And she was stronger, Bethia decided as she watched the fair James fall asleep. Sorcha had been like a candle admired for its light and warmth, for the beauty of its color-rich flame, but also easily snuffed out and left cold, lifeless. She had always been more wary than Sorcha, more able to see the evil in people. It had surprised her when Sorcha had sent word asking her to come and help with James, for Dunncraig was filled with women eager and able to help care for their laird’s son and heir. Bethia now wondered if, finally, some hint of suspicion or fear had crept into her sister’s loving, trusting heart.