She came closer and glanced down at the letter. "I dinna have difficulty reading that."
"That's my handwriting. I am writing a letter to my banker in Edinburgh. I'm authorizing the draft for two horses I'm buying."
"Oh, who are they for?"
"One is for Sophie."
"And the other one?"
"I couldn't give Sophie a new horse without giving one to you, now could I?"
"Oh, Jamie. Thank you," she said, and for the second time that day, she planted a kiss on her brother's cheek.
"I will ask you not to tell Sophie."
Arabella smiled and sat down near his desk. "Of course not."
"So, tell me, are you here for a purpose, or simply stopping by on your way elsewhere?"
"Actually, I did not come here purposefully. I happened to hear your rampage as I passed by, so I thought I would see if there was anything I could do to make your day more pleasant."
"You have already done that by coming in here."
"I know this is a change of subject, but do you think Sophie likes us?''
He was surprised by her question, and it required him to think a moment about his answer. ' 'Well, I suppose she likes us well enough. Why do you ask?"
"Because I like her so very much, and I am so very happy to have another female my own age around here. I very much want her to stay. Do you think she will?"
"Until she regains her memory she isn't going anywhere."
Arabella expelled a slow breath of relief and smiled. "I am glad I asked you. I feel much better now."
"If it's that big a relief, I am glad you did, too. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"
She picked up the silver letter opener and twirled it in her hands. "No."
Jamie nodded and went back to his letter.
Arabella leaned back in the chair and let her gaze travel around the room. She loved Jamie's study with its rich wood paneling, the leather chairs and the books that lined the walls. She remembered with fondness how often she hid under his desk when she was a child and Fenella ^•as looking for her. The rich leather smells in the room comforted her still.
She continued her visual inspection of the room until she paused to linger upon a small oil painting, and wondered why it never caught her attention before now.
"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, and leaped to her feet.
Jamie put his pen down. "Arabella, what are you about?"
"That's the same painting Sophie had in her trunk." She stepped closer to examine it in detail. The shared characteristics, the uncanny resemblance was remarkable, but each was slightly different from the other. A subtle difference in the color of a coat, the detail of the face—and she was able to distinguish that they were two different portraits.
By this time Jamie had come to stand beside her. He studied the painting. "If she had a painting of King James in her trunk, then it could mean that she is a supporter of Bonnie Prince Charlie and sympathetic to the Jacobean cause."
Arabella felt wretched for she heard the excitement, and the hope, in Jamie's voice, and she knew he saw this as a link, and a way that might lead them to knowing who Sophie was.
"I am sorry, Jamie. I made a mistake. Although the two paintings are remarkably similar, with many qualities in common, they are not the same." She sighed. "Like you, I was so in hopes that it would be a clue."
"Tell me about the painting in the trunk."
Arabella went on to relate to Jamie how she had found the miniature, unable to remember a time when her brother had seemed as interested in anything she had to say as he was now.
"You are certain she showed no sign of recognition when she saw it?" he asked.
"She did not seem to, but sometimes it is difficult to judge her reactions."
Jamie nodded in agreement. "What did this man look like?"
"His clothes were a bit old fashioned, but he was dressed well and sitting on a blooded horse. Perhaps he is a famous French general. There was an air of authority about him."
"I will have a look at it and see if I recognize him."
They talked on for a while and, at some point, .Arabella mentioned the beautiful clothes in Sophie's trunk. "I should love to go to a dressmaker in Paris. Sophie's clothes are like nothing we have in Scotland. The women there are very fortunate."
Still in her talkative mood, she continued to
tell
Jamie about the unpacking of Sophie's trunk
that
day and finding the blue gown and how perfectly it fit her. "I thought it was uncanny how she knew there were blue satin slippers inside to match, and that's when I suspected that it was truly her trunk."
Jamie was pulling the plume of the pen slowly through his fingers. "Aye, very uncanny."
"Well, I am disappointed not to recognize the man in the portrait. I was hoping it might help Sophie's memory if she knew who he was. I don't suppose we will ever know who he is."
"Don't give up so easily. You said his clothing and bearing were of someone important. It is also highly probable that he is French, since you said you found the miniature in Sophie's trunk. So, you see, we know two things already. All is not hopeless."
Arabella glanced at the clock on the mantel and realized she had to change for dinner. "You are always so understanding," she said.
He smiled. "Only when it comes to you."
She stood and blew him a kiss. "I must be off or I shall not have time to change before dinner."
After Arabella's departure Jamie looked thoughtfully off into space; his mind was not on Arabella's departure, or his letter to Edinburgh, but on the information she had shared with him.
He tried to put that out of his mind and forced himself to focus on the letter he had been writing, although he had difficulty moving his thoughts from the miniature and putting them back on the purchase of horses.
After several abortive attempts, he realized he would not be able to concentrate on much of anything until he dealt with what troubled him.
Jamie thought about Sophie, and wondered what kind of battles she could be fighting. The only thing he wanted was the truth, then she would have his heart, and his hand to protect her if need be.
He sorted through the jumble in his head for
I
lime, and tried to make it into some logical sequence, then decided it was time to pay Sophie a visit
He went straight to her room and knocked on 3er door.
Surprise stole all the color from her face the noment she opened the door and saw him standing there. Her hand came up to her chest. ""Goodness, I was not expecting it to be you. I
•as
about to change for dinner."
A common occurrence about this time of day." he said. "Arabella told me about the miniature
in your trunk. May I see it?"
"I really need to dress."
Jamie stepped into the room. "Dress then, and I will look for it."
That he angered her was evident by her snappish tone. "If it's that important to you, I'll get it myself."
He remained silent as he watched while she opened the trunk and searched for the miniature. A few moments later she closed the trunk and he saw she had something tightly enclosed in her fist.
She crossed the room and almost slapped it into his hand. "Here. Is this what you wanted? I doubt it will be of any value to you. As you can see, it is quite small and the features are difficult to see."
He studied the painting. Arabella had been right. It was very similar to the one in his study, but not so much so that he would assume the same person painted it. He continued to examine it, even as he spoke. "Is there nothing about this that is familiar to you?''
"No, nothing."
He dropped it into the pocket of his doublet "What are you doing?" "If you don't mind, I would like to keep it for a while."
"I assumed that you would."
Jamie nodded. "I will see you at dinner then. Pardon the intrusion, mistress."
She followed him to the door. "Think nothing of it. I find I am becoming quite accustomed to it," she said, and slammed the door.
, The next morning impatience ate at Jamie as he drew on his boots, and when his man attempted to help he waved him away. When the second boot was on, he grabbed his doublet from the hook on the wall and buckled his sword on his way out of the room.
It was still dark when
x.
he started down the stairs, and the great castle was alive with the sounds of his men shouting and rattling their equipment as they tried to dress in the clammy cold of the early morning hour.
Torches were blazing by the time he walked into the Great Hall, and already many of his men
were
dressed and milling about, talking and laughing softly among themselves. He paused to speak with several of them, giving new instruc
tions,
or making changes in the tasks each would fulfill this day.
' Will ye be joining us to break the fast, Ja-ine?" Lachlan asked.
Not this morning, lads, but that doesna mean ye can be forgetting to warm yer knives so ye willna be using so much butter."
The men laughed and Simon called out, "Aye, and we will no' be using the silver trenchers, either."
"Where are you going this braw morning?" Archibald asked as Jamie passed by.
"I thought I would pay a visit to my neighbor, Vilain."
"I didna ken ye were as good a friend of that Frenchman as that," Archibald said.
Jamie smiled and clapped him on the back. "Weel, ye ken now," he said, and left the men the way he liked them, laughing and in good spirits.
Half an hour later Jamie swung into the saddle and spurred Corrie through the gates. He splashed through the shallow water that spilled over the stone bridge, and rode away from Monleigh Castle and into the perpetual mist.
Before long the wind began to blow in from the north, driving a light dusting of snow along the track ahead of him, and Jamie knew the snow would begin to fall before nightfall, but by then he would have his business with Rogeaux completed, and would be safely ensconced back within the protective walls of Monleigh.
A half hour later he rode into Vilain's courtyard and tossed his reins at the groom at the same time he threw a leg over the saddle and slid to the ground. "Dinna stable him," he said, when the groom appeared. "I will be leaving soon."
He did not have to wait long for Vilain to greet him.
"It must be something important to bring you
here
so early in the morning. Not bad news, I hope."
Jamie withdrew the miniature. "I came to solicit your help in identifying the man in this portrait."
He
handed the miniature to Vilain. "Would you happen to know who he is?"
Vilain took one glance at the man mounted on
the
white horse. '
'Roi Soleil,''
he whispered, and
then
said more loudly, "It is Louis XIV, the Sun
King.
I know this painting quite well. The artist was Adam Frans van der Meulen. It was either
painted
at the Battle of Fleurus during the War
of the
Grand Alliance, or at the time of the War
of the
Spanish Succession. The original hangs at Versailles. Where did you get this one?"
"It was in some of the belongings that my
men
fished out of the water after the Norwegian
ship
ran aground."
"Hmm, it is a bit odd that it was found in such a place."