“Quarantine?” Sir Kennan snorted as he threw out his hands. “But there’s no need, I—”

“Do you want off this isle or nay?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Kennan glanced from the boat to Divana, his lips forming a white line. “Aye, we’ll go with you.”

“Men, affix your kerchiefs over your noses and mouths and give the passengers a wide berth.”

“May I have a moment to collect my belongings?” Divana asked, her legs suddenly weak. Things were happening far too quickly. Yes, Kennan had promised her a position at his family’s keep—she’d have protection there as well. But the last time she was among society, her own kin had abandoned her.

She gripped her tattered skirts. She hadn’t a single nice garment to wear, nothing suitable for meeting anyone, let alone a chieftain. What if the Camerons rejected her?

Giving a wink, Kennan grasped her elbow. “I’d best help the lass and hurry her along.”

She faced him and licked her lips. Within a month she’d come to trust this man. Why did she fear now? They’d just discussed her spade being almost rusted through. She’d die if she stayed behind.

“Haste ye,” said the sergeant. “We want to make good use of this day’s fine weather.”

* * *

On the sea galley, a dragoon used an oar to give Kennan and Divana kerchiefs to tie over their noses and mouths. Kennan snatched his with a scowl. “We’re nay bloody ailing, you maggots. If we were afflicted, Miss Campbell would have perished two years past, and I would be at death’s door.”

“Shut it,” growled one of the soldiers.

Kennan shot the man a leer as he tied the damned kerchief in place. Had there been any other option, he never would have set foot in this boat.

“What do ye reckon they’ll do with us?” Divana whispered after the galley got under way.

“Lord kens, the bloody back-stabbers. If only we’d been rescued by a fisherman, not a sergeant with a dimwitted crew. Blast my miserable luck of late.”

“Do ye think he kens about…” She inclined her head over her shoulder. “What ye told me?”

Kennan rubbed his hand on his thigh, the thumb brushing the hilt of the sgian dubh he’d lashed in place when they’d gone back to the bothy to collect their effects. “I think not. But one thing being a ship’s captain has taught me is never leave anything to chance. And never to forget I have friends in high places. Sailing away from that very incident I mentioned earlier, I helped the Earl of Mar clear his name and return to his post on Queen Anne’s cabinet.”

The lass’s round eyes sparkled with her amazement. “Ye’re acquainted with an earl?”

He winked—even in the face of adversity, his chest swelled like a king’s. “I have friends as well as enemies everywhere.”

“I hope more friends. A person can do without adversaries.”

“Och, I wish it were so.” Ever since he leapt from his own ship’s plank, Kennan had been plotting his revenge. And Jackson Vane had become the second greatest adversary in his life. Aye, Vane would pay, but the man Kennan truly wanted to ruin was Claude Dubois. During the negotiations for peace between France and Britain, Dubois had weaseled his way into the queen’s court, claiming to be an emissary from King Louis. He also tried to rally the Jacobite leaders against the queen, though in truth he was in London sending information to the French king, who was plotting an invasion of Britain.