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House by now if he had to pay the upkeep and taxes. If it weren't for my unlawful activities, we would most likely be in debtors' prison. I haven't forgotten how things were that first year we came here and tried to survive without outside help."
    No, Sabrina thought to herself, she hadn't forgotten their first year in England. Five years had now passed since her grandfather had died, so long ago that she sometimes wondered if they'd ever lived in Scotland. And then she would have one of the nightmares. She would see again the blood-soaked heather and tartan, smell the death and fear on the moors, the scene haunting her nighttime dreams. She would waken, feeling that choking, horror-filled fear that left her sweating and gasping for breath, her body shaking uncontrollably.
    So long ago, yet still so vivid. They had sailed away from the destruction in the Highlands. The slaughter of men, women and innocent children. The burning and sacking of their homes. Sometimes she wondered what had been the fate of the castle?
    They had arrived safely in England, Aunt Margaret and Mary ghastly ill with seasickness from the turbulent crossing, Richard fretful and confused, and herself so full of hate she could scarcely conceal it from the English coachmen and innkeepers they'd dealt with on their journey to Verrick House.
    The ancient family home had been uninhabited and inhospitable. The Marquis, their father, whom they had not seen in the ten years since his Scots wife had died, had long ago abandoned it for the more refined atmosphere of London life and countless other diversions.
    But their hard work and determination had made a home out of the small Elizabethan manor house that had changed little over the last two hundred years. The high on a garden and orchard overgrown with weeds and fields that had lain fallow year after year. But the richly carved oak paneling and strapwork ceiling of the entrance hall still welcomed the visitor. The finely-worked tapestries that hung from the walls were still in good condition, and with a little beeswax the old oak furniture glowed into new life.
    They had managed to live comfortably through that first summer, their money stretching through the warm months, but with the advent of winter their hardships began. Aunt Margaret had caught a cold that lingered and kept her in bed with a fever and cough. The doctor's bills had mounted daily, despite Hobbs' efficient care of her mistress, and food bills had risen each month until they were forced to ration their meals.
    The Marquis had already sold years before any valuable object that might have brought a good price, leaving only the bare essentials of the house that would bring very little if sold.
    Her resentment had grown as their neighbors had called, partly out of good manners, but mostly out of curiosity, to see the family of the long-absent Marquis. In their finery they had rolled up to Verrick House in elegant coaches, displaying their wealth to their impoverished neighbors. Graciously accepting tea as they laughed behind their fans at vague Aunt Margaret busily sewing her tapestry, patronizing their awkwardly young hostess as she tried to serve them. Sabrina had seethed as she'd watched Mary reduced to tears.
    Sabrina had seen the poverty of the villagers, the maimed limbs of many unsuccessful poachers who'd only been trying to feed their families. The unfairness of it all had finally goaded and angered her into action.
    It was a problem not easily solved by a young girl, but once she discovered the solution she set about making plans and strategies which would have complimented any general.
    It was indeed ironic that the solution should come from Lord Malton himself. He'd been complaining of the unsafeness of the roads and apparent ease with which travelers were held up and robbed.
    "Like taking candy from a child," he said angrily after church one Sunday morning while Sabrina listened, "the way these ruffians and footpads steal a person's