“All?”

“Shhhh.” He waved his hands above his head. “Hail, ye mates!”

“Move away from the shore,” bellowed a stocky man wearing a red coat and a tricorne with a white plume.

Kennan grasped Divana’s hand and urged her back, though he kept his face toward the boat. His hand was warm and filled her with confidence even though the men on the approaching ship were scowling something fierce—one was even aiming his musket at them just as she’d predicted.

“Those dragoons look none too friendly,” she whispered.

They furled the sail while oarsmen took their places and rowed the boat onto the beach.

“Drop anchor,” bellowed the man with the tricorne, standing at the stern. As the crew went about securing the galley, he looked at Sir Kennan yet made no attempt to disembark. “I am Sergeant Corbyn with the queen’s dragoons.” He had a square, clean-shaven face, and strands of brown hair blew into his squinting eyes.

“Sir Kennan Cameron, and Miss Divana Campbell, at your service.” Kennan started forward, but the man held up his palm, making him stop.

Bowing, the decorated knight spread his palms to his sides. “We are…shipwrecked.”

The sergeant put his boot on a bench and rested his elbow on his knee. “MacLeod of Rùm reported your beacon—said this isle was infected.”

“Nay!” Divana hollered, but Kennan silenced her with a slice of his hand.

“I’ve been here a month. I’m the one who lit the fires at night and I’ve suffered no ailment—and as a knight of the Order of the Thistle, you have my word there is no sickness here.”

“Cameron did you say?” Sergeant Corbyn spoke with an English accent. He stroked his chin and glanced away. “Hmm.”

“My father is Sir Ewen Cameron, clan chief, called the Great Lochiel. I served Queen Anne in the War of the Spanish Succession, and one month past, my ship was set upon by Jackson Vane in these very waters.”

The sergeant straightened and threw out his hands. “Vane? Why, he’s a queen’s privateer.”

The man beside her grew so rigid, Divana felt the heat of ire radiating off him. “He’s a scoundrel and a pirate,” Kennan seethed. “He killed my crew and took my ship as well as my coin and cargo.”

“Is that so?”

“Aye, I give you my oath.”

“What is the name of this vessel?”

“The Highland…ah…Lass. Aye, the Highland Lass it is.”

Divana gaped, but she said not a word. If what Kennan had told her was true, he might bargain for trouble by telling them the real name of his ship.

He took another step toward the galley. “As you can see, the pair of us are as healthy as newborn lambs. Please, can you take us as far as Fort William?”

She puzzled all the more. Fort William was but a day’s ride from Connel. Did he change his mind and intend to leave her with her heartless kin?

Sergeant Corbyn gave a nod to one of his men. “You’ll climb into the bow and stay there. But we’re not sailing all the way through the Sound of Mull and up Loch Linnhe for a castaway, no matter who you say you are. I don’t give a rat’s arse if you’re a bloody duke, you’ll undergo quarantine in Mallaig.”