They passed through a small village, and then another, moving so fast that Hannah could make out nothing about them except thatched roofs and stone walls, a common well, a low church steeple, a mill on a stream. Crofters' cottages with children playing around them, a boy herding a great sow, a woman scrubbing clothes in a stream, her skirts tucked up to show round knees purple-red with cold. The road began to work its way upward toward the summit of Aidan Rig, twisting with the curves of the hill. The soil was thin here and everywhere stone pushed up out of the ground as if the earth were set on shedding her bones. A young bullock grazing among the heather raised a heavy head to watch them pass.

Meg began to blow and snort, surging forward eagerly in spite of the steep climb.

"Aye, lass," said Thomas Ballentyne. "Soon. Ye've earned yer oats this night."

Hannah sat up straighter, as anxious as she had ever been.

"There," he said, raising a gloved hand to point. "Carryckcastle."

She had steeled herself for this, and still Hannah was taken by surprise. To her mother's people, to the Kahnyen'kehâka, a castle was nothing more than a fortified village, longhouses surrounded by a wall of logs lashed together and sharpened to a point at the top. Carryckcastle was something very different: a vast expanse of smooth walls, turrets and towers, a hundred glass windows catching the sunlight and casting it out again. The castle grew out of the rock where the mountain thrust out over the valley below. Above it was only timber and a treacherous rock face; no man could approach it from below without being seen from a mile away. The home of a man who did not trust his neighbors.

Behind them, the sound of her father coughing from deep in his chest.

"Ye'll be safe here," Thomas Ballentyne said.

Hannah shuddered in the warm sunlight, and was silent.

All through this long journey, Elizabeth had dreaded the moment when they would first see this place, but when that time came she could feel only relief. Nathaniel had been listing hard to one side for the last half-mile of the winding road up the mountainside. She focused all her energy on him, willing him to stay upright for these last few minutes, trying at the same time to comfort Daniel with soft words. He mewled and hiccuped his unhappiness, straining away and clutching hard at the same time.

As the party turned the corner and started through the gate into the courtyard, Lily raised her voice, crying in earnest now, hungry and angry about it. Elizabeth turned her head for a moment in Curiosity's direction, just as Nathaniel began a slow slide from the saddle.

It had been many years since she had played at such games, but now she left her horse in a vault, one arm wrapped around Daniel and her skirts flying. And still the earl was there before her, leaning over from his own mount to grab Nathaniel by the collar before he fell to the cobblestones. A legion of servants, men in leather aprons, footmen in blue and gold livery, sta2oys, all rushed in to help, and Elizabeth lost sight of him until she could push her way through.

He was barely upright, supported on either side by two burly servants so that his cape gaped open. Curiosity had immobilized his left arm against his chest, and then bound him tightly from shoulder to waist. Now the whole expanse of linen was bright red. He looked down at himself and up at her with a puzzled expression.

"Boots." His voice was raw, and she saw now clearly what this ride had cost him. "The children?"

"All well." Her knees were trembling, but her tone was firm and she managed a small smile.

"Good," he said. "Good," and slumped forward in a faint.

There was no help for it: she must leave Nathaniel to the care of others while she tended to the babies. As soon as he had been carried into a room on the ground floor where the Hakim waited--Elizabeth caught his eye in passing, and was calmed by his kind and earnest expression as he turned to greet Hannah--she let herself be led, squalling children firmly in arm, down halls and up staircases to a chamber the size of their entire cabin at Lake in the Clouds. When the footman closed the door behind her, she went straight to the bed and its little flight of carved stairs.

Elizabeth climbed them and settled herself against the mountain of bolsters and pillows. She did not look up again until the twins had begun to nurse, and then she found she was not alone.

Three lady's maids stood waiting on the far side of the room, watching her. They curtsied and bobbed as if she were the king's consort rather than the wife of an American backwoodsman, coming forward in a rustle of skirts to take her shoes, spread a rug over her legs, and adjust the pillows under the twins more comfortably. Through all this they said very little, but Elizabeth saw them taking in every detail, from the pitch-stained hem of her gown to the way Daniel played with a stray strand of her hair as he nursed. The two older maids kept all expression from their faces, but the youngest one stood for a moment smiling at the sight of Lily's feet, which stuck out from under Elizabeth's arm, toes wiggling madly.

Elizabeth bore it all patiently until they stood away again, eyes downcast. The earl must have a very strict housekeeper, one who inspired real fear in her staff. Or perhaps it's me, she thought. Perhaps they are afraid of me.

"Thank you," she said. "You may leave me now."

They bobbed again, hands folded over starched aprons, and slipped away without a word. But the youngest one paused at the door to throw a curious last glance at her.

Elizabeth returned her shy smile. "What is your name?"

"Mally, m'leddy."

She bit back a smile. "You bestow a rank on me that is not my own. I am Mrs. Bonner."