He drew his sword. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
Cumberland stepped back. “Restrain him,” he ordered his men.
The dragoons looked doubtfully at each other. More than one face held a troubled expression. Major Wolfe was a superior officer and a favorite among the men.
Richard grinned. “Come, lads. I’ll take you together or one at a time.”
Two horsemen moved forward.
“No,” Katrine moaned, pulling out of the grasp of her captors. She could not bear to see Richard’s lean, beautiful body torn into pieces before her. Rushing forward, she grabbed Cumberland’s sleeve. “Stop please,” she begged.
Surprised at the unexpected contact, he turned quickly, his sword extended. The blade, cold as ice, sliced deeply into the soft flesh of Katrine’s breast.
A look of astonishment crossed her face. She stepped back and touched her hand to her side. Blood stained her gown and seeped through her fingers. With a gasp, she crumpled to the ground.
Shocked, Cumberland dropped his sword just as Richard’s hands found his throat. The choking pain had given way to a sweet lassitude before his men pried him loose. When at last he sat up, he saw Major Wolfe riding away, cradling his wife in his arms. No one attempted to stop them. Looking into the accusing eyes of his men, Cumberland knew that any order to apprehend the couple would be disobeyed.
Richard Wolfe had seen enough of war to know that Katrine’s wound was fatal. It was amazing that even now she lived. Blood poured from the gash like a fountain. His jacket and shirt were already drenched, and he could feel the familiar wetness beneath his clothing, warm against his skin. He refused to succumb to his pain. There would be a lifetime for anguish. Now, he must be strong for Katrine.
“Richard.” Her voice was faint. “Save my family. See that they leave for France.”
“You know I will.” Not for one moment did he consider lying. Katrine, straightforward in the throes of death as she was in life, would be spared the effort of pretense. They both knew she was dying. Any comfort must be taken in these last few moments together. He stopped the horse. They were far from Cumberland and his men.
“Take care of Alasdair,” she whispered. “Later, when the troubles are settled, bring him to Scotland. My mother has no one left.”
Richard tried to contain his grief, but the pain was too great. Burying his head in her hair, he wept. Her hand slipped away and her head fell back, and still he wept. He knew from the frightening limp weight of her that she was gone. He knew night would soon descend and that a lone man on horseback was a target. He knew that his life would be worthless if either Cumberland’s troops or Jacobite marauders came upon him. But none of it mattered. He had lost Katrine Murray. Nothing would ever matter again.
Eleven
BLAIR CASTLE
1993
An insistent knocking brought me back to the present. Crossing the room, I unlocked the door to find an anxious Ian Douglas staring back at me.
“In another minute, I would have forced my way in,” he said. “Are you all right?”
Shaking my head, I stepped back and leaned against the door. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Tears choked my throat and paralyzed my tongue.
The worry on his face deepened. He stepped forward and reached for me. Closing my eyes, I leaned against him, giving way to the searing grief I could no longer hold back. Deep inside me, from a source I didn’t know existed and hadn’t yet begun to tap, the heaving sobs began. Gathering me against his chest, Ian let me cry for a long time, rubbing my back and the crown of my head, murmuring Gaelic words of comfort into my ear.
Much later, when my storm of emotion had passed and his sweater was damp with tears, I pulled out of his arms, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. He handed me his handkerchief, and I accepted it with a self-conscious “Thank you.”
Ian waited until I’d restored some semblance of calm to my tear-streaked face. Then he led me to the armchair, pressed me down into the cushions, and asked, “Are you ready to tell me what that was all about?”
I looked away from the concern reflected in his face and closed my eyes. For some reason I was exhausted. What I wanted more than anything in the world was to go home. Edinburgh and the luncheon with