Chapter 12 #2
Anders’ first view of the men in the dungeon stopped him cold.
He knew them. All of them. And himself. He’d been right about his name, the part he’d been using.
He was Anders Sutherland, minutes-younger twin to the laird’s titular heir.
Memories flooded back, from the ill-fated night when he was swept overboard in a storm to the next morning crawling up the hill and begging …
begging! … for entry into Sinclair. And further, to the discussion with his father about making the trip, daily events and familiar people at Dunrobin swooped through his mind like startled birds bunched together and swirling against the arrival of a hawk, diving and twisting, leaving him breathless and weak.
All the way back to the man standing before him, but as nine-year-olds, swearing a blood oath to each other that they would always return to Sutherland and would rule it together some day.
Now that they both stood in the Sinclair dungeon, would they ever have the chance?
“Thank God ye are here,” Stellan said, softly.
Even reverently. “Damn ye, ye are alive!” His voice rose as he reached through the bars to grab Anders and pull him closer for an awkward hug and the men around them threw off their shock and cheered.
When the noise died down, Stellan pounded on his back.
“A perfectly good birlinn and ye couldna stay on it?”
Anders took Stellan’s face in his hands. His twin. The face in his dreams, his visions. Not his own, but his brother’s. “I’d forgotten how much ye look like me.”
“Ye mean, ye look like me,” Stellan insisted. “I arrived first.”
Anders grinned, his pulse steadying at Stellan’s humor. He made a fist and took an easy swipe at Stellan’s bristled jaw. “How long have ye been looking for me? Weeks, from the look of ye.”
Stellan sobered and dropped his hands from Anders’ shoulders.
“We rode for three days from MacKay. Always watching the coast below us for any sign of ye men,” he said and glanced up to take in the Sutherlands in the other cells, “or a wrecked birlinn that would at least tell us where to search for bodies.”
Anders grabbed one of the bars between them and held on.
“Thank ye Brother, and the rest of ye, too,” he told them as he twisted around, his gaze moving from Stellan to Tormund to Tomas to the others and back to Stellan.
“Seeing ye has brought me back to myself. I remember ye and why we made this ill-fated trip, all of it.” But he kept his grip on the cold iron, the only thing anchoring him to the ground.
He had his memories back! All of them? He didn’t know or care at this moment.
He had his brother, men of his clan, his past, present and, he prayed, all their futures, once again.
“They ken who we are now, since I arrived,” Stellan said. “Who ye are. Everyone kens about the Sutherland twins. I think Sinclair will demand a king’s ransom from Sutherland for our release. We’ll be here a while, but we should be safe.”
“Privately, we grieved for ye,” Tomas said, joining the conversation when Anders turned away from the hope in Stellan’s eyes.
There was so much at stake. The future not only of Sutherland with its heirs in unfriendly hands, but Sinclair’s as well.
Each of them knew the Sutherland laird would not let this detention go on for long.
And if the twins’ lives were lost while in Sinclair, Sutherland would destroy Sinclair and damn the consequences.
But Tomas was speaking.
“Since our search of the coast failed, we believed ye were lost at sea. We dreaded telling yer father and brother. We believed if ye were here, someone would mention ye, and feared asking because we would have to reveal more about who we are to an unfriendly clan. Worse, once they brought us down here, we hoped to hear ye in another of the cells, but of course, we didna. We asked when we were brought down if we were the only prisoners, and they told us aye.”
To protect him from more unfamiliar men in case they were enemies searching for him?
Or to keep the new captives off balance and ignorant until more about them came to light?
What else didn’t they know? Anders’ crew quietly filled him in on their search for him and told him they’d heard the Sutherland birlinn had been confiscated by the Sinclairs.
They conversed in low tones that Anders hoped did not carry up the stairs to any Sinclairs waiting above, including Ailsa and Tasgall.
He told them briefly about how confusing the memory loss was.
How frustrating to see bits in dreams and visions and not recognize anyone.
“But I ken ye all, and yer names. If I’m no’ entirely back to myself, I am close.
Seeing all of ye helps, and so will going home.
I’m no’ betrothed or married, am I? I keep seeing a lass with a hawk. ”
“Mariota, my wife,” Stellan told him, frowning, while all the other men laughed.
Anders laughed, then laughed some more, unable to contain the elation that filled him.
He feared he might look like he’d lost his mind rather than just his memory, but his joy broke through his efforts to quell it in front of the men.
He was unattached. He could love Ailsa. He did love her.
He could have her if he could convince her—and gain her da’s permission—to wed with him.
If she would have him. She cared about him.
She had spent hours, days, caring for him.
She was attracted to him. Having lived his life as a man who enjoyed being with women, he knew those signs very well.
But did she love him? He thought she must. He hoped so, but he swore before he left Sinclair, he would know.
And he would have her promise to wed with him.
“Why would ye remember her and no’ any of the other lasses ye are, ah, more closely acquainted with?” Stellan asked when Anders calmed down.
“If I kenned that, I might have remembered more before now.”
“Will they put ye in here with us?” one of the men asked.
“The healer has insisted I remain in the keep to help my recovery. They have treated me very well. I canna complain other than there’s little difference between being a guest and being a captive. I still think I’ll be more useful there.”
“How so?” Tomas asked.
“I can see and hear more there.”
Stellan nodded. “How they have treated ye is to their credit. Now, how do we get out of here?”
“I’ve seen much of the keep and have a few ideas for where and how to get away once we find an opportunity. ’Twillna be easy. We must wait and watch and listen.”