forearm. “Not everyone is a soldier.”
“No, but I could have done something else. I could have helped tend ta the wounded, perhaps.”
“Miss Marshall is right,” Tavish said quietly. “Not everyone can—or should—be a soldier. Do you have any idea where your brother might have gone? Family, a friend, something else?”
Mr. Kerr lifted his gaze. “Ye really do just want to help him? Ye aren’t an English soldier in disguise?”
“I am not,” Tavish assured him.
“I heard ye were talking to those soldiers last night,” Mr. Kerr said, his gaze narrowing.
Tavish didn’t look at all bothered by Mr. Kerr’s doubt. “I was, but only to ascertain their movements. They are on leave and going back to England. They were not looking for difficulty—or lost Jacobites.” He leaned slightly forward. “I promise you can trust me, Mr. Kerr. I was at Culloden too. I have the scars to prove it.”
He did? Elspeth turned her head to stare at him, wondering—rather inappropriately—where those scars were.
“Ye seem like a kind man, Mr. MacLean.”
“I try to be, Mr. Kerr. If you can think of anything that might help me find your brother, it would be my honor to see him safe. He can come with me to Glasgow. I’ve had success finding work for a few men there.”
“We dinna have any other family, and our friends are here. I think I’d ken if he were in Calvine.”
Tavish smiled with understanding. “Probably. It’s a rather small village. I’ll be at the inn for at least one more night should you think of something.” He looked toward Elspeth and almost imperceptibly inclined his head toward the door.
Elspeth took another drink of ale. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Kerr. If I do write about the flaming sword, I’ll be sure to keep your and your brother’s name out of the story.”
“I’d appreciate that, miss, thank ye.” Mr. Kerr got to his feet.
Tavish stood and offered her his hand. Elspeth ignored his gesture and rose unaided. She smiled warmly at Mr. Kerr, who went to fetch her cloak. She walked to the door, where he draped it about her shoulders.
Elspeth fastened the clasp at her throat, then walked outside. She did not wait for Tavish, but strode to the lane, where she turned toward the inn.
Tavish caught up to her on her left. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming here.”
“You already said that. You really came here because you thought you could help Mr. Kerr’s brother?”
“I did.”
She kept walking, her pace increasing. “Except Mr. Kerr exposed your other purpose—the sword.” She stopped abruptly and turned to glare at him. “You know I wanted to learn more about the sword.”
“Yes.” His tone was annoyingly calm. “I would have shared what I learned with you.”
Elspeth looked up into his eyes. “Would you? I would like to believe that, but so far, you’ve given me little reason to trust you. Change my mind, or our acquaintance ends right now.”
Chapter Four
Miss Marshall’s dark green eyes gleamed with indignation. Tavish was captivated.
“You’re quite beautiful when you’re angry.”
Her lips parted, and Tavish fell even more under her spell. Then she grunted and turned.
He clasped her arm and shook himself out of his idiocy. “My apologies. I’m not at all used to feeling…drawn to someone.” He didn’t know how else to describe it. No one had ever gotten under his skin the way Miss Marshall had.
“Will you let me explain?”
She pulled her arm from his grasp and pivoted to face him once more. “I told you to change my mind. Do it quickly.”
“The flaming sword—Lann Dhearg—is a dark tool. There’s a reason it was hidden while its twin, Dryrnwyn, was not. Dyrnwyn flames for the worthy. Lann Dhearg feeds on fear and strife. Anyone can wield it in the presence of hatred, of darkness, of despair.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “How do you know all this?”
He exhaled. It was time—past time—to tell her the truth. “Because it belongs to me.”
She gasped, her eyes widening.
He offered her his arm. “Let us walk, please.”
She curled her hand around his sleeve, and they made their way along the slushy ground. The snow had melted somewhat, but the clouds had also thickened once more, indicating it might snow again.
“It belongs to you?”
“I should probably tell you the one name I haven’t yet revealed.” He tensed. “I am the Lord Strathclyde.”
She stopped once more and tried to take her hand from his arm, but he covered it with his and held her fast. “Strathclyde?!”
“Stay with me, please.” He kept