Was there a part that bored or that you didn't really like in the book?

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

Which was the part you liked most in the book?

Even a character, a scene, or anything that you enjoyed.

When I start a new series, I usually… *

• Read all available books in that series before starting another series by the same author
• Don't mind exploring other series by the same author while waiting for the next installment

My ideal Scottish romance is… *

• Romantic with an element of humour
• Romantic with an element of mystery

Anything else you'd like to share?

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One month later

The carriage wheels slowed over familiar gravel, the sound echoing too loudly in Elsie’s ears.

England looked the same—soft, orderly, almost painfully gentle after the wild edges of the Highlands. The air smelled of damp earth and spring blossoms, not salt and iron. The estate rose ahead through a veil of budding trees, its pale stone warmed by the afternoon sun. Smoke curled lazily from the chimneys, domestic and comforting.

Elsie’s breath caught at the sight. It hadn’t been so long since she had been taken from there. And yet now, everything had changed; she had changed. She was not the same girl who had left.

She was glad to be back, of course, especially with Halvard by her side. For a long time, all she had wanted was to go back to England to see her sister, and now she was here. And yet, it seemed that she was too used to the Highlands now, to the life there, to the people. Nothing in her home seemed as familiar as the cliffs by Castle Brochel, as the winds that whipped the castle, as the people who greeted her every single day as if she was one of their own.

I suppose I belong in Brochel as much as I belong here, if not more.

Elsie pressed her gloved hands together in her lap, trying to still the trembling that had begun the moment she had recognized the curve of the drive. All her surroundings were familiar and foreign to her at once, like a dream she used to have every night but had not visited again in years.

“That’s it,” she whispered, leaning forward.

Halvard followed her gaze in silence. He looked out of place there, she thought with a pang—too large, too carved by wind and war for those manicured grounds. And yet, the steadiness of his presence beside her was the only reason she was breathing at all.

Sten craned his neck toward the window. “Seems quiet. Are we certain they expect visitors?”

Elsie laughed weakly. “Selene must be somewhere.”

When their carriage came to a stop, Halvard was the first to step out, followed by Sten. Then he offered his hand to Elsie and she took it, letting him help her down.

The familiar scent of roses drifted up to her and she inhaled deeply, taking in the crisp air. It was warmer there, much more so. The breeze stirred her cloak and her hair, but there was no wind to whip her cheeks red. Though it was a cloudy day, the sky had a brighter quality to it, something Elsie couldn’t quite name, even if she felt it in her bones.

And just as Elsie took the first step towards the estate, the front doors of the house flew open.

A woman burst out onto the steps, her skirts hitched up without a care, her hair half-pinned and wholly forgotten. She stared toward the carriage as though afraid it might vanish.

“Elsie?” she called, her voice trembling between hope and disbelief.

Elsie broke into a sprint immediately, her heart leaping to her throat.

“Selene!”

They collided halfway down the path. Selene’s arms wrapped around her so tightly Elsie’s feet left the ground. A sob wrenched itself from Elsie’s throat even as she laughed in delight—a sob that was echoed by Selene, the two of them clinging onto each other as if they could hardly believe the other was real.

“You’re here,” Selene said. “God, Elsie… I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. For the longest time I thought… I thought…”

Selene couldn’t even finish her sentence, but she didn’t need to. Elsie knew precisely what it was that her sister had feared. For a long time, she had thought her dead.

“I know,” Elsie whispered into her sister’s hair. “I know. I’m here now. I’m safe.”

Selene pulled back just far enough to cup Elsie’s face, her hands trembling.

A sigh of relief escaped Selene. For a long time, she simply stared at Elsie, but then footsteps echoed behind them as Halvard and Sten approached.

Selene froze.

Naturally, Elsie had written to her sister at the first chance she had gotten, and she had told her everything about Halvard and their wedding. Now Selene was looking at both him and Sten with suspicion, as if she didn’t quite trust either of them with her.

“My husband is the one on the right,” said Elsie. “The blond one with the blue eyes.”

Selene’s eyes narrowed as if in disapproval, and Elsie immediately knew it was not going to be easy for Halvard to gain her trust.

“Did he kidnap you?” Selene asked flatly.

“What?” Elsie laughed outright now. “No!”

“Because if he did, I will kill him,” Selene continued calmly.

A shadow fell across them.

“Understandable,” Sten said, appearing beside them. “I had the same thought when I met him.”

Halvard stepped forward then, removing his gloves with deliberate care, as though unsure where to put his hands. He inclined his head, clearly bracing himself.

“Lady Selene Montgomery,” he said, his accent thick and unmistakable. “I am Halvard MacLeod. Yer sister’s husband.”

Selene turned to him slowly.

She took him in from head to toe—his height, his breadth, the scars he did not bother hiding, the quiet watchfulness of a man who expected trouble even here.

Her brows rose.

“Oh,” she said. “You’re that kind of Scot.”

Halvard blinked. “I suppose so. Whatever that means.”

“You look like you wrestle storms,” Selene continued. “And occasionally win.”

Sten snorted, glancing at Halvard from the corner of his eye. “Aye, he’s the kind o’ man who would fight a storm. Stubborn as a mule, this one.”

“And you are?” Selene asked Sten, her eyebrows shooting even farther up, all the way to her hairline.

“Sten MacInroy,” said Sten, offering Selene a bow. “Laird MacLeod’s right-hand man an’ second-in-command.”

“Right,” said Selene, clearly unimpressed. “Another warmonger.”

“Only a hired hand, I assure ye,” said Sten, in his usual charm, with a smile that was almost enough to blind everyone in the gardens. “An’ in the past, too. Now I occupy meself with nobler things.”

“Such as?” Selene asked.

“Embroidery.”

Next to her, Halvard had to suppress a laugh, and Elsie found herself groaning as Selene glared at Sten. But knowing her sister, Elsie was certain she would come around soon enough. It was all for show—just so that neither man would underestimate her, as they often did. Once she was certain neither of them meant harm, there was no doubt in Elsie’s mind she would soften right up to them.

But until then, her gaze returned to Halvard.

“So, what makes you the right husband for my sister?”

Elsie groaned. “Selene, please.”

Selene crossed her arms over her chest, showing no signs of backing down. “I’m assessing him.”

Halvard nodded gravely. “As ye should.”

That earned him a sharp look—and then, to Elsie’s surprise, a small smile.

“He’s polite,” Selene conceded. “That’s a point in his favor.”

They moved inside together, conversation overlapping, their footsteps echoing through halls that suddenly felt full of life once ore. It was strange for Elsie to have Halvard there.

Selene sat beside Elsie, their knees touching, as though unwilling to let go even now. A servant brought out tea and snacks for them, quietly laying everything out on the small table of the drawing room. From her seat on the plush velvet couch, Elsie could feel the warmth of the sun, scant as it was, through the large windows.

Her sister seemed agitated, shifting in her seat and huffing as if she could hardly contain herself. Then, she finally spoke the words that seemed to cause her such strife.

“You’re really going to live in the Highlands,” Selene said, wonder and worry threaded through her voice. “On an island. With…” she gestured vaguely at Halvard, “this man?”

Across from her, Halvard raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything. It was smart on his part to remain quiet; Elsie, at least, was glad for it, as the last thing she wanted was for him and her sister to clash, especially during their first meeting.

“Yes,” Elsie said. “We are wedded now and I have a duty to him and the clan. And besides, it feels like home now.”

Selene pursed her lips into a thin line. “I see,” she said quietly. “More than here?”

“Oh, Selene, you know I can’t answer that,” said Elsie as she reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “This place will always be my home. You will always be my home. And I want you to come back to Raasay with us, at least for a while. I want to show you my new home, too. I want you to meet the people, to spend some time with us all.”

Selene froze, as if she had not expected the request. Then, tears glinted in her eyes, but she was quick to clear her throat and wipe them away with the back of her hand.

“So?” Elsie asked when her sister didn’t respond. “What do you say?”

For a few moments, Selene said nothing. Then, she looked up at Sten, her expression turning flat. She did not seem convinced about him.

Elsie couldn’t help but laugh, and so did Halvard. And though Sten didn’t, Elsie could have sworn a small smile appeared and disappeared within the span of a heartbeat—brief but no less real for it.

Selene leaned closer to Elsie. She said, “Are you happy?”

Her own question was quiet, serious. Silence fell over them, filling the entire room, but there was no question in Elsie’s mind. She looked at Halvard—at the way he watched her without seeming to, at how his hand was outstretched near hers as though ready to catch her if she fell.

“Yes,” she said. “I am.”

Selene studied her for a long moment. Then she reached across the table and squeezed Halvard’s wrist, hard.

“I shall come. But if you hurt her,” she said pleasantly, “I will poison your food.”

Halvard didn’t even flinch at the threat. “That is fair. Though I must warn ye, I will never hurt her.”

Laughter filled the room, warm and unguarded, and Elsie felt something knit itself whole inside her. And when she looked at Halvard, he knew his promise to be true.

The End

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