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you supported me, and now he thinks he’ll rile James into a quarrel. But he won’t, Robert!” She came to her brother and he put his arm round her. “Can’t you do anything with him? Try once more, I beg of you. Tell him at least that James is of our faith and we can be married here in the Chapel … Think, if it were Andrew Cameron, or the Macgregor – they were both suitors once, and neither of them Catholics. Please, Robert, think of something to make him more reasonable before he sees James!”
    â€œI’ll try,” her brother said gently. “Ring for Davie, and after you’ve finished here, go to your room and wait.”
    The hours were endless. She finished her chocolate without speaking to her step-mother, who sat back in the shadow of the tall chair, and then she ran back to her own rooms where Annie waited, and there she spent the time pacing up and down by the windows, looking out and asking her maid the time every few minutes. At five minutes to noon she heard horses, and the thud and rattle of the gates being opened, and ran to the window to open it. But Annie got there first.
    â€œAway with ye,” she said fiercely. “Hanging out the window like any crofter’s lass looking for her lover! Remember yourself, and who you are, and don’t let the man see you. God forgive ye, where’s your pride and your sense of what’s proper?”
    â€œIs it him, Annie?” Katharine demanded. “Can you see him? Tell me!”
    â€œAye, I can,” the maid answered. “He’s riding past through the outer courtyard and he has one of his clansmen with him. A mighty ruffian he is too. No,” she amended as Katharine tried to push past her, “not James Macdonald, he’s all dressed in velvets like a gentleman and riding a horse as black as himself. It’s the servant I meant.”
    Katharine held out her arms to her suddenly, and instantly Annie enfolded her. “Annie, pray for me. If I lose him I’ll never have another happy day. And say that you’ll come to Kincarrig with me.”
    â€œOch,” Annie said crossly, “do ye think I’d let you go anywhere without me to look after ye! Go down now, milady, or you’ll keep your father and James Macdonald waiting.”
    Five years ago the Earl had met face to face with the man who now came to claim his daughter. Five years ago both families had met in the Great Hall to sign the marriage treaty and witness the wedding of their kinswoman to the Earl, and apart from the squat, dark figure of Sir Alexander Macdonald, Katharine’s father had remembered his arrogant eldest son the best.
    He had changed very little. He was as tall as the Earl remembered, and even darker if that were possible. His dress, of deep green velvet doublet, lace cuffs and jabot, was immaculate, and a red-and-green plaid hung from his shoulder. The Earl noticed with surprise that James Macdonald was not wearing a sword.
    â€œI cannot welcome you,” the Earl said coldly, “because I know the reason for your visit, and I must tell you, sir, that whatever you have to say to me is a waste of time.”
    â€œMy compliments, my lord.” James came closer to where the Earl and his son Robert stood, and bowed low to both of them. The expression on his dark face was quite calm. “I understand your feelings – indeed I sympathize with them. No man could be worthy of Katharine. With that as a basis for discussion, may I ask you to be patient with me?” He glanced round the Great Hall and at that moment he saw her at the top of the stairs, one hand on the stone balustrade, and, forgetting her father and brother, James turned his back on them and came to meet her. At the foot of the stairs she gave him her hand, and bending low he kissed it. For a moment they gazed at each other, and she heard him whisper, “I promised you … as meek as milk …”
    When they