Cilla didn’t break her gaze with Lachlan. “How could we use this to England’s advantage? Is it better if the Germans think Free Caledonia is a small group of bumbling clowns? Or that it’s strong and influential?”
To the west, a fulmar glided along the cliff edge in a whitestreak, beat its wings, and glided again. Which approach benefited the nation?
Lachlan returned to Cilla’s unrelenting gaze. “The Good Book says, ‘If a kingdom be divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand.’”
“Exactly. The Germans love to divide. It’s how they conquer.” Cilla flung her hand eastward. “The Netherlands, Belgium, Norway, Denmark—we all insisted on neutrality. And the Germans promised to honor it. Why? So we wouldn’t band together or with England or France. Then they picked us off one by one.”
The light in her eyes flooded his mind. “Aye, and they’d love to do that here. Set England and Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland against each other, have us tear ourselves apart so they dinnae need to do the tearing.”
“Yes,” the Wren said. “Then they could march right over.”
Lachlan nodded. “It’s best we convince them Free Caledonia is of no account.”
“Or—or—don’t get angry. Let me think.” Cilla glanced over Lachlan’s head, and she raised one hand before her chest, her fingers wiggling as if typing her thoughts on the air. “What if we convinced them Free Caledonia was strong and well organized?”
Officer Reese frowned. “Why would we want to do that?”
Cilla broke into a smile with a conspiratorial gleam. “What if we convinced the Abwehr to send money and supplies to the Free Caledonians, maybe even ammunition and explosives?”
Lachlan grunted. “Why—”
That wiggling hand thrust in Lachlan’s direction. “Your brother’s friends would never see it, never even know it was coming. MI5 would intercept it.”
But the Germans would spend precious time and money and resources—in vain. “A wild-goose chase.”
“Yes!” Cilla bounced on her toes. “You see it.”
He did. And her liveliness and cleverness invigorated him more than the sea air.
Cilla dropped to her heels and broke her gaze and the connection. “We should return to the original problem—your parents.”
“Oh.” He struggled to reverse the current of his thoughts.
“The solution is simple.” A new smile rose, but it looked fake. “I won’t go to church.”
Why would he want that? “That wouldnae help. My mother will never relent. She knows I see you here. She’ll invite you.”
Her face crumpled. “What can I do? I need an excuse your parents will accept.”
“My allergies,” Officer Reese said.
“That’s an excuse for you, but not for Cilla.”
“I can’t go by myself. It isn’t allowed. But I can’t explain that to your parents.” Cilla’s eyes pleaded. “You know them best. What should I say?”
Something softened in Lachlan’s spine. She wanted to honor his wishes and stay away from his parents—from the only people who had welcomed her.
That softening released a sigh. “Go to church and accept their invitation.”
Cilla’s eyebrows shot high. “Pardon?”
“She can’t go without a guard,” that guard said. “Yardley wouldn’t permit it.”
“I’ll accompany her. Yardley would accept that, aye?”
The Wren chewed on her lower lip. “I suppose so. He’ll be here soon. We can ask.”
Speaking of the upcoming meeting ... He gestured to the lighthouse. “Shall we?”
