I am married. I am now the "young" Lady Campbell—Georgie's aunt is now the "old" Lady Campbell, though no one would ever say that to her face

. I am now in possession of a small fortune that is all my own, given to me by my husband to provide for me in case something happens to him

I am counting the days that my husband has left to live. Does he realize my fears? I am grateful for every day that the weather is so bad that he and Colin cannot go boar hunting—to their bitter disappointment. Each day I wake up and look out the window and hope that if it is not snowing, the snow will at least still be there. One day, alas, it will not.

My husband is young and handsome, and will be that way for all eternity. I cannot sleep very well these days, and when sleep will not come, I light a candle and look at him. He is so young, so beautiful. I cannot believe that he entered into a marriage with someone my age. I look at him and want to touch him, but do not for fear of waking him.

When I do sleep, I dream "the dream", the dream that I know spells the end of my life as I know it. No one will believe me when I tell them that Colin was responsible. If he offers to marry me, which I am certain he will, I will be urged to accept him. "Give your son a father," they will say, "You are too young to be a widow." I will plead my mourning period, hoping that will buy me a year, and try to find a way to escape Chateau La Mere and my husband's murderer.

If only I could arrange for Colin to die. I know he is waiting, like the patient spider of the Robert Burns poem, for his chance. And when it comes, it will all be over for me. No marriage, no happiness, only a child that I must not lose who will be heir to the Campbell lands and name. There will be no question whose child he is, and I am sure that "he" is a boy. I can feel it. I will make sure that he grows to adulthood and will claim his birthright. I will not let Colin take his life as he did his father's. I've promised myself this.

When Georgie is killed I will have to get away. I have a stash of gold and silver coins hidden behind a brick that will help pay my way. As soon as Colin announces his wish to marry me, I will have to run. I will have to be patient, I must not refuse him outright. I must be clever, lull him into thinking that I will agree. I cannot wait too long, though, I think I can still ride safely when I am five months gone, but after that I do not want to risk it. More than anything else, I do not want to endanger my baby.

I've been looking at maps, and I think that the Frazer lands will be my safest bet. When the weather gets better I must somehow get a message to Jamie and let him know my fears. I long for his comforting presence, his big arms and his warm breath on my hair. My son should be born in Chateau La Mere, but where he will be born, I do not know. In the long run, "where" will not matter, the Campbell lands are his birthright, and he will go back there some day to claim them.

At meals I am polite, even cordial. I smile at Colin's jokes, but keep carefully out of his reach. How can Georgie be so blind? Colin's every little nuanced gesture makes clear his attraction for me, hide it though he may. He covets his cousin's wife, but knows he cannot have her. There is only one way he thinks he may accomplish this, and I am on alert. I watch, oh how carefully I watch. My well being, my safety, my husband's safety is at stake, as well as that of our unborn child. How long would this child live if Colin succeeded in his plan?

February stayed cold, now March has come and the weather is slowly warming. The snow reduces in volume day by day, and soon we are out riding our restless horses. I ride the gelding Colin gave me to be polite, but I miss Birdie's unpredictable ways.

The way the horses hooves sink into the ground indicates that it will be wet for some time to come, and it's also still cold. We've seen the end of the snow, most likely, but the rains will be starting—that cold, relentless, rainy weather that Scotland is so known for. It's cold and foggy in the morning, sometimes all day. If the fog keeps up, surely they can't go hunting.

At night Georgie polishes his spears, keeping the points razor sharp. I can see the longing in his eyes, the longing of a little boy who has a new toy but has been unable to use it. He longs for this hunt, wants it, even visualizes it, I think. He and Colin are talking about it, how long they should wait, will the weather grow worse or get better. He promises to have bracelets made for me out of the tusks, if they find one big enough. I force myself to smile as if I would look forward to this gift, when all I really want is for all boar to disappear magically from clan Campbell territory.

At last, the moment I am dreading has arrived. It is a clear, cold morning, and Georgie informs me that he and his cousin are hunting today. By coincidence, it is one of the mornings where I am fighting nausea, and Georgie has ordered the maid to bring me eggs, toasted bread, and tea. Thus I am spared having to see him off, though I try, knowing what is to come. But I am too sick to stand on my feet, and Georgie catches me before I fall and puts me back into bed, wrapping the covers tightly around me. He puts another piece of wood on the fire, then kisses me goodbye, warning me that I should stay in bed as long as I need to because it may be late afternoon before he comes back.

"Georgie, don't go, don't leave me. Don't do this. I'm afraid something will happen.' Am I saying this out loud, or am I speaking only in my head?

He pauses his dressing, "What's wrong with you, lass? Is it that you're breeding? Don't fret yourself, it's bad for you and the bairn." He goes on with getting ready, ignoring me.

"You fool," I want to say, "Don't Colin is going to kill you, or at least make sure you die? He wants me and he wants to inherit the lairdship. You're going to die today if you do this. You will never know your son. Your father and uncle will mourn your loss while Colin waits like a spider for the both of them to die and become Laird Campbell. And he's going to make me marry him, so he can be in charge of your son, unless I can find a way to escape him.

I want to pull away when he kisses me goodbye, but I don't. This may be the last kiss I share with him. Oh, Georgie, I don't know how to stop you from going to your death. I watch as he leaves the room, the tears falling from my eyes hot on my cheek. I bury my face in the pillow so no one will see them.

I'm feeling better, so I go get dressed and go to the stable. I don't ride today, I don't trust myself. There's a line from the Rubiyat that goes something like, "The moving finger writes and having writ, moves on." It's written and I can't stop it. I start to groom the gelding that Colin gave me, taking comfort in its warmth and the contented sound of him munching hay. He seems to sense that I'm upset and turns his head and nuzzles me—I warm to him on the spot, which I haven't really done before.

A tall, good looking stable hand with red hair and blue eyes comes over to me. He reminds me of Jamie—and I suddenly wonder where he is.

"Can I help you, Mistress Campbell?" he asks, and I look more closely at him. The resemblance is startling, and I nod.

I put down the brushes, and take him to the tack room. "What's your name?" I ask him, hoping against all hope that it will be "Frazer" or "McKensie".

He looks around nervously, but we are alone. "I'm John Frazer McKensie," he says, "I'm Jamie Frazer's cousin. He told me to give you this." He pulls from his pocket a piece of amber on a black cord. The amber hasn't been shaped, but it's almost a natural oval with few rough edges. "He says to tell you that if you need me, I'm here to help. If something happens to the young laird and you need to get away, I'm to take you to Lallybroch."

I stuff the piece of amber deep into my pocket. "Thank you," I tell him and escape from the tack room, barely able to breathe, and my heart pounding so hard I fear that I will have a heart attack.

I run upstairs to my room, shut and lock the door. I want a drink, but it's too early in the day, and I'm still not sure if it would hurt the baby. I pull a chair up to the front of the fire, add more wood, then sit in fetal position, hugging myself closely.

How did he know? Or was this just his way of thanking me? Oh Jamie, my husband is out hunting with his cousin and is not going to come back alive. Can you really help to save me?

I'm Russian, I believe in a lot of things. I'm supposed to have gypsy blood in me, way back, but I don't know of anyone in my family who doesn't believe in dreams and portents. My dreams have been too real, too real, as if happening before my very eyes. Maybe I'm wrong and today is not the day, maybe my husband will survive, but I don't think so.

My son will inherit the lairdship, not Colin. Will Colin try to make me lose my baby, if my pregnancy can survive the shock of Georgie's death? Will he try to kill my son while he's still an infant, or while he's growing up? I can't risk my child's life, I have got to get out of here, and Jamie, blessed blessed Jamie, has sent someone to help me to flee if I must.

I make myself change into a gown, have a maid braid my hair with ribbons, the way Georgie—and, alas, Colin—like it. For the sake of my baby I sit down to the afternoon meal, put a smile on my face, act as if nothing is wrong, as if they won't be bringing Georgie's body, not my live and loving Georgie, back.

I look out the window, the shadows are growing long. I wrap a warm shawl around my shoulders, for though it is spring, it is still cold with winter's chill. I walk to the edge of the lake, skipping stones, though I am looking for a group of horsemen, meaning that they have at last returned, but nothing.

I sit down with Lady Campbell and we have tea, and make small talk. I like Georgie's aunt and uncle very much. They are thrilled with my pregnancy, and as soon as the baby quickens, I know my Aunt Campbell is going to begin to prepare the nursery, and never will a baby be more loved or spoiled.

I feel guilty for a moment, that perhaps this child is going to be taken so heartlessly from them—by me. I don't dare stay, though. Colin will try to make me marry him, and that will put the heir in his charge—if he doesn't kill him. Poor Tutankhamen did not survive Aye and Horemheb's ambition. He only managed to make it to eighteen, would my child survive that long?

I go into the library and try to read, but I can't. I'm restless. I start to pace around the library, then start wandering through the house. I go back upstairs and fetch my shawl, then I go back outside. Where are they?

At last, Colin is leading the way on his big gelding and the men are following behind him. Is Georgie there? Am I wrong about Colin? Please let me be wrong, but I look and I look and I do not see Georgie's sleek, dark, head.

Colin dismounts, comes and takes me by the hand. "Irina, I am so sorry." His face is one of sorrow, but I see the expectancy in his eyes. He's trying to hide the fact that he's glad, but he can't, not from me. His aura is darker and blacker than ever. Evil has finally taken him.

"No," I whisper hoarsely, and put my hand over my mouth. Think of your baby, Irina, think of your baby. Your baby has to live, if you miscarry, Georgie's child will never be born. Black clouds are swirling inside my head, and it's getting hard to breathe. Think of your child, dammit, think of the damn child. You must not lose this baby, you will not lose this baby.

And then a part of me just let go. I wasn't aware of my knees buckling under me. I didn't know that Colin caught me in his arms and carried me into the house. All I knew was that Georgie started whispering to me, "It's going to be all right my dearest love. Just hang on, I won't let you go.

"Georgie," I whispered weakly, and let go of the last threads of consciousness and knew no more.