“That was a different life,” he said. “We’ve burned through a few since then.”
“No,” she said softly. “The old one. The one where I found you again. After twenty years.”
The case that had brought them back to Scotland—a disputed deed to Lallybroch, tangled in inheritance laws that predated the Union—was nearing its end. But even if they won, the estate would not be the same. The land had been parceled, the great house turned into a boarding school for half a decade. The ghosts of Jenny, Ian, and the children they had left behind haunted every hallway.
“Ye’re up early, Sassenach,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.
Jamie reached for the dirk he no longer carried. Old habits. He opened the door to find a young woman in a courier’s uniform, holding a yellow envelope. “Dr. Fraser? This came by special post. No return address.”
The door to the bedroom creaked. Jamie appeared, his hair loose and wild, his shirt untucked. He looked younger in the morning light, and older all at once.
The camera held on their faces—shock, hope, and the terror of a choice they thought they’d already made.
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