“As you say, an interesting topic of speculation, and one you’re like to find the answer of shortly, presupposing that you suffer the usual fate of captured spies.”
His brows lifted in polite inquiry. “Indeed! A spy?” he asked, indifferently.
“Why not? The favourite of the Hanoverian usurpers discovered in our midst—what other explanation will it bear?”
He smiled. “Perhaps I have a mind to join your barelegged rebellion.”
“Afraid your services are not available, Sir Robert. Three hundred Macleod claymores bar the way, all eager to wipe out an insult to the daughter of Raasay. Faith, when they have settled their little account against you there won’t be much left for the Prince.”
“Ah! Then for the sake of argument suppose we put it that I’m visiting this delightful city for my health.”
“You will find the climate not agree with you, I fear.”
“Then say for pleasure.”
“’Twill prove more exciting than amusing.”