Whence Came a Prince (57 page)

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.”

Y
ou 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?”

L
eana 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.

“Speak to me, Leana.” His voice, his gaze, demanded obedience. “Though I ken you are not the one who stole your father’s gold.”

“I just learned the truth tonight,” she began, then realized she was protecting herself. And incriminating Rose. “But I’ve suspected … that is, I’ve known … for the last few days …”

“And said nothing to me.”

“Jamie, it wasn’t my place.”

“Your
place?
” He threw his arms in the air, clearly exasperated. “You are the mother of my son and the sister of my wife. I trust you with everything that matters to me.”

Everything that matters.
Leana feared she was no longer included on that list.

His low voice bore a note of anger. “If you suspected … nae, if you even
imagined
for one moment that Rose had done such a preposterous thing, you should have come to me.” Jamie snatched the coins off the floor, crushing the bag in his fist. “You heard the vow I made to your father. If Lachlan had found this gold … if he had … if he …”

With an anguished cry, Jamie threw the bag of coins against the dresser, bursting the seams of the cotton. Gold and silver went everywhere.

“Jamie, please!” Leana flew to Rose’s side. Her sister was weeping,
her face turned to the wall. “Have you forgotten that your wife is not well? Rose did not know that Father would follow us. Or that you would make such a … rash vow.”

“Rash?” Jamie groaned, lowering himself onto the edge of her bed. “But I was certain … so very certain …” His voice, taut with pain, finally broke. “
Why
, Rose?”

She struggled to lift her head from the sheet. “I wanted to … hurt my father. For what he did to you. And to me. And to my sister. I did not think … I did not …
think
.” Rose collapsed into sobs, her back rising and falling beneath Leana’s gentle stroking.

Leana took a breath to steady her nerves.
Please, Father. Help him see the truth.
Leaning forward, she lightly rested her hand on Jamie’s shoulder, praying he would not shrug it off or reject the plea she was about to make.

“Jamie, your …” She faltered, then began again. “Your brother willingly forgave you, even though you once stole something of great value to him. Might you extend mercy to my sister … for the same sin?”

Beneath her hands, Jamie and Rose both stilled. Leana held her breath, listening for a different sound. Not the crash of coins, but the sound of grace.

Rose’s voice, scant more than a whisper. “Please … forgive me.”

Jamie reached toward her. “Only if you will forgive my anger. I did not mean … I did not … Oh, my love.” He moaned, almost a keening.

A half turn, and Rose was in his arms.

Leana inched along the edge of the bed, giving them room, even as her heart burst its dam. Pain, relief, sorrow, joy poured through her soul like water. Drowning her. She loved them both. She did. But to see them like this … their hearts joined as one. It was too hard. It hurt too much.

“Please …” Leana stifled the word with her hands.

Neither of them looked up.

She slipped out of the room unnoticed and fled down the stair, one thought on her mind.
Ian.
The Lord had taken Jamie from her arms, but he had given her a son. And one day, a daughter.
More than enough, Lord. More than enough.

She knocked on the maidservants’ door, ashamed of her tears, mortified by her need.

Eliza opened the door and ushered her in at once. She asked no questions nor needed direction. “Ian?” The maid lifted him from his crib, which took up half the tiny room. “Leuk wha’s hastened doon the stair tae see her boy. Guid ye’re still awake, eh?” Eliza poured him into his mother’s arms, his body warm and languid, his head nuzzling beneath her chin as Leana drew her son to her heart.

One embrace, and she was healed.

All the broken places were mended. All the empty corners were filled.

Leana offered her thanks, then stepped into the hall, so glad to have Ian she did not care if she had nowhere to go. It was a mild night. Perhaps she might step out of doors and drink in the freshening air.

She would remain near the inn rather than have the elders of the parish find her wandering the streets of the village. Monnigaff was her home parish now. It would not do to begin on the wrong foot. She had the testimonial letter from Reverend Gordon in her reticule and would take it to services in the morn, where she would meet Jamie’s parents and the Glentrool household.

“I am Ian McKie’s mother,” she would say when asked. A sufficient depiction of her role. A worthy title.
The future heir of Glentrool.
She would not say those words, but they did comfort her. To raise so blessed a child, was that not honor enough?