world, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him nothing mattered but the life they would have together. But it wouldn’t be true. There was much more at stake than just the two of them. Richard did not yet understand the significance of what had happened at Drumossie Moor that day, and Katrine did not have the courage to tell him. Instead she said, “I could never leave without first seeing my father.”
Richard nodded. His eyes were very blue as they searched her face. It was as if he were trying to imprint into his memory every curve and line of the fine narrow bones, the clean planes of her cheek and chin, the tilt of her nose, the sweep of black lashes against olive skin, and the clear, fathomless gray of her eyes. His kiss was swift and hard. “I love you, Katrine,” he said hoarsely. “Whatever happens, remember that. God willing, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
“See that you do, Richard Wolfe,” she said gravely. “Come back to me in one piece.”
Tucking his hat under his arm, he smiled at her one last time before leaving the room.
That morning, Katrine breakfasted alone. Duncan had already left when she came down the stairs. His message, telling her he had been summoned by Cumberland, was a cryptic one. He must have realized that Richard had survived the battle and spent the night in her room. She sighed. Duncan had proven himself to be a dear friend, but Richard was her husband. Sooner or later, Duncan would have to come to terms with that fact.
Katrine was halfway through her second cup of tea when a loud pounding at the door interrupted her. She stood and walked into the entry. Duncan’s butler and a blood-smeared clansman she recognized as Gillie MacBean of Clan Chattan argued loudly.
Quickly, she intervened. “May I help you?” she asked politely.
“Don’t listen to him, m’lady,” entreated the butler. “Lord Forbes specifically instructed me to see that you remain inside today. Cumberland’s troops are killing everyone in sight, no questions asked.”
“I appreciate your concern, Holmes,” replied Katrine, “but I must hear what Gillie has to say.”
Gillie MacBean straightened his shoulders and stepped forward. “’Tis Ewan Douglas who sent me to fetch you, lass. His wound is poisoned, and he wishes to leave your mother a message.”
Katrine’s hand flew to her throat. Ewan was her uncle, her mother’s only surviving brother. “Can you wait until I get my cloak?” she asked.
The man’s worried countenance relaxed, and he nodded. “A moment more will make no difference.”
“’Tis not safe, m’lady,” the butler repeated. “I wish you will reconsider.” His words followed her as she ran up the stairs, found her cloak, and hurried down again.
“Tell Lord Forbes where I’ve gone,” she said, pulling on her gloves. “If my uncle is well enough, I shall bring him back with me.”
The servant bowed his head in defeat as the burly clansman lifted Katrine to his own saddle and climbed up behind her.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To a barn near Balvraid,” the man replied. “Ewan made his way there last evening.”
Her eyebrows lifted in astonishment. “Are there no surgeons to see to the wounded?”
“Aye,” said Gillie bitterly, “to the government wounded. Those fighting for the prince can expect nothing more than the sharp end of a bayonet.”
“Even those who surrendered?” Katrine refused to believe the men her husband commanded were capable of such cruelty.
“This isn’t a tea party, lass. The charge against us is treason, and the penalty is death.”
Katrine could think of nothing to say that would soften the horror of such a fate. She remained silent until they pulled up beside what appeared to be a deserted barn.
Her uncle was still conscious, but his eyes were closed. He was alone, and the blood staining his shirt came from a wound in the center of his chest.
Katrine knelt beside him. “Uncle Ewan,” she whispered, “’tis Katrine. I’ve come to take you away from here.”
Slowly the dying man’s eyes opened. His breath was loud and rasping, and the bubbles forming at his mouth were filled with blood. With enormous effort he formed the words. “Tell Janet—”
Katrine bent her ear to his lips. “Tell her what?”
His words were the barest whisper. “Tell her to go to France. Take my son, his wife, and the child.” His breathing altered for a moment and then continued. “They mean to kill all of us. No one in the Highlands is