“Grand-père will be fine,” I said firmly, luring them away with molasses cookies. “All he needs is rest.” I flicked my eyebrows upward, indicating that he might decamp to the bedroom, but he smiled and shook his head.

“I’ll do, a nighean. And surely ye dinna think I’d leave whilst ye have a bowlful of sweeties in your hand?”

Fanny poured milk for everyone, smiling—with a special smile for Germain, who went pink in the face and buried his nose in his cup—and I passed out cookies.

“I thank ye kindly, Missus,” John Quincy said, and nibbled his cookie like a mouse, his teeth not allowing for more robust eating. “Germain, did ye give your grandpa and grannie what you brought for ’em?”

“Oh!” Germain clapped a hand to the small leather bag he carried, with a strap across his chest. He gave Jamie a slightly guilty look, but reached into the bag and handed the letter to me, as I was closest. It was written on good rag paper and sealed with green wax.

“For you and Grand-père,” he said, frowning as his voice soared and broke in the middle of the last word. “Grand-père,” he repeated, in a voice as deep as he could make it. I kept my face as grave as possible, and broke the seal.

Milord, Milady—

There was an Event last Month, here in Wilmington, that disturbed us greatly. I will not describe this because while I trust all my Children entirely, it is not at all uncommon for the Seals of Letters to be broken by Accident. Leave it that two Men were killed, and in a way that caused us great Uneasiness. It is somewhat ironic that we left Richmond, feeling it Unsafe, and returned to the familiar Ground of North Carolina.

I wished Marsali and the Children all to return to you, and if Things become worse, she promises that she and the Twins will go to the Ridge. But for now, she says that she will not leave me—and I cannot leave undone the Work of Freedom to which I am called. You put the Sword into my Hand, milord, and I will not lay it down.

Votre fils et votre fille,

Fergus Claudel Fraser

Marsali Jane MacKimmie Fraser

“Oh,” I said softly. Germain’s lips were pressed tight and his eyes were shiny. “Germain,” I said, and kissed his forehead. “We’re so glad to see you. And what a wonderful job you’ve done, seeing your sisters safely all this way.”

“Mph,” he said, but looked somewhat happier.

TWO DAYS LATER, we were up in our bedroom in midafternoon, me attempting to read Manon Lescaut in French while preventing Jamie from executing a quiet sneak to avoid what he referred to as the third level of Purgatory.

“Have any o’ the bairns told ye what Fergus’s unpleasant event was, Sassenach?” Jamie paused in the midst of a set of the exercises I had set for him, and I frowned at him.