suspicions, I kept silent. When Ian’s car disappeared through the gates, I walked back into the house.
“He’s certainly a personable young man,” my father said, “but marriage? Are you sure, Christina?”
“Why do you ask?”
He frowned. “You didn’t say a word the entire time he was here.”
“I’m perfectly sure. We have a lot in common,” I assured him.
“Such as?” My mother smiled expectantly.
“An interest in history, our ancestry, the fact that our families have been neighbors for centuries”—I ticked each attribute off on my fingers—“books, food, music, education. Just about everything.”
She sighed. “Your living in Scotland will be hard on us. Boston was far enough, but Scotland.” She looked at me and smiled tremulously. “I’m very happy for you, Chris. Now, before I get emotional, I’d like to look around the house.”
I left my mother to her wandering, said good night to my father, and started up the stairs to my room. The day had been too long already. At the landing, I turned and nearly bumped into Kate. The moment stretched out, and neither of us spoke. Finally, it was too late to pretend politeness. Without a word, I moved around her and continued down the hall toward my room.
“May I offer my congratulations, Miss Murray,” she called after me. “Your mother told me the news.”
There was no reason to keep silent. After all, neither Mother nor I had done anything to be ashamed of. I turned around. “Do you know who my grandmother was, Kate?”
Something flickered in her eyes and then disappeared. “Why would I know anything of the sort?”
“We both know Lord Maxwell was my grandfather. You must have known it from the beginning. I want to know who my grandmother was.”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
“Don’t you know, or are you honoring a confidence?”
“My loyalties are to the people of Traquair.”
She had cleverly twisted her answer, but I was too tired to pursue the issue. I rubbed my aching temples. “Ian will be here early tomorrow,” I said. “I know you’ll be busy fixing breakfast for everyone else, but he’d like a batch of your scones if it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Ian Douglas has never caused me trouble, Miss Murray.”
Obviously my engagement had her approval. “Oh, by the way.” I’d almost forgotten. “Tomorrow the house will be closed to tourists. Ian and I will be working upstairs.”
“You’re looking pale, Miss Murray. Is there anything I can get you?”
Was it my imagination, or had she deliberately ignored my comment? She didn’t seem at all curious to know the reason Traquair would be closed or what Ian and I would be working on. It was very unlike her.
I looked at her closely, hoping the implacable calm of her face would crack and reveal something of her thoughts. She stared back without blinking. Her eyes glittered. Kate Ferguson reminded me of a witch in a fairy tale. Suddenly, I was afraid. I turned away. “No, thank you,” I murmured. “All I need is sleep.”
“Good night, Miss Murray.”
I closed the door and, for the second time since I’d arrived at Traquair House, slid the lock into place. The woman was evil. I could sense it. The pieces were coming together. I knew there wasn’t much time left. I sensed that Kate knew it too.
The headache came just as I was drifting off to sleep. This time I was ready for what came with it.
SHIELS CASTLE, SCOTLAND
1278
“Ring around the rosies,
Pockets full o’ posies,
Ashes, ashes,
All fall dead.”
The circle of children dropped their hands and fell to the ground, shrieking with laughter. The air smelled of smoke and charred flesh. White flakes, soft and warmer than snow, drifted down, settling on their heads, their clothes, the grass where they played. Clouds of ashes rose where they fell, burning their lungs, rendering them invisible from ten feet away.
At first, caught up in their private world of illicit glee, no one noticed the small boy standing by himself, his brow furrowed, his bottom lip thrust out in a scowl. Finally, a girl smaller than the others turned around and saw him.
“There you are, David,” she called to him. “Come and play.”
Mutinously, he shook his head.
“Come,” she begged. “We are uneven without you.”
“I don’t want to,” he mumbled.
Another boy with thick legs and matted hair rose to his feet. He swaggered toward David Murray until he stood within an inch of the smaller boy’s chest. Thrusting out an accusing finger, he poked him roughly. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “Annie wants you to play.”