#Keith is steaming mad but not so steaming as to not send an 18th century 'u up' text to his hookup/enemy

[tgarnsl]

WIP Whatever-day-of-the-week-it-is

I’m blaming @cedarboots‘ gorgeous illustration for kicking my brain into gear over the sequel to my Flowers of Edinburgh story and making me write 1400 words this afternoon.

—

Day by day, hour by hour, the first ten days of October passed by in Edinburgh with a kind of heavy silence. Life in the city went on, as it always had, but at times it seemed as if the city held its breath, waiting for this uneasy armistice to draw to a conclusion, the days passing with excruciating slowness. Yet nowhere did time pass more slowly than up in Edinburgh Castle, where General Joshua Guest and his officers watched as repeated attempts to bring an end to the Jacobite occupation of the city ended in embarrassment, and for one officer in particular, served each time as a painful reminder of his own personal disappointment.

Almost a week had passed for Captain Keith Windham of the Royal Scots since his encounter with Ewen Cameron, the days passing slowly, for he had little to do but pace the battlements and think on his failed attempt to capture the Prince. The troops who had deserted him had been punished accordingly, and Keith had himself received praise from General Guest for his brave attempt, but it did little to ease his mind. His own private humiliation over what had passed between him and Ardroy that night in the Grassmarket was no less than what he had felt the subsequent morning, when the bright light of morning had revealed to him in the mirror the dark bruises that bloomed overnight on his neck and shoulders. To have allowed himself to be so debased by another was mortifying, for he knew he must have been mad to allow Ardroy to unman him in such a way. At times, his recollections of the events that took place in Lady Easterhall’s house were coloured by anger, at other times, by shame.

That he had injured Ardroy in such a way that might prevent him from ever taking up arms again should have satisfied him, if not as a loyal soldier of the King, than at least for Ardroy’s sake, for he could imagine nothing less than permanent disability forcing Ardroy to return home to the safety of his lands. But the thought of that was not a comfort, and the notion that Keith had caused his enemy injury left him with an emotion that was far from satisfaction. Had it been in a fair fight, he might have countenanced it better, but it had not been. He had lost control of his emotions for the second time that night, and in doing so had nearly killed a man who, though hardly innocent, was not deserving of death. The thought of Ewen lying dead or dying on the floor was enough to make Keith shudder, and not merely because of what the Camerons would have done to him on entering that room.

The frustration of not capturing the Prince was only compounded with the knowledge that he had let Ardroy play with him, distracting him while the secret door lay before his very eyes. It was curious how Keith had not recognised Ardroy in his finery at first — how extraordinarily handsome he had looked, in his satin and powder. Had his attraction to the Highlander truly been so transparent as to be an obvious weakness for Ardroy to exploit? Yet Ewen was not the first young man to catch Keith’s eye, nor was Keith inexperienced when it came to the things that men might do together. No, what unsettled Keith was the thought that after four years of deliberate abstinence, all that it had taken to bring that to an end was a single kiss. Worse still was the tenderness and gallantry shown to Keith afterwards, when Ardroy had allowed him to make his escape, and the gifts he had made of a cloak and a kiss. The former he would never discover the truth of, but the latter gift was an especial torment, particularly in the small hours of the night, when the memory of Ewen’s body against his would return to him, and to his shame he would find himself longing for even more intimate embraces than the ones they had shared.

The most cursed part of it all was that Ardroy had, through his actions, attained a kind of superiority that Keith found galling. Worst of all was the utter sincerity with which he had behaved, as if his affection towards Keith was real, and his concern for Keith’s escape born from genuine feeling. It unsettled Keith that there should exist a debt between them, though a debt for what, he could not say. Yet what he found the most galling was the amount of time he spent on the Castle’s battlements, thinking on the curious young man with whom he had formed such a strange connexion… Fool that he was, he was at it again. He turned from the city, grateful for a distraction, for he had become aware of the unmistakeable sound of a wheeled chair over flagstone, which could only signal the approach of the spirited but aged General George Preston, who though old and infirm, made himself to be wheeled around the battlements every few hours to supervise and encourage. The aged but spirited General Preston greeted Captain Windham with warmth, for he was fond of the vigilant and zealous young officer.

“Captain Windham, a word in your ear!” he said, sending his servant out of earshot, and Keith dutifully stooped to the level of his general. “I mean to test yer mettle with an errand, if ye be willing.”

A flying raid, perhaps — a chance to regain his honour. Keith swallowed hard. “What is it, sir?” he asked.

“The ongoings of Edinburgh town we ken well enough, sir, but we canna peek beyond the walls of Holyroodhouse. I shall speak plain: yon Cameron with whom ye met in the Grassmarket has the ear of his Prince. If ye be willing, I’d have ye write a letter to him, requesting a meeting on neutral ground where ye might discover what he kens.”

Keith stiffened. “I am no spy, sir, and Ardroy is a man of honour,” he said, and General Preston laughed.

“Heavens, sir, I am nae asking ye to spy!” he said. “Yon Ardroy is as principled a man as yerself, so I am given to understand, so I canna imagine he will let on easily, but if he drops even the slightest hint as to the ongoings of the Prince or his generals…”

Keith considered it for a long moment. Like as not, Ardroy would pass along whatever letter he received to his superiors, and they would no doubt agree to the meeting for the same reason that General Preston wished to arrange it in the first place. It was risky, of course, but if some gain could be made, it would surely be worth it. Besides, he could not ignore the part of him that wished to see Ardroy again, of only to comfort himself in the knowledge that his actions that night had not caused his enemy grievous injury.

“I will do it, sir,” said Keith, and General Preston smiled and announced his intention to report in full the diligence and bravery that Captain Windham had displayed in defence of the Castle, once the task at hand had been completed.

Half an hour later, sat in his room before his desk, Keith dipped his quill and began:

“Dear Mr Cameron,— “I write to you today not out of Obligation, but out of my personal Desire to set to right the Wrongs commmitt’d by my Hand against your Person on the Seventh of this month. There is much I have to be Forgiven for, and though I can offer little Restitution that would be Acceptable, I hope that in Person I might offer an Apology more Satisfactory than one made in ink. If you are Willing, and I Pray that you are, meet me at Five in the afternoon, in two Days’ time, at the Boarding-house of Mrs Sutherland of the back of Bell’s Wynd. I trust that you will take me to be a man of Honour, and Remember that I am, “Your most obedient, humble servant, “Keith Windham, Captain.”

Thus signed, he sprinkled it with pounce, and once satisfied the ink had dried, folded it and sealed it with his signet ring, a mark he knew Ewen would recognise. And with that done, he delivered the message into the hands of the boy waiting outside his room, and returned to his duties, pushing from his mind all thoughts of what the future might bring.