was between us must be over.”
He reached out, his fingers clamping down hard on her shoulders. “Why, Katrine? Richard Wolfe is a Whig and an Englishman. If you meant to change your loyalties, why him and not me?”
She lifted her chin in a haughty, defiant gesture. “I love him. But I have not changed my loyalties. If you care as deeply as you say, then be happy for me. The path I’ve chosen is not an easy one.”
He dropped his arm and turned away, but not before she saw the pain in his eyes. The knuckles showed white through his skin. “If you ever need anything—”
“I have everything I need,” she broke in, “except—”
Quickly he turned to face her. “Except?”
“How is the situation in Scotland?”
Disappointed, he nevertheless answered truthfully. “If Charles would only stay in Edinburgh, he might have a chance. His march on London was a fiasco. He has no hope of support from England, and word has it that your father has quarreled with him over the Irishman, O’Sullivan.” He laughed humorously. “Charles always was a fool. If he listened to George Murray, he might prevail. As it stands, he is doomed.”
“That would suit your purposes, wouldn’t it, Lord Forbes?” she said bitterly.
“I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m a government man,” he replied. “This isn’t the Middle Ages, Katrine. The divine right of kings is an outdated tradition. The Stuarts would do their country a better service to remain in France.”
“The Stuarts are kings of Scotland,” she asserted.
“You are such a child, my dear. Haven’t we executed enough of them to dissuade those remaining from making such a claim?”
“I’m leaving,” she announced, “’Tis enough to turn one’s stomach to hear such treason from a Scot.”
He stopped her with his hand on her elbow. “Remember, I’m here if you need me.”
Pulling away, she returned to the ballroom. Katrine found Richard and, pleading a headache, asked to go home. Alone in her own room for the first time since her marriage, she felt the child inside her quicken. And that night, in the frosty chill of an English winter, she experienced the first of the nightmares.
Eight
TRAQUAIR HOUSE
1993
The sun slanted through the window and rested on my face at exactly the same moment I heard the pounding at my bedroom door. I managed to open my eyes and look at the clock. It was well after nine. I had slept more than twelve hours. My body cried out for insulin. Dragging myself out of bed, I walked to the door and unlocked it. Holding a tray of tea and scones, Kate stared at me anxiously.
“I thought something happened to you,” she said. “You’ve been asleep for hours. Why have you locked your door, Miss Murray?”
I covered my mouth and yawned. Apparently living with other people carried its own set of responsibilities. The woman really did look concerned. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” I apologized. “I’ve lived alone for quite a while. Everyone locks doors in Boston. It’s a hard habit to break.”
“I suppose.” She nodded and watched me while I removed insulin from the cooler, assembled my syringe, and injected it into my hip. “Your father called,” she said. “He sounded concerned when I told him you were still sleeping. I offered to wake you, but he wouldn’t allow it.”
Knowing my father, the words wouldn’t allow seemed out of character. More than likely, Kate had decided I shouldn’t be disturbed. “Did he say when he would call again?” I asked.
“Tonight or tomorrow morning.” She poured the tea and buttered the scones after arranging them on the plate. “He said not to change your plans.”
“Kate,” I asked curiously, “if you wouldn’t wake me for my father, why did you wake me now?”
“Mr. Douglas called,” she said. “He wanted to know if you were available to drive into Edinburgh at ten.” She looked pointedly at the clock. “It’s nearly that now.”
I sat down on the bed, tucked one leg under the other, and bit into the hot bread. “What did you tell him?” I asked, reconciling myself to the fact that this woman I barely knew had taken it upon herself to manage my social calendar.
“I told him I would check with you first,” she replied primly.
She had told him no such thing, and I knew it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been roused from a sound sleep to have breakfast in bed and Kate wouldn’t be opening the armoire to inspect my wardrobe.
“I’m finished,” I said quickly, brushing the crumbs