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abomination.”
    “There is no abomination in thee, Elena Roland.”
    “How can you be sure?”
    “Tell me of Uncle John, your father.” She sat dutifully down beside me. “Share it with me. Because I too loved him, yea.”
    I studied her sincere face for long, agonizing moments.
    “You must promise to tell no one,” I whispered.
    “I would die first.”
    I settled myself, my back pushed up against the cool stone. With a great shaky breath, I took her hand.
    “The sound was shattering,” I quietly began. “Cannon and musket fire, men screaming and yelling. Clouds of gun smoke masked my view, but it was clearly a battlefield, for I could see a weaving standard deep in the smoke. It went down, and swords clashed nearby. A horse screamed. In the dream, I strode forward through the smoke until I came to a Royalist officer on the ground. His armor, his clothes, his sword were bathed in blood. One of his retainers pulled the officer’s helmet off. I recognized his black, wavy hair, so like my own. Oh, Peg, he lay so very still in the surrounding chaos, his eyes wide and staring, but not seeing. A devastated Captain Wallace stood over him. Wounded Kalimir waited close by.” I searched Peg’s honest face for hatred or disgust, but saw neither.
    “Bad as it was, there be no evil in seeing truth.” She gave a sharp nod, underlining her decision. “How did ye stand it?”
    “I did not, as you well know. I remember that I awoke in excruciating terror, for Father was due to leave the next day. Were it not for you, I do not know what I would have done. Your ministrations that morning saved my sanity. I never told you, but I tried to stop him.”
    Peg gasped, her face gone pale.
    “My pleas would not sway him.” I shook my head in despair. “He went on to war and to his death. According to Captain Wallace, just as I foresaw it.”
    We sat quietly for some time. Finally, Peg picked up her brush and broke the uneasy silence between us.
    “So what, now, are we to do?”
    “I have given some thought to it.”

    Mrs. Lowry, promising mattresses later in the day, had come and gone again by the time I trod the stair that curved down along the tower wall to the hallway level. Duncan stood in the open doorway. He removed his hat and bowed, an intense twinkle in his eyes.
    With a sudden hot blush, I moved closer to him, afraid to get too close. I recalled how useless my resolve had been around him earlier in the morning.
    “Duncan,” I said, my tongue running easily over his name. I ignored my rising inner affliction and raised my chin. “I must go to my uncle once he retires to his library. That is his habit upon his return from a long campaign.”
    “I cannot allow that,” he said abruptly, watching my every move. “Though I personally do not approve of Countess Marie Louise’s treatment of you, it is my duty to keep you here.”
    His longing stare left me shaky and unsure of myself.
    “Only my uncle can undo this betrayal,” I blurted out, determined to maintain my good sense around this man.
    He blinked, opened and then shut his expressive mouth.
    My gaze, at odds with my words, soaked up this intimidating new force in my life. I studied his fascinating hair, how it curled at the ends, just below his shoulders. It was the color of weathered brick, made up of many shades of red, light copper to dark bronze.
    “You heard the countess,” I insisted, my eyes locked on his face. “She means to take me away, willing or no.”
    “Yes. She is a callous woman.”
    “My life will be lost to me. This is my home, the only home I have ever known. I will be alone and helpless,” I said, the words difficult to form in my tightening throat. I thought of Edward Gorgon and wished I could describe the terror the man created in me. “You cannot possibly understand.”
    His thick red eyebrows pushed together in concentration for a fleeting moment, then his face cleared.
    “But, Elena, life is no more than a succession of moves