“Then I dinna care for onything,” she whispered. “Yet at times I’m no’ sae brave—I’m afraid.”
Breadalbane’s wide light eyes gazed across the dark.
“Afraid o’ what, Peggy?”
She drew a little closer to him.
“Of wraiths—o’ the dead.”
He smiled, fondling her hair.
“I wad’na’ fear when dead what I had’na’ feared when living, Peggy.”
“Nay, nay, I dinna fear—at least I’m no’ afraid, Jock, when ye are close—but—Ah, Jock—wad I could forget!”
He frowned above his smile.
“Are ye thinking of the Macdonalds, Peggy?”