by L. L. Muir
It was no wonder Ian was able to scoop up her heart. After all, it had been lying on the ground, bleeding, there for the taking.
She’d been so hurt she’d never allowed Jamie a chance to explain. She’d ignored him as he’d done to her. If he’d tried to get her attention, to apologize, she wouldn’t have known. She’d only had eyes for Ian. She’d pushed all memory of Jamie out of her heart to make more than enough room for his brother.
Heaven and angels attend her! Had she misremembered all of it?
~
Jamie stalked to the road and back again. And by the time he was finished, he’d cleared his head of Elspeth Murray. And he thanked God that he hadn’t wasted more time worrying about her while he’d been a resident of Culloden Moor.
Oh, how his fellows would laugh at him if they knew what a fool he’d been. And how disappointed they’d be if they knew how easily he’d given up the chance to earn his revenge.
A simple heroic act. ‘Twas all that was needed.
Well, by all that was Scotland, he was going to get it done. And since sending the lass on to the next life was the only act available to him at the moment, he’d send her there and good riddance. He just had to find a way to do it.
He toyed with the idea of summoning a priest. But it might take the rest of the night to explain things. And dawn could arrive long before the man ever got his eyes open, let alone his mind on the task at hand. Besides, if Jamie didn’t play a part in saving Elspeth, he might not earn that meeting with Charlie.
He’d been thinking about that meeting as his boots crunched up and down the drive. And he was thinking that a simple conversation might not do. A satisfying strike to the prince’s face sounded more and more appealing. And since his adrenaline showed no signs of dissipating, there was every chance that Bonnie Prince Charlie might not be so bonnie when he arose the next morning.
Wherever it was that he did so.
Jamie refused to look at the tower in case a certain daft ghost might be hurling herself off the top of it again.
Did she do it regularly?
No matter, he told himself. She would cease that foolishness soon enough.
An idea came to him and he bellowed to the stars before he had the chance to think better of it.
“Soncerae!” He took a deep breath and tried again. “Soncerae! I have need of ye, lassie!”
Nothing happened. The stars had no answer for him as they slowly slipped behind gathering clouds. The moon rushed to its rest beyond the west horizon. And the singing in his blood was fading to a memory.
He stomped around the fountain half a dozen times to try to hang on to his ire. When he finally strode to an iron bench beside the manor wall, however, it was gone. His body had nothing left to spend except tears, but he kept them where they belonged, behind his eyes.
Exacting a little revenge against a poorly advised monarch wouldn’t give him nearly the satisfaction he would have enjoyed had a certain female ghost been more pleased to set eyes on him again.
He’d been dishonest with himself. He didn’t wish the lass to move on only because he wanted to complete his task. He wanted to end her suffering. He wanted her to be happy. It was a pity she couldn’t narrow her eyes a bit and pretend he was his brother, if only for a moment or two. And he could pretend—
He suddenly remembered her comment. “The pair of ye look so much alike.”
And they did. They always had. Enough so that they might be mistaken for one another…in a painting.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
He found Dawson and his crew back at the vans again. One van was dark but through the rear windows he could see three bodies lying end to end on the floor. Another man slept in the driver’s seat, his head resting against the window.
The second van was empty. The third held Dawson, Tuke, and the short camera man from the tower. Matt, apparently, was still missing. While he watched a small screen over Dawson’s shoulder, the short one’s eyes were wide and steady, like they might have frozen in that position—most likely when Elspeth had flung herself from the tower.
Dawson was searching his mobile with his thumbs jumping about. Tuke did the same with his own mobile, but his eyes were half closed.
Jamie knocked on the window and smiled. The way the three jumped, he worried they might have pissed themselves.
“Sorry,” he called quietly through the glass. “Dinna give up yet, laddies. We’ve still a ghost to catch in the graveyard, aye?”
Dawson looked skeptical. “Another friend of yours?”
Jamie grinned. “We’ll find out, won’t we?”
He didn’t bother telling them who he hoped they would find at the east end of the gardens. It was even a bit beyond the gardens, truth be told. So far that Elspeth, on the west tower, would never see him.
“Please, God,” he prayed. “Let it be Ian!
~
Dawn was on its way. And if ghosts were harder to rouse in the light of day, Jamie didn’t have much time left. Since his 48 hours would be up when nighttime fell again, he was certain this was his last chance. If it wasn’t Ian haunting the graveyard, poor Elspeth might never see an end to her torment.
“Oh, great.” Tuke held out his hand and caught the rain that was only starting. The stars and moon were gone, so the wee storm might last well into the morning.
“Dinna fash,” Jamie told him. “Spirits rarely notice the weather.”
Tuke nodded but still wrinkled his nose at the sky. Apparently, the man wasn’t worried about the ghost in the first place.
The camera man relaxed a bit when Tuke suggested he film from the small gate that allowed them inside the graveyard. It had been a small bit of ground when Jamie had last seen it. Perhaps thirty by thirty feet square. Now it was easily twice that size.
Newer headstones with flat faces cut a line through the center of the plots. Everything to the south side of that line was new and polished. Every marker on the north was carved of rougher stuff and most were tilted a little off kilter.
Jamie pointed. We’ll find our ghostie there.
Dawson slowed and his shoulders sagged, but Jamie clapped him on the back to get him moving again. “Ye couldn’t have expected him to be sitting on a cross, waiting for us, aye?”
Ian. Ian. Where are ye, man?
He hadn’t stopped to think about how he felt about his brother, whether he’d want to fall on his neck and weep, or if he’d try to push his fist through the man’s face. But he decided to simply wait and see. Let his body decide.
The rain finally fell in Scottish fashion and he shivered, reveling in the sensation of cool air passing over his wet skin. He pitied the others who had only small hats instead of a Great Kilt to unfurl and drape over their heads as he had.
The falling drops hushed against the grass and tapped at the markers, but nothing roused.
To his right, Tuke bounced and rubbed his arms. Dawson yawned to Jamie’s left. No doubt the pair was hoping nothing would happen, that their night could finally end. But Jamie didn’t have the luxury.
Elspeth didn’t have that luxury.
He tried his hand at positive thinking. Yes, the ghost would show. Yes, the spirit would belong to none other than Ian. The man would be taken to Elspeth so the lass could either rejoice in their reunion, or despair when his brother proved no more interested in Elspeth than he had the last time he’d clapped eyes on her, reaching out from her tower.
Either way, the lass would be able to give up waiting for the man.
And then what?
Then Soni would come. He would bid his brother and Elspeth Godspeed and be on his way to meet with the prince. And with his ire damped nearly as much as his plaid, he expected the bonny man’s nose was safe. Of course, he’d still be able to give him an earful.
And then?
And then he’d move on to whatever God ordained. He was tired in any case. No doubt he wouldn’t have been up to the task of keeping Elspeth’s ghost happy for much longer.
He
thought of his spirit as a battery that had nearly been drained. Surely, after so long…
Though it destroyed his heart to think it, he would simply have to leave Elspeth in Ian’s hands. If that was what would make the lass happy, then he wished for it too.
At least, that’s what he told himself. Sternly.
The sky began to lighten. His body was cooling quickly, whether from the rain or from mortal life slipping away again, he knew not. But in either case, he pushed himself forward and stomped toward the older stones.
“Ian! Are ye here? Will ye wake for me? Please, Ian Archibald Houston, if ye’re here, wake for me.”
“Oy,” a man grumbled and stepped out of a tall monument. “What’s the racket then? Who calls me?”
He was taller even than Jamie, but his plaid was the same Goldenrod yellow. In fact, there was much about the man that made Jamie feel as if his own spirit had risen to greet him. The stone blue eyes were as familiar as could be.
Ian?
But no.
Archibald Houston stood tall and proud. The stoop in his shoulders was gone from bending to tap his cane on the ground. His eyes had life again, and they looked straight into Jamie’s face. Tears streamed down his leathered cheeks.
“Jamie, my son!” He took a step forward, then paused and looked toward the gate. “Did Ian come with ye?”
Disappointment flooded Jamie as surely as the rain. Forever the second son.
“Nay, fither,” he said. “Ian is not with me.”
He recalled Ian’s words on the road. I’ll not return just to see if he’ll take it back again… I hope it haunts him until the day he dies, and beyond.
What a wicked thing to wish upon your own father! And once again, Jamie had stood by and said nothing.
“I was too harsh with yer brother,” the ghost said. “I pushed him away. He never came back, so I was never given the chance to say how sorry I was for it.”
What had started earlier as a simmer in Jamie’s gut finally reached a boil and he had no intention of holding his tongue.
Ian didn’t need an apology, fither. What he lacked was a beatin’. Neither did he deserve Elspeth, poor lass. Ye weren’t the only one who was blind, sir. I was blind as well. I love her. I love her still. And I should have stood beside her and told Ian she was mine, that he would have to find his amusement elsewhere.”
His father frowned and studied the ground, and Jamie wondered if the man understood what he was talking about. Did he remember, after all that time, that there was a lass involved?
Finally, the old head shook. “Nay, Jamie. Yer brother kenned ye were taken with the lass. I overheard him say it. I was blind to many things, but not to that. I realized too late that he’d won her away from ye.
“Ye couldn’t have known it was a’ purpose. I tried to spare ye from that, at least, but it is best ye ken it now. Ye’ll remember, I warned ye to watch yer own back?” He swallowed hard, though he had no need to. “At Culloden? Tell me. Did he do anything…to dishonor—”
“Nay, fither.” Jamie was quick to put the man’s worry to bed. “The day was lost and quickly. There was no shame in surrendering.” He gestured toward the house. “There was an old man—”
“Huey?”
“Aye. He told me Ian was transported. I was happy to hear he lived. After all this time on the moors, I had never known…”
“On the moors?”
“Aye, fither. I’ve been on the moors all this time.” And Jamie suddenly realized why he’d been content there—he’d been Jamie Houston, Number 64, not Jamie, the younger brother of Ian. He wouldn’t mind so much, going back…
His father’s shoulders fell along with his expression. “I’d hoped ye’d come for me, to take me on to God’s judgment.” He turned and wandered away. “I canna seem to do it meself, ye see. I just keep waiting for Ian to come—”
Jamie’s ire returned to a boil. “Well, he won’t be coming, da. Ye may as well stop waitin’. We were still on Kinkelding land when he vowed he would never return. He hoped…”
He caught his tongue quickly. It would be cruel to tell the man his eldest son had likely cursed him to his current unrest. But to lie was against all he’d ever believed. And it had taken all this for him to realize he’d been so devoted to the truth only because his brother had not.
If Ian had been a better man, would Jamie have been a lesser one?
The question helped him forgive his brother a bit. Yes, he might have been able to call Ian to accounts, might have been a voice of censure for him, but then what would have become of Jamie Houston?
His father stood waiting for the rest of his comment.
“Ian hoped,” he said cheerfully, “that ye could forgive him.” It was a lie, but the sour on his tongue was nothing when compared to the relief on his father’s countenance.
Archie Houston’s eyes overflowed with tears again, like they had the moment he’d recognized Jamie.
“Truly? He wished for my forgiveness? When all this while…” He stepped further away, keeping his back turned until he’d composed himself. “Thank ye, Jamie. It’s good to hear it.”
Jamie nodded, but he knew his father’s relief wouldn’t last long, especially if the man was able to leave the graveyard and move on to where he was likely to learn the truth in any case. But at least his father could go.
Imagined or not, a weight lifted from Jamie’s chest and he froze in his boots. What if his noble act had been to say bedamned to his honor and tell his father a wee lie so he could find his peace?
Had he not come to save Elspeth after all?
As if in answer to his question, a bright glow appeared at the edge of the family graveyard. Jamie was unable to look directly at it, but his father didn’t seem to have that problem. His now-youthful face was lit with hope and he stepped toward the growing light. But he paused and turned back to his son.
“Come with me, Jamie. Do. Ye’ve done a grand thing for yer fither, laddie. Let me do the same for ye.”
Jamie shook his head without the need to consider. “Nay, da. Go on ahead. I’ll be along shortly, aye?”
His father glanced past Jamie’s shoulder and smiled, perhaps in farewell to a home he had haunted far too long. Then he nodded once and was engulfed in blinding light. By the time Jamie was able to uncover his eyes, the only things in the yard were grave markers, and the only light was a dim glow behind gray clouds. A pale yellow edge of sky lined the mists to the east, and though the storm hid it, morning had come to Kinkelding.
Elspeth!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jamie spun on his heel to head back to the tower, but stopped short. Elspeth stood at the gate next to a nervous camera man who completely neglected his camera.
“Elspeth!”
“Aye, Jamie.”
He gestured toward the north stones. “Did ye see then?”
“Aye.” She smiled slightly. “I saw.”
“My da’s been here the whole time,” he said, just in case she hadn’t known.
She waved her hand as if the detail didn’t interest her. Her gaze was fixed on his face. “I thought about what ye said, about trying to hide our friendship from Ian.”
“Aye?” The sound of his brother’s name still bothered him, especially when it came from Elspeth’s own tongue.
“It made no sense to me. Ye see, when Ian danced with me at the gathering, he told me he was grateful to ye, that he’d asked ye to keep me away from the other lads until Ian was free to woo me. So why would ye need to hide it from him?”
“He did not send me to ye. But I see ye ken it now.”
“Aye. I ken it now. But back then?” She shook her head. “It suddenly made sense, why ye wouldn’t kiss me much. And I thought ye’d been teasing me along on until ye could push me off on Ian. Ye see?”
Jamie only nodded, but inside he was pleased as a patted dog that the lass was seeing his brother in a truer light.
“So I was hurt, and wanted to make ye regret yer par
t.” She began walking forward and his heart tripped with every step she took. The rain danced around her, through her. The grass showed no sign that she passed over it. But his heart was aware. And he finally, finally felt as if someone was seeing him, not looking past him to locate his brother.
“That dream I dream?”
He nodded. “Yer nightmare?”
“Weel,” she said while she toyed with a lock of her hair. “I called it a nightmare because it made me feel so disloyal to Ian, imagining it was ye who blew me the kiss and not him. It’s why it upset me so.”
She stopped before him, but the teasing look was gone from her eyes. The lass was nervous, afraid even, which was made more amusing by the three men cowering by the gate, trying not to draw her attention.
“Jamie?”
“Aye.”
“Why do ye suppose I was able to feel yer touch when ye grabbed hold of me on the tower?”
He could tell she wanted him to touch her again, to see if they could repeat the anomaly. But he tucked his hands behind him rather than prove it couldn’t happen.
“I dinna ken, lass. I suppose my fright was so strong, it gave me the ability for that moment alone.”
“And why were ye so frightened?”
“Because I thought ye might fall from the edge. I didn’t know yet that ye liked to fling yerself from it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Only when I’m angry at handsome young Highlanders who try to tell me whom I love.”
He took a small step closer and lowered his voice. “Why did ye do it, Elspeth? The first time. Why did ye throw yerself from the tower?”
She jumped back, her eyes wide. “Jamie Houston, how could ye think such a thing? I’m a God fearing Scotswoman. I’d no sooner take my own life than kiss a boar hog.” She frowned. “I suppose Huey told ye this?”
Jamie nodded, ashamed to have believed the storyteller without asking anyone else.
“Did ye ken he also thinks I’m yer sister, Suisan?”
He nodded again.
“I dinna suppose ye noticed that the stones had rotted away from the south edge of the tower?”
