She felt a clutch of panic at seeing his own despair. ‘He took your note from the bull’s house and replaced it with his own,’ she faltered. ‘It sent me to the storm cleit, on the other side of the glen from you.’

Sholto’s face crumpled as the factor’s deception was revealed. ‘No.’

‘He was waiting for me there. He made me . . .’ She swallowed. ‘He made me jump the broom with him—’

‘What?’

‘He said it made me . . . lawfully his.’

The breath caught in his throat. She could see it snagged there, like her dress on that gate.

‘But that’s a lie! Broomstick weddings aren’t legal!’

‘Not here, perhaps. But your ways aren’t the old ways. It was different, over there. The law is . . . loose.’

‘. . . Did he . . .?’ His breathing was coming heavily, his hands pulled into fists. She could see the agony inside him.

‘He tried. But Mhairi and Pop—’ A sob burst from her. She couldn’t even say the word. ‘. . . Poppit stopped him. She bit his leg . . . He kicked her, broke her leg and ribs.’

‘That’s why he was limping?’ he whispered. ‘He said he caught it on a nail.’ He looked back at her, horrified, remembering their hospitality on the boat as the factor had hobbled aboard.

‘But it’s over now. He’s gone and I’m glad of it.’ She jerked her chin in the air, seeing how his expression changed from sorrow to something closer to fear. The factor was, after all, now dead.

He paled, watching her closely. ‘. . . Effie? What did you do?’

She stared back at him for several moments. ‘What I had to . . . I had to get away from him. He was coming back for me and I . . . I knew I couldn’t live a life like that.’

‘Yes.’ He nodded, placing his hands upon her arms. ‘I understand, but you have to tell me what you did. All of it. I have to know so that I can help you. If you keep me in the dark—’

‘I can’t drag you into this,’ she said desperately. ‘I won’t let you get involved.’

‘But I’m already involved! You have to tell me what happened. I can’t help you if I don’t know.’