Page 16 of Highlander’s Evil Twin

Hiram cast furtive glances at his brother. They had been riding for a few hours with a small team of trained men with them. So far, Connor hadn’t even bothered to make small talk. It was as if he knew Hiram was lost in thought and had probably guessed why. Hiram was tempted to broach the subject but every time he’d considered it, he had bitten his tongue, hesitating. But why? It wasn’t really the time, considering they needed to show a united front, but he also suspected Connor would just lie. Anger rose within him and he clamped his jaw together. Not even the rolling hills and sunlight peppering a trail across the landscape could lift his mood. Anger stirred within him; it was tormenting him, judging him, and in the end, it rose up out of nowhere.

“So why are you talking to my wife about orgasms?”

Connor looked at him in surprise, bringing his horse to a slow walk. “Is that what she tried to tell you? That I was being inappropriate with her? I am so sorry for you Hiram. I did not want to say anything to you about that witch. I have not approached her at all. She is the one who is being suggestive to me.”

Hiram drew a deep breath. Connor was so believable, so convincing, but not this time. “Yet, you were seen and heard.” He raised an eyebrow at his brother, inviting him to tell the truth.

“She really has you wrapped around her little finger. The brave would-be Laird. Isn’t it time you grew up?” Connor cast him a sideways glance. “You are not fit to be here with me. You are a wannabe brother. Half a man. Go on, have a cry.”

“Watch your step brother,” Hiram growled at him. “I won’t take any more of your nonsense. You always were sneaky and had no respect for others. I turned a blind eye to the stories I heard about you. Mr. Innocence. Hah! That’s almost funny. I know you have been threatening Heather. She’s my wife, not yours, and you will stay away from her.”

“She should have been mine. I am the oldest. She would have been mine to do with what I wanted had I been back, and she would have chosen me over you.” Connor laughed at him.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Knowing he had the answer finally, Hiram pressed on. “You are jealous. The great Connor is jealous of his little brother. Hah!” Hiram snorted. “I will tell you something right now. You will leave her alone.”

“Or what?” Connor sneered.

Hiram lashed out, his fist connecting with Connor’s jaw. The impact vibrated through his arm and he knew that the blow would have hurt. The force dislodged Connor from his horse and he hit the ground, rolling in a cloud of dust. Hiram jumped down, preparing his stance so that he could maneuver around the anticipated punches. He ducked as Connor angled a punch at him and then drove his fist upwards, connecting with his brother’s ribs, knocking the air out of him. Connor crumpled to the ground temporarily while Hiram stood over him,

“Get up you coward. You are a pathetic poor excuse of a man. Get up!”

Connor launched himself at Hiram, leading with his shoulder and hitting Hiram’s stomach with all his weight behind him. The sudden movement caught him off guard. The momentum dragged Hiram backwards and he lost balance with Connor’s weight driving him towards an uncomfortable landing. Hiram hit the ground hard. The stony surface beneath him digging fiercely into his shoulder blades. With Connor’s weight on him, Hiram struggled to move and felt his breath constrict but managed to aim one clenched fist at his brother, catching him on the jaw. The weight behind the punch was not there, but it was enough to dislodge him. Hiram raised his right foot and pushed Connor off him, watching as he nimbly rolled back, creating space between them. He then launched himself forwards again. Prepared this time, Hiram clambered to his feet and sidestepped the forward lunge, sending Connor hurtling towards a wooden fence which splintered at his contact. His brother, winded and now bleeding from a head wound, lay dazed across the wooden planks. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a knife, snapping it into a deadly blade in seconds. Hiram felt a wave of shock ripple through him and set his jaw for what was to come.

He realized grimly that there was little worth saving about their relationship; his twin brother had crossed the line. Destiny had always predicted this moment. For a second, he allowed himself to think about their childhood and remembered, his emotions lodged in his throat, the dark-eyed cherub who everyone had fawned over even then. It had been Connor who had delighted those who had come to visit, not Hiram. He had grown used to it and it had become a subconscious acceptance, engrained within him. They might look alike but Connor had charm; it oozed from every pore even back then. Hiram had often yearned for that inner quality but now he knew without a doubt that the charming streak was an evil thread running through him. He had been born manipulative. Suddenly, Hiram realized it wasn’t what he lacked but what Connor lacked—compassion, loyalty, and honor. He felt himself instinctively grow taller and squared his shoulders. In that second, his confidence shone from him like a badge and he wore it with pride. His eyes darkened and flashed his defiance. He wouldn’t back down this time.

He charged at Connor, taking him by surprise, and wrestled him to the ground, but not before he felt the cold steel piercing his skin. But he was only aware of it as his blood splashed across the shocked features of Connor beneath him. Then pain burst into his consciousness and he let Connor push him away.

Connor faltered for a moment and the anger in his eyes subsided. He put the knife away.

“Sorry, brother,” he said. “I went too far. It won't happen again.” He looked at Hiram’s bloodied face and pulled himself upright. “Once we sort the problem out with these usurpers, I am going to pack my stuff and get out of your life for good this time.”

Hiram nodded and stood up, wiping his cheek with his sleeve. Red soaked into the fabric immediately and he knew the cut was bad. He drew in a deep breath. “I think that would be best for everyone.”

He glanced at the men all around him. They were wary and a little shocked. They had been prepared to pull them apart, but they had not expected the violence that ensued. Not surprising, Hiram thought. They had all been hiding Connor’s true self for years and yet now, it had been revealed for all to see. In some ways, Hiram felt justified by the event, but he also knew it was far from over. Connor had given up too easily. There were witnesses and that was not what he would want.

Connor was sneaky and Hiram knew he must not turn his back on him for a second. He also knew he would have to be vigilant over Heather. Connor would revel in sexually abusing her. He would see it as a victory over his brother that he too had known her intimately and had defiled what was good between them. Even though he loved Heather with all his heart, he knew that Connor could break their marriage and destroy their happiness if he forced her to comply with his demands. It wasn’t that he would blame her in any way, but that insidious act would fester between them. Every time Hiram took her in his arms, she would be reminded of his brother. Every time he tried to make love to her, to push his body inside of hers, she would be reminded of the time Connor had raped her. In time, the chasm between them would grow. Whether they loved each other or not, Hiram feared that the actions of Connor would tear their love apart. It must not happen.

They continued their journey in silence. Hiram felt light-headed. He’d lost a lot of blood and wondered how bad the cut was. Others averted their eyes from him, and he knew that the wound would leave evidence of the actions of the day. There was still tension in the air but this time, the atmosphere had nothing to do with their emotions. The weather was turning. It felt threatening, ominous, like a dark cloud hanging over them. Storm clouds began to gather over the hills with the wind whipping up behind them. Dust clouded the air as the cold breeze gained strength. They were in the wrong place to be caught in a deluge. Riding through a valley with hills banking off both left and right in a dramatic line. They couldn’t get the horses away from this track straight away and there was nowhere to shelter. They moved the horses faster, as claps of thunder erupted on a distant horizon before the dark clouds relinquished their load and the rains came. Urging their horses on, they searched for a sheltered spot as icy cold rain soaked them to the skin.

Water ran down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. Rain splattered the wound on his cheek and turned his face and neck into a red stream that dripped down the front of him. Hiram shivered, not just from the bitter elements, but from the shock of their encounter. He hated him with every fiber of his being. He shivered when he thought about Connor touching Heather and again at the thought that one day he might be driven to such rage that he would kill his own flesh and blood. That would be a dark day indeed.

Camped beneath a low-hanging rock that jutted out from the side of the hill, they tethered the reluctant horses and lit a fire. Now, sitting by the campfire and warming his hands, Hiram recalled his childhood years with a deeper sense of despair than he had ever felt. As he focused on the flickering flames, he remembered his deep jealousy of his brother and how his mother had always sided with him against Hiram. It had been a painful realization that she loved one but not the other. Like Connor, she’d had such charm.

His mother was beautiful. She had a smile that lit up the room but now, with shock, he realized that it was for show. There was little warmth behind the smile. It never quite reached her eyes. She was elegant, able to interact with others easily, and had an aura. But what she gained in charm, she lacked in emotion. He realized now that he had taken after his father and Connor, their mother. Like his mother, Connor was strange. They could be all things to all people but inside, there was a bitter edge. His father had controlled her, he realized suddenly. Whenever she had become volatile in her temperament, she had been ushered away and there would be days when he had not seen her. At times, his father had looked strained. He would merely say that she was unwell, had a headache, or needed time on her own. Hiram grew up with servants to tend to his needs.

Hiram could only wonder if there was madness in his family. It hadn’t always been unhappy. There were four children—one had died when young—and now there was his sister Maggie and brother Connor. He wasn’t that close to them; Maggie was the one who he would turn to but even so, only Connor seemed tainted by whatever afflicted their mother.

Hiram and Connor were opposite sides of a coin. He had been more studious and serious. Connor, on the other hand, had been the one to make them all laugh. It had won him all the friends, and everyone had wanted to be around him, except for Hiram. He had wanted to be alone. When Connor had been sent away, Hiram had rejoiced. He had felt free from the constraints forced upon him by his brother. But that stopped today. Hiram was a match for his brother now. He stole a glance at Connor, who was sitting on the other side of the fire, his face brooding. Connor would have to move on and get the hell out of his life. Hiram was happy, he was his own man and respected. There was no place for the seeds of madness in his life unless it manifested in his own child. Hiram felt the chill of worry ripple through him.

7

Wearing an impassive face, Connor sat squarely on his horse, knowing that he was going to attack Hiram the moment he had a chance. This time, without witnesses, that knife would sink deep into his belly. He would at first stab him where it would not kill him, only weaken him. It would be a game, seeing how long Hiram could take the brunt of the blade. Then, he would cut him so that he bled profusely. He’d felt excited by the savage wound on Hiram’s face. His knife had cut through skin with ease and there was no doubt that he would be scarred for life. The thought pleased him.

He could make it look like an accident. Go out riding with him, smashing that pig-headed skull in. Then, when consciousness began to dawn, Connor would push him over a rocky edge and drop him down the side of the valley. Bleeding, he would not make it back out. His brother would suffer an agonizing death. As his imagination soared, his ideas took on a more sinister story. He could wait until they were back and creep into his brother’s quarters at night, sticking the knife deeply into this back. Then, as the blood drained out of him, he would make him watch as he mounted that bitch of a bride. Connor smiled to himself. He would take her. It would be hard, painful, and so pleasurable to him.

He hated women at the best of times, although needed them for sex. He had hurt so many over the years, but as the Laird’s son, he had gotten away with it, until the last time when he had been sent away. He’d hated his father for that. If he hadn’t died on the battlefields, Connor would have liked to have been the one who had murdered him. He’d always taken Hiram’s side over his. His mind went back to the moment of Hiram’s anticipated death scene. Heather, slowly starting to wake up, realizing that the gurgling sound was her beloved husband dying beside her. As realization dawned, he would take her repeatedly, ruining her for good. Then he would discard her.

She would be a broken woman begging him to let her go, and when he did, she would beg him to take her back. That bitch doesn’t deserve the crumbs from my table, he thought bitterly. Let alone a place in his house. He knew he was jealous, angrily so. It hurt him that she wanted Hiram and not him. But as the eldest, she should have been given to him and not to that pathetic brother of his. Rage fired up within him. He scowled, gritted his teeth, and guided his horse through the pathway of stones and rocks that were disturbed from the hills. And yet, the rest of his mind was still preoccupied with his revenge. He pictured her beneath him. His tongue exploring her. Perhaps he would give her some pleasure. Make her become addicted to him. Make her need him so much that she would choose him over Hiram. Then, when he had destroyed their love, he would discard her anyway, like a toy. He smiled. So many plans, which would he choose? If he killed Hiram, his mother would have him back permanently. She loved him so much. He would be the Laird and then the rules of the game would be much different.