‘Selfish?’ scoffed the captain. Catching her unawares, he took her chin gently in his hand. His fingers were rough, well-used. A shiver of pleasure ran over Sorcha and she prayed he hadn’t felt it. Her cheeks began to burn and it was all she could do to resist pulling away. ‘I would have said sensible, myself,’ he said softly. The last of the light burned in the stygian depths of his eyes, mesmerising her. With eyes that black, how could you ever tell what he was really thinking? ‘You’re right, lass.’ His fingers fell away. ‘We owe it to the dead to live.’

Sorcha’s stomach flipped. ‘You’ve lost people too?’

They began walking again, Liath’s hooves resounding on the road. Candlelight flickered in windows as they passed, folk appearing out of the tight alleys and wynds, raising hats, brushing past them, offering a good evening. Most carried baskets or sacks, some bottles of ale; a few pushed barrows. All looked eager for home and a warm fire. From inside the cottages came the rattle of pots, raised voices, someone singing.

Waiting until they were alone, the captain answered. ‘Aye. My brother and two uncles. They died in battle. Then there was…’ He swallowed and gave a slight shake of his head. ‘Was a long time ago.’

Sorcha felt the pain of his words. Of what he omitted. She wondered who else he’d lost but didn’t feel she had the right to ask. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Me too. Their bodies are buried over there, on foreign soil.’ He jerked his head towards the Forth.

An image of Robbie laughing, his golden curls batting his cheeks as he baited a line flew into her head. ‘Are you sure they’re dead?’

The captain frowned. ‘I’m sure. But why do you ask?’

‘When I told you about my brothers… it’s not the whole story.’ She felt him studying her. ‘Robbie, the one who’s two years older than me, he went to fight with the Duke of Marlborough’s men in Flanders, then Kaiserswerth. First, we were told the Bavarians had taken him prisoner, then it was the French. We never really knew — mor, Dagny and I. After my mother died, I never heard anything. Now, I doubt I ever will.’

Captain Ross gave her an inscrutable look. ‘Marlborough, eh? I fought under him once as well. A good soldier, fierce.’

Sorcha didn’t reply. Fierce or not made no difference to her.

‘If your brother fought at Kaiserswerth, he could well have been taken by the French. Many were. An exchange was done.’

Sorcha looked at him hopefully. ‘You know something about it?’

‘Not really. But I know someone who might. I can make enquiries if you like. Find out what I can from my superiors in Edinburgh.’