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same. The lad’s newly attained six-foot stature forced him to duck in order to pass through the low door that led into the stone hut. There was a startled rustle of wings as a grouse scurried to the window ledge of the gloomy chamber and escaped outside.
    There was nothing to see, really, for the miserable cottage had long been stripped of anything of value, if anything of value had ever been housed within its thick stone walls to begin with.
    “They both died on a bed that was pushed against that wall,” Simon said somberly, pointing toward a corner of the room graced only with a dirt floor. “First Sir Thomas, a few weeks before you were born, and then your mother, Marguerite, right after she… froze to death or starved, they told me. I found you in her arms over there, barely mewing, you were.” Simon turned his back to Thomas and his voice sounded hoarse. “I found a local lass to wet-nurse you, or you’d have died along with your kin, and that’s for sure.” Simon’s voice harsh with emotion. “You come from fine stock, laddie. Your da was the best friend a man could have, and your mother, a rare beauty, with her wine-colored tresses and loving ways.”
    Thomas felt his eyes grow moist and his throat began to ache.
    “You owe it to their memory to reclaim these lands… not just for them, or Clan Fraser, but for the villagers like your wet-nurse as well.” Simon turned back to face Thomas, and he squinted in the dim light. “The Frasers of Struy did their duty to their tenants and the villagers for generations. Without a working manor, the entire region has become as derelict as Struy House itself. If something isn’t done in the next ten years, the people will leave the land for the south, or worse, for America. Tis your destiny to bring it all back to life, Thomas Fraser! To help restore our way of life here in the Highlands!”
    Thomas glanced around the hovel and felt his heart sink. He thought of the hulking mansion in the valley below, with its caved in roof and weed-choked gardens.
    “Godfather… how can we hope to—”
    The master of Lovat’s gaze grew hard. “You’ll get your Commission in the Black Watch somehow… then, mayhap, the Crown will need good fightin’ men in those insolent Colonies and we’ll raise another Fraser regiment… but you’ll get your lands back by dint of your fighting arm! Never let anything stand in the way of your duty to your heritage, lad, do you hear me? I’ve done my best by you all these years, just so you can salvage what your da and m’lady Marguerite paid for with their blood!”
    Thomas stared, aghast to see his godfather’s cheeks suddenly bathed with tears to match his own. The elder man abruptly spun on his heel and strode out of the dim chamber. By the time Thomas had remounted his pony, Simon’s horse had thundered across the rain-spattered moor. Soon, man and rider were swallowed up by the emerald wood.

Three

    O CTOBER 1765
    T HE SOUNDS OF THE WAKING CITY DRIFTED UP TO J ANE’S FOURTH -story window. Outside, denizens of the neighborhood’s teeming jumble of flats and shops were already up, taking advantage of the unusually warm October weather to move about the city in lightweight attire before the onset of another of Edinburgh’s treacherous winters.
    Still half-asleep, Jane listened to the symphony of noises along the cobbled High Street. She could even hear traffic noises in the distance, clattering down St. Mary’s Wynd. The steady drone punctuated from time to time the shrill, singsong calls of the hawkers selling their wares.
    Suddenly, Jane felt such a longing to see her friend Thomas Fraser that her throat tightened. The vibrant city that once held such joy and enchantment for the two intrepid explorers, now seemed almost forlorn during his long absence. Jane stared up at the ceiling, feeling dreadfully lonely, despite a house crowded with her kin.
    It was wonderful having a semblance of a normal family life once again, Jane