A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,114
fight,” the blond man said, his eyes wide and fixed on the soldiers.
“See?” Williams said. “Let us all return to our ale.”
Ale? Elspeth wanted to hear about the flaming sword. No, she wanted to interrogate Mr. Williams as to why he’d never returned to Dunkeld. She’d thought the kisses they’d shared meant something.
She covertly watched him as he sat back down in the corner. He didn’t pull the hood back up over his head. His gaze swept the room and didn’t even pause on Elspeth. There was no look of recognition, no hesitation, nothing.
Elspeth sucked in a breath and stirred sugar into her tea before taking a sip. She glowered at the liquid before setting the cup back onto the saucer.
“Is something amiss, Elspeth?” Aunt Leah asked.
“The man in the corner is Mr. Williams,” she said quietly with barely contained anger—and hurt.
Aunt Leah’s gaze strayed toward him before snapping back to Elspeth. “That Mr. Williams?”
Elspeth had told her aunt about him, in part because Aunt Leah kept questioning when Elspeth might consider marriage. It wasn’t that Elspeth wasn’t considering that she should wed, it was that she fancied she’d already met the man she wanted to. Which was foolish since they’d spent only a matter of hours in each other’s company. It hadn’t felt foolish, however. Not until today.
Clearly, she was the only one who’d been affected by their time together. He didn’t even appear to remember her.
“Yes, him,” Elspeth said tightly. She sat up straighter and took a deep breath. “Ignore him. I shall. I have much more important things to attend to.”
Aunt Leah arched a dark brow. “Such as?” She shot another glance toward Williams in the corner.
“Such as learning everything I can about this flaming sword that was seen at Culloden.”
“You don’t think it’s real?” Aunt Leah’s blue eyes narrowed slightly as her brow creased with confusion. “I know you like stories, but it’s absurd.”
“No, I don’t think it’s real.” Probably. “But it’s reminiscent of one of the Thirteen Treasures of Britain.” Which were also likely not real. This flaming sword sounded like the one Roy Williams had told her about—Lann Dhearg. What did he think of these stories and rumors flying around the common room? “You know I can’t turn my back on a story. It doesn’t have to be true.”
Aunt Leah smiled warmly. “Sounds like you have work to do.” She glanced around. “Should we invite someone to join us?”
“Perhaps. But first…” Elspeth turned to the two men seated at the table next to theirs. “Excuse me, might I trouble you to tell me what you specifically heard about this flaming sword at Culloden? I record oral stories, and this sounds like an amazing tale.”
The blond man eyed the soldiers apprehensively, then scooted his chair closer to Elspeth’s. “My cousin was there. He told me all about it. Ye want to write it down?”
“I would. What can you tell me? Starting with your name, so I can give you credit for the information.”
The man flicked another guarded glance toward the soldiers. He spoke in a low voice. “I don’t think I want to give ye my name. But ye could just call me…George.” That he used the name of the king wasn’t lost on Elspeth. “My cousin fought for the Jacobites. He was injured in the battle, but he saw a man wielding a sword that lit with an orange flame.”
Elspeth leaned toward the man. “Was it a fellow Jacobite?” She understood their cause and felt sorry for their devastating loss, but her father had been careful not to align himself with them. Even so, he’d helped more than a few wounded Jacobites as they’d passed through Dunkeld—secretly, of course.
George sent another furtive look toward the soldiers. “Yes.” The word was barely audible.
A Jacobite had wielded Lann Dhearg. Elspeth couldn’t help but look briefly toward Williams. “Do you know what happened to the man with the sword?”
He shook his head. “As far as I know, no one has seen it since the battle.”
It would be easy to think George’s cousin had seen something that wasn’t real in the heat of battle. But that other man’s brother had seen it too. Elspeth looked toward the table where the other pair of men had been sitting, but they were gone. Had they left?
She frowned, wishing she’d had the chance to talk to the brother. As it was, this was barely a story. That didn’t mean she couldn’t investigate further.