Page 9 of Midnight Honor (Highland Wolves #3)

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I canna believe ye took such a risk,” Lady Drummuir said, shocked almost beyond speech. Once they were through the gates, she had demanded explanations, and because Anne desperately needed to confide in someone, she spilled out everything that had happened since her meeting with John MacGillivray in the library. “I canna believe ye had the ballocks to break open the Lord President's desk. With a hairpin, ye say?”

“It was a rather simple lock.”

“Still an' all, Miss, 'tis not exactly the kind of talent one expects in a laird's wife.”

“I was the granddaughter of a reiver first,” Anne reminded her.

“Aye, an' that alone would have justified clappin' ye in irons on the spot. The real surprise if, as ye say, ye think someone saw ye, is that no one has released the hellhounds on ye yet.”

The “yet” hung between them a moment, twisting this way and that in the silence to impart all manner of unpleasant consequences in the minds of both women.

“Why do ye suppose that is? Why do ye suppose we're no' riding in the company of a dozen redcoats right now?”

Anne bit her lip in genuine confusion. “I do not know. When I saw Forbes in the parlor with Angus just then …” She had lost a year of her life in that single moment, and still could not believe she had been allowed to walk away from Culloden House without an escort of lobsterbacks.

“Ye have no idea who might have been watchin' ye in the library?”

“No. I was certain everyone had gone. At one point, I thought I might have heard …”

“Aye? Ye thought ye might have heard what?”

Anne shook her head. “I thought I heard a footstep, or a creak on the floorboard, but I was so distracted and angry and confused by what I had heard. And then I saw the mouse, and—”

“And ye cried out an' near stomped it to death, giving whoever it was plenty o' time to slip into the other alcove.”

Anne nodded, her face pale. “That must be what happened. But if it was Forbes or one of the other officers, why was I not stopped? Whoever it was had to have seen me break into the desk and take the dispatches, so why was I allowed to leave Culloden House with them?"

The dowager frowned, obviously asking herself the same questions.

“The one hope,” she said finally, “the onliest hope is that it wisna one o' the men who was there earlier, for I canna see any o' them not nip-tongued with glee at the thought o' strippin' ye down an' arrestin' ye with the proof o' treason stuffed up under yer skirts. Still an' again,” she added, playing her own devil's advocate, “had they shamed ye an' arrested ye in such a public manner, might they not have worried what the other lairds would have done? Better to wait until ye were away from Culloden, where it could be done without danger o' swords bein' drawn.”

After staring at each other for a long moment, both women unlatched the windows beside them, lowering the sashes enough to poke their heads through and study the darkness of the road behind them. Apart from the muted pinpricks of light marking the cottages they were passing, the road was a clear, dark ribbon cutting through the tree-lined parks on either side. They were nearing the outskirts of Inverness, following the banks of the Moray Firth, and if anyone had pursued them from Culloden, this would present the perfect stretch to overtake them .

Anne remained hanging over the window sash until her cheeks were chilled and the wind had torn several curls loose. When she retreated inside again, the dowager had already affected repairs to her own coif and chose not to comment on their brief lapse of dignity.

“There is a third possibility,” she said. “An' that would be that ye were not the only one curious to see what the Lord President had locked away in his desk.”

“Ye mean someone else at the party set out to rob him?”

“We were no' the only ones who would've preferred to stay home an' tattoo our arses with sharp sticks. The MacGregor was there with his son, the brace of them stiffer than iron pikes. MacPherson an' Strathbogie, MacFall an' MacKillican were in the corners, the lot of them lookin' in as black a mood as The MacGillivray, an' likely gone just as quickly once homage was paid, though surely not with the same urgency as Big John. One o' them could as easily have crept into the library after the Sassenachs left.”

The women exchanged a glance, then looked away, neither one convinced, and again the silence stretched between them, broken only by the rolling of the carriage wheels over the rutted road.

“Are ye dead certain, lass, that ye heard what ye say ye heard?”

It had only been a few short hours ago that the dowager had defended her son by saying he was only doing what he thought was best for the clan, and Anne knew the strain in her voice was not caused entirely by fear for her personal well-being.

“I heard Forbes tell him to ply me with kindness in order that I might confide in him anything Fearchar told me about the prince's army. I also heard Angus say that he … that he was weary of my various energies and my penchant for supporting lost causes.”

Lady Drummuir expelled a sigh that bespoke the full weight of her seven decades. “So now ye feel it is up to you to dash off in a mad fit o' vengeance?”

Anne had not said as much, had not even made the decision in her own mind, but she did so now without hesitation. “Granda' was right. There is no one else of equal rank the lairds will follow. Nor is there any son or brother to send by way of preserving the honor of the clan.”

“I ken what ye're sayin', child, but the danger—! Will ye strap a clai' mór to yer back an' pistols on yer hips, an' will ye ride onto a battlefield with blood in yer eye? Aye, yer heart is in the right place, I grant ye, an' aye, ye'll likely stir enough shame in the clan to get the proxies ye need, but the lairds will want a man to lead them.”

“I will give them a man,” Anne said quietly. “I will give them John MacGillivray.”

“MacGillivray!”

“He is obviously willing to fight, and so are his men.”

“Och, he's no' a man to dally with, Anne,” the dowager cautioned. “He's like a great blooded stallion who might seem to be broken to the saddle, but once he has the bit in his teeth, ye might not be able to rein him in again.”

“I am none too certain I would want to rein him in,” Anne declared with more confidence than she felt. “And it is Angus who should be worried, not me.”

The dowager lapsed into silence again and turned to stare out the window as the coach passed St. John's Chapel and slowed to make its turn into the tree-lined avenue leading to Drummuir House. It was a large and stately William and Mary mansion built of mellow red brick and sandstone quoining, and because it sat so near the river, there was always a sheer layer of mist blanketing the surrounding parkland.

“Times like this,” Lady Drummuir sighed, “I can almost feel sorry for Duncan Forbes. He was ever an annoyin' bink of a man, but everythin' he has done, he has done because he honestly believed it would make for a stronger Scotland. Not two years ago he wanted to send Highland regiments to Flanders to fight alongside the English. He said if men like Lochiel an' Lord George Murray were away in Europe fightin' the Dutch, who would be left at home to stir a rebellion? An' it's true, I suppose, for Young Lochiel would no' have been here to meet the prince at Glenfinnan, bonnie Tearlach would no' have been able to raise an army, an' all this strife could have been prevented—an' mayhap that would no' have been such a terrible thing.”

“Is that what ye would have wanted, though? To have bowed to all the English demands and commands until there was no longer any Scotland?”

“There will always be a Scotland, Anne Moy! But must we always drench the glens in blood to prove it?”

“English blood,” Anne replied evenly. “Aye, if we must.”

“Faugh! Ye're as stubborn as yer granda'.”

“Is that such a terrible thing?”

The dowager did not turn to address the remark, but her gloved hand crept across the bench and, finding Anne's, gave it a small squeeze.

“No, lass,” she whispered. “'Tis just the envy of an old woman ye're hearin', for if I could, I'd be ridin' with the prince alongside ye.”

When Angus came to Drummuir House the following morning, he was not alone. Major Roger Worsham was by his side, his scarlet tunic fastidiously clean, the brass buttons gleaming, the edges of his wide buff lapels looking as if they had been cut by a razor.

His expression was equally sharp, his jaw set in stone, his eyes gazing unblinking at their surroundings as they were shown into the yellow drawing room—a regal chamber with walls lined with yellow silk damask. The same fabric covered the sumptuous sofas and delicate chairs that were in turn complemented by gilt-edged paintings and pale butter-colored wood moldings. It was a room normally reserved for formal occasions—which did not escape Angus's notice— dominated by a huge white marble fireplace that was as cold as the expression on the dowager's face when she appeared nearly half an hour after their arrival to greet them.

“Angus.”

He inclined his head slightly. “Mother.”

“Major.”

Worsham cocked an eyebrow. “Madam.”

“Now that we ken who we all are, ye might want to tell me why ye've come poundin' on ma doors before the hour was decent enough to do so. Lady Anne is still abed, an' I havna had time to even strop ma corset on tight enough. I trust ye've no' come here lookin' for yer balls again, Major, for we MacKintoshes seem to be in short supply ourselves at the moment.”

That set the tone fairly clearly and Worsham offered a smirk. “I pray you forgive the early hour, but when Captain MacKintosh mentioned he was coming here, I thought I would accompany him and save us both a later inconvenience.”

“Well, ye're too late for breakfast an' too early for dinner so there's no inconvenience at all.”

“The thought did not occur to put you to any trouble.”

“Good, for it would never occur to me, either. If ye've come to fetch Anne home, ye've wasted a trip as well,” she said to Angus. “She fancies she might stay with me a few days.”

“A few days? Is she ill?”

“She's healthy as a dray horse. Since when can she no' visit with her mother-in-law, if she so chooses?”

“Of course she can, but—”

“Then I'll tell her ye have no objections. She keeps a small wardrobe here, so there's no need to send for claythes or necessities. Will ye be wantin' me to take her a message?”

“Actually, since my business is with the Lady Anne, we should prefer to speak to her in person, if we may,” said Worsham.

“An' what business might that be, Major?”

“A trifling matter. It should not take too much of her time.”

Lady Drummuir's bosom swelled with the same threat of violence that flared her nostrils, but her intended riposte was thwarted by a quiet voice from the doorway. “If ye wish to speak to me Major, I am here.”

Both men turned as Anne walked into the room. It was immediately apparent that she had not taken time to trouble with her corset or her hair, for the latter was loose and fell in soft red waves over her shoulders. She wore a modestly prim morning gown of white muslin with delicate lace ruffles bordering the neckline and spilling from the cuffs. Peeping from beneath the hem as she walked were more ruffles that rustled slightly as they brushed the surface of the carpet .

She stopped in front of one of the tall, square-paned windows, and with the bright beams of sunshine behind her, the combination of glowing white muslin and fiery red hair gave both men pause. As a calculated distraction, it was effective, for the muscles in Angus's jaw flexed and, despite his best efforts to prevent it, a flush of warmth crept up his throat to darkened his complexion.

Worsham's reaction was more feral. The pale eyes narrowed and a speck of saliva glittered at the corner of his mouth.

“Major?”

His attention rose swiftly back to her face. “I trust you are not suffering any ill effects from last night? I heard you cut your hand.”

She lifted her hand and turned it, showing the bandages. “It was nothing. A clumsy accident.”

“Nonetheless, Lord Forbes was concerned and wished me to express his regret over the unfortunate incident.”

“I am certain he did not sleep a wink. However, there was no incident, sir. A glass broke. I happened to be holding it at the time.”

“Indeed. And you are quite correct; there were other, more pressing concerns at Culloden House this morning. It seems someone took the liberty of creating some mischief.”

Here it comes , she thought. Calm yourself, girl. Betray nothing .

“Mischief? How so?”

“One of the guests mentioned he saw you in the vicinity of the Lord President's library last night shortly after midnight,” he said, deferring a direct answer. “Is this true?”

Anne pursed her lips as if perplexed. After a moment, her brow cleared and she nodded. “Yes, I believe I may have been, though I could not swear to the exact hour. I fear I overindulged at the supper table and was feeling uncomfortable. I sought a quiet hallway, hoping a few turns might help. Unfortunately, it only left me feeling somewhat light-headed, and—" she held up her hand— “thus the accident.”

“In that case, did you happen to see anyone else in the hallways while you were … walking off your discomfort?”

“Aye, now that I think on it, I did see a young couple emerging from one of the rooms—forgive me, I do not know the manor well enough to tell ye which one—but they seemed as startled to see me as I was them. I believe they had also been seeking a few moments of privacy away from the noise of the ballroom.”

Worsham nodded slightly to acknowledge the supposition. “Major Bosworth was the one who reported seeing you in the vicinity. He did, however, neglect to mention he was not alone.”

“I am not surprised,” Anne said evenly. “I doubt Laird Ian MacLeod would be any too pleased to hear his daughter had been anywhere private with an English officer. Neither would her betrothed.”

The pale blue eyes narrowed again. “Whereas a married lady seeking a diversion with another individual would raise fewer eyebrows?”

Anne returned his gaze without so much as blinking. “I warrant that would depend on the identity of the individuals as well as the nature of the diversion.”

“Then you will forgive my temerity in asking about the nature of your diversion with John MacGillivray?”

Anne's reaction was completely involuntary as she glanced at her husband's face. It was not much of a flicker, over in the flash of an instant, but it had the same effect on Worsham as the scent of fresh blood to a hawk.

“MacGillivray?”

“Yes. You were observed whispering together outside the dining hall moments before the hour in question.”

“I do not recall that we were whispering, Major, although I expect he may well have paused to bid good-night. I hardly remember.”

“You did not meet with him again afterward? Outside the library perhaps?”

“No. I did not.”

“And would you tell me if you had?”

“No,” she said simply. “I would not. Now, if ye are quite finished—”

“I am told your relationship with John MacGillivray goes much deeper than a casual friendship.”

She exhaled with impatience. “Then you were told wrong. John MacGillivray is an honest, honorable man, loyal to his clan and to his fiancée .” This time her eyes cut openly to Angus before returning to Worsham. “He was ever my friend, aye, and I am proud to say so to anyone who would ask. But there was never anything more between us.”

“Nothing that would prompt you to lie for him? Or protect him?”

“John MacGillivray hardly needs my protection, Major.”

“Where is this line of questions going, Major?” Angus asked, his annoyance evident in the way he removed his gloves and slapped them down on a nearby chair. “And I should tread very carefully with your answer here.”

“Someone was in the Lord President's library last night and stole some rather … sensitive papers.”

“By God,” Angus murmured angrily. “And this is why you accompanied me from Culloden House? So you could accuse my wife of theft?”

“Her whereabouts at the time of the robbery were unaccounted for, as were MacGillivray's.”

“Well, she has accounted for them now. She has also said she did not see MacGillivray, though if you had asked me, you might have saved yourself a trip.”

“You?”

“Indeed. I saw and spoke to MacGillivray in the lower hallway just after our meeting in the library. He had already paid his respects to the dowager Lady Forbes and was begging my leave, as he had a matter of some urgency to tend to in Clunas this morning and wanted an early start. I believe it was to do with the health of his fiancée, Lady Elizabeth, who was prevented from attending last night because of illness. He was quite beside himself with worry, which would explain his seeming distraction. I believe they are to be wed next month, though he has been singularly smitten with the lovely lady for some time now. At least, she was all he could speak about the previous evening—to the point I was damn near distracted myself.”

“Ahh, yes.” Worsham's eyes took on a predatory gleam again as he confronted Anne. “I believe we were discussing your whereabouts Thursday evening when we were interrupted last night.”

Anne, remembering MacGillivray's warning that someone had followed her and Eneas away from Dunmaglass, hesitated a fraction of an instant with her answer, long enough for Angus to release another irritated huff of breath.

“And I shall interrupt you once again, sir, by reiterating the fact that my wife and I were both at home Thursday evening. If you care to recall, I told Lord Loudoun that John MacGillivray was also with us, playing cards until the small hours of the morning, at which time he and I, having consumed several—" he glanced uncomfortably at Anne who was, in turn, staring wide-eyed back at him— “well, yes, alright, rather more than several cups of strong spirits, both had to be carried to our beds. If you saw my wife whispering with MacGillivray last night, and if what she said to him was anything like the dressing-down she gave to me earlier in the day, I can promise you it would have scalded your ears red.”

A vein pulsed in Worsham's temple as he looked from Angus to Anne. She barely noticed, for she was still staring at her husband. He had done it again. He had lied for her and MacGillivray, giving them both alibis that only a man with absolute, incontrovertible proof would dare challenge. It was clear the major did not have any such proof, and Lady Drummuir wasted no time in taking advantage of his hesitation.

“Shall I have Gibb show ye out, Major, or can ye find yer own way to the door?”

Worsham looked from one face to the next, obviously not pleased with the way things had gone. His fists curled momentarily as he considered his options, but in the end, he had no choice but to offer a curt nod and stride out of the drawing room, his boots sending an angry echo back along the hall.

The dowager waited until there was silence before she spoke again. “Ye bring him back here again, Angus, and I'll not be responsible for what happens to him."

“He is a pompous fool and lucky I did not draw my sword.”

“Aye, ye're a real threat to a man who likely picks his teeth wi' his saber.” Her sarcasm earned a stony glare and she moved toward the door. “I've a rare need for a morning tot of uisque.”

“Nothing for me,” Angus said. “I will not be staying long.”

“Nothing was offered," his mother said flatly. "And ye've been here too long already."

"I need a moment alone to speak with my wife."

The dowager glanced at Anne, who nodded.

When his mother was gone, muttering to herself in Gaelic, and the door was firmly shut behind her, Angus turned his attention to Anne, who held his gaze for all of two seconds before averting her eyes and staring out the window.

“You should be embarrassed,” he said with ominous silkiness. “You have more nerve than—” but an adequate comparison failed him and he settled for a heavy sigh. “I am almost afraid to leave the two of you here alone, for fear of the plots you and Mother might hatch together. Please tell me, at least, that last night's stupidity was unplanned.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Ye dinna actually believe him, do ye, that MacGillivray and I stole away for a secret tryst!”

“A tryst? No. But I do believe you were engaged in some sort of foolery, though whether it was before or after you picked the lock and stole the papers out of Duncan Forbes's desk, I do not know. And please, do not waste both of our time denying it; I was there, I saw you.”

Someone else might have fainted dead away from the shock, or at the very least reddened with guilt, but to Anne's credit—and Angus's grudging admiration—she merely gazed at him across the beam of sunlight that was slanting brightly through the window between them.

“It was you in the other alcove?”

“I thought I had seen movement behind the curtains, a shadow at the bottom that was blocking the sliver of moonlight one moment and gone the next. After we left, I watched the door for a few minutes to see if anyone came out, and when no one did, I went back inside. My hand was an inch away from the damned curtain when you squealed and started dancing about, and when I realized it was you, my first instinct was to rip the curtains down and see if you were alone; the second was to step aside and save you the embarrassment if you were not.”

“Save me the embarrassment? After what I heard, I should think you would be the one who was shamed beyond measure. Or was it someone else I heard who sounded pleased to be joining General Hawley in Edinburgh, someone else who claimed he was bored with his wife's politics? Someone else who lied when he promised me so sincerely that our clansmen would not be involved in any real fighting?”

“Do not attempt to steer the conversation away from your own actions,” he warned smoothly, not even having the grace to answer any of the charges. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you had you been discovered skulking behind that damned curtain eavesdropping on official military business? Can you even conceive of how lucky you were that it was I who came back to the library and not Worsham or that other bastard, Garner?”

“At the time, I was not feeling anything but betrayed.”

He looked away for a moment, not completely successful this time in stanching the flow of heat that mottled his throat and cheeks.

“Do you still have the dispatches or did you give them to MacGillivray?”

“Do ye not even intend to defend yourself?”

“Against what? You have already made up your mind that I am guilty of all charges.”

“Ye've left me with little choice. Ye made me a promise ye had every intention of breaking. Ye lied to me after swearing ye would never do so. And at the time ye swore it with such passion and conviction, I… I almost thought…” The words broke off as she caught her lip between her teeth and bit down hard. “I almost thought ye meant what you said. That was, of course, before I discovered how much my … country antics … bore ye.”

“At the time I made you that promise, I honestly believed it was possible to keep it.”

“It has only been two days. Has so much changed since then?”

Angus raked his hand through the dark locks of his hair, scattering whatever semblance of order remained of the stylish waves and curls. “Yes. Yes, by God, it has. It changed the instant I had to swear to Colonel Loudoun that MacGillivray was with me on Thursday night, that it could not have been him or his men who attacked Worsham's patrol. You can see how well the major believed me, for it directly contradicted his report that stated MacGillivray was at Dunmaglass under the close scrutiny of his crack troop of dragoons.”

“Then why did ye do it? Why did ye lie for MacGillivray?”

“Not to sanction his actions in any way, I promise you. I did it because more than likely there were soldiers at Culloden House last night waiting to arrest him. Because he was once a friend as well as a clansman, and because I thought if he was implicated in any way, the charges would eventually spread farther afield and end up on the doorstep of Moy Hall. That was, of course, before I stood in the library and watched my wife take a hairpin to the Lord President's locked desk. And before I saw her remove papers and military dispatches that could earn her an extended stay in a gaol cell if, indeed, she avoided the executioner's ax long enough to enjoy prison. For that reason, my dear, you will have to forgive me if I do not feel as though I should be standing here defending my actions.”

Anne's chin revealed the first hint of a tremor, and her eyes had grown so wide and had achieved such a piercing shade of blue, it seemed some of the color had bled out to tint the whites.

“I did not know about the attack on Worsham's men,” she insisted softly. “I did not know John was involved, not until later, when he told me he had been shot.”

“Shot?”

She nodded. “Aye. In the shoulder.”

Angus clenched his jaw and pursed his lips, visibly drawing on all of his strength to keep a flood of invectives from exploding forth.

“Do you,” he asked through his teeth, “still have the dispatches?”

“No. Your mother thought it best not to keep them in the house.”

“Dear God.” He closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his temple. “What did she do with them? Where did she send them?”

Although her voice was fiercely steady when she replied, “I do not know,” the lie was in her eyes and Angus did not need a map to follow the course. The courier who brought the dispatches had come directly from France; the papers he carried were from one of the spies Forbes had planted high in the service of King Louis's royal court. Fearchar Farquharson would know exactly what to do with the documents once he opened them and realized what he held in his hands.

His wife and now his mother could be arrested and charged with treason against the Crown.

“What do ye intend to do now?” she asked softly.

What he wanted to do was throttle her, but he clasped his hands behind his back instead and avoided her gaze the way she had avoided his earlier. He looked out the window in time to see a falcon glide past, floating effortlessly on the wind currents, its wings outstretched and motionless. Only the head moved, the eyes searching relentlessly for prey, the wickedly hooked beak open in anticipation. It required no vast stretch of the imagination to compare the falcon to Major Roger Worsham, for the officer's eyes held the same carnivorous gleam, his expression the same calculating stillness as he studied his quarry.

If Worsham suspected Angus of lying about MacGillivray or Anne, the question that should concern them more became: What would Worsham do about it?

Angus knew Anne was watching him, waiting for his answer, and he took a further moment to settle his emotions before he faced her. “What do I intend to do? I intend to go home and make the necessary preparations to depart for Edinburgh.”

“I see.”

“Do you, Anne? Because I do not see where I have a choice, madam. I am an officer in His Majesty's Royal Scots Infantry, and if I refused to obey a direct order, I would find myself a fugitive skulking about in the hills alongside your grandfather and cousins.”

“Or ye could say but a word, and a thousand good men would join ye in marching to meet the prince. If ye did, and if ye asked me to go with ye, I would proudly ride at your side every step of the way.”

“Would you?” He moved forward, his body cutting through the shaft of sunlight as he reached up and took her face between his hands. “What if I asked you to leave with me now? What if I asked you to come away from here and sail with me to France?”

Her eyes grew impossibly wider, bluer. “France?”

“I have friends in Paris; we could stay there until things settled down again. This will all be over in a month, two at the utmost.”

The brief shimmer of hope that had flared in her eyes faded again. Her sense of disbelief and confusion was as easy to read as nearly every other volatile emotion that crossed her face, and for once Angus wished she could be more like the Adrienne de Boules of the world, a blank page on which nothing was written that one did not want to see.

“This is my home,” she said, reaching up to gently but firmly extricate herself from his grasp. “It is where I belong. Running away will not change the way I think or feel about anything. Or anyone."

Her rejection, her condemnation cut him to the bone, and he doubted she would listen now even if he did attempt to explain the role he was playing. Not that he could have explained it. Offering explanations would put her in more danger than he would be able to tolerate.

He stared at her mouth, remembering how willing and eager it had been to answer his whispered pleas only two brief nights ago. How in God's name was he supposed to just turn around and walk out that door knowing that if he did so, she would hate him? How would he be able to close his eyes again and not see her, not hear her, not be haunted by the image of her body moving urgently beneath his?

His arms dropped down by his sides. “I am sorry. I should have known better than to … well, I just should have known better. Please forgive me, and forgive this intrusion. I will not disturb you again.”

“Angus—?”

“All things considered,” he added curtly, “perhaps it is for the best that you stay here. There are no battlements or cannon mounted on the walls of Drummuir House, but I warrant you will be safer here with my mother blocking the doors than you would be anywhere else. And … if you can … I suggest you get a message to MacGillivray. Convince him to remove himself from Dunmaglass for a while. He might not be too open to taking advice from me at the moment, but Worsham is as bloody-minded as they come, and it would be wise if John put himself out of reach.”

“I will send a warning to him,” she said, bowing her head, refusing to let him see how close she was to tears. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me, Anne. If he was standing before me right now, I would be more inclined to give him to Worsham myself than expose you to any further risk.”

Startled, she looked up into his face, but there was nothing there to ease the tightness in her chest. The mask was firmly in place, his eyes so cool and distant she could scarcely believe he had just asked her to run away with him to France.

The constricting pressure became too much to bear and she turned away, missing the action of his hand as it rose toward her shoulder. It stopped the width of a prayer away from touching her before the long, tapered fingers curled into a tight fist and withdrew.

“If you need anything while I am gone, you know where I keep the strongbox.”

“I bid ye have a safe journey to Edinburgh. An unsuccessful one, to be sure, but safe.”

He studied her profile, saw the bright jewel of a tear trembling at the corner of her eye, and he knew if he did not leave at once, that very moment, he would not be able to leave at all.

Moving woodenly, he retrieved his hat and gloves from the chair, then glanced back at the window. Anne had not moved. She stood fully in the path of the sunbeam, the light turning her skin luminous, gilding the flown wisps of her hair fiery red and gold.

“Shall I write from Edinburgh?”

“If it pleases ye to do so.”

He expelled a breath and put his hand on the doorknob. “I will write, then.”

The door opened easily enough but his feet could not seem to make it fully across the threshold without stopping again .

“Anne … I know I have been somewhat of a disappointment to you lately, that I have likely not proven to be the husband of your dreams. But regardless of what happens or does not happen in the coming weeks, I do not want to leave without telling you that I have considered myself a very lucky man these past four years. Extraordinarily lucky, in fact, and I … I want to thank you for that. Perhaps some day, when this is over, you might even be able to find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Anne said nothing—she could not, her throat was locked tight with tears—and a moment later, the door clicked softly shut behind him.