meet. The ship of my youth will soon sail, my friend, I think very soon, in fact. Perhaps on my birthday—the fifth of July. But in any case, I should very much like for you to celebrate with me.
Gather your flowers, have your gown made, don a new pair of slippers, and plan for an exhilarating celebration. An invitation will be sent shortly with details. I do so very much hope you’ll be there to welcome me into a new realm of maturity. Pardon the dramatics, old friend, but you know me. I’ve often felt in exile in this dusty old place with only the birds and frogs for friends. I think I shall decorate with thistles and heather. What say you? Will you come?
Your devoted friend,
A. M.
Jenny grinned. The coded message from her anonymous informant, who had an inside contact in the prince’s party, could not have been clearer. To any redcoat who might have intercepted it the note would read like a silly lass preparing for a coming-out party, but to Jenny it dripped with insider political information. Prince Charles was setting sail from France on the fifth of July to come to Scotland. At last.
“What does it say?” Fiona asked.
“He comes.” Jenny beamed at her friend, who suddenly looked more awake. “We must double our efforts. If he is to land in two weeks’ time, then we’d best be prepared to provide him with all that we’ve amassed.”
Fiona’s violet-blue eyes gleamed. “Can ye imagine a Scotland without the English in it?”
“’Tis hard to believe that over a hundred years ago our Scottish king united the two realms, and here we are fighting a foreign enemy all over again. Fighting men that should be our people. The hate never dies.”
Jenny nodded solemnly. So many lost lives over a crown. “We’re doing the right thing. Charles Stuart is the true heir to the throne.”
“Aye. Of course we are.” Fiona flopped back down on the bed, her eyes growing heavy once more.
“I’ll leave ye to rest.” Jenny stood up, went to the candle on the mantel of her hearth, and held the paper over the flame until it caught. The orange flames licked at the paper, devouring it. She tossed it into the banked hearth, watching as the coals slowly turned the paper brown and then burst into flames.
* * *
The unfamiliar lass who’d snuck into the keep in the wee hours of the morning was clever, Toran would give her that. Had he not been awake watching for any signs of Jenny leaving, he would not have noticed the other girl. She’d rushed along the side of the castle like a wraith, slipping silently into a side door.
Who had let her in the gate? Had she climbed the wall? Was there a secret entrance he didn’t know about?
Before the rest of the men roused, Toran took off at a run along the wall surrounding the castle, checking for any signs of a secret entrance. But he found none. The guard at the postern gate denied having let anyone in, and the men at the front gate stared at him as though he’d grown two heads.
“Ye must have spied our Green Lady,” they teased. “Our ghost who lives in the tower.”
Toran rolled his eyes at them, turning his gaze toward the tower of the castle, the top easily two floors above Jenny’s chamber. What a bunch of storytellers.
As he headed back to the barracks to wake his brother, he spied Jenny exiting the castle. She didn’t see him or at least pretended not to see him as she checked the wagons and spoke with the guards on the wall.
The gown she wore today was simpler than the one she’d worn the day before, more appropriate for working, which only had him more curious about her plans. He was about to approach her when Dirk loomed in front of him, his face looking as bruised as Toran’s felt.
“Ye’re coming with me,” the man said, his voice a near growl.
Toran bristled, wanting to shove the brawny bugger out of his way. “Where are we going?”
“Riding the perimeter.”
Dirk was taking him away from Jenny, away from the castle—and away from witnesses. Either he wanted to kill him or he was going to encourage him to run and then kill him anyway.
“And my brother?”
“He’ll stay behind and work with the rest of the men. Archie will look after him and put your other blasted cousin to work. There’s training and other chores to be