Yardley mashed his lips together for an interminable moment. “We have a special prison.”
Lachlan’s gaze jumped to Cilla. “You’d willingly go to prison?”
She swiped at her eyes. “Would it be worse than this? Trapped in this lighthouse day after day?”
Over the past two months, she’d glowed with enjoyment over dinner on the Sabbath and had chatted about trips to Thurso. “Cilla ...”
“It wouldn’t be for long.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “The Allies are certain to win.”
“Yes.” A satisfied smile rose on Yardley’s face. “Then we’d send you back to the Netherlands. I imagine the Dutch government would try you for treason.”
“What?” Cilla blanched, and her lower lip quivered. “But I’m on the Allied side.”
“Are you?”
“My friends—my friends in the resistance will vouch for me.”
Dread squeezed Lachlan’s gut. “If they’re still alive,” he said under his breath.
“No.” Cilla pressed trembling hands to her mouth. “They will be. They have to live. They have to.”
Lachlan shook his head, over and over. “No, you cannae quit.”
“Didn’t you say your family would be in danger if the Abwehr suspected you of turning on them?” Yardley said. “I wouldn’t cross the Nazis if I were you.”
Cilla rocked back and forth. “Moeder, Vader, Hilde,” she muttered through her fingers.
Lachlan couldn’t let her do that. Couldn’t. “You said you’re committed to the Allied cause.”
“I am.” Hurt pulsed in the blue green of her eyes.
“How can you help in prison? You’re helping here.”
Yardley chuckled. “You admit it, then?”
Lachlan sighed, set his hands on his hips, and lowered his head. He refused to risk Cilla’s freedom—or the lives of those she loved. “You win, Commander. I willnae quit.”
But on Monday morning, Lachlan planned to tell Commander Blake he wanted to return to sea service. If the Admiralty ordered his transfer, MI5 could say nothing.
Cilla could continue her work. Without Lachlan.
21
Dunnet
Sunday, November 16, 1941
“The weather is turning,” Cilla said between bites of scone. “I imagine that would affect the salvage business.”
“Aye, that it does,” Mr. Mackenzie said. “It’s far more difficult in wind and rain and snow.”
“More shipwrecks too, yes?” Cilla filled her voice with curious concern as she plied for information for Maggie. “How many have been lost lately?”
“Not many. The local boats stay in harbor after dark due to the blackout.”
“No lighthouses lit.” Cilla swept a rueful look around the table. “I take full responsibility.”
Lachlan gave her a measured smile. Did her questions sound like an interrogation?
