Auchengray’s door. His future with Rose hinged on the letter’s contents.
Late afternoon sunlight cast a warm glow across their bedroom. Rose stood on tiptoe, her hands clasped before her, as if she were prepared to fly down the stair. “Now that word from Glentrool has finally come, we are free to make our announcement, aye?” She pressed her palms below her waist, spreading her fingers across her blue linen gown. “I fear if we don’t inform the household, our
bairn
will soon do so for us.”
Jamie acknowledged her words with a slight nod. Though Rose’s figure had yet to change, there were more subtle indicators. An ever-present blush on her soft cheek. An untouched cup of porridge each morning. A nap each afternoon. He knew the signs well. Last summer he’d watched her sister blossom with child: Leana, the woman he’d loved too late. This summer it was Rose’s turn to bloom: Rose, the woman he’d married too soon.
The twittering song of a linnet distracted Jamie for a moment, drawing his gaze to the open bedroom window. Summer was nigh upon them, and still they’d not departed for Glentrool as he’d planned. Every delay only sharpened his desire to return home and claim his inheritance. No matter what news the post might bring, their future lay to the west.
“Please, Jamie.” Rose captured his attention once more. “Open the letter, for I cannot bear another minute.”
Jamie unfolded his mother’s post, the creamy paper stiff beneath histhumbs, and put aside the stack of guinea notes she’d enclosed. Funds for their journey, no doubt. Her elaborate handwriting and the word
Glentrool
inked across the top of the page stirred his memories of home. The distant hills and glens would be at their greenest, a lush pasture for his father’s flocks. “Haste ye back,” Alec McKie would say. Surely the time had come.
Rose hovered beside him, a hint of meadowsweet on her breath. “Written a week ago, I see. Read it to me, Jamie,” she asked, and so he obliged her.
To James Lachlan McKie
Monday, 17 May 1790
My dearest son,
I pray this letter finds you enjoying good health and fair weather. Though our ewes did not all bear twins, as yours did, we had a fine lambing season. Henry Stewart is eager to see what you will do with our flocks for the autumn breeding.
Jamie’s chest swelled at the thought of a seasoned shepherd like Stew welcoming his help come October. He read on, certain good news would follow.
I know you have waited patiently for your father’s invitation to return home. When we sent you east to Auchengray to seek a wife two autumns ago, neither of us imagined so lengthy a visit. Now we must ask that you tarry at Auchengray a bit longer…
Rose groaned even before he’d finished the words. “Whatever is the matter this time? Will Evan ne’er make his way to Wigtownshire?”
Jamie shook his head, too frustrated to speak. Throughout the winter months his mother’s letters had assured him that Evan, his hotheaded twin brother, would move south come spring, paving the way for a safe return. Now another delay loomed before them. As usual his mother offered little explanation.
“Wait until Lammas.” He jabbed at the words as if to banish them from sight. Lammas, a Quarter Day, fell on the first of August. “Another
two months
hence!” He strode toward the window, tossing the letter onto the bedside table. How dare the woman ask him to wait any longer?
Rowena McKie had once dared to ask a great deal more.
Just do what I say, Jamie.
At his mother’s bidding, he’d done an unspeakably foul deed, then had run for his life. Her letter was curiously silent on that subject. Had his father not truly forgiven him? Or was Evan sharpening his dirk, still threatening revenge?
Rose trailed after him, her skirts whispering across the wooden floor. “Can naught be done to change her mind?”
Jamie stared at the farm steading below, his eyes unfocused and his temper barely in check. “You do
Late afternoon sunlight cast a warm glow across their bedroom. Rose stood on tiptoe, her hands clasped before her, as if she were prepared to fly down the stair. “Now that word from Glentrool has finally come, we are free to make our announcement, aye?” She pressed her palms below her waist, spreading her fingers across her blue linen gown. “I fear if we don’t inform the household, our
bairn
will soon do so for us.”
Jamie acknowledged her words with a slight nod. Though Rose’s figure had yet to change, there were more subtle indicators. An ever-present blush on her soft cheek. An untouched cup of porridge each morning. A nap each afternoon. He knew the signs well. Last summer he’d watched her sister blossom with child: Leana, the woman he’d loved too late. This summer it was Rose’s turn to bloom: Rose, the woman he’d married too soon.
The twittering song of a linnet distracted Jamie for a moment, drawing his gaze to the open bedroom window. Summer was nigh upon them, and still they’d not departed for Glentrool as he’d planned. Every delay only sharpened his desire to return home and claim his inheritance. No matter what news the post might bring, their future lay to the west.
“Please, Jamie.” Rose captured his attention once more. “Open the letter, for I cannot bear another minute.”
Jamie unfolded his mother’s post, the creamy paper stiff beneath histhumbs, and put aside the stack of guinea notes she’d enclosed. Funds for their journey, no doubt. Her elaborate handwriting and the word
Glentrool
inked across the top of the page stirred his memories of home. The distant hills and glens would be at their greenest, a lush pasture for his father’s flocks. “Haste ye back,” Alec McKie would say. Surely the time had come.
Rose hovered beside him, a hint of meadowsweet on her breath. “Written a week ago, I see. Read it to me, Jamie,” she asked, and so he obliged her.
To James Lachlan McKie
Monday, 17 May 1790
My dearest son,
I pray this letter finds you enjoying good health and fair weather. Though our ewes did not all bear twins, as yours did, we had a fine lambing season. Henry Stewart is eager to see what you will do with our flocks for the autumn breeding.
Jamie’s chest swelled at the thought of a seasoned shepherd like Stew welcoming his help come October. He read on, certain good news would follow.
I know you have waited patiently for your father’s invitation to return home. When we sent you east to Auchengray to seek a wife two autumns ago, neither of us imagined so lengthy a visit. Now we must ask that you tarry at Auchengray a bit longer…
Rose groaned even before he’d finished the words. “Whatever is the matter this time? Will Evan ne’er make his way to Wigtownshire?”
Jamie shook his head, too frustrated to speak. Throughout the winter months his mother’s letters had assured him that Evan, his hotheaded twin brother, would move south come spring, paving the way for a safe return. Now another delay loomed before them. As usual his mother offered little explanation.
“Wait until Lammas.” He jabbed at the words as if to banish them from sight. Lammas, a Quarter Day, fell on the first of August. “Another
two months
hence!” He strode toward the window, tossing the letter onto the bedside table. How dare the woman ask him to wait any longer?
Rowena McKie had once dared to ask a great deal more.
Just do what I say, Jamie.
At his mother’s bidding, he’d done an unspeakably foul deed, then had run for his life. Her letter was curiously silent on that subject. Had his father not truly forgiven him? Or was Evan sharpening his dirk, still threatening revenge?
Rose trailed after him, her skirts whispering across the wooden floor. “Can naught be done to change her mind?”
Jamie stared at the farm steading below, his eyes unfocused and his temper barely in check. “You do
Similar Books
The Back Building
Julie Dewey
A Shadow Bright and Burning
Jessica Cluess
Surrounded by Pleasure
Mandy Harbin
Sergeant Nelson of the Guards
Gerald Kersh
And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2)
Martha Shields
Until Alex
J. Nathan
When To Let Go
J.M. Sevilla
The Ghost Sonata
JENNIFER ALLISON
The Widow Waltz
Sally Koslow