James turned to look at Gaira before returning his focus to Rafe. His brow furrowed. “W-What do you mean?” he asked. Then, realization dawned. “Y-You knew about my brother’s haversack? You knew she had it?”
Rafe shrugged. “I suspected,” he said. “I did not know for certain, but on the night you and I sat together, she was in the chamber. I saw her face as you spoke of your brother and I suspected she knew something. I told her to tell you what she knew and I am glad she did.”
That explained it a little better and James turned to look at her again, his gaze lingering on her. “I-I am glad she did, also,” he said. “S-She is a thoughtful, warm woman, one I intend to get to know quite well.”
Rafe’s eyes were glimmering with mirth. “Another gift you have received this holiday season,” he said. Then, he looked up at the sky again. “Tell me something, James.”
“W-What?”
“Do you believe in miracles?”
James started to speak but stopped himself. Then, he chuckled wryly. “I-I never thought so until I came to the Highlands,” he said. “B-But it seems to me that everything that has happened with regards to my brother has been some sort of miracle. I came to know things about my brother that I hadn’t known before and I found a woman who knows him, and me, very well. I-I know that sounds odd considering I’d not met Gaira before I came to Calvine, but she’s quite… special.”
“I know.”
“M-My brother left me a letter that was found in his haversack and in the letter, he mentioned praying for a guardian angel for me,” James went on. “H-He said that he was my guardian angel on earth and he prayed that God would send me another in his place. I think… I think that Gaira may be that angel. I feel something for her that I cannot describe, but it has something to do with comfort and understanding and…”
“Love?” Rafe interjected.
James grinned, lopsided. “P-Perhaps,” he said. “I-I am hopeful.”
Rafe smiled faintly, watching James as the man gazed up at the stars again. This wasn’t the same young lord he’d met at Balthazar’s Inn several days ago. That young lord had been tormented and bitter. The man before him was full of peace.
It was, after all, a season of peace.
Rafe looked back up to the sky and to the bright start in particular.
“Do you know your archangels, James?”
James shook his head. “I-I am afraid I am much like my brother was,” he said. “Neither of us were very pious.”
The corner of Rafe’s lips twitched. “I know that about you,” he said. “If you don’t know your archangels, then let me explain to you that Raphael is the archangel of healing, both physical and emotional. This is a season when angels walk the earth, a time of miracles. Your brother’s prayers were heard, James. Johnathan exchanged one guardian angel for another. And, yes, he is waiting for you in heaven, but not with worms in his eyeballs.”
James had been daydreaming as he gazed up at the stars, but Rafe’s odd statement caught his attention. “A-Ah, yes,” he said. “W-Worms in his eyeballs. I think that was something I wrote to him on more than one occasion when I was younger, but… hold a moment… how did you know about that? Did you read that letter, too?”
Rafe grinned, patting him on the shoulder as he turned and headed back towards the church. “That bright star will be gone tonight,” he said, pointing upwards. “And so will I.”
Confused, James took a few steps after him. “B-But where are you going, Rafe?”
“To find others that need healing. And, James?”
“What?”
“The name is Raphael.”
With that, he turned and disappeared into the church. Literally, he disappeared into the darkness. Bewildered, James went after him only to be faced with a vacant church. There was no tall, pale man in white woolen clothing anywhere to be seen. Baffled, James turned towards the door again, processing what he’d been told.
What had happened.
Raphael is the archangel of healing, both physical and emotional. This is a season when angels walk the earth, a time of miracles.
That’s what Rafe had said.
The name is Raphael.
Startled, James came to a halt, realizing what he’d just been told. Rushing out into the cloister, he looked into the sky to see that, indeed, the bright star had vanished. Now, it was simply a velvet black sky covered with a sea of diamonds, all of them twinkling brilliantly.
It was an evening full of beauty.
Oddly enough, he didn’t doubt Rafe in the least. Now, the man’s presence made sense. Everything he had done made sense. The recovery of Johnathan’s sword and haversack and letters and the ring made sense. Even Gaira made sense. James hadn’t been a man to believe in miracles as he’d said, but tonight, he did.
The pieces of the puzzle had all come together.
On this night of nights, James realized that he had come face to face with his very own guardian angel.
When Gaira asked him later what had become of Rafe, James simply told her that the man had to leave.
Perhaps there were some miracles better kept to himself.
Part Seven
JAMES AND GAIRA
Year of Our Lord 1747
The month of April
James’ face was buried in Gaira’s neck, smelling the sweet musky scent that had the ability to arouse him like nothing else. He could feel her soft breasts against his bare chest, experiencing the sensual movement every time he thrust into her.
Gaira’s legs were wrapped around his hips but he unwrapped them, holding them behind the knees, giving him more freedom of movement as he continued to thrust into her sweet and yielding body.
His wife.
Gaira had her hands on his lower back, stroking it, stroking his smooth buttocks as he made love to her. She loved it when he slowed his pace, withdrawing completely only to plunge into her again, slowly. Her hands drifted between their bodies, putting her fingers on his phallus as he joined his body with hers. Nothing seemed to fuel James’ desire than her fingers on his manhood.
His climax was instantaneous.
It was the second time that morning he’d taken her, as he’d taken her every single night since the day he’d married her two months earlier. At the Old High Church in Inverness, Reverend Essich had performed the ceremony joining Gaira Dunmore, former heiress to the Earldom of Forth, to James de Lohr, Earl of Worcester. Carrie had been in attendance along with Gaira’s mother, who sobbed loudly through the entire thing. When all was said and done, Lord and Lady Worcester signed the parish registrar’s book as man and wife.
Much had gone on in the past four months in preparation for returning Johnathan de Lohr to Lioncross Abbey, home of generations of de Lohrs. James had rented a little cottage in Inverness, right on the River Ness, a place for him and his wife to stay while he made the necessary arrangements.
Gaira’s mother, Helen, chose to return to Calvine after their marriage, to the home she had shared with her husband for many years, leaving her daughter to start her new life as the Countess of Worcester. Gaira and James quickly integrated into the Inverness community, with Gaira becoming popular with the locals. She was bright, educated, and entertained an excellent crowd, and the women of the village tittered over her handsome husband.
Truth be told, so did Gaira.
It was the life she never thought she would have.
But, God, did she love it.
This morning, however, would prove to be their last morning in Inverness, as preparations for digging up Johnathan’s grave were coming to a head. In months past, a beautiful coffin had been built of Scots pine, heavy and well-made as befitting the former Earl of Worcester. The man who made it was also the wheelwright in the village, and his skill had been beyond compare. He’d carved beautiful lines into the coffin and, at the strange request of the current Earl of Worcester, managed to carve some worms up near the head of the coffin.
He was being well paid, so he didn’
t ask questions.
But to James, those worms meant everything.
Now, the lined coffin was waiting for its occupant and arrangements had been made to begin the digging at sunrise. Spring had come early this year and the ground was already softened enough to dig. As James lay next to his naked wife, his arms wrapped around her, he could see that it was about sunrise now. Face in the side of her head, he groaned softly.
“T-They will be waiting for me,” he mumbled. “I-I cannot keep my brother waiting.”
Gaira yawned. “Do ye want me tae go with ye?”
James opened his eyes, thinking on what this day would bring. “I-I would like you to,” he said softly. “T-This is why we came to Inverness in the first place. Let us greet Johnathan together. I can tell him of our marriage.”
It was a very big day in their lives, one that Gaira knew her husband was both looking forward to and dreading. She smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
“Would he approve of ye marrying a serving wench, then?”
James chuckled. “S-She’s not a serving wench,” he said, lightly slapping her bare buttocks. “S-She’s a countess. A veritable goddess. Aye, he would approve.”
Gaira laughed softly, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly. She kissed him gently with her soft lips, feeling him grow amorous in an instant, ready to take her again. But there wasn’t time and she pushed him away.
“Get up, my bonny lad,” she said, sitting up with the coverlet held to her naked breasts. “Today is a big day and ye mustna be late.”
With a heavy sigh, James sat up beside her. There was something in his manner that suggested he was becoming moody towards what he was about to face and Gaira looked at him with sympathy.
“It will be all right,” she said softly. “Dunna fret over what ye must do. It has tae be done.”
He nodded faintly. “I-I know,” he said, sounding resigned. “T-This is the day I have waited for, yet there is something about it that is inherently sad. I am going to see my brother today.”
“I know.”
“I-It will be his body, in whatever state it is in.”
“And ye dunna feel ready for it?”
He shrugged. “G-God knows, I should be,” he said. “S-Since it has been so cold, he should be well preserved and I have been prepared for this moment ever since we were told of his death, but still… seeing him will make all of this a reality. My brother is truly dead.”
Gaira smiled sadly at him putting a gentle hand on his cheek. “He is,” she said with quiet finality. “But he met his death well. Ye know he did. It’s time tae bring him home.”
James held her hand against his face, turning to kiss the palm. “A-And I shall,” he said. But then, he grew quiet. “I-I have been thinking of something else.”
“What of?”
“F-From his last letter to me,” he said. “J-Johnny asked that I leave something of him behind to watch over the brave men who would never make it home. He wanted to ensure they were protected. I have been thinking long and hard about that request.”
“And?”
He lifted his left hand, the one with the de Lohr signet ring on it. He gazed at the heirloom for a long, intense moment.
“C-Carrie told me that when she went through the things that were brought to her, she removed any valuables away for safe keeping,” he said. “Y-You said the same thing.”
Gaira leaned against him, looking at the ring as well. “In her Chamber of Sorrows,” she said. “She has hole in the floor where she keeps a box of the valuable things she has found.”
“W-What is in there?”
Gaira reflected on the small, square wooden box shoved into its little niche in the floor.
“Gold,” she said. “Gold coinage and other valuables. It seems strange that men would carry such precious things to a battlefield, but they did. There are gems in the box, rings and the like. Why do ye ask?”
James held up the ring, inspecting it in the weak light.
“B-Because I am going to leave this in the box, too.”
Gaira’s eyes widened when she realized what he meant. “The signet ring?” she gasped. “But… why? Ye came all the way tae Scotland for the thing. It belongs tae ye. Why would ye leave it behind?”
James was studying the ruby eyes, the golden lion face. “I-I am not sure I can explain, but I will try,” he said. “J-Johnny was wearing this when he died trying to save men. Everything inside me tells me that I have no right to take it away from this place. He asked me to leave something of him behind to watch over the brave dead, and it seems to me that this ring is the most logical thing to leave behind. The power of the de Lohr crest can watch over those men who fought, and died, by Johnny’s command. Does that make sense? I feel as if, by all rights, the ring should remain here with those who died for it. For Johnny. I have no right to take it away from them.”
There was that tender soul again, the one Gaira loved so well. Perhaps she didn’t exactly understand it all but, then again, men in battle shared a special bond. Brothers shared a special bond. Clearly, this meant a great deal to James and she knew he hadn’t made the decision lightly.
Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek.
“If that’s what ye want tae do, then do it,” she said. “At least ye’ll know where it is, for always. It willna be lost, but simply standing watch over the dead of Culloden in Carrie’s chamber.”
“E-Exactly,” he said, looking at her. “I-I knew you would understand. One of the many things I love about you. And who knows? Maybe one day, a de Lohr will wear the ring again. But for now, it belongs to Johnny and that room full of ghosts. That is where it shall stay.”
“And ye feel confident with that decision?”
“I-I do. More than anything.”
Gaira kissed him again and, for a moment, they smiled at one another, feeling the warmth and love between them that was stronger than anything on earth.
Stronger than death.
Stronger than a ring.
In the days to come, the de Lohr signet ring found a home in a dingy little box buried in the floor of Carrie’s Chamber of Sorrows. Exactly thirty-one days later, Johnathan de Lohr was laid to rest in Lioncross Abbey’s great chapel, taking his rightful place among his ancestors as his brother, his brother’s wife, his mother, and several de Lohr relatives witnessed the interment.
But not before a letter from James was packed against Johnathan’s stilled heart before they closed the lid forever.
A letter from one brother to another.
My Dearest Johnny –
And so, our letter writing campaign comes to an end.
From your petulant, ridiculous younger brother, you have my deepest thanks for the path my life has taken. It seems odd to say such a thing, but in your death, I found my life and my purpose. I pray that I can live up to your example, for it is one I shall always worship.
What I should have told you in life, I will tell you in death. If you do not wait for me in heaven, I shall be very angry, for it will be my greatest honor to tell you how much I love you the moment I see you again. How much I have always loved you, my brother. I am sorry I wished worms in your eyeballs. I did not mean it.
Much.
Until we meet again,
James
* THE END *
About Kathryn Le Veque
KATHRYN LE VEQUE is a USA TODAY Bestselling author, an Amazon All-Star author, and a #1 bestselling, award-winning, multi-published author in Medieval Historical Romance and Historical Fiction. She has been featured in the NEW YORK TIMES and on USA TODAY’s HEA blog.
Kathryn’s Medieval Romance novels have been called “detailed”, “highly romantic”, and “character-rich”. She crafts great adventures of love, battles, passion, and romance in the High Middle Ages. More than that, she writes for both women AND men – an unusual crossover for a romance author – and Kathryn has many male readers who enjoy her stories because of the male perspective, the action, the
passion, and the adventure.
Kathryn loves to hear from her readers. Please find Kathryn on Facebook at Kathryn Le Veque, Author, or join her on Twitter @kathrynleveque, and don’t forget to visit her website and sign up for her blog at www.kathrynleveque.com.
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To read the de Lohr Dynasty series, find it here!
The Earl of Christmas Past
By Kerrigan Byrne
Part of A Very Highland Holiday Collection
Part Two of The Brothers de Lohr
© Copyright 2020 by Kerrigan Byrne
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The Earl of Christmas Past
A solstice blizzard drives Victorian photographer, Vanessa Latimer, to a crowded Highland Inn where the only available room is haunted by the ghost of a fallen warrior unwilling to give up his side of the bed.
Chapter One
Calvine Village, Highlands, Scotland – 1891
Winter Solstice
Fate had been Vanessa Latimer’s foe since she could remember.
She was the most unlucky, ungainly person of her acquaintance, and had resigned herself to an early death. However, she always imagined said death would be glorious, as well.
Or at least memorable.
Something like tripping and accidentally sacrificing herself to a volcano in the Pacific Islands. Or perhaps becoming the unfortunate snack of a Nile crocodile or a tiger in Calcutta.
A Very Highland Holiday Page 7