what it was about this tall, slender young man that won hearts to his cause. She smiled. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”
Dinner was excellent. His lordship’s cook, upon learning that Prince Charlie himself would be dining at Traquair, outdid himself. The roasted lamb was pronounced delicious, the pasties light and rich, the black pudding and haggis the best the assembled guests had tasted.
Herbert Maxwell, laird of Traquair and an ardent Jacobite, was delighted. With the exception of Duncan Forbes at his table, the evening could not have been more perfect. If Duncan’s mother had not been a Maxwell, the man would have been shown the door and hospitality be damned. Maxwell shook his finger at his unwelcome guest. “How dare you suggest that our prince will not be victorious?”
Duncan’s mouth thinned. “Easily,” he replied. “His forces are outnumbered by a highly trained, well-fed, well-paid army.” He focused his attention on the prince. “I beg you, sir. Fall back. Disband your men and return to France. Nothing will come of this but destruction of the Highland clans.”
“Are you omniscient, Forbes?” The prince’s brown eyes glinted with anger. “Can you assure the government forces their victory and my own defeat?”
“It does not take a genius to do so,” Duncan replied bluntly, “only a man with his eyes and ears open.”
The prince inspected his wineglass. “How interesting an interpretation.”
Katrine saw the pulse leap in Duncan’s throat and marveled at his ability to keep his temper. “Are you aware that Cumberland intends complete annihilation of the clans?” he demanded. “There will be no quarter given, not even to the wounded. Glens will be laid to waste and looting sanctioned. Leaders will be executed, and those that are spared will be stripped of their hereditary powers. Is that what you wish for those whose loyalty is yours?”
“Not even Cumberland would stoop to such butchery,” protested Maxwell.
“Would he not?” Duncan spoke softly, but no one could mistake his meaning. “Why don’t you ask Katrine what matter of man he is? She knew him in London. Perhaps another Jacobite can convince you.”
“Katrine?” Charles smiled across the table at her. “Do you agree with Duncan? Shall I call an end to our cause?”
“Would you?” Her large, black-lashed eyes challenged him.
“No,” he replied honestly and grinned.
She smiled wearily and rose to her feet. “Then I’ll bid you good night.” All three men rose, but she waved them to their seats. “Don’t get up. I can find my own way.”
Katrine climbed the stairs that led to the guest bedchambers. But instead of turning down the corridor that led to her room, she moved in the opposite direction toward the secret stairs that led to the hidden priests’ rooms. Last night, in her dreams, Mairi had come to her once again. This time Katrine willed herself to stay calm, refusing to succumb to the terror of the dark passageway and steep, slippery steps. Instead she concentrated on landmarks, committing to memory every turn, every miss, every ancient smoking sconce, on her way to the crypt.
She had awakened early that morning alert and rested for the first time in months, her senses sharp with awareness. Her eyes sparkled, and the dark shadows beneath her lashes had disappeared altogether. Hope surged through her veins. She felt piercingly, vibrantly alive, like a felon destined for the gallows who is unexpectedly reprieved at the final hour. The answer had come to her when she tripped over a jagged irregular step. In a sudden rush of memory, Katrine realized she had traveled this way before, first as a little girl with Alasdair and later with Gavin Maxwell, Herbert’s oldest son. She knew where to find Mairi’s passageway.
Now, all she needed was a chance to search the rooms above the secret stairway in privacy. The men were still arguing among themselves, and her pregnancy had given her the excuse to retire early. Her maid wouldn’t look for her for another two hours.
Rubbing her arms against the chill, Katrine carefully climbed the twisting stairs. The well was so narrow that she found herself walking sideways in order to squeeze through the narrow turns. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and she stopped several times, bracing herself against the walls. Finally, she was at the top. She didn’t bother to search the rooms but went directly to a rosewood panel near the mantel. Mairi had led her down, not up. Wherever the stone was hidden would not be at the top of Traquair House.
Using all her strength, Katrine