Page 36 of Conquer the Highlander

He spooned the steaming stew into his mouth. “That’s because there are no fights like the ones at the Ludus Caledonia anywhere in Scotland,” he said, chewing. “What did ye like best?”

“When you won.”

He snorted, tearing up the bread and dipping it in the stew. “Then I pleased ye.”

“I was very happy to see you win.”

He took a bite of the stew-soaked bread, looking at her as he did. “So was I,” he said honestly. “It seems that we have the same taste in winners.”

He was jesting with her and she smiled, bashfully. “I believe so,” she said. “But where did you learn to fight like that? Surely it was not at Culroy. In fact, I seem to remember hearing about the lads there beating up on you regularly.”

His smile faded as his attention returned to his stew. “The only thing my time at Culroy taught me was that the only person who will fight for me is, in fact, me,” he said. “I was the beating post for those young whelps, and it continued on until the day I was released.”

“Did you seek out the Ludus Caledonia to learn to fight?” she asked. “Or did they find you?”

His grin was back. “They found me,” he said. “And it wasna the Ludus Caledonia – it was the Ludus Antonine, in Glasgow. I’d gone there after I was released and ended up fighting in the streets for money. It was Axel who found me in the gutter after one nasty brawl, beaten and bloodied. He told me he could take me tae a place where I would be taught tae fight properly. And here I am.”

“Why did you not go home after your release?” she asked.

“Because I had no home tae go tae,” he said. “I know ye dunna know much about me and ye’ve have the good sense not tae ask. Because ye’ve not asked, I’ll tell ye. My father is a duke and my mother was a lady-in-waiting tae the duke’s wife. I was the bastard no one wanted. When I was born, my mother and I were sent tae my mother’s family at Blackwood House near Stirling. I was five years of age when Ambrose Stewart came looking for me and took me away tae Culroy.”

Esme was listening intently. “But how did he even know about you?”

The smile on his face was without humor. “Because the man has spies everywhere,” he said. “Did ye not know that? He paid someone at my father’s home tae tell him about the bastard son who lived with John Campbell in the Highlands. When he came for me, my mother’s family had no choice but tae give me over. One doesna deny the Duke of Ayr and not suffer the consequences.”

Esme shook her head sadly. “You were so young,” she said. “And you lived at Culroy most of your life?”

Titus nodded, trying not to let those dark memories overwhelm him. “I lived there for fifteen years,” he said. “I managed tae get away seven years ago and ended up in Glasgow until I was taken tae the Ludus Antonine.”

Esme was touched by his sorrowful story. “And ye’ve been here ever since?”

“Aye.”

“But what about your father? Why did he not come for you at Culroy?”

“Because my father is the youngest brother of the king and a rebel,” he said frankly. “Ambrose is a cousin tae the king, and tae my father, and he sides with the king. Ambrose took me hostage against my father doing anything too stupid, but it dinna work. My father continued tae rebel against his brother until such time as an injury nearly killed him. When he stopped rebelling, I was released because of his good behavior. I was told that my father hates the very mention of me, a reminder of his own indiscretions, and his wife willna have me around.”

Esme was coming to feel a great deal of pity for him. “That is why he did not come for you?”

“Aye.”

“Even after you were released?”

“He doesna know of my whereabouts and he surely doesna care.”

“But what about your mother? Surely you could have gone back to Blackwood?”

Titus shook his head. “By the time I was released, I’d not seen my mother in many a year,” he said. “I was a man. Men dunna return home tae their mother’s bosom tae become her burden. I had tae make my own way.”

Esme clucked softly. “I am sorry for you, my lord,” she said softly. “You do not deserve such a thing.”

The dark memories had Titus in their grip. He could feel the familiar sadness and anguish creeping upon him, filling his veins like it used to. He hadn’t spoken of his past in years, but suddenly in the past two days, he’d been forced to face it again. Speaking of it to Esme had been so… easy.

She was getting under his skin more and more.

“Nay, I dunna,” he said, trying to pull himself out of the familiar depression. “But it doesna matter anymore. I have made a success of myself in spite of Ambrose or my father, and I enjoy prestige and fame here at the Ludus Caledonia. I couldna want for more.”

He said it firmly, as if he truly didn’t care, but that wasn’t the truth. Deep down, he was still that abandoned little boy with no one to care for him. That’s where he first learned to build the wall around him that he kept so closely guarded.