Instinctively he closed his hand over hers, stopping her. She held still, waited, but didn’t let go.
“It’s—” How could he explain it? He’d never shown it to anyone. “It was a gift,” he said. She remained silent, left space for him to fill if he wished to. He had not spoken to anyone about his past in six years, had hoarded it, kept it to himself. He wondered if he was ready to speak now, to Gillian, in the dark, to bare his soul and show her the scars, the sins, the mistakes he’d made.
He let go, let her hold the pouch in her hand. The contents crackled as she squeezed it. “Don’t open it.” It came out as an order, raw and stark.
“Tell me,” she said softly, an encouragement, permission.
“It’s an ugly tale.”
“Do you think I’m not strong enough to hear it?”
He would like to have read her meaning in her eyes—or to see the strength in her gaze, but he knew it was there. Still, he wondered if she would condemn him, damn him, once she knew the tale.
“It’s a medicine bag,” he said. “The natives of the New World hold them sacred as part of themselves and their culture. Each person has one, wears it close to their body.”
“What’s inside?”
He considered the contents, felt bitterness fill his mouth.An arrowhead stained with blood, a lock of hair, a ring . . .“Many things,” he said aloud. “River stones, a feather. Once there were herbs as well, but they’ve likely dried to dust by now.”
“For healing?” she asked.
“Aye.” He lay on his back, stared up at the boughs above him, invisible in the dark. She lay on her side, facing him, the light froth of her skirts covering them both, an inadequate blanket, but an intimate connection. “It was my brother’s medicine bag, a gift from the daughter of a Cree chief.” He turned his head toward her. “She was as brave and beautiful as you are. She was my brother’s wife.”
“Is he there still?” she asked without scorn or shock.
“He’s dead. Killed in a raid.”
She touched his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“He was never supposed to be there at all. I was the one—” He swallowed. “I was the one who was sent away, the family disgrace, the thorn in my father’s side, the son who could do nothing right in his eyes. I gambled, and I liked women and trouble. He wanted me gone, and the Company of Adventurers was looking for men to work in the fur trade, to explore, trap, and trade with the native tribes. It was a chance to make my fortune, to pay back the debts I owed my father—gaming debts, mostly. He cut off my quarterly allowance, and I was left with no choice. Daniel was my father’s heir, the golden child. He fought with my father, told him if I was sent away, then he’d go as well. Daniel wasn’t like me. He was quiet, clever, and kind. I don’t suppose my father believed he’d do it, but he did.” John shut his eyes, saw his brother’s laughing face again, the way it had been at the start of the adventure, healthy and eager. They’d left together, eluded the Clive men their father has sent in pursuit of his heir, and sailed away.
“We thought it would be a grand thing, that we’d be fur barons on a new frontier. Daniel knew he’d eventually have to return to England, take up his place as my father’s heir, become Earl of Clive in his turn. He left behind a woman he’d been betrothed to since childhood, the daughter of a friend of my father’s, a neighbor. She was like a sister to both of us.”
“What was it like in the New World?” Gillian asked.
“The voyage took weeks, and Daniel was sick the whole way. He walked off the ship at the outpost at York Factory as gaunt as a skeleton, and I teased him that he looked like a dead man who hadn’t the sense to lie down and let us bury him.” He ran his hand over his face, wishing yet again that he could call back that jest.
He saw in his mind the broad stretches of endless woodland, the vast lakes, wild rivers, and wide skies. “The sky was so blue in summer. I’d never seen such a color before. Yet the sky in Scotland is just as beautiful. I think that’s why I stayed when I came home with Dair. The distances in the New World are much greater than anything here. A man could ride for days, weeks, months, and see nothing but trees. But it wasn’t lonely.
“We were there for only a year. We spent the summer on the river, traveling into the heart of a new continent, mapping, exploring, living off the land. We had native guides who taught us how to survive, how to trade, how to speak their language. I spoke French as well, could speak to the French traders. I was useful, and I was happy. In the fall, I returned to the fort and spent the winter there, and the trappers brought us pelts to tally and prepare for shipment back to England. Daniel chose to spend that winter in a Cree village to learn the language, and I didn’t see him again until spring. By then, the ships rode low in the water with so much cargo, a king’s ransom in furs.
“When Daniel returned to the fort in the spring, he brought a young woman named Hurit, a Cree lass he’d taken as his wife. He was in love. He was supposed to be the one who sailed home that spring, leaving me there. He asked me to take his place because he’d decided to stay, make his home there permanently. I’d see him in the fall when I returned. He gave me a letter to take home to my father, renouncing his claim on the earldom, asking my father to declare him dead, make me his heir instead. He said he’d never wanted to be earl. He wanted—” He swallowed. “He wanted what he’d found in the wilderness there. I told him I didn’t want the title, but he pressed the letter into my hand. I agreed to take his place on the sailing, but I refused to visit my father, be the one to tell him.”
John felt his body tense at the memories, his brother’s face, his native clothing, the feathers in his blond hair, the tattoo on his chest which meant he’d seen battle with the Cree, had fought. Hurit was beautiful, the love between them clear. Grief rose, and John fell silent, fighting it.
Gillian’s hand found his in the dark where it lay on his breast, above his heart. She slid her cool fingers into his, and he gripped her hand. “What happened?” she asked.
“Hurit wanted to see the ship, so she and Daniel accompanied me out on the launch so she could go aboard for a few hours before we sailed.” He shut his eyes.
“A band of Iroquois attacked the fort, wanting to steal the furs. They were fast, dangerous, and well supplied with French guns. They came out of the mist on the bay. We didn’t see them until it was too late.
“Daniel tried to force the men in the launch to turn around, go back to shore, but the warehouse was already in flames, and there were screams and shots . . . They would have listened to a viscount, the heir to an earldom, but not to a man with feathers in his hair, and a native wife. They ignored him, rowed hard for the ships, thinking it would be safer there.
“Daniel stood up, tried to order them back. An arrow hit him.”
Gillian’s fingers tensed in his. “There was so much blood. Hurit tried to stop it, using her hands She was screaming. The sailors were afraid her cries would attract the raiders. One of them hit her with an oar and broke her neck. Daniel saw it happen.” He heard Gillian’s soft gasp.
“When we got to the ship, I carried Daniel aboard, and the ship’s surgeon refused to tend a native. I forced him to, told him I was the viscount, Clive’s heir, used my father’s name to make him do it.
