Phillip took Verity’s arm, and they followed behind Ian, who had lifted the small girl to his hip and laid a gentle, protective hand on Lady Channing’s lower back. Verity liked that he had given this woman aid—it showed honor in him, even though she knew rebellion was swiftly intensifying in his own heart. She also liked how he stole glances at the child, teasing a shy smile from her, as if he wished to alleviate her fears. When had he been about children before? Perhaps Marjorie had little ones . . . she could not remember what Duncan had said.
    They reached the Inverness’s skiff onshore. Two crewmen stood guard. “Is it true, Captain?” asked one. “Has war begun?”
    “Perhaps,” Ian allowed. “This is Lady Channing and her daughter,” he said, setting the girl into the skiff and pointing to the seat in back, then turning to help the lady step into it next. “We shall be seeing them to safety in South Carolina before embarking for Nevis. Are the horses and all the cargo safely aboard?”
    “Aye, Captain,” said one sailor. “All is in order.”
    “Good, then,” Ian said.
    Phillip helped Verity into the front of the skiff. Ian climbed in the opposite side and went to sit in the back beside Lady Channing.
    Verity wondered briefly about the pang of jealousy this caused her. She chastised herself. What was this? Was she so spoiled by the attentions and guardianship of two men that she could not do without one for a moment? Particularly when the dear lady and her child were in such need? And what place did such emotion have in her heart, when she had so newly discovered Duncan’s loss?
    One crewman took up the oars while the other shoved them off, jumping on top of the front as the boat cleared the last of the sand. He edged past her with a quiet, “Pardon, ma’am,” and moved to sit beside his comrade on the widest bench between the oars. Together, they turned the skiff around and set off toward the anchored Inverness.
    Verity gazed back at the heavily wooded slopes of North Carolina, thinking about the men and women in the tavern and on the streets. About the fury, the elation, the shouts for freedom. The fact that England had shot her own people. Colonists in rebellion, to be certain, but her very own. How the wife and child of a mayor had been forced to flee. About warnings and predictions of the future that had now evolved from potential to present reality.
    Everything was about to change.