A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,125

like to help your brother if I can. I’ve helped other Jacobites from Culloden.”

“How?” Mr. Kerr asked what Elspeth wanted to know too.

“I hide them—sometimes far away. We change their names and sometimes their appearances, as much as we can.”

Mr. Kerr looked at Tavish intently. “How far away?”

“I’ve helped several sail to the American colonies.”

How had he done that? Had they signed a contract to work for a number of years in exchange for the transport?

Mr. Kerr’s eyes widened. “Do they sign indentures?”

“No.” The single word carried a weight that snaked up Elspeth’s spine.

“I’ve considered doing that,” Mr. Kerr admitted before taking a drink of ale.

Elspeth’s chest ached. She supposed it was an opportunity for some who were looking to change their fortune.

“How do ye help them get ta America, then?” Mr. Kerr asked.

“I have…contacts,” Tavish answered rather enigmatically. Elspeth added that question to the several bouncing around in her head that she intended to ask him when they left. “Do you know where your brother is? I could help him.”

Mr. Kerr cupped his hands around his ale and looked down. “I dinna ken. He was here with me for a fortnight, until he felt strong enough to leave. Soldiers were looking for those who had fought. He didna want ta be caught here with me.” Mr. Kerr lifted his gaze, and it was filled with stark pain. “I didna fight, because I was a coward. My brother is younger, taller, stronger. I have no skills useful in battle. Still, I should have gone.” His head dropped as he fixed on the table once more.

Elspeth reached over and touched his 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