Free Legacy by Jeanette Baker

completely clear. Later they changed. It was almost as if I were there.” Her face was pale, and she lifted shaking hands to her throat. “When Katrine was born, they stopped altogether.”
    James reached over and grasped her hand. “Have you told George of your fears?”
    She nodded. “He laughs at my foolishness.”
    “Perhaps you are reading more into them than you should,” he said soothingly. “You are only a Murray through marriage. Others must have seen what you have and lived out their lives without harm.”
    Her eyes were haunted. “You forget that I have Maxwell blood, the same as the Murrays. You have no daughters, m’lord. George and I have the only female child. Katrine is the last daughter of our line . Until my son marries and sires his own, Katrine is the one who will suffer.”
    James lifted his hand. “Stop, Janet. I’ll not listen to another word. More than two hundred years have passed since our clan was under suspicion for witchcraft. Would you stir up ill feelings against us on the very eve when Scotland needs every loyal man?”
    She sighed and gave up. “No. Of course not,” she said.
    He stood and offered her his hand. “I thought not. Shall we join the children?”
    ***
    “Check. Your king is in danger, Katrine,” Richard observed, moving his rook into a strategic position.
    Katrine leaned forward, her chin resting on her palm, and assessed the position of her players. “I think not,” she replied, capturing the rook with an unexpected move of her knight.
    Richard Wolfe was an experienced chess player. He stared at the young woman beside him in surprise. “Where did you learn to play like that?”
    “At the French court.”
    He frowned. “Who at the court of King Louis is so adept at chess?”
    “Our prince,” she said deliberately, turning the full force of her captivating gray eyes on him. “Charles Edward Stuart.”
    “I see.” Richard was more than a little surprised. He had grown up with the belief that the Pretender could be no threat, not only because of his lack of support in England, but because of his character. The Chevalier and his son, Prince Charles, were said to be foppish in manner as well as unparalleled womanizers with lascivious tastes. It appeared that Richard’s sources were in error. The man who taught Katrine Murray to play chess was a born tactician.
    “Why do you stare at me?” she asked.
    “I beg your pardon, but I find it strange that a young lady of your temperament would find suitable entertainment at the French court.”
    “Why is that?”
    He leaned back and stretched his legs. Katrine was distracted by the firelight playing over his face and hair. Blond men didn’t normally appeal to her. Fair hair and blue eyes seemed softer, less masculine, more suited to women and children. But there was nothing soft about this man. He was darkly tanned and his bright wheat-colored hair, massive shoulders, and deep blue eyes reminded her of the legends of Dalriada when the Vikings raided up and down the coast of Scotland. Indeed, he looked more Viking than Saxon. A chill began at the base of her spine. Both were sworn enemies of the Scots. Katrine, always completely honest with herself, admitted that she was terribly attracted to him and that attraction was heightened by the differences between them.
    “The French are cloying and extremely concerned with appearances,” he said. “The men paint their faces and the women simper. You, Katrine Murray, are nothing like that. You say exactly what you think. And even if you didn’t, your eyes would give you away.”
    She flushed and lifted her chin. “I find the French charming, and despite what you think of my temperament, I believe there were more than a few gentlemen at court who were sorry to see me leave.”
    “I’m sure of it,” he replied dryly.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “The Pretender’s reputation with women precedes him, even to England.”
    Katrine leaned forward and spoke between