Fraser had not kept his title long and had been outlawed for his deeds. He had fled to exile before finally being pardoned, but the black stain of such villainy would not soon be erased.
Sophia’s pale, set face showed plainly that she knew whom Moray spoke of.
‘Aye,’ he said, ‘’twas all the time like walking with the devil, but the devil kens the way to charm when it does suit his purpose, and to most at Saint-Germain that year it seemed that Simon Fraser was the key to raising Scotland for the king. He had a plan, he claimed, and he convinced the king’s own mother of its virtues, so she sent him here to test the ground. They chose me to come with him, I was later told, because it was believed that by my honor and my family’s reputation I’d more easily commend myself to those we wished to meet with than would such a man as Fraser. They were right.’ The reminiscence set a shadow on his face. ‘We were received by many honorable men. And Simon Fraser did betray them all. And me.’ His smile was thin. ‘He was, throughout our visit, telling all he knew to agents of Queen Anne.’
That, thought Sophia, must have been how Moray had been branded as a traitor to the queen, and earned the price upon his head.
‘I was full ignorant of this. ’Twas Captain Gordon who enlightened me,’ he said. ‘At table with my father, he did call me fool, and worse, that I would let myself be so used by a man who, by his treachery, would surely bring to pain and ruin men of better character. And so it came to pass. I saw good men of my acquaintance taken prisoner, and battered in the pillory, and sentenced to be hanged. And though I managed to escape, my father took my shame upon himself and bore it with him to his grave.’
Sophia felt a pang for him. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘It was no lie, what Gordon said—I was a fool. But life does carry lessons with it. Never since that time have I been easily deceived.’
She chose her next words carefully, because she did not know if Moray shared her own distrust of Colonel Hooke. ‘’Tis well, then, Colonel Hooke is not like Simon Fraser.’
‘He is not.’ Another slanting look, that seemed to somehow be assessing her. ‘But Colonel Hooke’s design is to restore a king to Scotland, and I’ll wager he himself cares little whether ’tis King Jamie or His Grace the Duke of Hamilton who takes the throne when all the cards are played. Hooke has gone now, I believe, to judge where lie the loyalties of your good people of the Western Shires, for it is on the Presbyterians our planned rebellion hangs. They are well-organized, and having not before this time aroused the temper of the Crown they have been left well-armed. If they declare for Jamie Stewart, all is well. But if they do declare for Hamilton, then I ken well where Hooke will stand.’
The prospect left her troubled. ‘But that will mean civil war.’
‘Aye, lass. And that,’ he said, with cynicism, ‘may be what the French king did design from the beginning.’
Sophia frowned. They’d come along the beach now to the windblown drifts of sand that marked the edges of the dunes. She did not notice for a moment that they were no longer walking. It was only when her hand was given back to her, and Moray started taking off his boots, that she came fully to awareness.
With a glance at her wide eyes, he said, ‘I’m not about to ravish ye. I did but think to try the water. Will ye join me?’
She did not understand at first, and stammered in alarm, ‘You mean to bathe?’
Which brought one of those rare, quick smiles to light his face with pure amusement. ‘Christ, lass, if the sight of me without my boots is giving ye the vapors, I’d not want to risk removing something else.’ Then, as she flushed a deeper red, he added, ‘I mean to wet my feet among the waves, and nothing more.’ He held his hand out. ‘Come, ’tis safe enough. Ye said ye did not fear me.’
He was testing her, she knew. It was another of those challenges with which he seemed determined to present her, as if seeking to discover just how far she could be pushed beyond propriety.
She raised her chin. ‘I’ll have to take my slippers off.’
‘I’d think it most advisable.’
He turned his head and watched the hills while she rolled off her stockings, too, and tucked them in her slippers, which she left upon the sand beside his boots. There could be no disgrace in going barefoot, she decided. She had known of several ladies of good quality who went unshod within their homes and in full view of company, though that, she did admit, was for economy, and not because they wished to show a man he could not best them.