“Not to worry, lass. These things take time, and once my crew and I are ready to set sail, you will have endeared yourself to all who walk these halls.”

“Mayhap.” She gestured toward the hearth, the spark in her eyes shaded by the dim light. “Well, there’s work to be done and I mustn’t dally about.”

“Right.” Kennan gripped one of the dining chairs. It didn’t seem right for her to be cleaning soot from the fireplace and setting fires. She ought to be a lady’s maid or a head housekeeper—or attain some lofty position.

He ground his molars.

The lass must start somewhere, mustn’t she? He couldn’t just march up to his stepmother and insist that she create a position for a lass who had never served on a big estate before.

Divana had said herself, she’d never been so comfortable. She had a warm bed, food, clothes, and meaningful work. But somehow, that didn’t seem enough.

He released his iron grip and bowed. “Then I’ll bid you good day.”

Chapter Eleven

Two weeks later

At the side of the keep, Divana cranked the handle above the well until the bucket appeared. After filling two pails, she started toward the kitchen, just as a dozen dragoons rode through the gates. At the sight of the redcoats, prickles fired across her skin. But when she recognized Sergeant Corbyn trotting at the head of the retinue, one pail dropped from her fingertips and washed over the cobblestones.

Divana’s heart nearly hammered out of her chest. Before she was spotted, she quickly turned away. She could scarcely breathe as she darted around the far side of the well and crouched behind it, daring to peek at Corbyn. He sat his horse as if he carried a proclamation from the queen herself.

When the redcoats stopped, silence filled the courtyard. Armed Cameron guardsmen looked on from the curtain walls while an important-looking man strode from the guardhouse and addressed the soldiers. “I’m Lochiel’s man-at-arms. State your business.”

Corbyn glared down his nose at the man. “Kennan Cameron escaped from our quarantine. The man is suspected of contracting an infectious disease. Same with the wench with whom he was traveling. They must be quarantined at once.”

Divana’s fingernails bit into her palms. She’d been quarantined for two miserable years, was that not enough? Besides, two weeks had already passed since they left Hyskeir, and nary a soul had contracted smallpox.

“Why the devil are the queen’s dragoons in my courtyard, led by the navy of all things?” demanded Sir Ewen, hastening down the steps of the keep.

The sergeant shifted his attention to the laird, though he still wore an air of arrogance. “Sir, I demand you turn over your pirate son immediately.”

At the sound of pirate, Sir Ewen stroked the palm of his hand along the hilt of his dirk. “I have four sons, none of whom are pirates.”

“You know to whom I am referring.”

“Do I?” Ewen sauntered up to Corbyn and grasped the horse’s bridle. “Unfortunately, the only son in residence has not yet reached his second birthday.”