“Anne?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“How long will ye be with us?”

Anne pulled herself from her thoughts of Liam—worries, really, more than thoughts, that Malcolm was not mistreating him. She shut her eyes tightly to keep tears from forming, then opened them, and frowned up at the sky, lying on her back as Moira was. They were side-by-side, staring up at the clouds, deciding what each one looked like while Owen conducted pretend swordfights with a thin stick not far off.

Even at such a tender age, he wished to be a soldier. Like as not he’d witnessed Rufus’s men practicing their sword skill in the clearing near the main house, which she had spied while on a walk with the twins.

A walk which served more than simply passing time. She needed to have a sense of the space in which she was captive—for that was what she was, and nothing less—if she had any hope of escape.

There would be no trouble getting over the back wall again, and good thing. A pair of hands had repaired the broken section the day before, but even if she had to wait until the mortar hardened it would be nothing more than a matter of finding something on which to boost herself. The wall was not so short back there, likely because there was not normally anyone living so near it and as such the eastern-facing border required greater protection from thieves.

Such as herself.

She might bring a chair out from the house and use it to climb over. After that, it would be nothing more than tracing her path and escaping. Simple, really.

Until Moira asked such a question and caused an invisible hand to squeeze her heart.

It would be important to choose her words carefully. “I canna say, dear. As long as I can stay.”

“How long is that?”

“I am uncertain. I would like to stay with ye forever, but we canna always do what we wish to do.” She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. They reclined on her cloak, spread out along the sparse grass. The chill as of late had already begun to kill what was once green.

“Why can ye not stay?” Moira twirled a birch leaf between two fingers. “We have ever such nice times together, do we not?”

“That we do,” Anne agreed, smiling fondly at the lass.

“Is there someone else ye love, somewhere else?” Moira’s wide, child’s eyes stared up into hers without artifice, without anything but utter honesty and trust. “Is that it? There are other little boys and girls you love better?”

“Och, nay, my dearest.” Anne pressed her lips to the child’s forehead. “Not at all. I dinna believe your cousin Rufus would wish to have me live here for always—nor would Uncle Drew. Besides, I canna always sleep on the floor of your bedchamber. Ye will grow older and not wish to have me there always.”

“That isn’t true!” Moira exclaimed, aghast at the very thought.

“Och, but I believe it is. Ye shall understand better when ye are a bit older, I promise.”

“That is what everyone says,” the child sighed.

“I remember how I hated hearing that when I was a wee thing.”

Owen’s shrill voice echoed through the air. “Anne! Anne!”

She sat upright, her head turning this way and that. He was running to them, having dropped the makeshift sword. From the look on the lad’s face, one would think the devil himself was on his way.

Not the devil. A stranger, but a female one. Bonny, with a dark complexion than Anne’s and thick, rich, lustrous hair which appeared black beneath a hooded cloak.

Anne stood, gathering the twins behind her. “Who are ye?” she asked, loud and strong. “What brings ye here?”

The stranger stopped short, eyes going round. “I mean you no harm.” Her voice was like music.

“Who are ye?” Anne demanded nonetheless. Even a lovely stranger could bring great harm. She was moments from sending the twins into the house and charging at the lass.

“My name is Shana Blackheath, and I am a friend of Drew and Davina. My husband is William Blackheath, head of the guard of Laird Richard Munro. Drew sent me back to meet the bairns, and yourself.”

Anne eyed her up, uncertain whether she believed this or not. Owen, meanwhile, tugged at her skirt. “She is bonny,” he whispered before hiding his face, suddenly too shy to show himself.

“Aye, that she is,” Anne agreed, still wary. “I believe the pair of ye ought to go inside and prepare to take your midday rest.”

“Och, Anne.” Moira pouted, but Anne directed her and her twin to the house nonetheless.

“I will be in to check on ye shortly, and ye had better be in bed.” Closing the door, Anne turned to Shana. She was at last part gypsy, that was clear. Bands of them had traveled past Malcolm’s land regularly over the years and at times had stopped to play their music and dance and collect a coin or two before continuing on.

Malcolm had always warned the household not to trust their visitors, but Anne had only ever rolled her eyes at this. The thought of a man such as him warning against others had seemed laughable even at a young age.

Shana offered a shy smile. “Forgive me,” she murmured, taking a few tentative steps nearer the house. “I did not expect to worry you so. The men were busy with a mare who is having difficulty foaling, and I did so wish to meet the bairns who Davina has told me so many wonderful things about.”

“Ye know of them, then?” Anne folded her arms, still uncertain of how she felt about this woman. Strange though it seemed, spending several days with the twins had left her as deeply protective as if she’d known them all their lives.

“Certainly. Davina has corresponded with me quite a bit as of late—though I have never heard of you,” she added, arching one dark brow.

“I came to the farm only days ago,” Anne explained, wishing her cheeks did not flame so. Only those who felt they had something to hide blushed at such a moment.

“That explains it.” Shana’s smile was brilliant, as warming as the sun. “Would you mind if I shared a cup of tea with you? I was unable to have one at the main house, as everyone was either in the stables or confined to their bed.”

“Of course.” If Davina trusted her, Anne supposed she could not be dangerous—even if Anne had never met this Davina or even laid eyes upon her. What a strange turn her life had taken.

They entered the house, which Anne could not help but feel the slightest bit of pride toward. She had scrubbed it nearly from top to bottom, even the bedchambers. Moira had assisted in stripping the beds and refilling the mattresses with fresh, sweet straw.

A pot of stew bubbled on the low fire, filling the house with a mouthwatering scent. “My goodness,” Shana beamed as she untied the strings of her cloak. “You have done a wonder here.”

“Have ye ever seen the house before?” And why did the notion of her doing so send a bolt of jealousy straight to Anne’s heart? The woman had spoken of herself as a friend of Davina and of Drew.

Just what sort of friends had they been?

“Nay, but I can only imagine what it must have been like, run by a man until now. I started with next to nothing in my own home, on Laird Munro’s land.” Shana sat with a contented sigh, stretching her legs before her. “It has been a long journey.”

“Is your husband with ye?” And why was there a tart note to her voice when she asked? Anne turned her back before the visitor could see the sour look on her face.

It did not seem as though Shana noticed. “I rode alone. My husband is quite devoted to his work, and I simply could not wait any longer. I have been so worried for Davina.”

Anne filled the kettle and put it on the fire before reaching for the tea tin. “Aye, I understand she’s had a difficult time of it.”

“She did not seem to be feeling poorly when I visited now. Perhaps it has passed. We can only hope.”

“How do ye know her?” The curiosity surrounding her hosts had all but burned a hole in her brain. There had not been a chance to visit, and Anne could admit to herself that she had hardly made it a priority.

The sense that another woman would see through her in an instant had kept her away.

Shana seemed not to have heard, sitting in silent contemplation. “What brought ye here?”

Anne struggled to recall the tale Drew had created for her. “My parents died, my brother lives with an uncle. I had nowhere to go. Drew required assistance with the bairns, or else Owen might have been torn to bits by an angry sow. I caught up to him as he attempted to reach into the pig pen just this morning.”

“You must be terribly worn out,” Shana chuckled.

“Aye. I know now why Drew wished for help. I hardly know whether I am coming or going between the pair of them.” She rose when the water in the kettle started to steam and went about preparing a pot of tea.

All the while, her thoughts ran wild. What was Shana thinking? Would she ask further questions? Had the answers she’d given thus far been acceptable?

She brought out a load of brown bread and a pot of butter to enjoy with the tea. This was the first time she had ever served tea to a guest. It was not her home, and she had never met the woman before, but then again nothing about her life had ever been quite right.

“Ye are studying me,” Anne observed, pouring fragrant, amber liquid into two mugs.

Shana blanched. “How rude of me. Forgive me, please.”

“There is nothing to forgive, but I dinna wish to pretend not to notice your interest. I find it tiring to pretend, and the twins have already left me far too tired.” She offered a smile to show her guest there were no hard feelings.

Shana smiled as well. “You see, I understand what it means for a stranger to study me. I have seen that sort of stare my entire life. I know the discomfort it brings, and I ought to have known better.”

It was Anne’s turn to pale. “I did not think of it that way. I did not mean to blame ye, either.”

Shana reached across the table to pat Anne’s hand. “Let us put the matter to rest now. Tell me, what do you think of Davina and Rufus? Have you met Clyde?”

Anne took a long, long sip of scalding tea. It was better than admitting she’d never met any of the people whose names Shana had just used.

When she did not offer a response, Shana merely nodded. “Yes. I believe I understand you very well.”

Whatever did that mean?

Perhaps it might have been preferable to go on the attack outside, after all.