by L. L. Muir
There was no key for the door, but members of the family knew how to move the handle and slide one of the slats of wood to reveal a metal loop. A push of Jamie’s finger, and the door popped open.
“I showed this to Elspeth,” he said. “For nearly a week before the harvest, we would sneak into the tower, day or night, and play King of the Castle, like children.”
His heart strained at the memory, searching for that euphoria he’d felt during that stretch of days when Elspeth only had eyes for him. He’d felt invincible. The world lay at their feet as if the west tower had truly been the seat of their kingdom.
It all started at the Cean Mor Stones, to the north…
The stones so ancient, they’d nearly worn flat to the ground. And covered with moss and lichens, they were nearly invisibly to passersby. One had to know they were there in order to find them.
Jamie spotted a rather pretty lass moving among them and crept closer for a better look, hiding among the shrubbery and trees that surrounded the place and made it into a veritable fairy clearing.
Elspeth was nearly eighteen, but she stood on the highest stone and pretended to be the queen of something, as a five-year-old might do. Talking to herself. Ordering her imaginary servants about while she stepped from stone to stone. Plucking the petals from a flower, she tossed them on the wind and watched them blow away, one at a time.
“A soldier sent to war,” she mumbled, “who deserves a kiss farewell.” And she began kissing the petals before dropping them. After destroying a few flowers in that manner, she became sad. And Jamie grew sad too. Silly, he realized.
Determined to cheer them both, he hurried around behind her, picked up one of the pale purple petals and presented it to his fanciful queen, along with an elegant bow.
“A soldier returned, milady.”
Her sudden smile pleased him, but the silence made him nervous.
“Ye see,” he continued lightly. “Not all are lost.”
She grinned and curtsied. “Thank ye, kind knight. And glad I am that ye’ve returned after so gallant a quest. I shall make thee a minor king, then.”
She stooped and brought forth a long twig. After a fluid swipe that removed the dying leaves, she laid the end of it on his shoulder.
“Kneel, sir.”
He knelt, but he stopped her stick with his hand when she would have moved it to his other shoulder.
“Pray, my queen, dinna send me away to be a minor king on some other shore. Allow me to stay here and serve ye better.”
She raised a brow, but maintained her sobriety. “And how would ye serve me here, Sir Knight?”
He took the branch and tossed it aside, grasped her lovely hands in his, and stood. “I would be yer footstool, if ye willed it, Elspeth Murray. And I would give ye a pillow for yer lips.”
“A pillow for my lips?” She shoved at him, but he wouldn’t release her hands, so the push was half-hearted at best. “What pillow would I need for my lips?”
He laid a finger against his mouth and lowered his voice. “This pillow is yers, should ye need it, my beautiful Queen.”
She licked her own lips and stared at his for the briefest moment before she dissolved into laughter. She pulled her hands free and collapsed into the center of the grass circled by the stones. The sun, peaking through the leaves, forced her to wince and close her eyes.
He sat next to her and reached, tentatively, for a cluster of leaves that had caught themselves in her dark tresses. Shaded by his shadow, she watched his eyes as he dragged the leaves away.
“Another noble deed, sir. Have ye no end to them, then?”
“Nay, milady. No end of noble deeds if those deeds be for ye, my queen.”
He leaned forward and she didn’t balk. Farther still, and she only watched him come. He lowered his head toward hers and she stopped breathing, but denied him nothing. Then he realized it wasn’t because she expected a kiss, but that she didn’t know what to expect.
An innocent, unkissed lass.
He watched for the moment she realized what he was about. And he held his position, waiting to see if she would find some way to retreat, but she did not.
“Ye would rest yer lips on mine?” she asked.
“If ye will it.”
She considered for so long, he expected her to deny him, but instead, she said, “Come, then.”
Pillows upon pillows. Delight like he’d never known, just breathing in each breath as she released it was Heaven enough. He could have stayed for days, taking whatever she would allow him, be it her breath or her touch.
Elspeth was his queen. He would deny her nothing. But he would also protect her from the likes of him.
An unkissed lass no more, he thought, as he pulled away from her. And the weight of what he’d done descended upon him. She was his, in some unspoken way. His to protect. His to love. His to cherish, like a jewel he wished to keep hidden in his pocket so that no one else would know its worth and wish to take it.
Looking back through two centuries, Jamie understood the apprehension he’d felt at that moment. It wasn’t because he worried someone would happen by, notice Elspeth’s beauty and lure her away from him. The alarm was for what Ian would do if he saw the lass, if he knew how new she was to kissing. How Ian might take the same advantage of Elspeth he’d taken of others, knowledgeable or not.
He’d known, even then, that Ian could not be trusted near her. But what could he do?
So he showed Elspeth how to sneak into the tower. And though she hadn’t noticed, he’d greedily kept her there for days under the guise of play. Their secret place. No one knew. A refuge from the world—but truly, just a place to hide from his brother.
Though his very soul had craved them, he’d kept the kisses to one or two a day. She asked him about it once, but he’d told her they were precious only if they weren’t given freely.
She’d thought him sweet.
He’d thought her divine.
Then came the harvest. He rarely found opportunities to escape to the tower, but when he did, she was there. Because they had such little time together, the kisses came a bit more freely. So freely, in fact, he thought his heart might burst.
When the harvest was done, they were suddenly thrown together in public, encouraged to dance at the gathering when so many people pressed onto Kinkelding that his own knoll was lost beneath the trappings of celebration.
But Ian was watching him a bit closer than was comfortable. Perhaps it was simply Jamie’s imagination, but he dared not glance in Elspeth’s direction for fear of leading Ian to her.
It was folly. After two hundred and seventy years, he knew the moment he’d doomed them. In his attempt to hide her charms from Ian, he pretended he’d never taken notice of her in the first place.
He would never erase that look in her eye the first time, when she’d stepped up and asked him to dance with her. He’d given her a slight shake of his head, then walked away, not daring to take the time to explain.
The next time his eye found her, she was dancing with Ian.
After that night, it was she who refused to notice him.
“Auch, forgive me, Elspeth,” he whispered into the darkness. “I was such a child in ’45…” He searched the familiar curves inside the tower and found the start of the steps. “This way.”
The camera lights switched on and nearly blinded him, and his eyes were still struggling to adjust when he opened the hatch to the parapet and climbed out into the natural illumination of the moon.
Most of the light, however, came from the lass in white, leaning off the south side of the tower, reaching out to someone in the darkness beyond. Someone who wasn’t there.
And it broke Jamie’s heart.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I see ye’ve brought the beasts back into the house,” she said without turning. She lowered her arm, but still watched toward the road at the end of the drive, as if expecting Ian to return at any moment.
“He won’t be coming, E
lspeth.”
“Ye cannot know that, Jamie Houston.”
He walked to the crenellated wall and found a firm place to sit upon and face her. Many of the square stones had crumbled and fallen. It was no wonder the owners had tried to keep the tower locked away from curious ghost hunters.
“Indeed, lass. I do ken it,” he said softly. “The day we left, he was angry with our da. They’d fought, ye see—”
“Over me, no doubt.”
No use in denying it. “Aye.”
She turned away from the view and truly looked at him. “Did ye ken, then, that yer fither caught us kissing in the barn the day before? He thought… He assumed… Well, he supposed the worst had happened, but he’d been wrong.”
Not many a lass had been able to resist Ian’s charms. So it surprised him that Elspeth, as innocent as she had been, could keep her head and her virtue once Ian had taken a fancy to her.
“That explains what I heard,” he confessed. “I also assumed there was a child. Forgive me.”
She laughed long and hard at that. “A child,” she said when she finally had the breath to speak again. “He’d been wooing me for a mere week, Jamie. A week.”
He shrugged and looked at the tips of his boots, embarrassed to have assumed such a thing.
She turned and looked at the road again, sighed, and took a step toward the crumbling edge.
Jamie shot to his feet in pure reaction, reaching for her. And for a fraction of a moment, he felt the fabric of her nightdress and the body beneath it. “Have a care,” he shouted.
She gasped and turned in his arms. She’d felt it too! “How is it I felt yer hands, Jamie?”
He shook his head. “I dinna ken, lass. I simply meant to stop ye from falling.”
She laid her hands carefully on his arms, but they continued on through and she stepped back quickly. Whatever the spell, it had been broken.
“’Tis gone now,” she whispered.
“Aye.” But he stood his ground, blocking the spot where she usually stood, hoping he could hold her attention better that way, but also hoping she’d step close to him again. The feel of her, beneath his hands, made him ache for more.
Why was there not a witch about when he needed one? For surely, Soni could have given Elspeth a bit of substance for a time. Perhaps they’d have been able to relive a kiss or two.
But the lass showed no sign of coming near again. She leaned back against the stones that were higher at the western point. No need to fear her falling. No reason to hurry to her and try to take her into his arms again.
But oh, how he longed to do it.
He was suddenly reminded that they were not alone on that tower. Dawson and the camera man were crouched against the north side, inches from the door in the floor that sat open and waiting, in case they were told to flee.
Their presence reminded Jamie that he wasn’t there for his own gratification. He had a purpose. He was there to help her move on, either with his encouragement, or with Dawson’s. His feelings for Elspeth had nothing to do with what needed to happen that night.
“Elspeth,” he began.
“Jamie,” said, mocking him.
There was no way to make the words sound kinder than they were, so he simply said them.
“Ian vowed he would never return.”
She gasped. Her mouth hung open as if he’d just reached forward and surprised her with a slap. And it took her half a minute to recover.
He bit his lip and waited.
“Ye lie,” she said, then looked at their audience. “He lies.”
Jamie shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, lass. When we were standing there, at the end of the drive, I asked him if he thought we would live to return. He said it didn’t matter, that he wouldn’t be coming back, that he wouldn’t give our da the chance to take back his harsh words…”
Elspeth’s head began shaking, slowly at first, then faster. “He was hurt, that’s all. He might have been angry, but he would have remembered himself. Eventually, he would have remembered his promise to me.” She looked toward the road again, only this time, her brow furrowed with worry. He could almost read her thoughts. What if he tells the truth?
“Elspeth.” He opened his arms to her. “I am sorry. But ye must listen to me.”
“No!” She took a step toward her usual spot, but realized it would take her closer to him, so she hesitated. “He promised.”
“Nay, lass. He did not.” He watched opposing emotions flicker across her face. Fear, denial, and possibly, understanding. “It wasn’t Ian who blew ye that kiss so long ago, Elspeth Murray. It was I.”
Her ire rose as she inhaled. Her eyes narrowed. And he could imagine her making her stand, like a menacing demon, poised to send him from this world with the swipe of a powerful wing.
“Ye lie, Jamie Houston! I never thought I’d see the day when ye’d sell yer honor with a falsehood, and just to please those yanks.”
He allowed his arms to fall to his sides and stood vulnerable to whatever she would attack him with.
“I’ve never lied to ye, Elspeth. Never. I told ye once, long ago, that I cared deeply for ye, but then a few days later ye were hanging on me brother’s arm. ‘Twas my fault, I know that. I thought to keep our friendship a secret from Ian, and foolishly thought ignoring ye, at the gathering, would accomplish it. But I was wrong.
“Then, when I saw ye so happy with Ian, I thought it best to never mention my feelings again. And later…” He waved in the general direction of her middle. She pretended not to understand his meaning. “When Ian and I set out that morning, it was I who stood so long at the road. I who blew ye that kiss and held out my hand to ye—”
“Ye lie, Jamie Houston! Ye’ve found a way to peer into my nightmares, and now ye use them against me!”
“Nightmares?” His heart nearly rent to twain. There were some, among Culloden’s 79, who suffered nightmares beyond the usual torment that kept them tied to the moor. He’d heard the horror in their voices when they’d cried out. “If ye suffer them as others do, lassie, I would beg God to pass that burden to me, if I thought he would.”
She laughed. “My nightmares would mean nothing to ye. For in them, I live that morning over and over again. But it is not Ian looking back at me from the road. It is ye, just as ye say. The pair of ye look so much alike, that in my nightmare, I’ve confused ye!” A great sob racked through her. Then another.
He stepped forward, determined to take her into his arms again whether or not they would feel it. But she took advantage of his movement, hurried around him, stepped to the edge, and flung herself off the tower!
Jamie was so shaken by the sight, he began to quake. Then his heart burst like a tankard swung angrily into a stone wall.
He was the one who cared for the woman, and yet he was the source of her nightmares? And for all he kenned, the idea that he loved her and not Ian might have been what drove her to fling herself off the tower?
Oh, Soni! Why oh, why did ye send me to Kinkelding?
Ignoring the pieces of his heart scattered across the battlements, he stalked to the hole and lowered himself into the bowels of the dark tower. And woe betide any camera man who tried to follow.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Elspeth was far too upset to find her rest, so she settled at the top of Jamie’s knoll and laid back to look at the stars. Not many clouds. A rare, clear night. It was almost calming.
Almost.
Heaven and angels help her, was it true? She thought back to those long days when she and Jamie had lived in their private little world and fallen hopelessly in love. Or at least he’d claimed to have done.
Had he been truthful?
She sifted through her memories and tried to think of another time Jamie might have lied to her, but she could remember nothing suspect. Of course, he might have had a talent for half-truths, for all she knew.
She couldn’t say the same about Ian. There had been many a time she explained away his little lies, telling
herself he only said things to avoid hurting her feelings unnecessarily.
She could still feel Jamie’s hands on her, pulling her away from the edge even though he knew she was beyond mortal harming. It was Jamie who ran to her side without thought. Jamie who had finally come back to Kinkelding. Jamie whose touch she was able to feel after all those years.
She shook with an imagined shiver. Were her dreams nightmares? Or was she simply remembering that morning, over and over again, plagued because the truth did not align with her wishes? Plagued with her own guilt…for wanting it to be Jamie reaching out to her…
It would have been so much simpler had Ian only come.
She finally had to accept the fact that over two hundred and fifty years had passed and the chanced of Ian suddenly remembering about her was no chance at all. But then again, it had taken Jamie all that time to return to Kinkeld House. So perhaps time meant nothing where spirits were concerned.
She spun on her bottom so she was facing the road. Will Ian come through the new gate? Will he be the same as he’d been when he left? Or will he have aged? Had he lived to be an old man? Or had he never survived the journey to the colonies, as many people did not? A long voyage would have killed Jamie for certain, his stomach was weak for such motion. But she didn’t know if Ian suffered the same weakness.
It was odd how much more she knew about Jamie, after spending just less than a week, on and off, in the tower. Then a few times during harvest. And after the same amount of time with Ian, she knew so little. She tried to remember the conversations they’d had, but Ian’s comments were always given with a kiss in mind.
She smiled at the memory of his cajoling her out of a hundred embraces. Then she sobered when she remembered what Jamie had said, that kisses given freely had less meaning.
A hundred freely given. A dozen hard-won.
Then she remembered the moment when those hard-won kisses lost all their meaning—when she’d asked Jamie to dance, and he’d walked away.