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A curl of hope unfurled in her heart, spreading until a quiet smile formed on her lips. She was strong, determined, capable. If they wouldn’t let her see James, she’d go to the magistrate. She’d go to the lieutenant governor himself. She wouldn’t let them take this family away from her.

It wasn’t until he entered his cell that the true danger of his situation hit James. Treason. The heavy iron door closed with a thud that echoed through the room. He was alone in a cell in the basement of the courthouse. Reserved for gentlemen prisoners, the warden had said with a smirk.

It was damp and cold, the stench of waste so strong he had no desire to look closely at the dirty straw strewn on the floor.

A faint murmur of voices was audible from the common prisoners in the next room, and a barred window high in the hall outside his cell let in the growing daylight and a draft of frigid air.

He needed to get home to Sara and Evie.

His hands clamped on to the iron bars of his cell until his knuckles turned white. He was powerless and he hated it. Resisting the urge to shake the bars, he loosened his fingers one by one, dropping his hands and shaking his arms to warm his numb hands.

He sat on the rough wooden bench that was the cell’s only furniture, forcing his mind to sort through the jumble of faces, dates, and alibis. James leaned back, his brow creasing in thought. Nothing settled him like forming a solid argument.

The sound of footsteps in the hall woke him sometime later. He sat up and swallowed, his tongue thick in his dry mouth.

“Right this way.” The warden spoke over his shoulder as he approached James’s stall. “Mind, only five minutes.”

The door opened and Sara entered. He would have pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, but he knew she was real by the way his heart tripped and the blood surged in his veins.

He came alive in her presence, like a man who had only ever seen the world in black and white suddenly exposed to all the colors of the rainbow.

She stood before him, wearing her simple navy dress, a warm shawl draped over her shoulders. His eyes traced the movement of her hands as she set down a basket and reached up to untie the ribbons of her bonnet with jerky movements.

“Sara.” He took a step forward and reached for her. She came straight into his arms, squeezing him tightly around his waist. Tension drained out of him at the contact. Her presence absorbed his worry and filled him with new strength.

“I was so worried,” she said, her voice muffled against the wrinkled lawn of his shirt. “Henry said you’d—” Her words caught on a sob, and he leaned down to press his face into the side of her neck. He breathed deep, letting her fresh scent block out the stench of unwashed bodies and human waste.

He pulled back, the first thrill of her presence fading. “What are you doing here alone? It’s not safe. There’s a rebellion afoot.”

“They haven’t reached the city. Foiled by a group of twenty volunteers, according to the jailer, but that seems an unlikely story.”

“Twenty men?” James remembered the unorganized group of farmers he’d seen last night, most without arms or training. No wonder they hadn’t managed to inflict a blow. Still—“The situation could change at any moment.”

She pulled away with a jagged sigh and turned to the basket. “I knew you’d be difficult. I brought some things you might need.” She peeled back the cloth and he saw bread and ham, a jug of water. Pen, ink, and paper.

It had been so long since anyone had taken care of him. “Thank you.” His throat was so thick with emotion that he could barely force the words out. “Evie?”

“She’s well. She wanted to come...” She pressed her lips together, but he saw the telltale tremble.

“Tell her I’ll be home before she knows it.” He attempted confidence he was far from feeling. He hadn’t even managed to track Andrew down. “I’m worried about Andrew,” he said. “I couldn’t find him yesterday. Have you heard anything?”

“Andrew.” She took in a deep breath. “Yes. He came by early this morning.”

“He did? Thank God.” He hadn’t expected that. Some of his worry subsided, knowing Andrew was well and back in the city. Perhaps he’d come to his senses and left the rebellion before it was too late. “They told me he’d gone off on a patrol and not returned. I was worried he’d—”

“He was shot.” Sara came to stand at his side. “He said it wasn’t serious, but...”

“Shot?” Guilt sliced through him. He should have been there. He should have stopped him. “What happened?”

Sara recounted the story of Andrew’s ambush and James realized he’d been stopped by the same picket that had held James at gunpoint.

Thanks to Osgoode, they’d both been identified.

They were in deep. He, Andrew, and by association, Sara.

If she’d been seen helping a fugitive..

. His stomach gave a sickening lurch. She was alone and unprotected while he was trapped in this infernal cell.

He needed a plan. “I’ll have to contact Ballantine.

With his influence, I should be able to get someone to hear my case right away. ”

She gave a decisive shake of her head. “There’s more.

” Sara perched on the edge of the rough bench, pleating the skirt of her gown with one hand.

“Henry told me about the man who’d given him the message for you last night.

” She looked up and he saw the fear in her eyes.

“It wasn’t Ballantine. It was—” Her voice caught.

James sat beside her. “What? Tell me.”

“It was Osgoode.”

The breath left James in a rush. He clasped his hands together, trying to hold on to calm.

Forcing his mind to push past the anger and betrayal, to look for the pattern.

The common thread. Osgoode. He stared, unseeing, at the toes of his boots.

Osgoode sent the message, Osgoode shot Andrew. Osgoode convinced Jarvis to arrest him.

“I know he’s a Tory through and through,” Sara said, her voice low. “But what if it’s more than that?”

James rose and paced to the cell door. Osgoode’s resentment had simmered for years, but would he purposely plan to ruin James in such a public way?

Sara’s words chased him across the cell. “Osgoode set you up. Sent you on a wild goose chase, knowing you’d be caught.” She was at his side in two quick strides. “Didn’t he?”

Of course, Sara had figured it out. “It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to discredit me.” James thought back to the snide comments and sabotaged cases. “But never anything like this.”

“It’s because of me.”

James swung around to face her. “What?” Where had she come up with that?

“I’m not the woman you should have married.” She inhaled with a shudder “I—”

“No.” He couldn’t let her take the blame for his shortcomings.

“This has nothing to do with you. Osgoode blames me for taking Ballantine’s business away from him.

” He pulled her close, but she stood stiff in his arms. “I’ll write Ballantine straight away.

He’ll help me. This will all be cleared up by supper. ”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“He will. I’ll write him right now.”

He pulled ink and paper out of the basket and sat on the bench, using the space beside him as a makeshift desk.

Knowing the guard was bound to return soon, he wrote quickly, explaining the situation as succinctly as he could while Sara paced the cell.

He jumped up as soon as he finished, taking her shoulders in his hands.

“Don’t worry. It will all be well.” He forced his voice to remain steady and deliberate. “You are to keep Evie safe and as far away from this as possible. I’ll handle it.”

“Do you really expect me to abandon you?” Sara stepped back and crossed her arms, chin jutting out, looking as though she’d take on the whole of Her Majesty’s militia for him.

Her support washed over him, covering his anger. He wasn’t alone. She believed in him. There wasn’t a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, nor did her stance waver. He could only thank God for putting such strength and loyalty in his life. He hadn’t thought they existed.

“Sara, I—” He broke off, stunned by the words that almost slipped out of his mouth.

He loved her? His hands came to her face, his fingers tracing the lines of her cheeks, the curve of her chin, memorizing every detail.

He lowered his head, his lips touching hers gently, softly.

She didn’t pull back. Instead, her lips clung to his, her hands creeping up between them to twine about his neck.

He broke the kiss, leaning forward so their foreheads touched.

“You can’t distract me, James Kinney,” she whispered. “You need my help.”

He sighed, the breath leaving his body in a long sweep that carried with it the last shreds of his resistance. “I know.”

She took a small step back, just enough to meet his eyes. “Then tell me what I can do. Who should I talk to?”

“Have this delivered to Ballantine, then stay safe at home until I return.” He ignored her murmur of frustration. “I’ll sort this out.” He tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “And when I am freed, I’ll treasure you all the days I have left, Sara Kinney.”

He didn’t know where the vow sprang from, but he didn’t wish the words unsaid.

He was ready to face the truth. She was necessary to him.

Precious. He savored the thought even as he buried his face in the silky strands of her hair and breathed deep of her scent until the heavy footsteps of the jailer forced them apart.

She stepped back and stared at him, her eyes huge in her face, and reached trembling hands up to tie her bonnet.

Her eyes never left him, and he read in them the shock he was feeling.

It was as though the threat of loss had stripped away every barrier between them, leaving only two souls whose parting he felt like a wrenching, physical pain.

“Come on then, Mrs. Kinney.” The jailer looked back and forth between the two of them with a smirk, his eyes traveling down Sara’s body in a way that had James’s hands closing into fists. He couldn’t protect her from the man’s insolence, and he hated it.

“Sara,” he said. She looked back over her shoulder. “If you should need anything, ask Ballantine.”

A shadow passed over her face and for a moment her eyes were filled with a stark anguish he couldn’t understand.

In the next moment, it disappeared, replaced with a mask of calm and a brisk nod.

“We’ll be fine. Just come home.” She looked at him, long and deep, until the door clanged shut in front of her, leaving him alone.