Page 8 of Highlander’s Evil Twin

“Aye, he taught me everything I know.” His voice choked off in a wave of emotion. He seemed grateful for her hand on his arm. He scratched at his beard once more. “Do you think I should clean up first?”

“I would go and talk to them first, let’s get it over.” Heather held his hand in a show of support, her heart heavy as they began to walk side by side.

“Thank you for coming with me. I can’t even explain to you how hard this is for me,” Hiram admitted.

“I can see it in your eyes. They tell me everything I need to know about your feelings.”

“Aye, the eyes are the window to our souls.” He smiled at her slightly, but the sadness never left his eyes.

At that moment, there was a connection between them. A truce. No, she corrected, it was deeper. A feeling of camaraderie and understanding. She could relate to his pain and knew it would take him a long time to come to terms with the death. He would also be expected to step up to be the Laird. Was he up to that? She couldn’t help but wonder.

“Where is my father, Hiram? He is okay?”

Hiram nodded. “He is with the other survivors. You need not worry. They will be back soon. I needed to come on ahead to tell the news.”

They walked up the winding staircase together, calling for the servants to collect his sister and take her to their mother’s quarters. At the top of the stairs, Hiram stopped and drew in a deep breath, releasing it fully, preparing himself for what was to come. Heather could feel his arm trembling beneath his clothes as he clenched and unclenched his fists and tightened his jaw, before knocking on the door and walking in.

“Mother, I have some bad news,” he began.

“Hiram what is going on?” She looked confused, glancing over his shoulder for her husband. “Where is your father?” she asked.

“I...I…I am so sorry.” He looked at the ground, trying to contain his emotions. “We should wait until everyone gets here...please.”

His mother sat down, energy depleted in seconds. Tears began to fall down her cheeks as the realization tore through her. Hiram bent to hold her, but she shrugged him away, turning her back to him as she sobbed into a tissue. Heather felt so helpless, not able to help Hiram when he so obviously felt his mother’s rejection and more so, when his sister Maggie came into the room; she was curious, then little by little, realized that something was terribly wrong.

“Hiram?” Maggie questioned him, her skin sallow under the anticipation that the news was bad.

He shook his head. “I am so sorry. There was nothing I could do, nothing...it was all over so quickly.”

She was stricken. Faces ashen and a sense of helplessness fell across the room. She pushed past Heather, hugging Hiram first, and then went to her mother’s side, trying to console her. But she was beyond comforting.

“I’ll get the doctor to call and to give her something to calm her nerves, perhaps, help her sleep for a while.” Heather met Hiram’s eyes and he nodded gratefully, helplessly.

She hurried away, stopping only as she reached the great hall. The front door was still open slightly and she felt a chill wind blow in, making her shiver. She closed her eyes, willing the trembling to stop. She had to be strong for Hiram, as this was now a house of mourning. What did that mean for their relationship? More importantly, how could she help him through this time? She felt so inadequate, ill-prepared for such a test so early in their connection. Heather turned as footsteps on the staircase alerted her to his presence.

“I am going to go clean up. I will come to you for dinner in a while,” he told her before walking towards his quarters. His head was down and his shoulders stooped, totally opposite to the man she had met, who’d stood strong and confident in his stance. He was a broken man.

She knew Hiram was still grieving for his brother, although they hadn’t had much chance to discuss what had happened. This death on top of their previous period of mourning was almost too much for a proud family. There was a part of her that wanted to reach out to him and to hug him and to give him some of her inner strength. She knew what loss did to a person, and although there was no love between them, she felt his pain.

Her heart lurched a little each time she saw him, and she enjoyed his company, perhaps more than was expected, but it took time for feelings to truly develop. All she could do was to be there, she supposed, and to not get in the way. Heather spotted one of the young servants and told her to summon the doctor and to take him up immediately the moment he arrived. Sighing, she walked slowly up to her quarters, her heart heavy.

Lying on her bed, her eyes closed and curled up into a fetal position, she felt the first signs of slumber pulling her into its deep embrace. Her dreams were strange, and she realized she was transported to childhood, running across the large expanse of moors near them. She remembered such joy in her freedom of movement, that carefree spirit, that zest for life. Encapsulated in the moment, she yearned for that inner child. A faint noise within the room had her struggling to find full consciousness. Her dream state kept pulling her down, dragging her back to a time when she was truly happy. But the sounds around her became more insistent and groggily, she broke free of the dream and sat up, confused and disoriented. When she opened the door, Hiram stood leaning against the wall, his eyes slightly red, which told her he had shed some tears. But he looked a little better. He had trimmed his beard and changed, but the weariness shone brightly through his eyes all the same.

“I want to ask how you are, but I know that is a crazy question. Just know that I am here if you want to talk.”

He swallowed hard and nodded his gratitude. “You were asleep?” He took in her tousled hair and reached out to smooth it down.

Heather blushed at the softness of his touch. “I suddenly felt so tired and my dreams were so confusing.”

“Tell me,” he said as she beckoned him to come into her room.

“I was a child again. I’d recaptured that inner me, the young child who roamed freely across the Scottish moors, frolicking in the heather and squealing with joy, watching butterflies dance in the air and listening to the soulful songs of birds.”

“You make it sound so wonderful,” he said and sighed deeply.

“It was,” she admitted. “My parents were so happy together...most of the time. And I loved our land. It wasn’t always happy but yes, I miss the innocence of those times.”

“Before you were forced into marriage with me.” He looked at her with dark eyes, raising one eyebrow questioningly.