Her skirts rustled and shimmered as they crossed the crowded room. When she led him through a low doorway, up a back stairway, and into a chamber with a large canopied bed in the center, Alex wondered what kind of fool’s errand he was on. Surely Sabine could not have asked him to travel all this way to roll around on a bed for an hour or two.

When she settled on the settee by the windows, Alex sighed with relief and took the chair opposite her.

“You look well, Alexander,” she said with a bright smile.

He held her gaze and let the silence grow between them while he waited for her to state her purpose.

“Does your clan support the faction that favors France, or do you favor ties with those dreadful Englishmen?”

“I fear we Highlanders have been too occupied cutting each other’s throats to give the question our full consideration,” Alex said.

Sabine leaned her head back, revealing her ivory throat, and gave a light, musical laugh. There were those who would be surprised to know it was Sabine’s laugh, and not her lush body, that had first drawn him to her.

“Did ye ask me to travel across the breadth of Scotland—and into Lowlander territory, no less—to discuss politics with ye?”

“You used to be better at taking your time with … the preliminaries,” she said, her lips curved in amusement.

“Sorry, but your friend Albany had me tossed into a prison cell today.”

“I heard you made a memorable entrance.” She laughed again, but this time it was a nervous laugh. “You’re the talk of the palace.”

“What is this gift ye have for me?” he asked.

She dropped her gaze and ran her fingers along the edge of the settee. This hesitancy was unlike the Sabine who had taken hold of a young Highlander and let him know in no uncertain terms what she wanted of him. Alex leaned back and waited her out.

“I had a child,” she said.

“Congratulations.” Alex shrugged. “That must have pleased your husband at his advanced age.” Her husband was eighty if he was a day.

“Hardly, since the child could not possibly have been his,” she said, giving Alex a piercing look. “It was fortunate for me that my husband died before my pregnancy showed.”

A swell of unease settled in Alex’s gut. “When did ye have this child?”

She lifted her gaze to the ceiling and touched a finger to her powdered cheek. “Let me try to remember,” she said with a sharp edge to her voice. “Oh yes, the child was born precisely eight and a half months after we ended our affair.”

Surely she was not suggesting that the child was his? What puzzled him was why she would tell him this lie.

“Our affair began and ended shortly after I arrived in France,” he said, cocking his eyebrow at her. “But I was in France for five more years. If the child was mine, a woman as resourceful as you could have gotten word to me.”

“I had no reason to tell you,” she said. “I didn’t want anyone to know, and mourning the death of my husband gave me the excuse to retire from society for a few months.”

That would explain why he had never heard of Sabine having a child. It did not mean, however, that the child was his.

“Why not tell me, if ye believed the child could be mine?” he asked.

“I feared you would make a fuss,” she said, turning her head to gaze out the window.

Alex sat up straight. “A fuss? A man doesn’t make a fuss.”

“No matter how devil-may-care you are about women,” she said in a thin voice, “I understand that you Highlanders have… unusually strong feelings about blood relationships.”

“No more games, Sabine.” Alex leaned forward and took hold of her arms. “If there truly is a child, what makes ye think it’s mine? And I won’t believe I was your only lover.”

“You were my only lover at the time I conceived,” she said, glaring at him.

“Or the only one ye think is gullible enough to believe the child is his.”

“If you recall,” she said, her voice as sharp as a razor, “we did not leave my house for a fortnight. Resourceful as I am, it would not have been possible for me to carry on another affair at the same time.”

Never left her house? Ach, they rarely left her bed—except to make love on the floor or against the wall. He recalled how her well-trained servants left trays of food and drink outside the bedchamber door. Still, Sabine could easily lie about when the child was conceived.

“You will know the child is yours when you see it,” she said, and folded her hands in her lap.

She must think he would accept any fair-haired child as his own. And yet, if the child was his, he had cause to be furious with her.

“Ye believed the child was mine all along,” he said, raising his voice, “and ye didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted to keep the child’s existence a secret.”

And Alex wanted to shake Sabine until her teeth rattled. He made himself take a deep breath before he spoke again. “So why tell me now?”

“I’ve run out of money.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “So I must marry again.”

Alex’s heart sank to his feet with a thud. Did she want him to claim her child and marry her? He could not imagine a worse wife. Why, Sabine was exactly like him.

“I’m not a poor man,” he said, “but I’m no a rich one, either.”

Sabine’s expression clouded for a moment, and then she tilted her head back in a genuine laugh. “Alex, I’m not suggesting we marry!” She lifted her hand toward the window and said, “Can you see me living in this wilderness?”

If she considered Edinburgh a wilderness, then going to Skye would seem to her like crossing the River Styx to Hades.

“Mon dieu!” She wiped the corners of her eyes with a lace handkerchief, still shaking with laughter. “Finding a wealthy man was not difficult. In fact, I’m already betrothed.”

Another man would raise his child? Alex got up and started pacing the room.

“The problem is that I cannot take the chance that my betrothed will discover I had a child outside of my marriage.” She cleared her throat. “He is generous to a fault, but his steward takes his duties far too seriously. Why, the wretch tracks every penny!”

“What has this to do with me?” Alex asked.

“I fear that if I continue to support the child, my secret will be discovered.” She paused and licked her lips. “So I brought the child here.”

“The child is here?” Alex thought he must have heard wrong.

“Not here at the palace, of course.” Sabine fanned herself with her hand. “But, yes, she is here in Edinburgh. I thought it wise to speak alone with you first, before you see her.”

“She?” Good God, was Sabine telling him this child was a girl?

“I’m told she is an… unusual… child,” Sabine said.

“You’re told?”

“You can’t believe that the child has been living with me?” Sabine rolled her eyes as if she found him desperately slow-witted.

“Of course not,” he said. “Having a child about would be too inconvenient.”

“Don’t be foolish,” she snapped, her expression suddenly angry. “Men can raise their bastard children if they wish, but for a woman it would be a catastrophe.”

Alex had to acknowledge that there was some truth to that, at least in France.

“So where has your daughter been living?” he asked.

Sabine shrugged one elegant shoulder. “With an elderly couple in the country.”

What did Sabine want? Was it money? Did she think a wee visit with the child was necessary to convince him to pay?

“Tell me why ye went to the trouble of bringing the child here,” he said.

“Why indeed!” Her hand fluttered to her chest. “It was a risk, but it would have been a greater risk to keep her in France.”

It finally dawned on him that Sabine wanted him to take the child. He began pacing the small parlor again, feeling like a trapped animal.

“Ye say this child is a girl?” He could hear the desperation in his voice.

“Why yes, she is,” Sabine said, cool as could be.

“And now, after all this time,” he said, flinging his arms out wide, “ye want to give her away, like some garment you’ve grown tired of?”

“Hardly that.”

Alex felt as if he’d been tossed overboard in a rough sea, and the waves were too high for him to see which way was the shore.

“You must take her, Alexander.”

He ran his hands through his hair as he walked back and forth. “What is the child’s name?”

“I believe,” she said, shifting her gaze to the side, “that the couple she lived with called her Claire.”

“Christ above, Sabine, ye didn’t even give the child a name?” He was incensed, but he may as well be angry with a cuckoo bird for being a bad mother. Sabine was who she was.

Alex felt sorry for the child, having a mother with so little regard for her. While his own parents fought like hungry dogs, he never doubted that they cared for him. They simply cared more about making each other miserable.

“I have provided for her from birth,” Sabine said. “Now you must take her.”

He heard Teàrlag’s voice in his head: Three women will ask for your help, and ye must give it. No, not this.

“What would I do with a wee girl?” he demanded, raising his hands in the air. The notion was ridiculous.

“You must know someone who could care for her,” Sabine said, as if she were talking about a pet dog. “I heard your cousin Ian has wed. Perhaps he could take her? If you’ve no one else, you can always put her in a convent.”

“A convent?” he said, raising his voice. “The child is what—five, six years old?”

Sabine got to her feet and smoothed her gown. “Before you decide to abandon her—”

“Me abandon her?”

“I suggest you meet your daughter,” Sabine finished, ignoring his interruption.