After a moment he straightened and moved forward, the path before him widening. As he walked, Jamie put his hand to his sword, slowly pulling it free of the scabbard. Not with a mighty, metallic ringing, but with a quiet sound, a single note.
Jamie stopped again, ten ells from his brother, and laid the blade of the sword across his outstretched palms. The language of surrender. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he slowly knelt in the dusty marketplace. Head bowed, arms trembling, Jamie lifted the sword above his shoulders, above his head, reaching toward his brother until he could reach no more.
Footsteps thundered toward him. The blade was knocked from his hands. Rough hands pulled him to his feet.
“Jamie!” Evan dragged him into his embrace, his tear-stained face buried in Jamie’s neck.
He collapsed in his brother’s arms. Tears streamed down his face. Jamie did not care who saw him thus. He was no less a man.
“You’ve come home, my brother.” Evan groaned the words, tightening his hold on him. “You’ve come home.”
Jamie tried to speak, tried to say the words he had come to say. “I have sinned against heaven. And against you, Evan. I am no longer worthy to be called your brother.”
“Och, Jamie.” Evan released him but not before he shook him. Hard. “You are the only brother I have.” He scowled, but Jamie knew the look well. There was no malice in it. “Did you think I’d bear a grudge against you forever?”
“I did.” Jamie wiped the heels of his hands across his eyes, his relief so great he almost laughed aloud. “If not forever, at least my own lifetime.”
“ ’Tis true, I threatened to kill you. On the night you swicked our father, I well might have.” Evan clamped a meaty hand on Jamie’s shoulder, emphasizing each phrase with a firm grip. “But the humble man who wrote me that letter was not the same man who ran from Glentrool two years ago. My lost brother is found. I’ll not lose you again, Jamie.”
Jamie swallowed. “Nor I you.”
Evan dragged his sleeve across his unshaven face with a ragged snort, then pointed to the men behind him. “These are the new herds and hinds I fee’d at Lammas.” He scratched his head, tangling some of his woolly red hair. “I’d introduce you to them, Jamie, but I haven’t learned all their names yet.”
The men smiled among themselves, clearing their throats and shuffling their feet. Whatever sort of man they thought had hired them, Jamie felt certain they’d seen a new side of Evan McKie. The market crowd began to disperse, as if they’d received what they came for that day.
Evan looked past him, his features softening. “Are those folk yours, the ones lined up by the wagon? I’d best meet them, aye?” He swept Jamie’s sword from the ground and returned it, then both men walked toward the McKie household. “Mother says you’ve married, Jamie. Is the lad my nephew, then?”
“Indeed he is. The Lord has blessed me far more than I deserve.” Jamie proudly named each member of his party. “Rab Murray you’ve met. And here’s another shepherd from Newabbey parish, Davie Tait.” It was hard to ignore their astonished expressions, their mouths hanging open like fish hoping for a fly.
Eliza and Annabel dropped deep curtsies as Jamie introduced them. “I’ll be sending the lads back with the wagon, but the lasses will be coming with us to Glentrool.”
“You’ll not like cleaning the place,” Evan warned them. “See that Jamie calls you lady’s maids from the start so Ivy Findlay won’t get ideas about putting you to work with mop and broom, aye?”
“Aye!” they answered in unison, blushing at his attention.
Two more steps, and Jamie stood in front of Leana. Her moss green gown followed the contours of their growing child. She’d been crying, for her pale cheeks were still wet. He leaned forward and murmured, “Tears of joy, I hope.”
Her eyes shone like stars. “I have never been more proud of you, Jamie.”
He maintained control, but barely. “Evan, this is my first wife, Leana McBride. And our firstborn, Ian James McKie.”
Evan bowed to Leana, appraising her with a decidedly male eye. “A lovely lass and a fine mother, I see.” He stuck out a stout finger for Ian to latch on to, which he promptly did, giving it a hearty shake. “Your lad must be about my son’s age.”
Jamie hesitated before he answered. He would not allow their sons to drive a wedge between them or to fight with each other in years to come. “Ian was born on the fourth of October, the day after your Archie.”
“Ah, so you know about Archibald.” Evan grunted. “I suppose Mother told you the news.”
“Nae, ’twas John McMillan of Glenhead. I saw him at Keltonhill Fair.” Jamie smiled as Ian bent his uncle’s finger hard enough that Evan yelped and snatched it back. “Truth is, Brother, I thought I might see you at Keltonhill.”
Evan’s red eyebrows arched. “As I recall, Mother ordered us ne’er to climb that hill on Fair day again.”
“You’ll not tell her, aye?” Jamie adjusted Hastings’s bridle. “I bought this beast there.”
“I’ve no interest in your horse, James, when I’ve another fair flooer to meet.” Evan swung round, a broad grin on his ruddy face. “Who might this lass be?”
“A flower indeed.” Ashamed of his negligence, Jamie kissed Rose’s hand in apology, relieved to find it warmer than before. Her dark blue gown made her skin look like porcelain. Despite the dryness of her lips, she was smiling, and her eyes bore a bit more sparkle. “Evan, this is Rose McKie, my second wife. She will bear me another blessing come January.”
Evan lowered his head and said in a hoarse whisper, “Two wives? I didn’t think you’d been gone that long.”
Jamie shifted his stance, for his leg had begun to ache. “ ’Tis a complicated story, which I’ll save for somewhere other than the street.”
“If you say so.” Evan straightened. “Though you might want to have an answer ready when you see folk at kirk in the morn’s morn.” He nodded toward the old Monnigaff church across the Penkill Burn. “Two wives, both carrying your bairns …”
Evan’s voice trailed off, but his meaning was clear. Leana had her letter ready for Reverend Erskine, but it would hardly be passed round the kirk. As the native parishioner, Jamie knew the answers must come from him.
“ ’Twill be strange,” Jamie admitted, “to see the household in the morn. And trail home behind them after services. Is Father in good health?”
“I’ve not seen him in a fortnight, but, aye, he was well. Mother, as always, will be glad to see her beloved son.” His brother’s words bore no bitterness. Jamie had been their mother’s favorite, and they both knew it. Evan slung an arm round Jamie’s shoulders and walked him up the road a bit. “About the forty lambs you sent me. I’ve pasturelands of my own down in Sorbie, with more sheep than I can count. Why not keep what’s yours and take them on to Glentrool?”
Jamie knew why. “Because I gave those sheep as a tithe. Not only to you, but to the Almighty.” He glanced sideways at his brother, wondering how he might react. Their father had always been the halie one at Glentrool, seeking an audience with God. Not them. “The lambs were stolen from me,” Jamie confessed, “but the Lord restored them. ’Tis only right that you keep my tithe meant for him. And for you.”
Evan slowed his steps, releasing his hold on Jamie’s shoulder. “You’ve become a right gracie man, James McKie.”
“I ken what the grace of God looks like.” Jamie met his gaze, brother to brother. “Because today I saw it on your face.”
Now it was Evan’s turn to look uncomfortable. “ ’Tis what the Buik says, aye? ‘Grace for grace.’ ” Evan shrugged, though Jamie could see that his words had pleased him. “I’ll keep your lambs, Jamie. Though they appear to be runts of twins. Like someone else I ken.”
Jamie laughed. “They are runts, every one of them.”
“Sometimes runts fill out.” Evan eyed him from head to toe. “I believe you could take me in a fight now.”
Jamie extended his hand. “A fight
won’t be necessary, my brother.”
Evan clasped Jamie’s hand in his. “Indeed it will not.”
“Jamie?” Leana came hurrying up to him, anxiety etched across her brow. “I wonder if we might find our lodging. Rose would be more comfortable … if she …”
“I’ll come at once, lass.” He touched her arm in assurance. “Evan, I fear I must away.” Jamie started for the wagon, walking backward as he called to his brother, “Bring Judith and your son to Glentrool for a visit. Or we’ll head south to Sorbie in the spring, when my children are safely delivered.”
Evan gestured toward the Cree Bridge. “Might you not come to Sorbie now? At least let me send a herd or two along with you to lend a hand for the morn.”
Jamie slowed his steps, longing to have more time with his brother, yet feeling the pull of his own family, who needed him. “You’ve done more than enough.”
Evan lifted his hand in farewell. “Godspeed then, for your journey’s far from over.”
Seventy
He travels safest in the dark night who travels lightest.
HERNANDO CORTEZ
You are certain the valise is all you need?”
“Aye, Jamie.” Leana motioned him inside the Cree Inn’s cramped second-floor accommodations, where she was watching over a slumbering Rose. Jamie had his own lodging next door, the maids and Ian were tucked in a corner room on the first floor, and the herds were sleeping on the braes.
Leana kept her voice low, not wanting to wake her sister. “Rose and I will wear the same gowns tomorrow. The valise and my medicine box are truly all we require.”
Jamie handed them both to her with a slight grimace. “I fear my leg is not improving with each climb up the stair.”
He’d hidden his discomfort valiantly while in Evan’s company and all through their supper hour at the inn. Now pain lined Jamie’s face and clouded his eyes. Leana folded her hands, resisting the urge to touch the tender wound on his brow. “I have some remedies that might help you sleep comfortably. And speed your healing.”
“After you’ve cared for Rose, I would welcome anything you and your medicine box might have to offer.” Jamie dipped his head, a gentleman’s bow, then walked past her and sat on a low wooden creepie beside one of the two narrow beds. He stretched out his legs, clad in a new pair of boots purchased in haste as the market stalls were closing. “And here is my ‘fair flooer,’ as my brother rightly called her.”
Though her color looked better, Rose had eaten little at supper and had fallen asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. At least her bleeding had been less than they’d feared. Not enough to stain her gown, which hung on the wall for the Sabbath. Nor had the spotting continued after that morning’s bout. Leana was grateful for both those things, but it did not lessen her concerns.
Jamie leaned across the bed and ran his hand over Rose’s unbound hair, the dark strands fanned across the pillow. “I’ll be glad when she is home, and we can feed her Aubert’s rich hotchpotch.”
“ ’Twould be good for her,” Leana agreed, making no promises; the thick soup was one of her sister’s least favorite dishes. “Might you like some time alone with Rose? I can visit with Ian, if you like.”
He did not say anything for a moment. When he did, his voice was strained. “You are ever thoughtful, Leana.” As Jamie turned his head, she saw the mist in his eyes. “Will she … Will the child Rose carries …”
Leana sank to her knees beside him, wanting to comfort him, yet knowing she must speak the truth. “I am praying for Rose by the hour. I fear she may be growing weaker, though she’ll not admit it.” She bowed her head as guilt settled round her shoulders. “Please forgive me, Jamie. I should have told you about her bleeding when she first confessed it to me.”
“Indeed you should have.” His hand rested on her head so lightly that she could not feel the weight, only the warmth. “But then you would have broken a promise to your sister. You are a woman who honors her vows, Leana. Even if others do not.” When he stood, the warmth was gone. “I leave Rose in your good care. If she awakens, come find me.”
Leana took Jamie’s vacated seat as he closed the door behind him. She pressed the back of her hand against Rose’s brow—no fever, thanks be to God—then dipped her finger in a cup of cool water and moistened Rose’s chapped lips. The stuffy room’s only window had no sash, letting in light but not air. Leana did what she could, folding back the thin blanket and straightening the sheet, before going in search of her medicines.
Even in her sleep, Rose must have noticed the change in temperature or sensed someone moving about. She stirred and opened her eyes. “Leana?”
“Pardon me, dearie.” Chagrined, Leana hurried back to her side. “I did not mean to disturb you.”
“Truly, you did not.” Rose stretched, her toes reaching past the end of the small bed. “I’ve only been half-asleep, drifting in and out. Dreaming of holding my twins.”
“A fine dream.” Leana lifted a slender brown bottle from the collection in her medicine box. “I fear I’ve not many remedies that are safe for you just now. Not lady’s mantle, certainly. Wild sage, cowslip, and juniper are not for expectant mothers. Nor shepherd’s-purse.” With care she pulled the cork from the bottle in her hand. “Ah, but selfheal. This will do.” She added a generous dose of the syrup to the cup of water from the washstand, then helped Rose sit up. “Drink this down, please. The kintra folk call it ‘prince’s feather.’ Good for bleeding.”
While Rose sipped her medicine, making faces as she did, Leana hunted about for a linen towel to soak up a stray drop of syrup from the washstand. A basket of soiled linens caught her eye. Had Jamie brought them up for some reason? When Leana reached in to retrieve a towel, Rose began to choke.
“Heavens, dearie!” Leana was by her side at once, whisking away the cup. “Can you breathe?”
Rose sank against the roughly plastered wall beside her. “I can breathe. What I cannot do … that is … oh, my sister.” She pointed across the room, her hand shaking. “Look inside the basket. I fear it holds … all my secrets.”
Leana crossed the room in a few steps, dreading what she might find hidden beneath the linens. A lumpy pouch, cool to the touch. Its heavy contents shifted in her hands as she pulled it out. She did not need to untie the ragged knot to know what the bundle contained.
“Father’s gold,” Rose said, sparing her the effort. “The last of it. If I am not well enough to attend services in the morn, you must put it in the offering box for me when no one is looking.”
“Rose!” The bag of coins slipped from her hands and landed on the wooden floor with a thud. “Is that what you did with the rest of it? All those kirks you visited … I thought you were … praying.”
Rose nodded, color returning to her cheeks in full measure. “I did pray. But I also gave a generous offering. For the poor.”
“Very generous.” Leana left the bag on the floor for a moment, almost afraid to touch the coins that once belonged to Lachlan McBride. So few left there was no point in returning them. ’Twas too late. “When Father searched our rooms at the Murray Arms—”
“They were underneath my gown. I was sitting on them.” A note of satisfaction rang through her words. “The thrifite is long gone. Kindling for the Lammas fire on Keltonhill. But something else remains.”
The wutch’s cord. Leana swallowed. “I cannot—”
“You must not touch it!”
“Someone must.” Leana retrieved the bag of coins and placed them on the battered dresser. “Rose … we have to tell Jamie.”
“Nae!” Her sister clutched the bedsheet as if prepared to hide behind it.
Leana shared her apprehension; Jamie would be furious. Still, she would not make the same mistake again, keeping something from him at Rose’s bidding.
“Secrets have no place in a marriage, dearie.” Leana hated the tone she heard in her voice. The scolding older sister. But Rose had endangered them all—her husband more than anyone
. Had their father found the gold, he would have blamed no one else but Jamie. And seen him condemned as a thief. How could Rose have been so foolish?
Leana took a deep breath, exhaling her frustration. Rose was her only sister, and she loved her no matter what she had done or why she had done it. Yet one fact remained: “Jamie must know. We’ll tell him together.”
Rose huddled against the wall, her dark eyes wide with fear. “He will never forgive me.”
The knock at the door was sharp, insistent. “Leana? Rose?”
It seemed the paper-thin walls of the inn had not guarded their secret.
Leana opened the door, hoping she did not look as guilty as she felt. “Do come in, Jamie. My sister and I have … something to tell you.”
His coat was absent, and his shirt hung loose about his neck, as if he’d already retired for the night and been rudely awakened. When he stepped into the room and closed the door, Leana instinctively backed up. His gaze was fixed on her alone and was not cordial.
“I asked you to find me if Rose awakened.”
“Jamie …” Rose spoke in a voice meant to soothe. “I’ve not been awake but a short time. Leana and I were … talking.”
When he turned, his hard gaze raked past the sack of coins, then stopped. He lifted the bundle off the dresser, hefting it in his hand for a moment before letting it drop to the floor. “That is what I heard while lying in my bed not five minutes ago. The unmistakable sound of shillings and sovereigns.” Jamie’s voice was frighteningly even. “But these coins do not belong to us. Do they?”
Seventy-One
But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.
RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES, LORD HOUGHTON
Leana held her breath. Let him be merciful, Lord.
Jamie looked at Rose first, as though gauging her guilt. Then he turned to Leana, his expression almost as cold as the morning he’d awakened expecting Rose in his marriage bed and had found her instead. Did you hope I simply wouldn’t notice? She shuddered, remembering.
Whence Came a Prince Page 44
