“But what was this need?”
“T-To put down the Pretender, of course.”
“And ye believe he’s the Pretender? Or do the English fight because they’re told tae, not because they believe in the cause?”
James scratched his head. It was an astute question, one without an easy answer. “I-I cannot speak for others, but I fight because that is what I am trained for,” he said quietly. “M-My brother and I come from a long line of soldiers. We fight for our king. It is as simple as that.”
“Then yer heart isna in it?”
“M-My heart is never in war. I-I don’t think my brother’s was, either, which makes his death all the more tragic.”
Carrie pondered that. “I suppose I want tae know what is in the hearts of men who would come tae Scotland and kill our lads.”
“I-It was duty, Carrie. N-Nothing more.”
Carrie fell silent after that. As she continued to follow him about, trying to be helpful by holding the lamp, James dug through piles of bloodied and dirty possessions. There was a neat pile of redcoats, torn and filthy, but nothing that belonged to his brother. In fact, he didn’t see anything familiar until he returned to the pile of sabers that was by the chamber door. They were on a chest and leaning against the wall, some upside-down, and he took a moment to look through them more carefully.
And then, he saw it.
It was upside-down, and partially covered with another saber, but he recognized it right away. The gorgeous hilt and shield-shaped langet, for inside the langet was a lion’s head.
De Lohr.
With a gasp, James pulled his brother’s sword forth, staring at it for a moment before feeling tears sting his eyes. The physical and emotional reaction was both unexpected and swift, and he clutched the saber to him as the tears silently fell.
It was something of his brother’s he’d not expected to find.
“C-Christ,” he gasped. “I-It’s my brother’s sword. It’s Johnathan’s. Where did you find it?”
Carrie was trying to get a look at it. “I dunna know,” she said. “I found some myself, but others were brought tae me. I dunna know where that one came from.”
James didn’t press her. He held it up, looking at it, inspecting it with shaking hands before once again clutching the hilt to his chest. He was overcome with grief.
“W-Were you holding this when you died, Johnny?” he whispered tightly. “D-Did you really face all of this alone, without me by your side?”
There were no answers to his questions, only the soft darkness of a chamber that was closing in around him. The ghosts of the men who had owned these possessions were coming forth, looking upon him in judgment because he hadn’t been at Culloden and he should have been.
God only knew, James had judged himself just as harshly.
“I-I’m sorry, Johnny,” he murmured, closing his eyes as tears streamed. “I-I’m sorry I was not there to hold your hand, to lie to you and tell you that you would survive. I’m sorry that my voice, pitiful as it is, was not the last voice you heard in this lifetime, nor my face the last thing you saw. I’m sorry I failed you when you needed me most. God forgive me, I have done nothing but fail you since the day I was born. B-But I have come to take you home and I swear to God I will not leave without you. I will not fail you this time.”
It was a deeply painful moment as James struggled with his composure. Behind him, he could hear sniffling and he turned to see Carrie weeping into her dirty handkerchief. It was then he realized that this woman, this stranger, had been witness to his most private pain. She’d gathered these souvenirs of war and now she was seeing a reaction to her cultivated collection.
She was seeing the human side of it.
Feeling foolish with his outburst, James wiped his face, clutching the sword so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
He took a deep breath.
“I-Inverness, you said?” he asked Carrie. “T-That is where the English are buried?”
Carrie nodded, wiping her nose. “Aye,” she said. “The Old High Church. They took some of the wounded, too, I heard. Perhaps ye’ll find something more of yer brother there.”
James looked at the sword in his hand. “I-I have found this,” he said. “Y-You cannot know what this means to me. That you took it and did not let the scavengers get to it… I can never thank you enough.”
Carrie forced a tremulous smile. “I’m glad ye found it, m’laird.”
James was feeling weary, emotional. “A-As am I,” he said. “I-It means everything to me and to my mother. But there is something else I seek, something I am sure you have not seen, but I’ll ask anyway. A ring with a lion’s head – have you seen it?”
Carrie shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “If I had, I would tell ye.”
“I-It is very valuable.”
“I dinna collect these things for profit. I did it because it was the right thing tae do.”
He lifted his eyebrows wearily. “F-Forgive me if I’ve offended you,” he said. “A-As I said, I was certain you had not seen it, but I had to ask.”
With that, he turned away, clutching his brother’s sword in his left hand and moving like a man who was overwhelmed with life. His brother’s saber had been found, but that was not where he would stop. Finding the weapon renewed his determination.
Inverness was his next destination.
Part Five
GAIRA
She saw him in the snowy livery yard, baggage in hand. He also had a saber with him, something she didn’t remember seeing on him when he arrived.
He was leaving.
Gaira stood at the kitchen door as it opened out into the muddy kitchen yard, seeing a portion of the livery from where she stood. She had come to the tavern at her usual time that morning, but James had still been asleep until Carrie went to go wake him a little while ago. Gaira had been busy in the kitchen, but her mind had been on Carrie and James. Truthfully, only on James.
Then, she saw him make his way to the livery.
Give Worcester that gift. Help him find some peace.
Those words had been ringing around in her head all night. She had no idea what happened to the tall, pale man who had come to her home to speak to her of the handsome young earl, but he’d departed and now Worcester was leaving as well. If he left, she might never see him again.
He would never know what she knew.
She knew, deep in her heart, that she couldn’t let him leave.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled off her apron and left it behind as she ran across the kitchen yard. Since her home wasn’t far, it took her little time to cross the muddy road and into the walled yard. The door to the home was unlocked even though her mother wasn’t at home, so Gaira hastened to her bedchamber to retrieve the haversack from its secret place.
Even as she held it, her hands were trembling. The contents of the haversack had been her guilty pleasure, and even a large part of her world, for the last several months. Ever since she’d stolen it from Carrie and kept it hidden so she could bask in those letters over and over again. Letters from a sensitive and tormented young man to his equally sensitive and tormented brother.
So much about Johnathan had been different.
So much about James had been deep.
They simply couldn’t find a way to connect.
But James had come for his brother and it wasn’t fair for her to keep the letters any longer. She never really thought this moment would come, and she was going to have to explain to him why she had kept them this long, but she would have to face him with what she’d done. Knowing James as she did through his beautiful letters, she felt as if she knew him well. It was strange knowing a man well she’d never actually met.
Until now.
Those letters didn’t belong to her, after all.
They belonged to a beleaguered young earl.
Clutching the haversack to her chest, she wrapped herself back up in her simple shawl, one that wasn’t nearly enough agains
t the icy temperatures, and ran back across the road and into the livery.
As she entered the yard, she saw James standing just outside of the stable as the groom prepared his mount. It was a long-legged bay thoroughbred, a beautiful and expensive animal. The groom led the animal over to the trough to water the steed while he finished with the tack, leaving James standing by himself.
Gaira’s stomach was twisting with nerves as she came up behind him, studying his broad back and wide shoulders. It was the James from the letters, a sweet and angsty young man who was better in the flesh than she could have ever imagined.
“M’laird?” she said, a little breathlessly.
He turned to her and Gaira took a good, long look at his face in the sunlight. Blond, well-built, and excruciatingly handsome, he was quite the perfect young lord.
His sky-blue eyes fixed expectantly on her.
“W-What is it?” he asked.
Her heart began to flutter. “I… I heard ye speaking tae yer companion last night,” she said, stepping into the livery. It was quieter in there, out of the elements. “Ye came seeking yer brother.”
James’ focus had followed her as she’d walked around him and entered the stable. But with the mention of last night’s legendary conversation, he grunted and rolled his eyes.
“I-It seems that everyone in this wretched place knows about that now,” he said. “D-Don’t worry, I’m leaving. It seems that Inverness may hold more answers for me.”
Gaira could see how weary he was.
But she was about to change that.
“Perhaps ye’ll find yer brother’s body there,” she said. “But I have his heart here.”
With that, she unwounded her shawl to reveal the haversack clutched to her chest. James wasn’t certain what he was looking at, at first, but when she held it up to him and he recognized it, all of the color drained from his face. His mouth popped open and something of a groan escaped.
“M-My God,” he said hoarsely. “I-It’s his haversack. This is my brother’s haversack.”
Gaira nodded, carefully depositing it into his trembling hands. “It is,” she said. “Last night, when I heard ye speak about yer brother, I was certain that this belonged tae ye. Ye see, I’ve had it for a long while and I… well, I have much tae say about it before ye go. Would ye give me a moment of yer time, m’laird?”
James was unbuttoning the haversack with shaking hands. In fact, he could hardly get it open, but he wasn’t so singularly focused that he didn’t hear Gaira’s soft plea. He nodded so vigorously that his hair wagged about.
“O-Of course,” he said, reaching out to grasp her by the arm. “C-Come and tell me everything you know. What is your name again?”
“Gaira, m’laird,” she said. “Gaira Dunmore.”
“G-Gaira,” he repeated, clutching the haversack as he led her away from the livery entry and into a quiet area near the stalls. “I-I remember you. I helped you and Carrie escape the battle in the common room yesterday.”
Gaira nodded. “Ye did,” she said. “I’m sorry I dinna thank ye for it yet. There’s not been the opportunity.”
“I-I know,” James said. Then, he dropped to one knee and set the haversack down on a pile of clean hay so he could poke around in it. “C-Christ, I can hardly believe you found this. Did you know my brother, then? How did you come by it?”
Gaira watched him pull out a stack of carefully-tied letters. James’ question was one with a complicated answer. She was afraid if she didn’t tell him everything, and tell him quickly, that she would lose him to the excitement and relief of finding his brother’s haversack. He might even chase her away so he could be alone with his brother’s memories. Already, she could see that he was distracted with it.
Taking a deep breath, she summoned her courage.
“The haversack was brought tae Carrie by a man who was scavenging the battlefield for metal,” she said steadily. “Carrie put it in her chamber with all of the other things she had collected, and as I had done with others, I looked through them. Only this haversack was different. Ye asked me if I knew yer brother, m’laird, and the answer is that I do. I know ye, too. Did ye know he kept the letters ye wrote tae him since the time ye were a young lad until recently?”
James’ hands were still trembling, but his initial shock was being overtaking by some confusion. Bewilderment. He fingered through the stack in his hand only to realize something.
“B-But… but some of these are very old,” he said, peering at one. “M-My God, these are all from me.”
Gaira knelt down beside him. “They are,” she said softly, looking at his face as he unfastened the hemp string. “M’laird… I read through every single letter. Everything ye wrote tae yer brother. Because of the catch in yer speech, ye wrote him letters when ye quarreled because when ye became upset, the catch grew worse and it was difficult for ye tae speak.”
He stopped pawing and looked at her. “H-How did you know that?”
Gaira found herself staring into eyes that were as beautiful as a new day. “I told ye,” she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Because I read every single letter. Did ye know that yer brother replied tae every letter ye ever wrote him?”
James’ gaze was riveted to her. “H-He did not,” he said. “H-He never wrote to me.”
Gaira’s smile broke through as she reached into the haversack and pulled out another pile of letters. She held them up between them.
“He did,” she said. “I dunna know why he never gave them tae ye, but for every letter ye wrote him, he wrote one in return. They’re all here, in order. I put them in order of the date, or at least as close as I could get.”
James’ mouth opened in astonishment as he took the stack from her, looking at it. It was a shocking revelation. After a moment, he swallowed hard.
“Y-You read all of these?” he asked.
Gaira’s smile faded. “I did,” she said. “Believe me when I tell ye that when I first found the haversack, I only intended tae read one or two, tae find out who the sack belonged tae. That was my original intention and I swear that tae ye. But the more I read, the more I wanted tae read. I’ve read those letters so many times that I’ve nearly memorized them.”
James set down the stack of the letters he had written so that he could focus on the ones Johnathan had written to him. But he made no move to untie the string. He simply sat there and looked at them.
“I-If what you say is true, they were not meant for you,” he said after a moment.
She averted her gaze, ashamed. “I know,” she said. “I dinna mean tae intrude, but I couldna help myself. There’s such a beautiful story in those letters.”
He snorted. “I-I am not sure that’s possible,” he said. “A-Anything I wrote is drivel. I-I don’t even know what my brother’s letters say.”
“Ye need tae read them.”
“I-I am not sure I can.”
“Why not?”
He glanced at her. “I-I am not sure why I should say that to you,” he said. “W-We are strangers, you and I. This is a private family matter and you surely would not care.”
Gaira laughed softly. “We are not strangers,” she said. “I know ye better than I’ve known most people in my life and I’ve never even met ye until now. Do ye want tae know what I know of ye? I know that ye’re brilliant and witty and sensitive, things ye thought yer brother believed were weaknesses, but I tell ye it’s not true. He dinna think that.”
“N-Now you’re making up lies.”
She shook her head firmly. “Indeed, I’m not,” she insisted. “Ye can read them for yerself. There’s a letter yer brother wrote tae ye six years ago after ye attended a fete given by a family named Summerlin. There was a young woman ye had yer eye on but when ye spoke tae her, she shunned ye. Ye ran off and no one could find ye for two days and when your brother finally found ye drowning yer sorrows at a coach inn, ye scolded him and told him tae go away. Do ye remember that incident?”
James was lookin
g at her dubiously. “I-I do, in fact,” he said quietly. “T-The young woman was A-Amy Summerlin.”
“Of Blackstone Castle.”
When he realized she really did know the situation, he became less doubtful. “S-She pretended to be interested in what I had to say when, in fact, I later heard her mocking my speech with her friends and laughing. I-I was humiliated and left the party.”
Gaira nodded her head in the direction of the letters he held in his hand. “Ye never let yer brother tell ye that he had avenged ye,” she said gently. “In one of those letters, he tells ye that he corresponded with Amy for six months after the incident, pretending tae be a great duke, and promised he’d call upon her. On the appointed day, he never showed up and left Amy greatly humiliated.”
James looked at her, incredulous. “I-I think I heard of that,” he said. “M-My mother spoke of Amy Summerlin being made a fool of and how she was the laughingstock of her social circle. A-And you’re telling me that my brother did that?”
“He did.”
“For me?”
“For ye. The man had a naughty streak in him tae be sure.”
James had known that for the most part. But the fact that his brother had avenged him in a situation where he’d blamed his brother for his problems was astonishing. But that astonishment was coupled with growing remorse.
“H-He tried to speak to me about it, a few times, but I shut him off,” he said, thinking back to that time. “I-I never let him speak of it, so he never told me what he’d done.”
Gaira watched the regret ripple across his face. “He wrote ye a letter about it instead,” she said. “Ye wrote tae him because ye couldna speak, and he wrote tae ye because ye wouldna let him speak. I think ye should read the letters, m’laird. I think yer brother was a different man than ye knew.”
James sank down to his buttocks, still clutching the stack of bound letters. There was so much remorse and angst in his heart to realize that Johnathan had written him so many letters he never gave to him.
A Very Highland Holiday Page 4