"What does it matter if you look like that old earl?" Hannah grumbled. "Whose business is it?"

Elizabeth shifted the sleeping babies so that she could lift them. "I would guess that Mr. Moncrieff is worried that the Campbells will take an interest, once word gets out. Is that not so?"

Nathaniel grunted. "That's the way he tells it, Boots. It seems that half of the dragoons quartered in Dumfries are Campbells, and the other half are related to them by marriage. Moncrieff pulled me aside up on deck to warn me about keeping my head low."

Curiosity waved a hand before her face. "While you're keeping your head low you'd best go change. I ain't never smelled anything like you, not even when Axel Metzler gets his still goin'."

"I'm on my way," Nathaniel said.

Elizabeth followed him into the side cabin, where she put the sleeping twins in the middle of the bed while Nathaniel stripped the wet shirt over his head and peeled his breeches off.

"Christ, what I wouldn't give for a bath. She's right, I stink."

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. "If you are looking to me for a denial, I'm afraid I must disappoint you."

He did not laugh; he barely seemed to hear her. Standing at the window he had turned his attention to the traffic on the water, and he studied it closely while he wiped his chest with a piece of toweling. The light moved on him, claiming the broad plane of his shoulder and the line of backbone, sliding over the small of his back and down his thigh. He was completely at ease in his nakedness, without self-consciousness or vanity and so beautiful that her breath caught and she wondered if the next would ever come.

His face was hidden from her, and she was glad of it, feeling more naked than he in this moment, and inexplicably happy. Elizabeth touched each of the children in turn, to feel the rise and fall of their breathing. In small proportions we just beauty see.

"I can hear you thinking, Boots," he said finally.

"I don't doubt it. Your ears are entirely too sharp."

He stilled suddenly.

"What is it?"

"The Hakim," he said. "On a barge, headed for shore."

"The Hakim?" Elizabeth echoed. "But where would he be going?"

Nathaniel grunted. "That's the question, all right."

"Perhaps he has friends to visit in the area," Elizabeth said, more to herself than to him.

"Or maybe Carryck sent for him," said Nathaniel. "Maybe he has need of a surgeon." He pulled his only clean shirt over his head and reached for his breeches. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

Elizabeth drew in a wavering breath and let it out again.

He came to sit beside her, and slipped his arms around her waist. "You're loath to leave the ship."

"You've heard the old saying, I'm sure. Better the devil you know."

"Enough devils to go around in Scotland, no question about it." He stood, and drew her up with him. "And dragons and giants and fairies and Green Men, too. But you and me, we've been through the endless forests, Elizabeth."

"So we have," she said. "I expect that we can manage Scotland, too."

PART III

Carryckcastle

23

The long road to Dumfries was muck and misery. Horses floundered and babies wailed, and yet Hannah could conjure no scowl, or even show the disinterest she thought she must owe this place. By the time the wooden box they called a coach entered the town she had rubbed the skin on her elbows raw leaning out the little window.

Daniel fussed in Curiosity's arms, but she freed a hand long enough to pull back the leather curtain.

"Must be some kind of celebration goin' on, all these folks headed in the same direction."

"I should like to get out and walk with them," Elizabeth said, shifting uneasily. "I had forgotten how uncomfortable it is to travel by coach."

Lily turned her head against Elizabeth's shoulder and frowned in her sleep.

Nathaniel said nothing, but his jaw was hard-set. He had asked for a horse, but Moncrieff had refused without explanation. Hannah wondered how long it would be before her father and Moncrieff had serious words.

The lane was busy with stray dogs and children, tradesmen and servants and ladies in hats sprouting long feathers dyed pink and yellow and green. They held their skirts up from the cobblestones to display layers of lace and ribboned shoes. In New-York a rich man was known by his tall beaver hat, and here they were too, bobbing along in a stream of soft caps and old tricorns.

"It is much like Albany," Hannah said, surprised and a little disappointed.

Curiosity made a sound in her throat. "Look harder, child. This town was tired when Albany wasn't nothing more than a widening in the trail along the big river."

It was true: even the stones that lined the doorways seemed to sag. Windows leaned together and timbers bowed. Under thatched roofs the tiny stone cottages that lined the lanes looked to Hannah like rows of knowing old faces with sunken eyes. In one spot the road narrowed so that she might have reached out to pet a cat sleeping on a windowsill in the early evening light.

Hannah craned her neck to study the chimneys. "Look how black the smoke is." She wrinkled her nose at the greasy smell of it.

"Coal," said Elizabeth. "The dust coats everything."

A young boy raced by carrying an unlit torch almost as long as he was. He cast a sidelong glance at the coach and pulled up short, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Hannah.