The story appeared to have moved the young earl. “I have heard of those Highland men, but I did not think to have one seek shelter beneath my own roof.” Coming forward he said to the colonel, “Of course he is welcome.”

The countess said, “Yes. Thank you, Patrick, for laying my worries to rest.”

But Sophia thought, watching her, that she still guarded her features with care, as though some of the doubts yet remained.

It was clear Colonel Graeme had none of his own. The next morning, as he sat down with Sophia to resume their interrupted game of chess, the door to the library opened and Ogilvie, seeing them already there and well occupied, apologized and started to withdraw, but Colonel Graeme would have none of it. “Come in and join us, Captain.”

“If you’re sure ’tis no intrusion.”

“None at all. Besides, it may improve our game to have an audience.”

Sophia doubted whether there was anything that would improve her game this morning, trapped as she still was, her king held helplessly in check. While Captain Ogilvie settled himself in a chair by the fire, she took the opportunity to study once again the way the pieces were positioned on the board, in hopes she’d chance upon the move that would release her king from peril.

Colonel Graeme watched her closely from across the table, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “There is a way,” he told her, “to get out of that.”

“You would not wish to tell me what it is?” She knew he wouldn’t. He had never told her how to move or given her advice, but in the teaching of this game he had from time to time seen fit to help her train her sight along the proper line.

He did it now. “It does involve your queen.”

“My queen…” She looked, but still she could not see it. And then, of a sudden, “Oh,” she said, and made the move.

“See?” Colonel Graeme’s smile seemed proud of her. “I told ye. Now your king is safe. At least,” he told her, teasing, “for the moment.”

Ogilvie looked on with partial interest, but Sophia knew he would not sit for long before the urge to tell a story overcame him. He had kept them fully entertained at last night’s supper with his tales, for having lived so long he had amassed a wealth of stories, and the telling of them seemed to bring him pleasure. Neither did Sophia have any objection to hearing them. She found them fascinating, full of bold adventure—though she would have listened, truth be told, if they had all been dull, because her heart was not so hard she could deny a man like Ogilvie, whose days of grandeur and of glory were all now behind him, the chance to live those days again in memory, while he spoke.

“Aye,” said Ogilvie, relaxing back into his chair, “’Tis often in the power of the queen to save the king. Our young King Jamie owes much to his mother. He would not be living at all were it not for her bravery in taking him over the sea.”