A Traitor's Touch. Helen Dickson

her discomfort. The day was just like the one before, and the one before that. Apart from the occasional stop to eat and quench their thirst Simon gave her no respite. Not that she complained, for she was determined to show him she could stand the pace.

      Though it gave her some assurance that he had not yet guessed her secret, she wondered if all he saw was the dirt on her face and ill-fitting clothes, for it was there his criticism thrived. He could not know, of course, the effort she took to smudge her face and hair every morning when he threatened to dunk her in the river and scrub her clean himself. As uncomfortable as she was in her disguise as a boy, she was unable to discard it.

      * * *

      The further north they got the quieter the roads. It was midafternoon and they had paused beside a stream to eat some bread and cheese they had bought at the last village they had passed through. Henrietta had removed her boots and was dangling her feet in the cold water as she ate, scooping water into her hands to drink every now and then.

      When they were back in the saddle Simon broached a subject she would have preferred avoiding. Instead of setting off at a gallop he was silent and thoughtful as he kept his horse’s prancing pace attuned to Henrietta’s steadier gait. Then, thoughtfully, he turned and looked at her.

      In the course of their journey, despite his assertion that he would respect his privacy, Simon had done his best to discover why the youth was hell-bent on going to Scotland, but with a skill beyond his years Henry had managed to avoid giving more than vague, generalised answers, remaining reserved in his friendliness towards him, leaving him no wiser than he had been at the beginning of their journey. In truth, he was concerned about what would happen to him when they reached Edinburgh and they had to part company. Without his protection he would be prey to all manner of dangers that beset lone travellers.

      ‘When we reach Edinburgh and we go our separate ways, I can arrange for an escort to accompany you to Inverness.’

      ‘Thank you for your concern, Simon, but I beg you not to worry. I am grateful that you have allowed me to travel with you, but I am fairly self-sufficient and able to take care of myself the rest of the way. You owe me nothing and I will take nothing from you.’

      ‘You never did tell me why you were running away.’

      ‘I have no wish to involve you in something that is not your concern. You have problems of your own to worry about.’ She was as determined to remain silent as he was to drag it out of her. She had her pride and her reasons, which she would not discuss with him.

      Simon sighed heavily. ‘You are a stubborn lad, Henry.’

      ‘The same could be said about you,’ she said, directing the conversation from herself. ‘All this time we have been together, not once have you let your guard down.’

      ‘Not intentionally I assure you. My mind is somewhat occupied with what might be going on over the border.’ He looked across at his companion. ‘Unlike you, Henry, I have nothing to hide. What would you like to know?’

      She shrugged. ‘In truth, I haven’t thought about it.’

      ‘Well, I will begin by telling you that I was educated at a school in France which attracts children of Catholic families in England and Scotland. After that I trained in military arts and saw service abroad.’

      ‘Do you have a wife?’

      Almost immediately his gaze shifted once more to the slight figure riding beside him. ‘I do not.’

      ‘So you are a bachelor and a soldier. That is a lot more than I knew a moment ago. And now?’

      ‘Now I follow the dictates of my religion and my conscience.’

      ‘Which is a dangerous thing to do.’

      ‘In this present climate it is so. But I am always slow to voice my opinion. In this time of persecution against Catholics in England, since the king and his ministers have not the slightest intention of toleration for the old faith, it is prudent to be diligent, which is why we Tremains have kept our titles and our land. Few families can boast as much.’

      She looked at him sharply. ‘You have a title?’

      Her surprised amused him. ‘I’m afraid so.’

      ‘What is it? How should I address you?’

      ‘I am Lord Simon James Talbot Tremain—but I give you leave to continue calling me Simon.’

      ‘So, you are a lord and you have inherited a fortune, yet you are unattached—uncommonly selfish of you.’

      ‘How is that?’

      ‘Having witnessed the way women fall at your feet when you enter a room—’

      ‘That will be tavern wenches,’ he interrupted with an amused tilt to his mouth.

      Henrietta shrugged. ‘What’s the difference? Women are the same the world over and, though it pains me to say so for I have no wish to feed your ego, you are a handsome man. I imagine not a woman in the kingdom will spare the other gentlemen a glance until you have been claimed.’

      He cocked an amused brow. ‘Why, Henry, what’s this? Flattery?’

      ‘No. I was merely stating a fact. But going back to what we were talking about, if the conversation I overheard between you and your fellow Jacobites on the heath is true and Charles Stuart is indeed in Scotland, it can mean only one thing—that some disorder is brewing—that some extraordinary event is anticipated. Is there to be a rising?’

      Simon didn’t answer straight away—when he did, he spoke thoughtfully, picking his words. ‘Nothing is that simple, nothing is obvious. I am assailed with a multitude of questions but I will find no firm answers until I reach Scotland and Charles Stuart.’

      ‘Do you think it will be concentrated in Scotland, if there is a rising?’

      ‘I cannot answer that, but it has to be on a great scale for it to be of effect.’

      ‘Will the Catholics win, do you think?’

      Simon’s mood had darkened and his expression was grim. Although he looked calm and in control, his mind was in a continual turmoil of conflicts. ‘That depends on the support Charles Stuart can raise on both sides of the border.’

      ‘What’s he like? Have you met him?’

      He nodded. ‘He’s young, with considerable charm and dignity.’

      ‘And is that enough to bring him to Scotland to lead an army of restoration?’

      ‘As to that, we shall have to wait and see. I was in Paris myself recently and, by and large, the prospect for a Stuart restoration did not seem to be preoccupying the aristocracy of France. One thing is certain. Whatever the outcome, it will bring about change for the Catholics. If it fails, the damage will do the cause no good and will be so great that both here and abroad they will be condemned. Anyone connected with the rising will be arrested. It would be a hard thing indeed to escape the full consequences if we were to be charged with rebellion and treason. Men have lost their heads for less. The Protestants did not scruple to send men to the gallows merely for saying that James Stuart had claim to the throne.’

      Henrietta was scarcely able to grasp the reality of it all as Simon’s words fell like hammer blows against her heart. Remembering the tragedy that had deprived her of her father, as she stared at Simon’s hard profile a chill seemed to penetrate to her very soul. ‘Then may the Lord save you all,’ she whispered.

      The prayer was heartfelt and Simon looked at her closely, seeing pain and panic in the eyes of this unusually assured youth.

      ‘Are you in favour of rebellion, Simon?’

      ‘In a word, no. But I am of the faith and must support it. Catholic fanatics have been conspiring for years to claim the throne for the Stuarts. They have a long tradition of subversive activity.’

      Henrietta’s lips twisted in a wry smile. ‘That I