Sir Kennan shoved the blade into the sand and scooped out an enormous hole, one that would have taken Divana three digs to make. “I’ll wager your guess is close to the mark.”

It bubbled straightaway and she pointed. “Haste, he’s escaping.”

The big Highlander dug deeper. “Och, you’re a hard taskmaster.”

She threw her head back to laugh but instead a gasp caught in her throat. “Sir Kennan! Look!”

Clam forgotten, he followed her gaze. “I’ll be damned.”

Divana hadn’t allowed herself to hope his bonfire would do its job, but clear as he was digging clams beside her, a single-masted galley approached from the east, its sail billowing with wind.

“I cannot believe it.”

Kennan raised his hand to shade his eyes. A tic twitched in his jaw as he pulled Divana behind him. “Redcoats.”

The protective gesture made her tingle for a moment, but not for long—not with soldiers drawing near. Unable to help herself, she leaned far enough aside to see them. “Ye mean they’ve sent dragoons to fetch us?”

“They’re not a crew of fishermen, for certain,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll do the talking. There’s only one thing that matters and it is escaping this isle. I’ll sell my bloody soul if I must.”

She gulped, staring at the approaching boat. “Do ye think they’ll harm us?”

“Not if we don’t provoke them. I’ve just…” The tic twitched again.

“What?”

“I had an altercation with the queen’s dragoons last year in Dundee when a customs officer miscalculated the duties on my shipment.”

“An altercation? Was anyone injured?”

“Unfortunately, an all-out brawl burst forth on the pier. We were lucky to escape with our lives.”

“Good heavens. Why did ye not tell me about this sooner?”

He gave her a look as if to say there were thousands of secrets he still harbored. “It never came up in conversation.”

If Sir Kennan was avoiding dragoons, why was he returning to the Highlands? “But were ye not sailing home when ye were set upon by the pirates?”

“Aye—though I was heading for Achnacarry, where I’d have the protection of clan and kin.”

“Saint Columba, are we in peril?”

“I think not. Besides, Dundee is in the Lowlands, clear on the other side of Scotland. And neither me nor my crew started the fighting.”

This changed things a great deal. She wrung her hands, a stone sinking in her stomach as she watched the galley approach. “Who did?”

“The first shot was fired from the pier.”

“’Tis an abomination. Government troops were shooting at a knight of the…of the…” She gave him a nudge. “What were ye knighted for?”

“To begin with, my da’s a knight. I was admitted to his order—the Order of the Thistle—for services to the queen in the War of the Spanish Succession.”

“Well, that ought to count for something.”

“Except I’d wager Queen Anne has no idea I exist. She’s not overly enamored with Scotland—or her subjects up here.” Sir Kennan sliced his hand through the air. “Enough talk. That galley will soon run aground on the shore, and the closer she comes, the more likely they’ll hear anything we say. Just remember, I am innocent in all that has transpired.”