming a little fatter and it would ultimately hurt him on the battlefield.

Sword-fighting demanded a high level of fitness and a layer of fat would only make him vulnerable. So perhaps his father was right to want a joining-of-the-clans, which would provide them with a ready-made army. It might save his father’s life and he relished the idea of his father remaining alive and well and standing by his side for years to come. A strong military force might mean less time on the battlefields. If his father was right, the marriage would join the two clans and make them close to invincible. One hint of an uprising and it would be squashed quickly. No other clan would dare to challenge them.

Strangely, he felt a sense of loss prickling at him. He loved the thrill of battle. He’d experienced the pleasure of thrusting his sword into the soft flesh of the enemy many times, so how could he really enjoy any kind of peace with other clans? His father saw violence as being a necessity at times. It was strategic and not fueled by anger. In fact, one battle had seen the demise of his youngest brother Patrick. Ever since, his father had not fully regained his sense of self. Patrick hadn’t really wanted to fight but had only attended to please their father.

Afterwards, Hiram had suffered painful nightmares. He blamed himself. He should have protected him. He’d only been two steps away and yet, that was a distance too great. Within seconds, Hiram had closed the gap between them and had buried his sword deep into the other man’s heart, feeling his frenzied bloodlust overtaking his mind, but nothing could be done to save his brother. It was too late. Patrick lay upon a blanket of blood and Hiram watched with tears in his eyes as the life force oozed from him.

Having witnessed everything, he’d had to contain his grief to help his father somehow accept Patrick’s death. It had taken a long time for that to happen and for a time, Hiram had found himself hating war too, when he’d always been so enthusiastic about battle. Eventually, heart heavy, he’d buried the loss of his brother deep within, but the ice in his veins gnawed away at him. After a few months of grieving, bloodlust overpowered his icy regrets and pumped through his veins once more and he’d almost welcomed the feeling. He was still alive, recovering, but now fueled by revenge. Yet, even as he had rebuilt his fighting prowess, now at the top of his physical fitness and expertise, his father was hoping that this proposed marriage would put an end to all the fighting. Hiram sighed. How he hoped that this marriage didn’t go ahead.

The castle, lit up with lights and music, seemed to be alive. It had an ethereal feel to it as the lights sparkled and glowed, putting the starlight expanse to shame. The sounds penetrated deep into the inky blackness and the vastness of the sky hugged the building as if bringing it to the fore. Heather felt fear rise within her as she gazed at the magnificent stone castle which boldly dominated the scene in front of her. It rose up from the Scottish heathlands, intentional, strong, and defiant, and seemed to mock her vulnerability and test her strength. Heather felt herself instinctively standing taller.

Inhaling deeply, Heather walked purposefully into the castle, her long and flowing lavender dress trailing across the grass that edged the pathway to the door. Arm in arm, her parents smiled triumphantly as they walked behind her. Although they were happy at this moment, she could also sense their nervousness. This was an important union and they wanted it to go well. She merely felt disdain. The journey had already been a disastrous one with the carriage being delayed and for one brief surge of hope, Heather had thought the trip would be delayed…permanently. Her heart already back at home, she realized with some fury that her father had made sure that there was a spare carriage at their disposal should the worst scenario happen. Sighing her frustration, they clamored into the waiting carriage and were on their way. She’d caught her father smiling smugly as they began the journey and she looked away in disgust, feeling as if she were attending her own funeral. Well, her life was almost over, she thought darkly. They were barely late, but Heather knew all would be there waiting and watching. She swallowed hard. She’d never been one for public attention.

The silk dress flowed effortlessly around her frame and her long red hair was partially coiled at the back of her head, with long tendrils hanging seductively by her face and down her back. The concept was simple—tempt him and seduce him into the idea that this marriage would work. Although the top of the dress was high, it was tight enough to mold to her ample breasts and to make the most of them. Her waist was small, almost tiny in this dress, which then flowed out in abundant silk making her willowy rather than athletic-looking, which was how she usually looked. Heather knew she looked good, but would Hiram think so? There was a part of her that hoped he would call off the wedding after seeing her, but glancing covertly at her parents, she knew how disappointed they would be. A feeling of revulsion swept over her. How could she marry a man without being in love? It was sickening. He would want to touch her and kiss her; he would demand her to be naked and view every part of her pale skin. Her stomach lurched. Bad memories surged forward, almost engulfing her. She couldn’t bear him to touch her. Although she didn’t want to be rude to him, neither could she be nice.

Long hallways lit with candles made Heather feel as if she was walking towards her own tomb. The castle was centuries old and had the harshness of heavy stone but adorned with the trappings of wealth. They’d made it welcoming but Heather still walked reluctantly towards the celebrations, the sound of her footsteps drowned out by the revelries. Shadows danced upon the stone walls making the banqueting hall looked eerie and foreboding. Music permeated the outer halls and the wide staircase that arced around, creating dark shadows in the upper reaches. It felt as if she was being watched. Some sinister being noting her every move. Casting her eyes along the walls, the family’s history was laid bare and artistically captured in oils. Ancient faces gazed glumly at her from the sturdy frames and Heather shivered. Were Hiram’s ancestors judging her suitability?

There were so many people in the hall. Men in their best tartans and women, hair regally swept up, with long gowns that swept along the floor. This was a meeting of all those who were worthy. Even the enemies of the Laird had been invited. The idea was that an olive branch be offered but Heather knew it was really to show off this new alliance and she was the icing on the cake. She wanted to run and hide. Glancing around, she noted the young single women who were unhappy by the prospect of Hiram being married off. No doubt he was a catch to the young women, but as far as Heather was concerned, he could do what he liked as long as he left her alone. Her mood dark, she could still not deny the elegance of this room as she moved beyond vibrantly displayed flowers that adorned the entrance to the great hall, and people standing around expectantly. She heard the excited hush as people noticed her.

“Please...Fa…” she began, whirling around, her eyes wide and pleading.

“Go on, do not let us down Heather.” His eyes narrowed as he crushed the last remnants of hope within her. Her lips trembled and she shivered again. Fear clutched at her heart.

Her father moved forward, escorting his wife. “We’re late. I was hoping to have a little more time,” Roderick stated, looking around.

“It is always better for a lady to make her entrance at the right time, a little late.” Her mother smiled at Heather. “You look so beautiful my dearest girl.”

“I don’t care about being late, ” Heather grumbled.

He leaned into her with a growl, but it looked to others as if he was simply being affectionate to his daughter. “You had best behave. There is too much riding on this.”

“Like the fatted lamb to the slaughter.” Heather gazed up at him, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears and hatred.

“Hush, Roderick. She’s our daughter and of course she will do what is right. This has all been a bit of a shock for her, but I know that this is going to be a wonderful match.” She smiled, tears in her eyes.

They were announced. Heather stood trembling in the doorway, viewing the hall with wide eyes. Nerves jangled within and she became mesmerized by the flickering flames of the large church candles. So many staring faces, it was impossible to differentiate between them. Materials—in purple, black, yellow, and red—hung from the walls and ceiling, making the room seem cozier. But it had all been carefully presented to show their collaboration—displaying both clan’s colors. The clans uniting through this forthcoming marriage naturally created a sense of expectancy. Everyone knew that this was a big deal. All the men in the room proudly wore their own tartans. All but her father, who had his tartan hanging around his shoulders on his sash.

Fresh flowers framed the tables all around and glorious colors and fragrances drifted through the air. She couldn’t see Hiram, had no idea what he looked like. Would he be kind? Was he romantic? Was he handsome? Nerves fluttered within.

“Good day, Laird Douglas.” Lady MacGregor presented herself and bowed elegantly to her mother.

“Lady MacGregor, what an honor to meet you. May I introduce my husband Roderick and of course, my daughter Heather?”

Heather focused on the woman who was to be her mother-in-law, nervously looking to see whether there was any hostility in her eyes, but she saw none. Instead, she was greeted with warmth as Lady MacGregor hugged her closely.

“Lady Heather, you are even more beautiful than I could have imagined.” Lady MacGregor hugged her tightly. “Good luck my dear, please be patient with my Hiram.”

Heather struggled to find the right words. “Thank you my Lady, I will try. I...you have a lovely gown on tonight.” She felt a shadow at her side, a foreboding presence, intense, expecting.

“The most desirable man in the Kingdom awaits your attention Milady.” A tall man, rugged with red hair and stark emerald eyes studied her.

Heather turned slowly. “Oh really? Perhaps you will tell me where he is so I can pay my respects.” Inside, Heather recoiled. She hadn’t meant to say those cold words, but icy fear had gripped her heart.