But she was the one bearing the brunt of the risk. She would be taking on the blame for his sister. She’d offered it, when they first devised this trap, saying it was the only way, since she was the one he’d be looking for. She’d simply offered herself up as bait and then gone on to hum the overture of The Magic Flute while she made a tidy list of everything they ought to do to prepare for it.

He’d met a lot of people over the years. Here on the islands, on the mainland, at university. Friends, neighbors, strangers. None of them—not a one—was like Lady Elizabeth Sinclair.

Mabena was already walking a few steps ahead of them, never one to stroll along when she could stride instead. Oliver held Lady Elizabeth back a bit more with a hand on her elbow. “My lady . . .” But that didn’t sound right, not now. Not when she was risking her very life for his family. “Libby.”

It was a liberty he oughtn’t to take without her permission. But if things went wrong tonight, that was the least of his concerns.

She looked up at him, her face traced only by moonlight and his gaze. She looked tired, but it was less because of the shadows under her eyes than the ones in them. He sighed. “You needn’t do this.” It wasn’t what he meant to say.

The corners of her lips tilted up, then drifted back down. “We’ve been through this . . . Oliver.” Oliver. Even better than simple permission to use her given name. “Whether I come to the cave tonight or not, the risk to me is the same. I’m the one they think is Beth. I’m the one they’ll be looking for, whether they’re looking here or at my cottage.”

“You could stay here with the Moons and not go back there. Or—” He choked on the obvious suggestion and had to clear his throat. “Or you could simply return to the mainland.” She had to at some point. It would be logical to do so now.