‘So you are leaving.’ Having said the words out loud, she felt a sadness she could not express, and did not want to think of life at Slains without this man who had become to her a father and a friend.

He did not answer her, but only watched her face a moment, silently. And then he said, ‘Sophia, there is something I would ask ye.’ He had never called her by her Christian name, and from that fact she knew that what he meant to ask was serious. ‘’Tis none of my affair. But on that hill, when Wick was…’ Breaking off, as though he did not think it was a gentlemanly thing to speak of Billy Wick’s intentions, he said only, ‘He made mention of my nephew. And of you.’

She met his gaze, and did not look away. ‘He overheard us speaking in the garden.’

‘Aye, I gathered that.’ He paused, and sifted words to find the right ones. ‘As I said, I’ve no right asking, but I wondered…’

‘You were wondering what Mr Wick had overheard that night that could so interest Captain Ogilvie?’

Apparently relieved by her directness, he said, ‘Aye, that was the size of it.’

Sophia raised a hand to feel the slender chain around her neck. Slowly drawing out the ring from where it lay concealed beneath her bodice, she held it up to show him. There was no need to say anything, to make an explanation. It was plain from Colonel Graeme’s own reaction that the sight of Moray’s ring around her neck told him enough.

His smile was slow. ‘I must confess, I did suspect ye would have caught his eye. We’re not so different, John and I, and were I his age I’d have done no less than try to win ye for myself. But it does please me, lass, to see he did conduct himself with honor. Will ye marry?’

‘I did marry him by handfast, soon before he did return to France.’ She closed her hand around the ring and felt its warmth. ‘The countess does not know. John thought it best to keep the matter secret till he could return. But,’ she went on, not wanting him to think that she’d betrayed his nephew’s wishes, ‘he did say that I might show his kin.’

‘Well, I should hope so.’ He pretended indignation with the small lift of an eyebrow, though his eyes and words were serious. ‘Ye’ll find there’s not a one of us who would not walk through fire to keep ye safe for John, lass. Ye would only have to ask.’

Moray had told her so himself, but she was deeply touched to hear it said aloud by his own kinsman. ‘You have walked through fire for me already, Colonel,’ she said quietly.

‘Aye, so I have. And so I would again,’ he promised, ‘even if ye did not wear that bit of silver round your neck.’

She knew he meant it. Sudden dampness pricked behind her eyes, and since he’d always praised her courage she would not have shown him weakness, so she bent her head and made a show of concentration on concealing Moray’s ring again, lest other eyes should see it. But she did not trust her voice, and did not know the way to let the colonel know how fond she had become of him, and how much she would miss him when he’d gone.

He seemed to know without her saying, for he cleared his throat and stood. ‘Now, come and send your Uncle Patrick on his way, lass, with a smile, if ye can manage it.’

She managed it, and though the smile was not her surest one, it served its purpose, for he took her hand in his and lightly raised it to his lips. ‘I’ve no doubt I’ll be seeing ye again afore too long.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Hope,’ he told her, ‘rarely enters into it. ’Tis action moves the world. If ye mind nothing else I’ve taught ye of the game of chess, mind that: ye cannot leave your men to stand unmoving on the board and hope to win. A soldier must first step upon the battlefield if he does mean to cross it.’

With her hand still lying in his own, she said, ‘But I am not a soldier.’

‘Are ye not?’ He bent to kiss her forehead briefly, warm, then straightened and told her, ‘Well, even a pawn plays a part in defending the king.’

Once again she could feel that same tug of emotion, the longing to thank him for all he had done. ‘Colonel Graeme?’

‘Aye, lass?’

But the words, as before, failed to come. ‘Please be careful.’

‘Och, no need to worry.’ He gave her hand back to her, showing that flash of a smile that was so like his nephew’s. ‘I’ve lived all my years in the army surrounded by officers, lass, and I’ve learned to look out for a knife in the back.’

From the doorway the countess said laughingly, ‘Patrick! That is an impolitic statement to make.’

Unrepentant, he shrugged. ‘’Tis impolitic thinking that keeps me ahead of the devil, your ladyship.’ Casting a glance out the window, he noted the position of the sun above the sea and added, ‘And if I am to stay so, I must be away.’

Sophia watched unhappily as he bade them farewell and left the room, and after he had gone she kept her face turned still towards the door a moment so the countess would not see her eyes.

The countess, having settled once again into her chair beside the bed, said, ‘Colonel Graeme is a good man.’

‘Yes.’

‘He does remind me greatly of his nephew,’ said the countess lightly. ‘Do you not agree?’

Sophia nodded, cautious. ‘They are very much alike, yes.’

For a moment there was silence, broken only by the rattle of the window in the wind, and by the ever-present rush of waves against the line of rocks below the tower. When the countess spoke again her voice was quiet, and the words were simple: ‘Does he know?’