Sean was securing the last of the nails on the doorframe to the entrance of the tavern when Brandon came up behind him.
“Sean,” Donovan said. “A rider approaches.”
Sean’s heart began to race, his mind wandering and fearing the worst. Who could know we’re here? It’s not possible. This is a remote area. Only a few people I knew possess knowledge of these parts.
“Fetch yer sword,” Sean said to Donovan. “Tell the other villagers to go indoors and await instructions.”
“Aye,” Donovan said before quickly retreating and spreading the news.
Sean quickly retreated to his cottage, Rose tending to a garden as he went inside to fetch his weapon.
“What is it?” Rose asked.
“A rider approaches,” Sean said.
Rose wasted no time—she followed after Sean and retrieved her own sword, the two of them then moving together toward the trail leading up to the village and standing on their guard. They waited…and waited…and waited. Finally, a single man on horseback became visible in the distance, riding slowly and with caution toward the front of the village.
“Who is that?” Rose said. “He looks…like a Highlander.”
Sean shook his head, squinting and perplexed as to whom the rider could be. He watched as the man approached, and then his jaw opened as the rider’s face came into clearer view. No, it can’t be! I thought he was dead!
Sean lowered his sword, Rose grabbing him by the arm as he did so. “What?” she asked. “What is it?”
Sean jutted his chin toward the incoming rider, now just ten paces away from where they stood. “I know him,” Sean said. “I know the man that approaches.”
“Ye do?”
“Aye…he is…my brother…”
The rider, his face now in full view, dismounted his horse and smiled as he outstretched his arms. His face and build were similar to that of Sean—rugged, handsome, a few scars, and a weathered look in his eyes.
“Big brother,” the man said. “It has been a long time.”
Sean approached his kin slowly, shaking his head and still amazed that he was looking upon his face. “Eamon,” he said. “I never thought I would see ye again.”
The two brothers squared off, neither of them saying a word for several moments. As they looked on at one another, Donovan approached from the rear.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
Sean nodded. “Aye. Everything is fine. There is no cause for concern.”
Eamon waved. “My name is Eamon.” He nodded to Sean. “I am kin of this fine man here.” He looked at Rose. “And who might ye be?”
Rose held her head high—proud. “I am his wife. My name is Rose.”
Eamon’s eyes went wide. “My God,” he said. “He married again. I would have never thought that I would live to see the day. I guess that explains the smile that he now sports. Ye do look quite different now, Sean, I must say.”
Sean took another step forward. “How did ye…Why are ye here?”
“Oh, I’ve been looking for ye for quite some time, brother. I’ve been searching the Highlands in every part. After I couldn’t find ye…” He gestured around the village. “I figured there was only one more place ye could be. Quite stunning, I must say. It looks like ye have built quite a nice home for yerselves.”
Sean crossed his arms, huffing as he did so. “What are ye doing here, Eamon? What do ye want?”
Eamon shook his head. “Ye still hold a grudge against me, I see.”
“Considering what ye did, can ye blame me?”
Eamon took a step forward. “I am not here to quarrel with ye about things from the past. There are much more pressing matters at hand. Can we speak indoors? Somewhere private?”
Sean debated for a moment, just as eager to hear Eamon out, as he was to tell him to leave. He betrayed me, he betrayed our family. He left before he could help me avenge my fallen wife…
“The cottage behind us,” Sean said, forking a thumb over his shoulder. “I will meet ye there.”
Eamon nodded, stepping around them both and moving toward the cottage. Once he was out of earshot, Rose said: “He is yer brother?”
“Aye,” Sean said, watching as Eamon entered their home. “But I have not seen him in years.”
“Why? What happened? Ye never mentioned him before.”
“There is good reason for that. He…betrayed me.”
“How?”
Sean grabbed Rose by the hand and moved toward the cottage. “I’ll explain later,” he said. “Let’s hear what he has to say first.”
They followed after Eamon, entering their cottage and seeing that he had already taken up a seat at their dinner table. They both stood, waiting with curious expressions.
“Aren’t ye going to sit?” Eamon asked.
“Speak,” Sean said. “Say what ye are going to say.”
Eamon leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him. “As I said,” he began, “I am not here to speak of the past. I…need yer help, actually.”
“And why should I help ye?”
“Because there is a significant amount of riches to be had at the end of this journey that I am proposing, more than ye could ever imagine.”
“Riches?” Sean said. “Whose?”
Eamon smiled wickedly. “Try the King of England. After yer little tiff with him after the murder of his nephew, which spread like wildfire around the Highlands, by the way, he decided that he needed to employ a more…personal touch to the English plight to rule the Highlands.”
“Personal touch?” Rose said.
“Aye,” Eamon said. “The King is sending a proxy to the Highlands. A nobleman by the name of Cutler. He wishes to track ye all down and dispense of ye after killing the King’s nephew and the men he sent to avenge his death. Ye had to know that this kind of retribution was a possibility.”
“I did,” Sean said. “But what is it that ye are proposing?”
“I am proposing,” Eamon said, “that we kill this man Cutler. We dispense of the English once and for all by cutting off the head of the serpent.”
“And these riches ye speak of?”
“This man Cutler is bringing his lot with him, all of his gold and coin. I am organizing a group of men to band together. We will kill the king, dispense of his minions, and steal his riches. And ye, my dear older brother, are one of the finest, if not the finest swordsmen in all of the land.”
Sean shook his head. “I will not rob anyone. I have a simple life now. And I wish to keep it that way.”
Eamon held up a finger. “But Cutler will no doubt track ye down if ye do not rid yerself of him first. It is a preemptive measure, brother. If ye sit here and do nothing, he will find ye, and he will kill ye. Ye don’t want his riches? Fine. But ye know that he must be dealt with before he deals with ye. I know where he is going to be. I just need ye to agree to the job. Join me. Join the other men that I have to organize and help me take down this tyrant.”
Sean turned away; his mind wracked with affliction. I cannot lose Rose. I cannot lose my people. I cannot allow the King to destroy all that I have built and take away my life after I just pieced it back together.
Sean looked at Rose, bringing his hand up to her cheek and stroking it delicately. “What do ye think, my love?”
Rose sighed. “Cutler will no doubt find us unless we deal with him first. I believe the words yer brother states to be true.” She took his hand and held it to her belly. “And there are more than the two of us to think about now…”
Sean’s eyes went wide, smiling with sheer joy as he understood fully what his wife was hinting at. “Are ye sure?” he asked.
Rose nodded and smiled. “Aye. I am quite sure. And we must do all we can to protect it before it arrives…”
Sean looked again at Eamon, his younger brother eagerly awaiting his reply. Sean felt the intensity of the situation increasing now that he knew his wife was with child, and the urgency to save them both and keep them out of harm’s way was even more pressing than it was before.
“So,” Eamon said, arms outstretched. “Will ye join me?”
Sean took a beat. Thinking…and thinking…and thinking…and then he nodded. “Aye,” he said with depletion in his tone, not eager in the slightest to take up the sword but knowing that he was going to have to protect everything he loved. “I am in.”
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Amelia watched as Prince Charles and her young son, Jamie, played near the hearth. Her heart was full. Her husband, Jamie, was regaling his guests with a story about their time in London, something to do with the stuffy foppish Englishmen he’d come into contact with, and she smiled.
Who had ever known that life would turn out as it had? She was once a young Lady in England, proud and frivolous, hoping for a marriage to a handsome, wealthy, young, aristocrat. And now, she was still a Lady, of sorts, but she was anything but frivolous and proud, and she was happier than she had ever thought possible.
Before her sat her entire family. Her parents, Lord Jonathon Parker and his wife, Henrietta, and Jamie’s mother, Fiona, laughed along to Jamie’s story. William and Marianne sat nearby, Marianne holding her new child, a daughter she’d named Seoighe, to express the joy she found in her new life. The newlyweds, Ruth and Troy, sat near each other, hand-in-hand, often glancing at each other.
Amelia was content. This was her adopted tribe, her Scottish clan, and it meant more to her than she’d ever thought anything could. More than the poems that poured from her soul onto the page. More than the thought of having status in London. More so than herself. She loved these people, and she wished them all the happiness in the world. She chuckled to think that her best friend and her best friend’s sister had all found lovers and husbands among the Highland men.
If someone had told her that years before, she would have scoffed at such an idea. Married to a Highlander? One of the brutish, barbaric, and primitive lot? And now, she had been proved wrong. For Jamie had grown into a man she loved more each and every day. He led his people and his family with compassion, love, and mercy. He was an attentive lover, a kind husband, and wonderful person. Tears came to her eyes as she thought of it. This was true happiness, indeed.
Marianne watched, smiling, as Jamie told tales of his time in London. He was so animated and had such scathing remarks to say about the English, that it was highly entertaining. In the past, she might have been offended, but she knew he was speaking the truth. He spoke only of the fops and wigged men that seemed to pervade London’s inner circle and had not a moral bone to share between them.
She held tighter to her young daughter. The labor had been hard, but it had been oh so worth it. To be given such joy at the meeting of her daughter, Marianne thought she should name her Joyce, or Seoighe in Gaelic. But even before this child, her joy had been complete. She had William, her sister, and Amelia, and the fullness of love that surrounded her in her new family.
Once Jamie had finished his tale which had the whole family in stitches, he turned to Ruth and Troy. “And so, ye two, when will ye be leaving us once again tae head tae the high seas?”
Ruth beamed, her happiness in full, having returned from a lovely trip around Scotland, Ireland, and England. She loved being a captain’s wife. She looked healthy and fresh, and both of their faces were tanned from their time at sea. Troy’s hand was on her shoulder, making small circles with his forefinger. She was safe, comfortable, and free.
“Well, we’d leave right away, of course, but we didn’t want to disappoint all of you,” Ruth said with a mischievous grin, and Amelia laughed.
“Ah well, we cannot compete with the ocean, I suppose. When will your next adventure be?”
Troy responded, “Well, I have agreed tae take a ship of goods tae the Americas and bring back American cotton for the English mills. I never thought I’d be doing business with Englishmen, I can assure ye, but I suppose I didnae think I would be married tae one either.”
Ruth smiled at him.
Fiona, Jamie’s mother, broke in, interested. “And do none of the sailors give you trouble about having a woman aboard? You always hear in adventure and pirate stories that women are seen to be bad luck on a ship.”
Troy eyed Ruth knowingly and grinned. They had not told everyone of Troy’s past, besides Amelia and Jamie, feeling it would be better this way. “Ye are right, Lady Kinnaird. Pirates do say that, but once the sailors see what a prime navigator my wife is, they come around soon enough. She has brought me nothing but good luck.” Troy squeezed Ruth’s shoulder, and she chuckled.
“It took some convincing, mind you, but I can be quite forceful when necessary.”
William laughed. “I can agree tae that, lass.”
Jamie broke in. “Well, shall we have dinner, then? I’m starved, and there’s no point in sitting around talking with empty bellies.”
The servants were already prepared, being called in to bring warm meat, bread, potatoes, and vegetables. Plenty of mutton filled the table as the Kinnaird flock had grown to such an extent that they were able to kill some of the sheep for meat.
Jamie moved to the head of the table, his brown hair in a tight bun at the nape of his neck, his waistcoat taught over his strong body. He called over the group as they took their seats around the oak table, talking excitedly with one another. It was not a holiday, but it felt like one. “Raise yer glasses, ye bloody loud lot, and let’s toast tae our reunion.” Everyone raised their glasses of wine and ale.” Jamie put a hand behind his back and cleared his throat. “I’m not quite one for emotional speeches. ‘Tis my wife that has the beautiful words.” He winked at Amelia, who colored under his praise. “But I cannae express fully how grateful I am tae have met ye all. Before ye, ‘twas just me and my mother, as well as William there, but he hardly counts.” William grumbled in faux indignation, and everyone laughed.
“We didnae know it, but we were missing a family. By meeting Amelia, we brought in Lord and Lady Parker, and Marianne, and of course, wild Ruth.” He smiled at her. “Then the minister came intae the story.” Everyone chuckled once more, and Troy grinned. “We couldnae let him get away. Or at least Ruth couldnae.” Everyone burst into laughter, and Ruth rolled her eyes.
Jamie paused, looking at each of them. “Ye make Brechin better than it ever could have been, and I wantae thank each and every one of ye. Ye are always welcome in the castle, for here is family. Slainte!”
The women of the group had moistened eyes, and the men pretended they did not. They drank their glasses heartily and began to speak again to each other with warmth, eating and drinking in earnest.
Amelia looked up at him admiringly as Jamie watched over his old and new family. He was the laird, and such a laird he was, still as devilishly handsome as the day she met him, bumping into him outside of the castle as he stumbled home drunkenly from the bar. She laid her hand on his hand and squeezed it.
In fact, Amelia reflected, all three of the gentlemen that she, her best friend, and her best friend’s sister had married were all devilishly handsome and rogues in their own way. All three women had fallen for them hard and through difficulty, but it had all come right in the end. That’s what Amelia loved the most, and what fueled her poetry. Healing, reconciliation, restoration of happiness. After her father’s debts were paid, and she was able to release him from debtor’s prison, he and her mother were restored to each other, and her happy parents were restored to her.
And, Marianne had William, such a dear friend. So roguish and charming, yet solid of character, and patient and kind. She had never seen a man love a woman so, perhaps besides Jamie, and of course, the new addition of Troy Ferguson.
Whenever Amelia let her glance fall upon those two as they spoke to each other in smiling whispers, her heart was light. Marianne had told her all that had happened since she had been away in London, and she was so grateful. She knew that there had been something between the pair of them that she wouldn’t want them to miss out on, and she was so happy they’d found it. The two of them looked just as happy as could be, laughing and smiling to each other as they shared intimacies.
Amelia supposed her matchmaking work was done. First with Marianne and William and now with Ruth and Troy. Perhaps one day with little Jamie, she thought with a smirk.
A maid entered the room and approached Marianne with a curtsy and a note. “Ma’am, there is a man here tae see ye. He requests the presence of ye and Mrs. Ferguson at the back entrance.”
“Thank you,” Marianne replied with confusion and looked at an equally confused Ruth. The whole of the company stopped eating and began to speculate as to who it could be. William said, “Want me tae come with ye, love?”
Marianne shook her head, her heart beginning to beat a bit faster with nerves. “No. Stay with Seoighe. I will go with Ruth.”
He nodded and took his daughter from her arms, smiling down at her young face. Marianne and Ruth left together, both of them feeling the same thing. “‘Tis Father isn’t it?” Ruth asked, an icy dread surrounding her heart. “But why? For what purpose? There is naught he can do tae us now,” she reassured herself.
They followed the maid to the back entrance, which was usually restricted to servants, but for some reason was requested by the uninvited guest. They glanced at each other again briefly as they saw the hooded figure awaiting them by the door.
The maid curtsied and left them alone with the man who removed his cloak. It was Lord Anthony Browne. He looked so changed they hardly recognized him.
“Father?” Ruth asked timidly, unsure of who she was looking at, but the familiar features remained the same.
He nodded, smiling. “Yes girls. ‘Tis I, your father.” He glanced at Ruth and moved to hold both of her hands in his own. Ruth tensed at such an intimacy and nearly pulled away, but she saw a kindness in his eyes she had not seen before.
“Ruth, I am so glad you are well. I heard that you were returned to Brechin, and I was grateful for it.” He looked down. “Please forgive your father for what he did. To attempt to push you into an unwanted marriage.” He moved to Marianne. “And forgive me as well, my dear. Forgive me for everything, if you can find it in your hearts.”
Marianne and Ruth were frozen. They were so shocked by the speech, but they were also surprised by his demeanor. He was not rude or brutish or imposing. He was subdued, reserved, polite, and kind. Who was this man who had so lately been their deplorable father?
Marianne, recovering more quickly, spoke first. “Father, are you in earnest?”
Lord Browne dropped her hands and sighed. “I know it must seem strange to you both, but I have had a change. A change I would like you to know about.” He paused. “I have been married.”
Marianne and Ruth gasped in surprise. “Married? To whom?”
“To a woman who I know you will love and admire. And,” he added with a chuckle, “she is a Scotswoman.”
Ruth burst into laughter. “Well that certainly is a change, Father.”
Lord Browne turned to the side and motioned with his hand. Marianne and Ruth were surprised to see another cloaked figure, lingering in the shadows. The figure stepped forward timidly and grasped the hand of Lord Browne.
“This,” Lord Browne began, “is Aila, my new wife. Aila, these are my daughters.”
The hood of the cloak fell back to reveal an older woman, a woman whose beauty remained in her kind face. She smiled at the women, bowing her head slightly. Still surprised, Marianne and Ruth nodded in return and gave their hands in introduction.”
“You are most welcome, Lady Browne.” Marianne smiled, and Aila blushed. “Didnae expect tae have a title, tae be sure. Ye must call me Aila, my dear.”
Lord Browne grinned. “Well, you are a lady after all, Aila, despite the fact that we must sell my estate in London.”
She waved a hand away. “I care not for things as that. I would feel most uncomfortable living in London, pretending tae be a fancy lady.”
Ruth liked her instantly and smiled at her new stepmother. “We are most glad to have you, Aila.”
Marianne was beaming, feeling her muscles relax. Perhaps it was really true. Her father had changed. “Father, Aila has brought about this change in you?”
He nodded, smiling. “I’m afraid so, my dears, but it was coming before that. Ever since I left the house after our discussion, Marianne, I was a broken man. Angry, full of hatred and bitterness, seeking only my own comfort. But I decided to stay in Scotland, so that I could hear news of you both if anything came up. I knew I could not return to London because of my shame. I stayed in a nearby village, and the townspeople brought me back to life. I was put to work. Good, honest work, and there I met my love.”
“But the home in London? Your position in the House of Lords?” Ruth asked.
“I have left the position, but the home remains. I will need to return to sell it in order to cover debts, I’m afraid, but ‘tis no matter. I wish to remain in Scotland.”
Ruth was bowled over again with surprise, but at this statement, she knew that something new and wonderful had taken hold of her father. “Come,” she said to him, surprising herself. “Come and meet my husband anew. Come, Aila, to meet everyone.” She grabbed onto Aila’s hand.
“Yes, Father and stepmother,” Marianne said, taking Lord Browne’s arm, “Come and meet your granddaughter.”
Lord Browne smiled, and his eyes were moist. Aila was beaming. “I thank the Lord each day for you girls, and I ask for his forgiveness for how I was to you. Your mother would have been ashamed. I would be most happy to meet your new family.”
The four of them walked together towards the main hall, smiling, their hearts finally feeling at rest after so many months of resentment and anger. They entered the main hall to the surprise of their family, clan Kinnaird. There were now no regrets or sadness between them anymore. It was only love and a budding, fresh hope.
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Fraser could not have been happier, though marriage was not the end of the happy tale between Isla and himself. After the excitement of their wedding day, there came many more feasts and celebrations, and Fraser found himself the center of attention. It was quite overwhelming, and the humble blacksmith was amazed at how he was now feted by those around him.
“Hail to thee, Laird apparent,” they said, filing past him and bowing, much to Fraser’s embarrassment.
“Ye have much to live up to in the footsteps of yer father,” others said, but Fraser was content to find happiness in the present, at Isla’s side.
In his own mind, he was still the lowly village blacksmith, to whom people brought their horses for shodding and soldiers their swords for mending. It mattered not to Fraser whether he held title or not, so long as Isla was at his side.
He had many plans for the future and set about rebuilding the croft and being a faithful husband to Isla, whom he loved more than anything in the world.
“I shall see to it that ye are always taken care of, lass,” he told her as they walked hand in hand a few days after the feast.
“Ye have already taken care of me, Fraser,” she replied. “We shall care for one another,” and he smiled at her and kissed her.
***
Isla was happy at the croft, which had once belonged to her grandparents. Fraser had repaired it and made it strong and sturdy, and it was a happy place in which to raise a family. It was not long after their marriage that she gave birth to their first son and they named him Rory. He was a bonnie bairn and doted over by his grandparents and those around him, including his Godfather Sweeney, who was a regular visitor to the croft.
“Ye cannae keep away, can ye, Sweeney?” Isla said one day when Sweeney appeared at the door, bearing a sprig of heather in his hand.
“Well, ye made me Godfather, and I have responsibilities,” he replied, but Isla was more than happy to see him.
Over the years, he had been a good friend to them all, and she welcomed him inside, just as Fraser was returning from his work.
He was busy working on the ruined castle below, which, along with helpers from the village, he was working hard to restore.
“How goes the work?” Sweeney asked as Fraser settled himself at the table, bouncing baby Rory on his knee.
“Aye, it goes well, though it will be a few more winters before we move from this place to there,” he replied, as the child began to cry.
“Why we have to move to a drafty old castle when we have this lovely croft is quite beyond me,” Isla replied, for she was quite happy in her grandparents’ croft.
“Ye will nae say that when the English have regrouped and regained their strength,” Fraser said. “What news dae ye have from Kirklinton, Sweeney?”
“Much the same. Yer father and Lena are happy enough together. They seem closer by the day,” he replied.
“It would be nice if they were to marry? Dae ye nae think?” Isla said, smiling, as she took the bairn from Fraser.
“They are certainly close,” Sweeney replied.
Isla wanted her father to be happy, and since Lena’s arrival, the two had seemed to grow ever closer. He was getting older though and would not see many more winters on the borders. Lena had also had a hard life, and Isla wondered just how long it would be before her husband became Laird of Kirklinton.
“If it makes them happy,” Fraser said.
Isla was about to reply when suddenly she felt a twinge in her stomach. It happened several times before, and she rushed from the room to be sick.
“Are ye alright, Lena?” Fraser said, rushing after her as the bairn began to cry.
“Aye,” she said, smiling at him, “but I think I might be with child.”
***
Isla was with child, and some months later, she gave birth to another boy, who they named Owen. The croft now seemed very crowded, and Isla was more in favor of the renovated castle than she had been before. With two children, and perhaps more on the way, she knew that her growing family would soon outgrow her grandparents’ croft.
“‘Tis nearly finished,” Fraser told her, two years after she had given birth to Owen.
“How long, Fraser?” she asked. For now that Duncan was three years old and Owen two, they were becoming boisterous, and the croft was far from adequate
“By the winter, lass,” he replied, smiling at her as she rolled her eyes.
They were expecting a visit from Duncan, and as she looked out of the window across the heathers, she could see him ambling across the moor.
“Yer brother is here,” she said, scooping up the bairns in her arms.
Together, the family walked out to meet him, and the children were delighted to see their uncle, who always came bearing little gifts, He was dressed in his monks’ habit, and he embraced them all in turn, blessing the children as he always did.
“How was yer journey, brother?” Fraser asked,
“Aye, it was uneventful, which is how I always pray it to be,” he replied, laughing, for Duncan always laughed a lot.
Isla had noticed that in him recently. He seemed entirely happy and contented in his vocation, and she was glad that he too had found the happiness which they enjoyed themselves.
“What news dae ye have?” Duncan asked. “Are yer father and mother well?”
“Aye, they get along very well,” Fraser replied, laughing.
“They should be married. That is the proper thing,” Duncan replied, raising his eyebrow.
“Well, I shall leave ye to suggest that,” Fraser replied, as they walked up towards the croft.
“And ye, Isla, what happy news dae ye have for me?” Duncan said.
Isla was surprised by his words, for she had told no one except Fraser that she was expecting a bairn. She had realized only a few weeks ago, and it was far from apparent yet, except to herself.
“I … how?” she said, as she and Fraser turned to him in surprise.
“Oh, intuition, I suppose,” he replied and tapped his nose.
***
Isla was pleased when Lena announced she had given birth to a baby girl. Not that she would have minded either way, but a girl would be good company for her in later years, and she held the baby close to her breast and kissed her.
“What will ye call her?” Lena asked, for she had been present each time Isla had given birth and asked the same question.
“Evie,” Isla replied, for it was a name she had always loved.
Lena called her son into the room, and Fraser hurried in, stooping by the bed and smiling at Isla, who lay back in exhaustion.
“Well done,” he said, and Lena handed him the baby.
“A beautiful little girl for our family,” she said, as Fraser took the child gently in his arms.
“Hello there, ye are beautiful just as yer mother,” Fraser said, holding the baby close to him and placing a delicate kiss upon her forehead.
Isla knew that now her family was complete, and she delighted in seeing them grow. They were each so different. Rory took after his grandfather and was always getting into scrapes; Owen was like his father, quiet and ponderous; and Evie took after her mother, a brave little lass with a determined will.
Isla could not have been happier, and it was not long before the family moved into the castle, which had once belonged to her parents. It brought back many memories for Isla, and she often found herself sitting quietly in the Great Hall, remembering the Armstrongs and the family she had lost.
“What were they like, mother?” little Owen asked her one day.
“Well, why dinnae the three of ye sit down, and I shall tell ye the whole story,” she replied, as they settled by the fire.
***
It was now ten years after their wedding, and Fraser and Isla were walking on the heathers between Kirklinton and the Armstrong castle. They held hands, and above them, a hawk was circling. Just as it so often did when they walked together in this way, as though it were always keeping watch over them. In the distance, the three children were running and playing together on the moorlands, happy and carefree
“We have much to be thankful for, ye and I,” Fraser said, as they came to the ridge and looked down upon the castle.
“Aye, a great deal,” she replied, turning to him and resting her head upon his shoulder.
“I have never ceased to love ye, Isla, and day by day, my love for ye grows,” he said, and he turned and kissed her.
“And I feel the same for ye, my darling husband. I love ye so very much, and I couldnae imagine my life to be any other way,” she replied, and together they looked over the heathers as the hawk circled above.
“What dae ye think the future will hold for our bairns?” she asked, looking over at the children, who were holding hands as they ran across the moorlands.
“I dinnae know, but all I hope is that they will be as happy as we have become,” Fraser replied, and he turned again and kissed her, the future stretching on ahead, as a new generation came to the fore.
If you want to know what lies ahead in our story, you may want to get the sequel…
This is the tale of a Highlander entrapped by the sins of his father and a rebellious lass who must defy her family’s great legacy to find herself. Surrendering to a forbidden love that it was never meant to be, can these two escape their destinies without unleashing chaos to the Highlands?
“Oh, no, Angus, don’t eat that!” Anne cried, laughing. Her great green dress rustled as she hurried across the sunny courtyard toward where her youngest son, Angus, was experimenting with putting gravel in his mouth. He was two, a chubby, healthy little boy with black hair and a cheeky smile, and a curiosity that was forever getting him into trouble.
“God, ye leave them alone for a moment…” muttered Anne as she swung the baby up onto her shoulder. He squealed in a mixture of protest and delight.
“Lizzie!” Anne called. “Lizzie! Where are ye? I thought I told ye tae watch yer brother!”
From the direction of the corridor, a tall girl appeared, wiping her mouth surreptitiously. Elizabeth was Anne and Thorvald’s eldest daughter at twelve years, nearly thirteen now. She looked more like Thorvald than Anne, and she looked guilty and rebellious as she came round the corner.
“Sorry, mother,” she said, looking anything but sorry. Anne had to smile. That rebellious look was so familiar. She wondered if she would even tell her daughter just who she looked like the most. Perhaps. In time.
The truth was that Lizzie looked like her great-uncle, Neil Gow-Sinclair when she scowled. In the twelve years that had passed since those days, Anne had grown and changed, but some things did not leave quickly, and others she was happy to keep. Her sword-fighting instincts had not left her, though she rarely practised, being content to let Thorvald oversee the training of guardsmen and the reporting from the military ships. She had no interest in fighting, and in truth, the age of the swordsman was quickly passing. These days, massed ranks of line infantry marched in the revolutionary wars on the continent, and the cannon and the mortar were kings of warfare there, but aside from the trouble with bandits now and again on the mainland, and the odd Norse privateer opportunist in Orcadian waters, all was peaceful.
She had grown her hair out, too, and now wore in hanging in artful braids down her back more often than not.
“Look after yer brother like I asked now, will ye?” said Anne distractedly, and little Lizzie made a show of sulking.
“Yes, mother,” she huffed and pouted, but Anne observed with keen pleasure how, when the girl forgot to show a sulky face for her mother, she took little Angus’ hand with genuine affection, leading him over to the flowerbeds which graced the southern edge of the courtyard.
There was a brisk wind, as always in Orkney, but this courtyard was sheltered on three sides, allowing the sun to shine in and warm the stones. It was one of Anne’s favourite places to spend time with the children. She had nannies and nurses, of course, but she had never become entirely comfortable with having folk serve her, and in the matter of her children, she retained fierce independence.
“If old Nan Howden down in Stromness can handle nine on her own, then I’m sure I can handle three,” she had told Thorvald irritably some months ago when he had again suggested that they get another woman in to help her. And she could handle them. More than that, they were her pride and joy, exhausting as they were.
Lizzie and Angus were now absorbed in some play in the flowerbeds, and Anne smiled to see how Lizzie tenderly but firmly stopped her little brother from eating things that he shouldn’t, instead distracting him by teaching him the names of flowers. She said the name and pointed to the plant, and he repeated the name in a soft voice after her, squealing with delight when she complimented him and praised him, and got him to do another one.
Beyond her children and the flowerbed, the town of Kirkwall lay stretched around the vast bulk of the cathedral. This house was built on higher ground overlooking the town. It was, in fact, the house that Sir Magnus Bain had made his own during the years of his life. The chapel he had built was still there, and they kept his mother’s gravestone clear, but the chapel itself was little used. Worship happened in the Cathedral in Kirkwall, though the Church handled religious observance and little else these days. Thorvald had grown into his inheritance under the tutelage of Iain Grant and Earl William, the latter of whom now spent more time at home and less on Orkney, and seemed now to be leaning on his young protégé than the other way round. They were a close family, with William being Godfather to Anne and Thorvald’s older two children.
The middle child, and their only son so far, was nine, and he was at present out with his father, following him on his rounds of inspection in the town and the surrounding villages; Thorvald made a point of keeping in regular contact with the farmers and fisherfolk of the surrounding countryside, and the small folk thrived under this system. It meant that they were able to take any issues directly to him, and more often than not, he saw to it that their concerns were dealt with appropriately, and without unnecessary delay. Anne privately thought that he spent too much time in this duty, and would be better overseeing the more significant element of his responsibilities, but Thorvald was content to leave accounts and grain ledgers to clerks from day to day, taking a day or two each month to hear about everything in-depth. He was keen to involve his son in all of these things, and Anne did not object, though she did wonder if it was all making the lad too serious for a nine-year-old.
When she had been that age… but she shook her head. That was no comparison. She had sat down in her chair in the courtyard, but heard a commotion further inside the house, and stood, calling to the children.
“Lizzie, that’s yer father back! Bring Angus along, now, please.”
“Ugh, father,” said Lizzie, pulling a face. “Are you going to kiss him again?”
“I certainly am!” said Anne laughing, as her daughter made disgusted noises behind her, and little Angus made “ugh” noises in imitation of his sister.
Thorvald came into the warm central hall of the big, sprawling, comfortable house, smelling of the clean outdoors. He caught her in his arms and kissed her soundly, and she, to her embarrassment, let out a girlish squeal of delight as he squeezed her around the hips. Twelve years and three children had done absolutely nothing to diminish their appetite for one another; their obvious physical attraction to each other, and their unashamed displays of public affection scandalised and titillated the small folk, and made them all the more beloved.
“Ugh,” said Lizzie, and “Ugh,” echoed little Angus, giggling as his sister laughed at him.
“What’s this?” asked Thorvald with a smile. He was a big man still, in his early thirties now, but he had filled out around the shoulders and the waist even as she had. They both enjoyed the food and wine that were the perks of their position, and there was nothing wrong with that, so long as they made sure that those less fortunate than them did not go hungry while they ate.
“Ye are always kissing!” exclaimed Lizzie in disgust.
“Kissing!” said Angus.
“Come along, Angus,” said Lizzie haughtily. “Let’s go tae the kitchen and see if the cook has anything for us to eat.”
She shot her mother a look, but Anne smiled and let her go.
“Raisins!” she heard Angus exclaim as they made their way off down the corridor toward the kitchens.
“Where is Rognvald?” she asked, looking for her nine-year-old son. They had named him Rognvald after the Bishop whose largesse had furnished Thorvald with his Earldom, but also because it was an excellent Orkney name, and the people would appreciate that in a man who would one day be their Earl.
“I fear he has gone tae the kitchens too,” said Thorvald. “He was hungry. He did well today. It was a long day. I let him go.”
“The cook spoils them,” she said, not really meaning it.
“Well, ye will know all about that,” said Thorvald. She glared at him.
“Oh, give over,” he said. “Ye know I can do nothing with him. If ye want him tae stop feeding the children sweetmeats and pastries ye will have tae talk tae him yerself.”
She laughed. “He is good with them,” she said.
“That he is,” Thorvald agreed.
Their cook, an ancient man, named Peter, was notable in Orkney for his dark skin, as well as for his skill with the children. He was also notable for his mysterious past, but no one asked him about it. In fact, old Peter was the only link which Anne had kept with her past life. Those had been heard years for both of them, watching the captain they admired descend into drink and madness, and they were both happy to let those past times lie. While the rest of Neil’s crew had been sent south, some wanted for other crimes, there were several whom Anne had managed to obtain pardons for. Peter was one of these. All the others who were given the opportunity, fled, never to be heard from again, but Peter chose to stay with her. They never talked about the old times, but Anne had never forgotten that on that fateful night when she had helped Thorvald escape from the tower all those years ago, Peter had caught her in the act and had let her go instead of raising the alarm. Nowadays, he did what he wished to do, pottering in the kitchens and directing the other cooks. He was also the most famous person with the children.
“If they are with Peter, then I suspect we have a good hour tae ourselves before they come looking for us again,” said Thorvald.
“Oh, aye,” said Anne laughing, “I think ye are right.”
Thorvald looked at her thoughtfully.
“I need tae get changed out of these clothes,” he said solemnly. “Do ye fancy joining me?”
Laughing, they ran together up the corridor toward their private rooms.
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Amelia sat up in bed, “And what happened to the two men on the ground?”
Marianne looked up at William. “Well, we had to help them if we could. It seemed too cruel to leave them out in the field all alone.”
William grumbled and crossed his arms. “It seemed tae cruel tae ye, but not tae me.”
Marianne shrugged. “We had to do something! We laid them into the carriage and drove them to the next inn, with their horses trailing behind.” She gave William a scolding look. “‘Twas never my intention to murder them, of course.”
“Dinnae ye remember they were there tae murder me?” William had raised his voice, but it was in jest.
“Ah, yes, and what quiet we would have had around here if they had done so,” Marianne smirked at him.
“Och, lass, ye’ll be the death of me tae be sure.” But despite being exasperated, he grasped onto her hand as they stood by Amelia’s bed.
Amelia, despite her fatigue, was looking well, now that Marianne and William had returned, and all was good in the world again.
“So, when is the wedding?” Amelia asked, her eyes bright with happiness and eagerness.
“Well, we thought you would like to wait until the baby is born, so you can appear in person.”
“Nonsense!” Amelia threw off the covers. We shall have it as soon as possible. Ring the bell for me, Marianne. If possible, we will have it today! We have the minister, and there is everyone here whom you both love!” Marianne passed Amelia her dressing robe, and Amelia looked between the two of them. “If that is agreeable to you both, of course.”
William laughed, “‘Tis most agreeable, lass, but dinnae let Jamie blame me for ye getting out of bed.”
“Oh, do not worry about him. He knows I have been longing for this day for an age!” She smiled and stood. I will prepare everything. We need to find you a gown, Marianne. Simply go to your rooms, and I will let you know when everything is ready!”
“Are you certain you do not wish my help?”
“Not at all! You have been through a rather unpleasant adventure. Let this be my gift to you, my friend!” She kissed Marianne on the cheek and shooed the two of them out the door.
Once the door closed behind them, William looked down at Marianne and began stroking her back with his fingertip. Marianne shivered. “Since we’ve got the time, why dinnae we have our first lesson?”
“Oh? What did you have in mind?” she asked, her eyes flashing with desire.
“I was thinking about something…physical. Something pleasurable. Something that I’ve been waiting about 11 days for.” He grinned.
Marianne walked with her hands on her hips as they neared William’s bedroom. “Whatever could that be, I wonder?” And she ran on ahead towards the door, shrieking as William chased her. Marianne reached the door first, her back to it, and William grabbed her waist. She opened the door, and they went inside, not taking their eyes off of each other. William bent to kiss her, and she pushed him away laughing. She stood before him by the fireplace and unbuttoned her dress, first the bodice, and then the skirt, stepping out of it as William sat on the bed. “Since when did ye become such a temptress, lass? Ye know just what tae do tae make a man rigid.”
She stood before him in only her corset and shift, “Well, I’ll need your help with the last part.”
He stood, bowing obsequiously. “I would be happy tae assist, for such a delectable Sassenach.”
Marianne giggled and kept smiling as William worked her laces loose. Sometimes he paused and laid a warm kiss on her neck as he worked his fingers down her back. She whispered, “I look forward to my first lesson.”
“First of many,” he replied huskily, before placing another kiss on her jawline.
Soon her corset was loosened, and it fell to the ground. She removed her shift, and it fluttered lightly to the floor, laying in silken folds. She stood before him, no fear in her eyes, and stared at his face full of wonder. His voice was quiet with awe. “I will never tire of looking at ye, lass. Come.”
He led her to the bed, and she laid down. He removed his clothes quickly, and Marianne chuckled at his speed.
“Ye cannae blame a man for his hurried disrobement in such conditions.”
He laid next to her, and she reached out to touch a hand to his rigid member, which stood tall as he lay back on the sheets. “I’ve never done this before; is this the lesson you had in mind?” William had trouble speaking as she moved her hand slowly up and down the smooth flesh. “Nay, Marianne, it seems ye know exactly what tae do and need no instruction,” he added between quickened breaths.
She leaned forward and placed her lips at the top of the shaft before taking it further into her mouth. William groaned, and Marianne felt confident she was on the right track. “Lass, wait.” She paused, confused.
“‘Tis nothing wrong with yer performance,” he chuckled, “but I want tae give ye pleasure tae. Come, sit astride me.”
Marianne raised an eyebrow. “Like a horse?”
“Aye, like a horse.” She followed his instructions, and he held onto her waist. “Lead me in, lass.” Marianne guided him into her as he pushed her down onto his hardness. She gasped with the feeling of him filling her.
“How does that feel?” He asked and continued to guide her as she moved up and down.
Marianne whispered as tingles of pleasure covered her body, “Blissful.”
She stared down at William, who stared back, and they were silent as she rode him, both of their pleasures rising with each thrust. They came together, and Marianne shuddered as she fell forward onto him, crying out with ecstasy.
She lay atop him for a time, and he spoke softly, “Ye are more beautiful each time I bring ye tae yer pleasure. Lucky for me, I get tae marry ye today.”
Marianne grinned as she pulled away and laid next to him. “So, our lives will be full of lessons like that?” And she trailed a finger along his hard chest.
William wrapped an arm around her. “Aye, love. We can have as many lessons as ye like.”
* * *
A few hours later, William stood nervously in the church, adjusting the coat he had found in an old trunk. It was the nicest one he owned, and he had never had any reason to wear it before today. Troy stood next to him, smiling with encouragement. In the audience were a beaming Ruth, Margrete, John, Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher, Henrietta Parker, Fiona, Mr. Johnson, and Jamie and Amelia. He surveyed the crowd, smiling at each one. These were all the people he loved in one room. Well, he didn’t love Mr. Johnson, but he was eternally grateful to him for making the trip with Marianne’s mother’s ring. He held the ring tightly in his hands, a secret gift for Marianne. It gave him strength.
While he was looking down, the door at the end of the church opened. Jonathon Parker and Marianne stood there, ready to enter. Lord Parker had kindly agreed to walk Marianne down the aisle since Lord Browne was not here and would never have approved the match.
William’s eyes were caught by the beauty of his bride. She wore an emerald dress, which matched her eyes perfectly. His eyes moistened with tears at the sight of a tartan sash hanging across her shoulder in the Fraser colors. He glanced at Amelia and nodded to her in gratitude. Amelia beamed. Marianne and Lord Parker walked slowly down the aisle, the bride carrying a bouquet of flowers freshly picked by Ruth and Margrete. It seemed an age before she reached the altar, but her eyes never left William. He watched her glide towards him, and he never remembered a time when he was happier.
Mairi was nothing but a blurry image from the past. Nothing mattered now, except this moment, and the future he would have with the woman who had stolen his heart. She was everything he could have ever wished for, and he knew he did not deserve her. But she had chosen him, and that made all the difference.
Finally, Marianne arrived, and she handed her flowers to a sitting Amelia before reaching out to hold William’s hand. The groom smiled, gripping her hand tightly.
Troy began the vows, but Marianne and William hardly heard him, as their minds were full of one another. It came time for the rings, and Marianne slipped William’s slowly onto his finger. Once William held out the ring for Marianne and began to place it on her finger, Marianne covered her mouth. “My mother’s ring,” she whispered with awe. “Aye, Margrete told me where it was, and we sent word right away to Mr. Johnson.” He kissed the finger where he had placed the ring. Tears began to stream down Marianne’s face.
After the pronouncement of their marriage, Troy, began, “You may kiss the bri-”but William pulled Marianne close before the minister could finish the phrase, and she leaned into his tender kiss.
The audience laughed, clapped, and cheered as William held Marianne’s face in his hands. “You are my heroine, Marianne Browne. Let me spend the rest of my life being yer hero.”
She sighed, “Ridiculous man. You are a rogue and a devilish blaigeard, but you have been my hero from the first moment we met.”
Extended Epilogue
As Ruth watched Marianne and William wed, it was difficult for her eyes not to be drawn to the minister behind them. She had never met a minister so young or so handsome; his shoulders nearly burst from his coat, and his jawline was strong and stark, even hidden under a slight beard.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something about him that drew her. He seemed an exotic figure, having come from some faraway land to stand before her eyes.
But then Marianne and William kissed, embracing each other tightly, and Ruth sighed with happiness for her sister. Finally, she was free. They were both free to do as they liked. What an odd feeling it was. She clapped her hands as the new couple walked back down the aisle. They would go back to the castle for a large celebration with the whole clan.
Ruth’s eyes followed the minister as he followed the crowd leaving the church. It was an odd feeling to be free. She wasn’t sure what she was to do first. Break every rule her father ever placed upon them? No, that didn’t sound quite right, although it was tempting. Perhaps she could try out a few things and see how they struck her?
* * *
A few short weeks later, the small group of Kinnaird castle inhabitants wandered the main hall. Amelia could be heard upstairs, yelling with pain. Jamie was pacing in front of the fire, back and forth, Prince Charlie following him and barking with each outcry from Amelia.
“Bloody hell, this is pure torture,” Jamie grumbled as he moved, his balled fists hanging at his sides. “How can a man endure it?”
Marianne walked up to him and placed a hand on his arm. She smiled, “Remember, Jamie, she is enduring far worse upstairs. All will be well!”
Jamie nodded and continued his pacing rhythm, his brows furrowed in anger and concern.
William came up behind Marianne and placed his hands on her shoulders. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Soon, ye shall be an aunt tae the child about tae be born.”
She turned smiling, and William kept her in his arms. She looked up into his face. “Aye, and you shall become an uncle. What fitting roles for us.”
William began twirling a strand of her auburn hair with his finger. “Might we also fill the roles of parents one day?”
Marianne nodded. “I shall certainly enjoy the process.” She winked at her new husband and placed her cheek on his chest. She sighed with contentment. It had only been a few weeks, but it had been wedded bliss. William and Marianne and Ruth had moved into William’s nearby home after the wedding, but they had returned to the castle to help the family with the birth.
Marianne had become the true mistress of the Fraser house and had brought many things out from the dusty trunks and shadowy corners to be once again proudly displayed. Instead of an empty, ghostly place, the Fraser homestead became warm and cheery, with portraits and ornaments lining the walls. William, Marianne, and Ruth were very happy there together. Ruth could remember many a time when Marianne would chide William good-naturedly for hiding away his family memories.
“William, why is this in an old trunk? No wonder the house felt so ghostly to you, with naught on its walls!” William would apologize profusely in his roguish manner before kissing Marianne into silence. Ruth had to excuse herself from the room on more than one occasion.
One night, William finally relinquished the hold Mairi had over him and placed her image in the flames of his hearth, the past and its fears gone in a moment. Marianne placed her hand on his arm. “Are you well?” William grinned and grabbed Marianne by the waist, before staring deeply into her eyes. “I am more than well, lass. I am the happiest man tae ever have lived, I reckon.” At that, Marianne had breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that William had finally let go of the woman that had tried to ruin him with her betrayal.
Ruth had heard their conversation as she stopped in the hallway before entering the main room. She smiled and placed a hand on her heart. Her sister had truly found a love that was safe, warm and free. She hoped, too, for her own love one day, and her mind briefly flashed to the dashing Troy Ferguson, whom she had been keeping her eye on since she moved to Scotland.
In their time together, since leaving Lord Browne’s household, Ruth had come to love William as a true brother, and she thanked Heaven every day for the good fortune of her sister to have married such a kind and humorous man.
But now, they were awaiting the birth of the first Kinnaird child. Fiona and Henrietta were upstairs assisting the midwife with the delivery, while Marianne was asked to stay with Jamie and attempt to calm him. Lord Parker and Troy Ferguson made up the other members of the group.
Suddenly, the cries of Amelia stopped, and they heard footsteps in the corridor. A maid arrived hurriedly, “Come, quick! The babe has been born! A fine son!”
Jamie’s eyes went wide, and he dashed up the corridor in front of the maid to Amelia’s room. The rest of them followed behind. Marianne could barely contain her excitement, but she knew she must allow the father to enter the room first.
Jamie burst in like a bull, desperate to see his wife in good health and his new child. Amelia smiled wearily from the bed, and Jamie ran to her and knelt beside her. “Are ye well, lass?” He kissed her hands. “I was so worried about ye. Hearing yer screams from the main hall was like a knife tae me very heart.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips.
Amelia chuckled, “All is well, dear husband. Do not worry about me. Do you not wish to see your new son?” She turned her eyes toward Fiona, who held onto the new babe who was crying. Jamie turned as well, and his eyes moistened at the sight.
Fiona handed the baby to Jamie, and he took him gingerly into his hands. “Congratulations, my son. You will be a wonderful father, just like yours was to you.” And she kissed him on the cheek. Jamie smiled down at his son, swinging him softly in his arms.
“What shall we call him, Amelia?”
Amelia said, “I think James is a fine, strong name. To remember his fine grandfather, and to honor his father. What do you think?”
Jamie looked up at his wife. “Aye, ‘tis a good idea. James William Kinnaird.”
At that, William stirred behind Jamie, and Jamie turned to him. “What do ye think? Ye will be an uncle tae him, and he ought tae have the name of so good a man.”
William grinned and touched Jamie’s shoulder. “Aye, and he will learn all there is tae learn about fighting and women from me, tae be sure.” He laughed and touched the head of young James softly.
Marianne’s heart melted at the sight, but she still responded slyly, “Oh, are you such an expert then?”
Amelia held out her hands for Marianne. “Come to me, my friend!”
Marianne rushed over and kissed Amelia’s hands. “You have done well, Amelia! But you must rest now before you get back into your normal, busy routine.”
Amelia nodded. “Ah, yes, if I must.” She put her mouth close to Marianne’s ear. “You will make a cousin for my little James, won’t you?”
Marianne smiled and whispered back. “I already have.” Amelia gasped slightly, and Marianne shushed her. “Do not tell William. I want it to be a surprise.”
Amelia pulled away and winked before closing her eyes to rest.
* * *
After the excitement of the birth, Jamie, Fiona, and Henrietta brought the baby to his nursery to watch over him while Amelia slept. Ruth, William, Marianne, Troy, and Lord Parker returned to the main hall.
Luckily, after many failed attempts to speak to Troy in private these past weeks to learn more about him, Ruth finally had her chance. They were sitting next to each other by the fire, sipping wine. Marianne and William were talking quietly with Lord Parker at the long dining table.
She knew she was not too experienced with men, but men often liked her and wished to speak to her at parties and other gatherings. Ruth hoped she would use the right words with Mr. Ferguson as she built up her courage to talk to him.
She cleared her throat, “Mr. Ferguson, your accent intrigues me. It rings Scottish, but it is not the same as the other Scottish gentlemen around these parts. From whence do you hail?”
Troy looked over at Miss Browne nervously. He had noticed her watching him these many weeks, and wasn’t sure what it meant. She unnerved him with her striking looks and her confident air. Her long auburn curls were often hanging down past her shoulders, instead of being pulled up like most women wore their hair. Her features were not traditionally pretty, but they intrigued and enticed a man to look twice. Her dark brown eyes under thick lashes always sparkled and looked as if they knew something he didn’t, and her pink lips were always smiling.
He had sworn to leave the recklessness, the drinking, and the women of his former life behind, never to return to them again, but this woman recently in his sphere, made him sit up and take notice. He didn’t like it. He was a man of the cloth now, and he could not be swayed by temptations, luscious though they may be. He would have to make it appear that he had no interest in her and avoid her as much as possible.
He cleared his throat and did not look long at her face. “I was born in the Lowlands, but I have moved from place tae place. I have traveled a fair bit in my time, once I grew old enough.”
“Ah.” There was that knowing glance again. “That would explain the interesting tinge to your accent.” Her eyes brightened. “I have always been a lover of travel, although…I have never been anywhere. Where have you traveled?”
Troy’s heart flipped as her features curved into a smile. Her face was so innocent and so full of eagerness that he ached to draw her into his arms. He couldn’t help but smile in return. He found himself wanting to impress her. “Many places. I’ve been as far west as the Americas, and as far south as the southern tip of Africa.”
Ruth’s eyes widened with interest. “Oh, to be a man and to be allowed on such adventures.”
Troy surprised himself by asking her the question, “What do ye dream of, Ruth? I mean, Miss Browne?” He blushed slightly at the lack of social grace, and his surprising endeavor to ask such a personal question.
She chuckled. “Please, do call me Ruth. I assume we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
Troy hated how that idea made him happy.
She sighed, “To be truthful, I would take the opportunity to go anywhere and do anything.”
She sounded almost dreamlike as she spoke the words, and he could tell there was a tinge of sadness about her past life. He thought of his own past, and how it had been exciting but…too much. Would this new life in Scotland be enough for him though? It didn’t seem like it would be enough for Ruth, and in that, they may be kindred spirits.
Yes, this woman was going to put a dent in his plan of living the lonely and pure minister’s life.
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