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Part 28

single bead of wax slowly rolled down the long taper, its progress slow and unhurried. It was the only movement in the room, but it was carefully witnessed by the lone man sitting amid the shadows. He had been watching the candle this last half hour, not stirring.

"Tis like my heart---weeping blood one drop at a time," Ross thought silently, his eyes closing slowly against the thought.

Frederick was upstairs now, watching over Katrina. He had arrived that morning looking rather haggard from his bumpy ride from Lyme. But his mind had only been on one thing. His sister and her well being.

Ross had given him license to do as he pleased, Lady McGrath having had a fine room prepared for his use. It was also something of a relief to his agony to have someone near who cared for Katrina as much as he did.

There had been little change since the night before. But Ross felt in his soul that she was drifting away from them all, slowly loosening her bonds with this earth and finding her way toward Heaven. The thought of it twisted in his soul at times. But in his prayers he found peace, a calm that gave him hope that no matter what happened, his beloved would find rest and comfort. Even if that haven was not in his arms.

There was a light tap at the door and a familiar face soon appeared. "Dear Ross, may I come in?"

Ross turned from his contemplation and smiled as he caught sight of his cousin. "Dear Elise," he murmured. "You know you need not ask. Come, join me."

Ross had been more than happy to receive Elise a few hours before Wentworth's arrival. She had insisted on coming to assist in Katrina's care, even if it meant sitting with Ross or distracting Lady McGrath. Her smiling face lifted everyone's spirits as they waited and watched.

"It is quite late," Elise gently spoke, wearing a simple gown of dove gray. "Do tell me you are going to get some rest whilst Captain Wentworth is with Katrina."

He leaned against the Library desk, his arms folded across his chest. "Would that I might close my eyes," he confessed simply. "But I find that as I approach the edges of slumber, something always pulls me back sharply."

Elise watched him carefully, noting the shadows beneath is dark eyes, the grooves beside his mouth. And a sprinkling of gray hairs was evident at his temples. If Katrina's illness had taken a toll on anyone in the household, it was Ross who suffered most. She sensed that he was harboring feelings of guilt that would not allow him to rest.

"Ross, I am your friend," Elise stated quietly, her eyes seeking his. "I grew up with you, do not forget. I know your ways, how you are wont to silently brood. You must not blame yourself for this tangle. Tis' no going back."

What a wise one she is, Ross thought ruefully. And how utterly transparent I must be to her. He regarded her with affection and spoke truthfully, "I am to blame for this, Elise. And I cannot relax, cannot rest easy until I know Katrina is safe. That she is at peace."

Coming to stand before him, Elise lightly touched his sleeve. "Do you think she would want you to torture yourself, Ross? To suffer your own health in hopes of recovering hers? I think not. And would she not quietly tell you that the choices she made were her own?"

Ross closed his eyes briefly, sighing tiredly. "I can hear her telling me many things, Elise. How can I forget finding her on a London street, wearing no coat, and nearly frozen, because she was trying to protect me? Dear God, how I wish I had known!"

"But you did not," Elise gently reminded him, lightly rubbing his arm in a gesture of comfort. "She had everyone convinced and that was her plan. Dear Ross, you did as she asked and stayed away. And you were there for her when she needed you most. You cannot continue to reproach yourself in this way. Is the God we know and worship so unkind as to require such needless grief? You know it is not so."

Ross nodded, taking in her words thirstily. "But I cannot stop myself, Elise. She was all alone, a pawn to Richard, and I ought to have insisted on knowing the truth."

He moved away from the desk and sat on the edge of a leather armchair, his face buried in his hands. "How little did I know what meeting her would do to change my sorry bachelor's life," he murmured so softly she hardly heard him. "Can you not recall the day we met at the Wentworth's seaside house? How shy and unpretentious she was? I had no idea how she would steal into my heart and gradually make it her own."

Standing beside the chair, Elise watched Ross with anxious eyes. He must not fall prey to his morose thoughts, she surmised. I must help him to remember her with hope and happiness, to not lose courage.

"Do you remember how utterly shocked Mama was when she saw that portrait of me?" Elise asked, amusement edging her words. "I do believe she should have swooned if not for Papa. Never have I seen her so silent, and that is quite a task."

A glimmer of warmth and remembrance lightened Ross' face as he looked up at her. "She was taken aback," Ross remembered fondly. "But no more than I was when I first saw it. I was the first one to see it after it was completed."

Memories of that evening came flooding back to him, how sweetly uncertain she had looked as she had awaited his opinion on the portrait. How he had kissed her small, skillful hands and felt something move in his heart, in his soul. They had been interrupted by Lord Stenning then and the moment had been lost to them.

"Perhaps I knew even then that I loved her," he spoke aloud, wonderingly. "It is as if you hold an ideal in your heart, your dreams of the woman you wish to share your life with. You do not articulate such a thing but it exists. Quietly, unrealized. That evening some unconscious part of me was seeing that image reflected in Katrina. But I did not know it then."

His words sent a pang through her sensitive heart. Nodding, Elise rested her hands on his shoulders and remarked, "You were so well accustomed to your life as it was. We all despaired of you ever settling down. But if any woman could have changed that, it was Katrina. Only she could have caused you to decide to quite the Corps, a decision I applaud with all my heart."

"Yes, she did," Ross murmured quietly, a mixture of love and pain echoed in his words. "Silently, without even knowing it, she conquered me, Elise. That is why she must recover from this blasted fever. So I can spend my life with her at Castle McGrath...loving her, looking after her, laughing with her."

Something caught Elise' eye as she looked past him to the nearby desk. It belonged to Ross' late father, the former earl. A worn sketchbook lay there and Elise' curiosity sprang to life. "Ross, has your Mama started sketching in her older years? I imagine she has some wish to learn some of Katrina's skill."

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Ross followed her glance to the desk and stood up. He had not seen the book before. And he knew that his mother had little patience for drawing. She would much rather be digging in her gardens. "I've no idea, my dear. You are at liberty to explore. A diversion of some sort would be welcome."

Elise moved gracefully over to the large, oak desk and picked up the book. She draw up the cover and began leafing through the pages. Within moments, she was standing stock still, her green eyes going large with surprise.

"Oh my," she breathed. "Ross, you must see this..."

Quickly, he moved to stand behind her and his eyes fell on the large, square pages of paper. And his heart skipped a beat as he saw the many faces and images there.

"It is Katrina's sketchbook," Elise breathed in wonder. "She has sketched us all, drawn pictures of the seashore, of Anne and the Captain...how she must have pined for home!"

Each drawing was done with loving detail and natural simplicity, as was Katrina's style. As in her paintings, she caught the movement and personality of every person she drew. To look upon the sketches was like walking into Katrina's heart and mind, an experience that awed and humbled Ross as never before.

There were playful drawings of Bess, her dog, sniffing cautiously at a crab. Another scene revealed Sophy making a joke of some kind, her eyes lit with laughter. And yet another captured the wild, picturesque beauty of the shore behind the Wentworth home.

"For the first time, she had a home when she came to live in Lyme with the Wentworths," he said aloud. "She was loved and loved in return, made to feel wanted...and needed."

Elise's fingers drew up the next page and they both were silent. The image that confronted them was too stunning to give word or thought to at once. Ross' dark eyes were inexorably drawn to the image there, riveting him. There was no mistaking whom she had drawn. It was him.

She had drawn him wearing a kilt, sporran, and plaid, his face turned toward a silvery blue loch in the background. Sunset danced on the water and was reflected in his eyes. The expression on his face was one of pure contentment, of strength drawn from the land and her people.

Dazedly, Ross wondered how she had known to draw him thus. It was as if she had drawn him in his dreams, an unknown witness to his nocturnal visions of home. How had she known that so many nights he had wandered back to some foreign hotel, without a friend in sight, longing for home?

His fingers lightly touched the page as if to draw in some essence of her, some of the energy that had created the lines and shadings. Her own skillful hands had created it, a testament to what she had been thinking and feelings.

"She loves you so very much, Ross," Elise finally said, something akin to wonder in her gentle tone. "It is more than plain from this. She was able to express you utterly, completely. Only a woman truly in love could have drawn this."

Oh yes, Ross thought painfully. He knew that to be true. In the dark shadows of a gallery he had seen love in those dark blue eyes, had enfolded her soft, sweet body against this. If he had ever entertained any doubts about what he had seen that night, this drawing banished them forever.

Elise began to look through the rest of the pages and soon found what Ross knew must also be there. Sketches of Lawrence stared back up at them, plainly his brother. It roused his dormant anger and frustration at who had in part caused Katrina's pain.

"If I ever lay hands on that worthless excuse for a man," he breathed darkly, anger held in check. "I shall make him regret he ever took breath."

Elise glanced up at her cousin worriedly. "Anger will do Katrina no good at this point, Ross, as you well know. Is not the Marquis making certain Lawrence does not leave the country?"

Nodding briefly, Ross turned away from the drawings. "Yes, he is. I received word earlier today from him that the house party in Kent has begun. And that Sir Paul is arranging for my beloved brother's appearance in two day's time to show his treasures."

Before Elise could speak, Ross caught the sound of feet running above them. Something was amiss and he knew it must involve Katrina. Without speaking, he drew away from the desk and ran from the room, flying up the curved staircase two steps at a time. Elise was not far behind.

A maid was coming out of Katrina's room and Ross stopped her at once. "What is amiss, Beth? Is Miss Katrina better?"

The anxious look on the girl's face spoke otherwise. "Nay, my lord. She be bad off, she be. The Cap'n asked I send fer the surgeon. Says she's coughin' up blood, he did."

"Then do as he says," Ross instructed urgently, moving toward the door. "Wake up Peter and send him off at once."

Ross entered the dimly lit chamber and heard the sound of gasping. Frederick was leaning over Katrina's small form, pulling her long hair back from her flushed face. He looked up at Ross, despair written plainly on his face.

"I fear it has settled into her lungs, Ross," he spoke simply. "She woke moments ago, coughing and crying out. I can do little to ease her pain."

"Peter is going for the doctor now," Ross assured him, his eyes riveted to the woman he loved. "Please go and make certain he hurries. I shall look after her."

Frederick arose from the bed and Ross took his place at once, his heart crying out at the weak, limp body now wracked with pain. A sharp, deep cough broke the air and Ross gathered her up into his arms to support her. She seemed to relax somewhat in his hold, her body somehow knowing that she was loved and safe.

"Ross," she whispered softly. "Oh Ross..."

He rubbed her back carefully, comfortingly. "Hold onto me, Titania," he murmured lightly. "When you need to cough, hold onto me and I will help you bear it."

But inside Ross was nearly frantic. He knew what pneumonia could do to a person and how weak Katrina already was. This infection could very well finish the work already done.

Brushing back a lock of hair from her damp face, Ross kissed her lightly on the forehead. Her blue eyes opened slowly, focusing on his face. Although she was very ill, she was very well aware of who he was.

"Thank be..to...God...you are....here...."

The words were nearly inaudible but Ross heard them. He clasped her hand in his tightly and smiled down at her. "I could not leave my beloved fairy," he softly answered, his voice cracking. "For I fear she may choose to leave me for warmer climes and I would have needs to follow her."

Tears were gathering in her eyes, gleaming bright against the light from the candles blazing nearby. "You saved...me," she managed to say before another tearing cough shook her body.

At that, Ross lifted her up into his lap, gathering the bedclothes round her securely so that she was nestled against his chest. "No, my love," he murmured more to himself than to her. "Tis you who saved me!"

Part 29

oss finished tying his cravat loosely and glanced at his appearance in the hall mirror with a depreciating glance. He knew he looked worn and hardly fit company at the moment. But fashion did not concern him a jot at the moment. It was Katrina that mattered most, not the cut of his coat.

Ross had cursed himself for not being awake when the doctor had arrived earlier. But Elise and Frederick had literally dragged him from the room with strict orders to not return for the next six hours. Katrina was resting and it would do him no good to remain. Elise was quite vigilant about it, as was her nature.

"Katrina will think you resemble the losing end of an alley scuffle," she had told him with her characteristic wit. "And surely you do not wish for her to hold you in such a low opinion?"

No, he did not. But to leave her was well nigh unbearable. For over an hour he had held her when the doctor came last night and examined her, pronouncing his agreement with the Captain. She had contracted pneumonia and her lungs were indeed inflamed.

Her small, weakened body was barely an armful, her pitiful breaths coming in tortured gasps. She had lain weakly against him, her dark eyes looking up at his from time to time as if to discern that it was truly him. Her lack of strength made it difficult for her to speak but Ross hoped she drew some sense of strength from his presence.

To make matters worse, Ross had received word only moments ago from Richard that his presence was needed urgently in Kent. Tomorrow night, Lawrence was to make his brief appearance at the Chevington country estate. He had no desire to leave Katrina in her present state. But he must deal with Lawrence personally. Of that he was more than certain.

Elise was coming out of Katrina's room just then, a distracted look in her vivid green eyes. Ross quickened his pace and she looked up with pleasure.

"Oh Ross," she breathed happily. "You look rested. That is very good indeed. I do hope you ate some of Mrs. Soames' breakfast."

"A little," he admitted, his appetite having diminished significantly. "But that is enough of me. Did Marshall see to her? What did he say?"

"Good news, Ross," Elise eagerly told him. "Her fever is slowly coming down. But it is taking longer than he would like. She is so very weak, you see. But she is awake now. And I think you must speak with her as soon as you may."

Ross stared at her intently. "What is troubling her, Elise? I would have nothing upsetting her at this point."

Elise smiled sadly, thinking of the very brief conversation she had just had with her friend. "She cannot speak at length, as you know," Elise murmured. "But she is so certain she has disappointed everyone, made you angry. I kept telling her she was wrong but I think a word from you would ease her mind."

Nodding briefly, Ross leaned over to kiss her cheek in a gesture of gratitude. "Thank you, my dear, for watching after her. Is the Captain about?"

"He is taking a much deserved rest," Elise told him. "He only retired a few hours ago. But I have no doubt he will be awake soon."

Ross turned from his cousin and entered Katrina's room quietly. The weak winter sun was pouring into her room, a welcome change from the gray, bleak days of the last week.

She turned her head slowly at the sound and his eyes found her as he crossed the room. He never tired of looking at her, of simply being near her. Her mere presence fueled his spirits, gave him hope and joy.

Ross sat down on the edge of the bed, noting how pale she looked against the white sheets. Her skin had an almost translucent look, parchment thin. A wee ghostie she is, he thought. Floating between worlds. She essayed a smile as he took up her hand in his, not even able to grasp onto his fingers.

"My Titania is awake," he murmured, kissing each finger. "And I must say, it is a welcome sight."

She gave a slight nod, knowing that to do more would only cause her to feel dizzy. "You....slept?" she rasped. As usual, her concern was not for herself but for him.

"Do not speak," he softly told her, holding the small, limp hand in both of his. "I will not have your strength taxed. Yes, I did rest and feel like a new man. But being away from you was harder than I imagined. I find I cannot do without you, Katrina."

She looked away then, her cheek against the pillow. Elise had been right. She was afraid of what he thought of her. It rested unspoken in her large, tired eyes.

"Katrina, I want you to know that no one is angry at you," he quietly told her. "You did what you thought was best. I know that you had no idea that Brian Whitby was actually Lawrence, my brother. I know why you kept it all a secret. I am only sorry that you did not feel you could turn to me for help."

She was silent but a single tear slowly glided down her pale, thin cheek. Ross' hand rose to gently, lovingly brush it away. "You thought I would turn against you and believe that you lied to me. I know you would never do that, Katrina. I know how convincing Richard can be. So you need not reproach yourself for anything that happened. It is Richard who had done the wrong for not telling me of Lawrence's crimes. I would have been the first to find him and bring him back."

He could see by the bleak pain in her eyes that his guess had been right. What needless suffering she had put herself through, he thought bitterly. She had become her own worst enemy.

"What matters now is that you rest and heal," he continued gently, his fingers stroking her cheek. "Do not think of Richard, or Lawrence, or any of that. It is out of your hands now. Think of getting well. Of being with your family again. And of our future together."

At his last insistent words, she looked up at him, confusion marring her lovely eyes. It was clear that this was something she had not allowed herself to think about. "No," she whispered, looking away sadly. "You.....must not...say that..."

His strong fingers captured her chin so that she could not look away. He moved on the bed so that their eyes met, locked, clung. It was time that she knew without a scrap of doubt how much she meant to him, how vast a place she laid claim in his heart.

"I must not love you?" he murmured softly. "Is that what you are asking me to do? Would Oberon have the strength, the ability to give up his love for his Titania? No, my fairy, I cannot. I will not. We are bound, you and I, by a force that is beyond us. It is the love God has planted in our hearts for each other."

The tears were again threatening to fall and Ross kissed each eye. "Love is a frightening emotion for an old bachelor like me, Katrina. You shall have to help me to find my way. I love you, dear girl. With all of my heart, with each thought that enters my head."

Ross took up her hand and drew it to rest against his chest, holding it there with his own hand. "You are a part of my heart, my life. I think I must have known it from the moment I saw you, heard your voice. Because you know me better than anyone, Katrina. You know my very secret hopes, my deepest fears."

He paused, remembering her drawings. "I saw your sketches, my fairy. They had a very peculiar effect on me. They touched something deep inside of me that I had put aside for a long time. But I find that you have been changing my life in a thousand ways ever since I first saw you."

From the expression in her eyes, Ross knew she was drinking in every word he spoke like a thirsty voyager traveling through a barren dessert. He inwardly cursed the fact that only now could he speak his heart, when she lay so weak and helpless.

"I remember watching you play on the beach with Bess that day," he told her quietly, a raw, open tone to his words. "And for a moment, I stood and watched you without shouting a greeting. Without moving. You were so innocent, so utterly without a care, laughing like a child..."

Her thin cheeks grew rosy in remembrance. "Oh Ross," she breathed, embarrassed that he had seen her so.

A smile meant only for her lit his features as he held one small, pale hand against his lips. "It was the loveliest thing I believe I had ever seen. For years I have traveled this world, met some of the grandest heads of state, seen the wonders of art in a hundred museums. But all of it seemed to fall away that day. I realized how much I was missing."

"Even your name speaks of your goodness," he reminded her lovingly. "In Gaelic, the name Katrina means "pure" and that is what you have been to me. All that is good, true, and untouched by the evils of this world. I want to hold that goodness close to me, to know you are always with me!"

Pausing, he saw that she was staring up at him, hope burgeoning there in her expression. But it was mingled with fear, uncertainty. Has she been so certain he could not love her?

Speaking in slow, insistent tones, he told her, "I am asking you to be my wife, Katrina. I know it is a mad thing to propose marriage when you are so weak, so very ill. But I must do so now before I go."

He did not have to explain it to her. Ross could see that she knew what he was referring to. "Lawrence...." she breathed painfully, the air catching in her scarred lungs. "Oh Ross....you...are...going to...fight him."

Shaking his head, Ross smoothed back the curls from her forehead. "I am going to bring him to justice, my love," he told her truthfully. "It is something I have to do. As his brother and as a man. I cannot let him continue to destroy himself and the lives of others. But I will return to you as soon as I can."

But his assurances did little to soothe her. With all of her strength, Katrina attempted to draw herself up from the pillows, a spark of protest in her eyes. "No, Ross," she choked out. "He...is dangerous!"

Ross drew her up into his arms so as to calm her. "Katrina, you must to bring more harm to yourself by upsetting yourself. Rest easy, darling. Lie still now."

She lie against his strong shoulder, sighing with regret. If only she were not so pathetically helpless. She had to stop him from doing something so foolish as to face Lawrence. The man was a master of trickery, capable of evil deeds.

"You are a little wildcat," he murmured in amazement. "I believe you would battle him barehanded to protect me. But it is not your battle to fight, my love. This stands between Lawrence and me. Not you. "

She was silent, unable to speak as the emotions churched, spun inside of her heart. It was as she had feared. The moment he had reasoned out what had happened, he had taken up the challenge. It was the warrior Scot in him, fighting to protect and defend his own. She could feel the strength of his resolve in the insistent rhythm of his heart beneath her cheek.

"He will not harm me, I swear," Ross continued. "But you must hear me out, Katrina. I want you to rest. To concentrate on getting well. Dream of our lives together. Our future. Dream about the loch, the castle, the people you will help me take care of. That is what I want you to think about most. Because it is where we will spend the rest of our lives. And I cannot do it without you."

Sleep was tugging at her again. The doctor had given her a slow acting sedative and she could feel it kicking in. Her eyelids were drooping and she felt herself relaxing, giving into it. He must know she loved him before he departed on his journey. A journey that might result in the end of his life. His strong, capable fingers were coming through her hair so gently. Suddenly he remembered a snatch of verse from one of his homeland's beloved poets. "Think of this instead, Katrina," he murmured. And in a low, lilting tone, he began to recite:

"But Peggy dear, the evening's clear,
     Thick flies the skimming swallow;
The sky is blue, the fields in view,
     All fading-green and yello;
Come let us stray our gladsome way,
     And view the charms of nature;
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
     And every happy creature.

We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
     Till the silent moon shine clearly;
I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,
     Swear how I love thee dearly:
Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs,
     Not autumn to the farmer,
So dear can be as thou to me,
     My fair, my lovely charmer!"

(From Robert Burns' poem "Peggy" )

Her eyes falling shut, Katrina was very still in his arms, conjuring up visions of the land surrounding Castle McGrath. She could feel the cool evening air on her hot face, the strength of Ross' arm about her waist, the sound of birds going to nest in the trees nearby. It soothed and relaxed her as nothing else had before. She wanted to remain awake but the darkness was pulling her back with its relentless call.

"Sleep now, my charmer," he murmured. "And dream of that walk we shall take when I return and you are well again."

As his beloved charmer sank into sleep, Ross watched over her with a gentle fierceness. Somehow they would weather this storm together. If God could plant such a strong love in his and Katrina's hearts, surely He could guide her safely out of danger?

And yet again, Ross began to pray.

Part 30

Looking up from her book, Anne suddenly realized how very quiet the house had become. Without Martha's constant chatter, the silence that filled the space was almost deafening.

It was difficult to imagine that Christmas would arrive tomorrow. Anne had sent Martha to spend the next few days with her children further out in the country. One of thirteen children, Martha had given birth to nine children of her own, all scattered about the countryside. But they all returned for the holidays, and Anne wanted her to have plenty of time to enjoy it with them properly.

"But what if the babe should come, ma'am?" Martha had asked, eyes wide. "I canna go leavin' ye on yer own like this. Cap'n Wentworth'd have me head, e' would!"

Chuckling at her turn of phrase, Anne had stood firm. "He would be the first to agree with me, Martha. You have worked so very hard for us since we moved here. And I know with Horace gone, your family means the world to you. That is where you must go. We both know I am not due for at least another month so there is no need to worry yourself."

Martha's husband had passed on three years before but his absence still grieved his family. He had been a large, jovial man much like his wife and had loved his family dearly. Anne knew Martha missed him more than she ever let on.

Agatha only lived a few miles off so she would be about if Anne needed anything. Today she had walked up the hill to visit Crispin's wife, Liz. They were forever swapping recipes or talking of their mutual friends in town.

Jane and Nurse Rooke had also chosen today to pay a Christmas eve call on Margaret Harville and her children. Jane, who adored children, had grown quite fond of Margaret and enjoyed sharing a cup of tea with her. Anne had been pleased to see the friendship of the two women blossom.

Tired of sitting, Anne slowly moved to the edge of the sofa and attempted to lever herself off of it. She had to be so careful as to where she sat these days. Her body, swollen with child, was quite changed. Moving carefully, she grasped the edge of the nearby table and pulled herself up.

"There!" Anne breathed aloud, her hand unconsciously cupped against her rounded abdomen. "And without anyone to help me! Your mama is quite clever today, dear one. Although she wishes you would come soon!"

Moving over to the fireplace, Anne happily thought of the nursery upstairs. All was in readiness now, thanks to Jane and Nurse Rooke. They had staged an all out war on making certain the room was cheerful and ready for its new arrival. Anne had marveled at their enthusiasm and had been caught up in it.

Anne's delicate fingers reached out to finger the fragrant greenery that hung over the mantle. Crispin had brought it in only the day before. Anne's heart ached to think that Frederick had not been there to do it. He adored all the little traditions that attended Christmas, having been raised in a happy family. Last year, as they had been aboard ship, there had been no greenery to hang. But Frederick had done everything in his power to make the holiday a happy one for her. It had certainly been the first one since her mother's death that she had truly enjoyed.

Some of the crew were actually rather promising musicians, so a party had been arranged. Of course, being the only woman aboard ship had made such an event rather amusing. Anne had found herself dancing with nearly every sailor on board, a notion that would have made her laugh before her marriage. Later, in their cabin, Frederick had teased her on the matter.

"Was it only a few months ago that I was told that Anne Elliot no longer cared to dance?" he had asked, eyes dancing with pleasure. "And this night I have seen you change partners every five minutes. I had no idea what a dancer I had married, little one. You shall make me quite jealous."

Smiling up at him with a mixture of merriment and warmth, Anne had stood on her toes to clasp her arms about his neck so that they were entwined. "But I only have eyes for one sailor, Captain. I am afraid I did not notice anyone else," she murmured playfully.

Frederick's eyes had flashed in the shadows as he had looked down at her, something fiery and unspoken in their depths. Then his warm, questing mouth was on hers and Anne happily quite forgot all about dancing and parties.

Christmas was but a day away, she now thought with a mixture of happiness and guilt. How sad it was that they were all flung to different corners. Sophy and the Admiral were en route to London to attend to Katrina. Anne knew that as soon as Sophy had caught wind of it that they would do so.

It had been a great relief to receive Frederick's note yesterday indicating that his sister appeared to be improving. While the pneumonia had taken hold, the fever seemed to be abating. She was weak but the doctor held out hope that with time she would make a full recovery. As a result, Frederick hoped to join her in Lyme as soon as possible.

He had written: "I cannot tell you how difficult it was for me to watch poor Ross look after her, that haunted look in his eyes. For there was little I could say or do to give him relief. Had I not shared such feelings when I kept vigil over you not so long ago, little one? Of all people, I know all too well what an agony it is to watch the woman you love linger at Heaven's gate."

Anne moved away from the fireplace and realized that Bess was not in the room. The Springer spaniel had been shadowing her for the last several days, something that was not unusual. It was as if the dog knew she needed to remain close by whilst her mistress was alone. So it was odd that she was not about.

Anne shouted for the dog but heard no noises. Usually, Bess bounded down the stairs or up from the kitchen in a matter of moments. Anne surmised she must be in the stables. It had become one of her favorite haunts of late.

Walking into the hallway, Anne gathered up Frederick's old coat and twined his scarf about her neck. Looking in the mirror, Anne knew she looked somewhat comical but she did not care. With her increased girth, she could no longer wear her own pelisse and it comforted her to know she was surrounded by Frederick's presence in some way.

"What would Father or Elizabeth say if they saw me now? Father would be taken aback with apoplexy to see an Elliot dressed so," she thought wickedly, winking at herself in amusement.

Closing the front door behind her carefully, Anne made her way down the path to the stableyard. No doubt Carter was up to something from the sounds she heard. He had mentioned something that morning about trying to reshoe Frederick's stallion, Castillian. The horse had a rather fiery temperament, so Anne hoped he had enlisted some help.

As she entered the corral area, she saw young Bartholemew Roberts sitting on the fence. He was watching the show with rapt attention. Carter and Crispin were leading a complicated dance with the restless horse, who looked to have no wish to be shoed that day.

"Hello, Bart," Anne greeted the child with pleasure. He smiled in return, his cap set jauntily on his blonde head. "Are you helping your father today?"

"Ain't it grand, Miss Anne?" the boy remarked gleefully. "Castillian be a grand horse, he is. Won't take nothin' from nobody."

Silently amused, Anne doubted that Crispin or Carter would share Bart's pleasure over the matter. But she knew how little boys loved horses and all that went with them. Bart loved to hang about the place asking Carter questions. "How long have they been trying to shoe him, Bart?"

"Oh, at least a half hour, ma'am," the boy replied, his pink cheeks bright from the sea breeze. "Ma and Agatha be talkin' a blue streak, so I came down t' watch the show. Don't know if they can do it."

Anne had no doubt that Liz had been happy to shoo Bart out of the house, so that she could talk uninterrupted with Agatha. She moved away from the fence to enter the stable and hunt for Bess. It was getting cold out again and she wanted to return to the house.

Whistling softly, Anne called for the dog. No doubt she was snuggled up in the straw taking a nap. Carter kept the barn warm and snug for the animals, which now included another pretty milk cow. Frederick had insisted on it so that the baby would be well provided for. There was no detail he had not considered, she thought lovingly..

She heard Bess' bark from a far corner and then watched as she bounded out of an empty stall. The horses were well accustomed to Bess' visits now and paid her little attention.

But instead of running to her mistress, Bess shot past her after a squirrel that was perched on a stool in the busy corral area. Anne's eyes grew wide as she realized what would happen. The horse would trample Bess in a heartbeat!

Whirling round, Anne gathered up her skirts and ran toward the stableyard. Castillian was rearing back on his hind legs in reaction to Bess' sudden appearance and the two men stood back to avoid the danger.

Anne moved quickly to get out of the way but it was too late. The frightened horse bucked and broke free from his ropes, heading back toward his stall and straight for Anne.

Frozen with fear, Anne could not move or think. The huge black beast was nearly upon her and there was nothing she could do. Her limbs refused to budge.

Then she felt someone pulling her out of the way, tugging her into a pile of hay just as the horse thundered past. Anne fell back into the soft, sweet-smelling straw and for a moment, felt dizzy and unable to breathe.

"Miss Anne! Miss Anne!" Bart's high pitched voice called. "Be ye alright?"

Bart's frightened face, along with Carter and Crispin's, were hovering over her. Even Bess was fussing over her, licking her face liberally. Taking a deep breath, Anne nodded slowly. She had received a great shock but she was safe.

"Little Bart saved ye, ma'am," Carter murmured slowly his face chalk white with fright. "Lad pulled ye out o' the way just in time!"

Crispin kindly helped her to sit up and Anne was grateful for his level-headed assistance. She was somewhat dazed. Anne hugged Bart to her as close as she might, grateful for his actions.

"Thank you, Bart," she told him softly, still marveling at how close she had come to death. "You saved not only one life today but two."

Bart, who was secretly proud, let himself be hugged but then pulled free. It would not do if his chums saw him like this. "Couldn't let nothin' 'appen to ye, Miss Anne."

Carter knew that his master would have plenty to say about the day's incident. He was a kind master with a good temperament, but he did not abide anything that endangered his wife. "Can ye stand, Miss Anne? Should I go fetch Agatha now? Ye've have a great fright."

Anne shook her head as Crispin carefully helped her to stand. Agatha would only berate her verbally for leaving the house to look for a dog. "No, do not trouble her just now..I...I shall be just fine," she assured him. "I only want to go inside and rest a bit. Perhaps Bart would help me inside?"

"Miss Anne, I'm more'n sorry 'bout the fright you took," Carter apologized, his eyes full of worry. "That 'orse just bolted like a shot when the dog came through."

Anne assured the groom that she did not hold him to blame. "Bess should have been indoors with me and it is my fault for not looking after her. Do not think of it a moment more. Castillian still needs a shoe. Now, Bart, would you give me your shoulder?"

The boy was more than eager to help and with more patience than Anne would have believed, slowly walked her into the house and into the Library. She found that her knees were a little shaky after the incident. Bess dogged their footsteps jealously.

Anne gave Bart a peppermint before she sent him on his way and laid down on the sofa she had only just left minutes before. It felt good to be off of her feet.

Anne closed her eyes tiredly, feeling rather chilled as the fire had died down in the hearth. She had nearly been trampled by a horse today. But Bart had saved her life. What could she do to repay the boy? she thought dimly.

Part 31

At that very moment, Captain Frederick Wentworth had just arrived in Lyme. He had stopped at the Drover's Arms tavern on his way home to collect a gift he had ordered for his wife some weeks ago.

Standing behind a large barrel of ale, Angus Brown greeted him heartily. "Aye, Captain, you're back to live among the simple savages of Lyme, have ye?"

Smiling tiredly, Frederick sat down at the bar and set his hat on it. "Indeed I have, Angus. But the savages reside in London, not Lyme. I am more than glad to be home. My sister is on the mend and I am ready to spend Christmas with my wife."

Setting down some empty mugs, the grizzled old man looked pleased. "It's allus good to be with yer family at Christmastime, Cap'n. I'll wager you want to snatch up that little somethin' you ordered for Mrs. Wentworth and hie yerself home!"

Frederick had a great deal of admiration for Angus. The man, despite his lack of education and social grace, had an innate knowledge of people and their motivations. Frederick often counted such intelligence as ranking high above that which came from the largest of libraries. He had often found this to be true on most of his voyages.

He gathered up the small parcel from Angus and after an obligatory pint, remounted his horse and headed for home. Angus was more than correct in his thoughts. Frederick wanted nothing more than to see his wife's beloved face again. Even the short time he had been separated from Anne had worn on his soul. All he could think of was holding her again, the gentle presence of their unborn child between them.

Katrina had shooed him from London, assuring him that she was going to be just fine. The doctors were pleased with her progress and Frederick felt that his removal to Lyme would not put his sister in any danger. Elise Stenning and Lady McGrath were watching after her with great care, and Sophy and the Admiral were to arrive tomorrow. She would be surrounded by loving friends and family through Christmas, while Ross was in search of his brother. Only then would Frederick allow her to cajole him into leaving.

"You...need to be...with Anne," Katrina had told him that morning. "And it is Christmas...I...will not let you stay behind...in London...to play nursemaid to me."

Frederick had smiled at her sense of humor. She looked so small and weak in the huge bed. But Katrina was strong, and he knew in time she would regain her health. As long as the Major returned safely from his mission. He knew that she would not be quite easy until Ross was back in London and his brother in prison. Frederick had little doubt that an engagement announcement would soon follow their reunion.

Without even stopping at the stable, Frederick rode up to the house, dismounted, and swept into the hallway. As usual, it was warm and neatly swept. The smell of cinnamon lingered in the air, evidence of some baking Agatha had done earlier. But it was now unusually quiet as he took off his many-caped greatcoat, hat, and gloves. Was Anne upstairs with Jane and Nurse Rooke?

"Martha!" he called. "Are you about? Agatha?"

At his call, Bess came trotting out into the hallway, barking with unusual urgency. Galloping down the hall at top speed, she slid into his booted legs and then stood on her hind legs, rubbing her nose against his hand joyfully.

"What's amiss, girl?" Frederick asked with concern, stroking the dog's glossy coat. Why was the house so very still? Where was Martha and Agatha? Where was Anne? The silence frightened him more than any chaos might have caused.

Turning away from him, Bess began moving down the long hallway to the far end of the house where the Library was situated. She turned her shaggy head to look back at him, as if begging him to follow. Frederick put aside his things and followed after the dog quickly.

Turning into the Library, Frederick's eyes were riveted to his wife, who lay curled up in a ball on the nearby sofa. Something was terribly wrong, that much he knew. Her eyes were closed as she drew in a tortured breath.

"Anne," he breathed harshly, dropping on his knees beside the sofa where she lay. He smoothed back her hair as she opened her eyes. She stared back at him in surprise and pleasure. It was clear she had not been expecting him. He smelled of the cold, crisp salt air and his natural masculine scent.

"Frederick," she murmured with difficulty. "You...you're home..."

"Yes, little baggage," he told her lovingly, his eyes drinking in every feature, every line of her face. "And just in time, it would appear. Are you in pain, darling? Tell me what's wrong."

Nodding shortly, Anne drew in another quick breath. She had been drowsing quietly, when a sudden burst of pain had jolted her awake. It could only mean one thing. "I....the baby....it's coming, I think...but...Jane and Nurse Rooke are in the village...," she managed to say.

Her soft voice trailed off, and panic gripped Frederick as it never had before. His beloved wife was about to give birth to their first child and he had not the slightest idea what to do first. Surely it was not time yet! Was it not a month off?

The utter confusion and fear must have been evident in his dark eyes because Anne smiled up at him. Poor Frederick, she thought. Had he not looked the same that day on the Cobb when Louisa Musgrove had fallen from the wall?

"Carter...send him for Dr. Mills, my love. He will know...what to do..." she softly reminded him. Then another pain washed over her and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. But her husband had seen it and inwardly cursed himself.

"She always knows what to do," Frederick thought painfully. "And here I have commanded over a hundred men and find myself helpless in light of her discomfort!" His lips brushed her forehead softly and his fingers were light and soothing on her damp cheek. She did not need him to fall to pieces on her, today of all days. "Let me take you upstairs, Anne, and make you comfortable. Put your arms about my neck now, little one."

Before she could protest, Frederick was lifting her up into his arms to gently carry her up to their room. His strong arms held her close as he mounted the long staircase, careful not to jar her more than was necessary. She hid her face in the curve of his warm neck, waiting for the next pain to come upon her. She must not let Frederick see how they affected her, for she knew how he worried over her. Had he not just ridden for miles to make it home to her?

And now, when she needed him most, Frederick was there, loving and caring for her as only he could.

Even though Anne was heavy with child, Frederick barely felt her weight. This precious armful he held was everything he loved and cherished in the world. He would carry her to Lyme himself if it was required. How he wished Jane were there! She would know what to do. It was clear that Anne was in agony, something that cut him to the quick. If only he might take her pain onto himself, ease it in some way.

When he had tenderly settled her into their large, soft bed, Frederick swiftly kissed her upturned mouth and squeezed her hand tightly. Dearest Lord, she was so beautiful to him at that moment. Her hazel eyes were shining with unshed tears as she fought to brave the pain. Despite her deceptively small stature, Anne was among the most courageous of women he had ever known.

"I shall send Carter into town to get Tertius now, but I will be back in a matter of minutes. Just sing out when the pains come, darling. Don't hold them in," he told her urgently, his eyes communicating his love to her.

Anne, feeling as if she were drifting into something akin to a fog, nodded. She could not hide anything from him. He was more than aware of what was taking place. And as he dashed from the room, she sent up a prayer that God would give her husband the patience to endure the hours of waiting that were to come. And that their child would be born healthy and safely.

Listening to the sound of her husband's urgent footsteps down the stairs, Anne lay back against the pillows with a sigh of relief. The pain was fading momentarily, to her gratefully. Nurse Rooke had told her it would be like somewhat like that. They seemed to come in timed waves and she could now rest a moment before the next one came.

Smiling to herself, Anne thought of how utterly strange it all was. She had never imagined she would deliver her baby under such circumstances. She had been certain that Martha would be present to help her and that everything would fall into place.

But as Frederick himself had said, babies did not follow schedules. They had a will all their own. And it was now quite clear that their child had every intention of becoming the newest resident of Lyme Regis, whether or not the parents were prepared for the arrival.

Part 32

The clink of mugs mingled with the sound of excited chatter in the bustling pub. With Christmas coming the next day, the air was festive and happy. But one of its patrons had no mind on the holiday season.

Ross sat in a dimly lit corner nursing a glass of home brewed ale. Only a mile away was Chevington Manor, the Kent country home of Lord and Lady Chevington. At any moment, Richard would arrive and brief him on the situation there. Then this hideous chapter in their lives would be closed and he could move on.

It was a raw day outside so the pub was filled to capacity. Many were clustered about the hearth, swapping tall tales. But most of the pub talk was concentrated on the fine guests up at Chevington Manor for the Christmas season. Many of the pub patrons had family in service at the house or lived on the manor grounds themselves.

"I hear them fine ladies dress in silks from mornin' till night," one of the more wizened patrons was telling a friend. "Can ye imagine? My Maggie'd give 'er eye teeth fer a silk gown."

A rough and tumble farmer winked, grinning. "Aye, but it's awful hard to keep a silk pretty like that clean when ye're dressin' a pig or milkin' a cow, aye, lads?"

Ross had been listening to the banter around him with half an ear. He knew he ought to be paying better attention. They might let some news slip that could be of use. But his heart was far from Kent at that moment. It was in a townhouse in London, with a small, frail woman with her heart in her eyes.

But tonight would be the end of it, he thought bitterly. The torment that ate at his soul would be quelled. If all went well, Lawrence would be presenting his latest "treasures" to a small group of wealthy art enthusiasts. He had been clever, Ross could not deny it. To plan such a presentation on Christmas eve was a flourish of detail that spoke loudly of Lawrence's flair for the ironic.

As a child, Lawrence had always been intelligent. He could flabbergast his tutors easily with his ability to retain information. Unfortunately, Lawrence only chose to use his talents for his own pleasure. He had a distaste for the castle and the simple ways of the tenants that lived off the land.

"Lawrence, does it not at all interest you that these people depend on us for their survival?" he had asked his brother years ago in hopes of seeing some glimmer of humanity in him. "They work so hard to farm their crops, to raise their families. Do you not care what happens to them?"

Lawrence, who had been "plucked" from Oxford for his outrageous behavior and laziness in his studies, had merely laughed as he peeled himself an apple. "As long as they bring in the rents, that's all I care about. As should you. Your talk of progress and all that rot makes me ill."

The chasm that lay between the two brothers had widened slowly over the years. Lawrence had little to no respect for anyone in the family. It had brought Lady McGrath to tears many times and Ross finally came to a point where he would not tolerate such unkindness to his mother.

"If only something might have softened his heart," Ross thought with a rueful glance out the window. "We might be spending Christmas as Castle McGrath together, all of us. As a family should."

But instead he and Richard, not to mention the small band of soldiers that were to assist them, would take Lawrence in hand and escort him promptly to a ship docked off the coast where he would be transported to the Continent. The French government had a keen wish to prosecute Lawrence and the Prince Regent had no qualms about allowing it.

Ross knew about French prisons and French justice. Lawrence would be dealt with harshly. There would be no possibility of him escaping them. They had little patience for thieves, especially those who stole national treasures.

His mind swinging back to the present, Ross took a sip of warm ale. Seeing Richard again was no simple business. The man had nearly ruined Katrina's life. But if not for Richard, he would have no knowledge of his brother's whereabouts. He needed Richard whether he liked it or not.

The door of the pub swung open and Richard entered, inconspicuously dressed. Despite his fine title, Richard knew how to blend into a crowd better than most agents of the Crown. He ordered a pint and made his way over to where Ross sat.

He sat down opposite him, hastily taking off his hat and gloves. Ross could immediately see that something was wrong. His very blood chilled in his veins.

"You look like the death, Richard. What's amiss?"

Richard did not immediately speak but took a few settling breaths. A rather plump bar maid silently delivered his ale but he did not even glance at it. His eyes were dark and troubled. At last, he spoke.

"He's gone, Ross."

"What do you mean...gone?"

Richard looked him squarely in the eye, fire blazing in his own. "Lawrence was staying at the Four Swans last night. Saw him there with my own eyes, Ross. My sister informed me that Sir Paul then announced to them this morning that Mr. Whitby cannot be present at the showing. Instead, Sir Paul will show the treasures himself. With Mr. Whitby's most humble apologies, of course."

His face going pale white, Ross nearly swore aloud. He had not expected this. The stage had been set for this meeting in Kent. "Are you saying my brother has slipped through our fingers, Richard? Is that what you mean?"

Richard shook his head. "I had him watched at all times, Ross. My men are following him as we speak. I thought for certain he would head for the Continent. But it appears he is heading for London. He headed out not three hours ago."

For a moment, Ross did not speak or move as the news sank in. It was too incredible to believe. His brother could have no knowledge of what was awaiting him that night. Despite his crafty nature, Lawrence's fatal flaw was often in underestimating his opponents. Even if he had discovered the plot to trap him, why had he headed for London? It made no sense at all.

"I can only imagine that he has other clients demanding his presence," Richard surmised, knowing how angry Ross must be. "But I cannot imagine whom it would be. The Chevingtons are the toast of St. James. DeBrett could offer none better. I am baffled, Ross. Utterly stymied by this."

Ross ran his fingers through his auburn hair dazedly. All around them life was going on in a normal fashion. The plump bar maid was teasing a blind, elderly man who sat at the bar. The proprietor was arguing with his wife about money. And a rowdy game of cards was taking place in the corner. Someone was suggesting wassail and a hearty group shouted their agreement.

Then something sparked in Ross mind and he straightened in his chair. His dark eyes were shadowed. He spoke slowly and succinctly.

"Richard, how was it that Katrina saw Lawrence? Did he know that she had seen him?"

Richard visibly paled. "She was at her drawing master's studio the first time. He was visiting Herr Hoffman and she happened to see Lawrence come in to purchase a painting. She was certain he had not seen her. The last time she saw him to truly see him was at the Chevington party. He held a private meeting with Lord Chevington and she saw him exit his study."

Ross' mind began to put the pieces together. It all began to make sense. Lawrence was not a total fool. He had somehow discovered that the Crown was after him. The vile Sir Paul had no doubt found out that Katrina was one of Hoffman's students and apprised Lawrence of her talents. It would not take him long to discover that it was she who had drawn the sketches that would cost him his freedom.

"Dear God, do you think he procured her name from Hoffman?" Richard asked, his voice strained and disbelieving. He felt the floor beneath him rocking.

Ross rose so quickly that his chair fell back onto the floor with a clatter. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he could hardly think. Tossing some coins onto the table, he reached for his greatcoat and hat. "I do not intend to remain here and take the chance that he has," he told Richard darkly. "We have to get to London as quickly as possible!"

"My coach is waiting outside," Richard assured him as he also rose. "We will stop him, Ross. Your family would not allow him near her. He would not be so foolish!"

But as the two men dashed out of the inn, Richard knew that his words were only to mask the fears they were both harboring. Katrina was in grave danger and they both knew it.

Part 33

"Are you sure you're quite up to all the excitement tomorrow?" Sophy Croft asked her younger sister. "You're hardly fit to be sitting up as it is."

Katrina could not resist smiling at Sophy's candor. She could always count on her oldest sibling to "cut to the chase" in any situation. But she was glad of her presence. Just being near Sophy was like imbibing a life-giving tonic. Her energetic approach to everything gave her strength and peace. Lord Stenning had joined his wife and his daughter as well that morning. The house was full to the brim with holiday cheer.

Throughout the day, Katrina had heard the servants trying to be quiet as they went about their duties but they spoke in excited whispers, sharing secrets and talking of the half day off they would receive.

Katrina was slowly regaining her strength, now that the fever was gone. She was now allowed to sit up in bed for extended periods of time. But it would be a long time before she was completely recovered.

"Not at all," she assured Sophy, coughing softly. "The doctors...are quite happy with me. And I cannot spend all of Christmas day in bed. It would be quite dreadful to miss all the excitement."

Sophy eyed her sister with a hint on uncertainty, indicating her doubt to these words. She and the Admiral had arrived that day and she had been sincerely stunned to see her sister so pale and thin. It was clear she had nearly fallen victim to her illness.

"Well, we shall not have you out of bed for long," Sophy remarked frankly. "I won't have you overtired. You need to rest and grow strong, my dear. We'll have you up and about all in good time. No use in rushing matters along."

Propped up against the pillows, Katrina chuckled at her approach. "Sophy, what would I do without you? I think you...and not dear George...would have been the better Admiral. You fire off orders with such efficiency."

Looking rather sly, Sophy shared a secret smile with her sister. "Do not say such things aloud, Katrina. I fear I shall grow a large head and start agreeing with you. And while George is a very patient man, this would try him greatly. I shall leave you now, for I think Elise wished to say good night to you."

After Sophy had kissed her on the cheek and left the room, Katrina gave a great sigh as she settled back into the pillows. The entire house seemed enlivened by Sophy and the Admiral. She was almost able to forget that Anne and Frederick were far away in Lyme...and that Ross was also far from home.

Almost...but not quite.

When she was alone as she was now, it was all too easy to allow her thoughts to turn to him. Where was he? Was he in danger? Had he found Lawrence? Was he safe? The questions plagued her often. She found her true solace in praying for him, in lifting him up to the Father.

"God is in control," she told herself again and again. "He will look after Ross as He has looked after me."

A gentle knock on the door alerted her to Elise's presence. She bade her enter and the tall, graceful young woman entered the room, a small parcel tucked under her arm. No doubt she was finishing her Christmas preparations, Katrina thought.

"Dear Elise," Katrina breathed happily. "I am so glad you came to see me. I wished to apologize for ruining...your family's holiday plans."

Elise, who came to sit on the edge of the bed, regarded her friend with a knowing look. "Ruin my holidays? And how have you done so? Mama, Lady McGrath, the Admiral, Sophy, and Papa are all downstairs enjoying their wassail. Playing merry tunes on the piano. And happy as can be. Papa is quite taken with Admiral Croft, you know. He loves to talk about the war."

Katrina knew Elise well enough to see what she was attempting to do. "Surely you would rather be at Stenning Hall, your beloved home, instead of London. I...have made things...so difficult for everyone. Do not deny it."

Elise shook her head slowly. "No, my dear. I cannot have you thinking such things. You have endured...so very much already. I am with my family and my best friend on earth. Could I not be more happily situated?"

Katrina flushed at her words. It had never entered her mind when she had come to Lyme that she would meet and befriend someone like Elise. She had known so few friends in her life. To know she was there was of the greatest comfort in the world to her.

"I have come as a special envoy tonight," Elise remarked, changing the subject rapidly, her green eyes dancing. She was near to bursting with the secret she kept. "And I take such pleasure from the intrigue of it all. Do you not wonder what I have here in my lap?"

Glancing down at the parcel, Katrina's interest was diverted at once. "Is that a gift for your father, Elise? The fine pipe...you told me of today?"

Looking very arch, Elise shook her head. "No, you are quite wrong. But it is a Christmas present. I have always wished to play Father Christmas. And this is one gift I think you shall like very much. Because it is from Ross."

At Elise's words, Katrina went very still and her thin cheeks grew rosy. In all the chaos of her illness and Ross' departure to Kent, he had remembered her. Of course he had. It was his very nature to do so. But it was the last thing Katrina had imagined.

"I see I have rendered you quite silent," Elise gently said, warmth in her friendly eyes. "Dear girl, I knew the next few days would be difficult for you without Ross. He knew it as well. So he entrusted this to me before he left and asked that I give it to you tonight. Away from the curious eyes of our families so that you might open this gift in private."

With trembling fingers, Katrina took the small parcel from Elise's hands. She could hardly believe it was real. How had he known how much she needed him? How much her heart silently longed for him?

Elise saw the emotions rising up in Katrina's eyes and lightly squeezed her friend's hands. "Katrina, I must share something with you, my dear. I want to thank you for making Ross so very happy. For changing his life as you have."

Looking up, Katrina flushed again. "I...I do not think I can accept your thanks. It is he who has altered my life beyond recognition. I...I never thought to have his love, Elise. To be loved by such a man as Ross was a dream I would not allow myself to have in my heart. I continually wish to pinch myself for fear I AM truly dreaming!"

Katrina's reply did not surprise her friend in the least. Nodding, Elise smiled. "I know that, Katrina. But you have changed him. Oh, Ross was always a good man, the best of cousins. He is a brave, intelligent man who cares about those around him. But for the first time in my life, I have seen him happier, more content than I have ever seen him before. The fact that he gave up the Corps is reason enough for me to thank you. I have often prayed for it, knowing how it kept him from Castle McGrath. Now he can marry you and do as he has always wanted...truly look after his people."

Before Katrina could speak, Elise neatly sprang off of the bed. Her task was completed and she did not want to tire Katrina. "I shall leave you to open this alone, as so you should. Ross would scold me if I did not insist upon it. Sleep well and we shall have a merry Christmas tomorrow!"

Katrina looked up at Elise, her heart in her eyes. "Thank you, Elise. Your friendship is one of the best gifts I could ever have."

"As yours has been for me," Elise replied with equal warmth. "Good night, my dear."

When Elise had quietly shut the door behind her, Katrina's shaking hands carefully opened the parcel. A small, long box lay amid the paper and she opened it slowly. What could it be?

Inside lay a small, beautiful, gleaming knife that shone in the candle light. She could see the intricate silver design of the handle, the shimmer of lapis and the McGrath clan emblem entwined there. It was a work of art, of true craftsmanship.

She unfolded the note the lay folded inside the case and began to read, her heart drinking in every word:

My Sweet Charmer:

You may find it somewhat peculiar that your beloved has entrusted a weapon into your skillful hands this night. Perhaps you were imagining diamonds or pearls? Forgive me for any disappointment this may cause. But I promise I am not the uncivilized Scottish brigand this gift would make me appear. Be patient, my fairy, as I attempt to explain my actions.

What you see before you is a sgian dubh, which is Gaelic for "black dagger." In more warlike times, the sgian dubh was used as a weapon of last resort. It was either hidden in one's shirt or in a man's stocking. Many Scotsmen still carry the sgian dubh as a badge of honor, in defense of their clan.

This sgian dubh has been part of my family's treasures for over three hundred years. It is believed to have belonged to one of my ancestors, Gavin McGrath, who had it made by a skilled craftsman in our village. It was a wedding gift to Gavin's beloved wife Anthea, whom he met in the South. He had the blue lapis imbedded into the handle to remind him of her beautiful eyes. Had Gavin known what gentle blue eyes my beloved has, I think he would agree that history can wonderfully repeat itself.

I am not a violent man, Katrina. But there is something I have discovered in loving you that calls forth my Scottish heritage so strongly I cannot deny it. It is an unmatched desire to protect you and cherish you with my heart, my soul, my very life. As the clansmen of old would protect their ladies from any harm that might come to them. How little I knew that one day I would feel the same way about you.

So until I return, my Titania, keep this little dagger close to you as a token of my sincerest love and devotion for you. Rest and grow strong in the days to come. Dream of our life together. And always remember that I am near, despite the distance that lies between us. I shall return as quickly as I can.

Happy Christmas, little one...
Ross

She closed her eyes at the sheer loveliness of the words written there, letting them soak into her weary body and spirit. If any man could love a woman more completely, more devotedly, than any other man, it was Ross McGrath.

God had answered her prayers, her unconscious hopes and dreams. He had given her the gift of Ross' love. His heart understood her heart as no one ever had before. And he was vowing to protect and defend her for a lifetime. To look after her and keep her safe.

In all her years with Uncle Edgar, so often she had felt lonely and somewhat unwanted. She knew her uncle cared about her but usually he lived and worked as if he did not notice her at all. How many times she had wandered the house, the meadows wishing for someone to share her life with, to tell her deepest secrets?

And now there was Ross...and those wishes had come true.

"Oh Ross," Katrina whispered, holding the blade lightly against her lips. "My dearest Ross...."

For another hour, she lay in the dim candlelight, the letter resting in her hands and the blade beneath her pillow. In the square, carolers were singing Christmas songs, the music drifting up past her window. And as she fell asleep, she felt a sense of peace and protection she had not felt since she had left Lyme for London.

But amid the celebration downstairs, despite the happy music, in the shadows of the London sidewalk below her window, a very real danger that threatened to destroy that peace silently lurked.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Wentworth," a malevolent voice whispered. "For it shall be your last!"

Continued In Next Section