Chapter 1

1

E dina would never forget the sense of wonder that possessed her as she gazed up at Achnabreck Castle again. She had forgotten its sheer size and the air of might and power it exuded as it stood on top of the highest hill for miles around. It was as though the castle were a monarch demanding subservience from his subjects, the low-lying lands at its feet. As her carriage wound its way up the twisting road to the summit, she looked back then saw how far up they had come and felt slightly scared.

However, something else was making her afraid too. Her parents had visited her often in Inverness, and she had seen all her cousins and their friends there too, and made quite a few of her own, so she had never been lonely. Yet from the day she left until today she had not been back to Achnabreck for a single visit, so it was eleven years since she had seen it. She was frightened that it had changed so much she would not be able to recognise it.

As they drew into the outer courtyard, she could not see anything that had changed from the last time she had been there. Except—something felt different. She alighted from the carriage and looked around, taking in every pillar and corbel, every flagstone and carved angel. No, it was all just as she had left it. And yet, it was not.

Edina told herself she was being fanciful. She had been seven years old—a child—the last time she had laid eyes on this place, and she was now eighteen and a grown woman. Nothing about Achnabreck had changed, but she, Edina McCarthy, had. Before, she had looked at everything through the innocent eyes of a little girl, but now that she had a certain amount of maturity, she hoped, and wisdom. She was seeing it through new eyes.

At that moment, she caught sight of her mother, who was hovering in the courtyard waiting to meet her. Edina braced herself for the usual onslaught of hugging and fussing, but reminded herself that things could be much worse. At least her mother and father loved her, which was more than she could say for some of her friends' parents.

She was right. She had no sooner had the carriage door opened for her and put a foot on the flagstone than she was enveloped in a tight, smothering maternal hug. Her mother said nothing for a moment, and despite Edina's reservations about her mother's overwhelming show of emotion, she nestled into the embrace. The gesture had sustained and given her love, and support since before she was born. There was no one who could replace her mother. Edina breathed in her warm, comforting scent and was glad.

When she had finished, she looked around for her father, who was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Father?" Edina asked, disappointed.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "At one of those interminable meetings with the Laird and his tenants," she answered. "They will no doubt be there for hours yet!"

Edina laughed. "I remember."

She cast her mind back to the days her father and Laird Findlay used to come out of the Great Hall, where the gatherings of the tenants were held, irritable and exhausted. She hoped it would not be like that today.

"But he is as well as ever," Bettina told her. "Of course, he will be all the better for seeing his wee girl again, Edina."

She folded her daughter into her embrace once more, but as soon as she let her go, Edina realised that her mother had begun to show one more facet of her love; one that she was not so keen on.

"Now, come on, tidy yourself up a bit."

Her mother, reverting to her usual form, was brushing down the front of Edina's practical travelling dress as she spoke. She had been on the road for hours, and it was creased into a thousand wrinkles, but Edina was tired and irritable, and batted her hand away peevishly.

"They know I have been travelling all day, Mother," she muttered. "I am sure they will make a few allowances."

Bettina McCarthy was about to make a spirited retort, but at that moment Lady Eleanor Findlay came out to meet them, smiling widely.

"It is so good to see you, Edina," she cried, as she enveloped her in yet another great hug. "Did you have a good journey?"

"Thank you, Milady," Edina replied, with a smile and a deferential curtsey. "It was as good as coach journeys usually are, I suppose!"

Her eyes were twinkling as she spoke, and Lady Findlay gave her a pat on the shoulder. "I know how you feel. Sometimes I wish we could fly from one place to the next! But you will be much better after a glass of wine and a warm bath. My husband has laid in a selection of excellent wine—well, so he tells me. Between you and me, lass, it is either red or white. That's the only way I can tell the difference."

Edina nodded in agreement, smiling. "Thank you for your concern. Actually, Milady," she murmured confidentially, "I have spent quite a lot of time studying all aspects of wine cultivation, and I am still none the wiser!"

"Neither am I," Lady Findlay confessed, laughing. "We could always drink ale, although I am told there is a new drink making its way to Scotland. It is called tea."

"Oh, I have heard about that," Edina's mother said eagerly.

Since her mother and Lady Findlay seemed more interested in the riveting subject of dried leaves in hot water, Edina let her attention wander. She noticed that there were plenty of guards, although very few of them were doing any actual guarding. It seemed that most of their time was spent chatting with each other and play-fighting to impress the maidservants, who did the bulk of the work in running the castle.

One of the guards, a tall, red-headed young man, suddenly reminded her that she had not seen Lewis or Aidan. She began to actively look around for them, sure that one or both of them would be around somewhere. Neither was anywhere to be seen, however.

"Where is Lewis?" she asked Lady Findlay.

For a moment the woman looked disconcerted, then she said, "Lewis is at the meeting of the tenants with the Laird. I cannot keep track of him these days. If he is not supervising something, he is hunting, or visiting tenants, or has his nose buried in the account books. He cannot bear to be idle."

"Oh, of course."

Edina was disappointed, since she had expected to see him as soon as she entered the castle. Her longing to be reunited with him was too intense to ignore. Her feelings for Lewis had not changed after all these years they were apart. He was still her knight on a white horse.

However, he was the Laird's son, and heir to the estate, so he was expected to shoulder a great deal of the responsibility of running it, and that was as it ought to be, she supposed. Still, Edina could not help feeling a little downhearted before consoling herself with the fact that she would see him at dinner, or so she hoped.

"And Aidan? Where is he?"

"Aidan has become a sailor," her mother told her. "He left three years ago, and we rarely see him these days."

Bettina gave Edina a warning look. Evidently, it was a touchy subject, and Lady Eleanor looked so sad that Edina was eager to talk about something else.

"That is a pity because I was hoping to meet him after all this time," she said lightly, then sighed. "I am happy to be back where I belong. All I need now is a comfortable seat by the fire and a glass of something to warm my insides. Then, I will be completely content!"

Lady Eleanor put her arm around Edina's shoulders. "I have ordered your favourite dishes to be prepared, and your old bedroom is ready, although it is now decorated to suit the tastes of a young lady. I hope you will like it. And although your old pony, Pegasus, has long since passed away, the Laird has chosen a few other lovely horses which he thinks will suit you. You only have to take your pick. I must say, it is wonderful to have you back, my dear."

The Laird and Lady Findlay were very fond of Edina, since she was the only girl growing up in the castle at the time their two sons did. They had always treated her like a daughter, gifting her dresses and dolls. Her beauty and intelligence delighted them, and when she left for Inverness they all felt like the sun had set in the castle.

The ladies moved into a small parlour, one which Edina remembered well, since she had often been reprimanded for hiding behind and clambering over the furniture, some of which was quite valuable. She smiled as she looked at a little porcelain angel that was standing next to a candelabra on a table, and Lady Findley followed the direction of her gaze, laughing.

"Yes, young Gabriel still survives, despite the best efforts of you and my boys!" she told Edina.

The little statuette had been a present from the Laird to his wife, and was one of her greatest treasures. However, it had almost come to a gruesome end one day when Aidan, chased by Edina, knocked it over in an effort to escape from her. The Laird had caught it in the nick of time, though, and both of them had been sentenced to two days of solitude in their bedrooms. For two rumbustious ruffians, this was purgatory, but it had the desired effect of slowing them down—for a while at least.

"I remember, Milady," Edina said warmly, smiling as she reached out to caress the ornament.

"I wanted to put him somewhere safe," Lady Eleanor told her, "but I wanted to look at him too. In the end, I just left him where he was, but I implore you not to play hide and seek with anyone else in here."

"I promise!" Edina laughed as she accepted a glass of wine from her mother, then looked around herself again.

Apart from a few small details like the colour of the curtains, nothing had changed, so why did everything seem so different?

They chatted and reminisced for a while, and several times Edina caught Lady Eleanor gazing at her in a speculative manner. She always shifted her gaze immediately as soon as Edina looked at her, however. It was most odd, she thought.

When she was able to bathe and make herself ready for dinner, she could not have been more thankful, since she felt she might nod off if she had to make polite conversation for one moment longer.

When she was clean and dressed, she took a quick glance at herself in the mirror. Like an artist who can never be satisfied with her own work and keeps correcting it, she knew she would constantly find fault with her own appearance if she examined it for too long. Her charcoal grey velvet dress fitted perfectly and was modest and practical. If no one fell to their knees in admiration, then so be it. She only had one person to please, and that was herself.

Edina pasted a smile on her face as the door to the dining room was opened for her by a uniformed manservant. She felt unaccountably nervous, thinking of a certain person's reaction when he beheld her. However, she was not going to meet a crowd of strangers to be that anxious. It was only her parents, the Laird, and Lady?—

Her mouth almost dropped open at the sight of Lewis as he rose to his feet and bowed to her. Gone was the awkward, gangly boy she remembered; she had adored him then, but there was much, much more to love now.

He was tall, much taller than she could ever have imagined he would become, with broad shoulders and powerful-looking muscles that spoke of hours of hard work. The rounded contours of his boyish face had given way to an angled jaw, high sloping cheekbones and full, firm lips. His eyes were still the same warm light brown, although they looked out at her from under thick brows that were the same shape as birds' wings, and his auburn hair hung, thick and wavy, to his shoulders.

So astonished was she by the sight of him that for a moment Edina could not move. He came around the table and pulled a chair out for her, breaking her out of her trance.

"Edina, it is good to see you," he said, without a hint of a smile on his face. "You look well."

The words were polite, but not friendly; it was the kind of welcome one would give to a distant acquaintance, not a good friend.

"Thank you," she replied, smiling valiantly. "So are you. How did your meeting with the tenants go?"

"Same as always," he answered, shrugging, before he sat down and turned his attention to his food.

"Now tell us about some of your exploits!" The Laird, unlike his son, had bright blue eyes that were warm with kindness. "Did you learn any new languages?"

"I polished up my Gaelic a bit, M'Laird" she replied, "and I speak French now. I am not sure I could converse with a native, though. Latin too, although I have noticed there is not a big demand for it here in the Highlands."

There was a chorus of laughter at her remark, but Edina noticed that Lewis did not join in, instead choosing to concentrate on his food and keeping his eyes on his plate. Then he looked up and for a few seconds their gazes met.

Despite herself, Edina felt an almost primal attraction to Lewis. He was so potently male. If they had been deer in the forest, he would have been the biggest stag ready to fight and defend his females against any rivals, and she doubted if any of them had stood a chance against him. She knew she should have expected him to grow and change, but not into this potent specimen of raw masculinity.

"And did you learn to play a musical instrument?" Laird Findlay asked keenly. "Because we have a piano here, but I am afraid I do not have a musical bone in my body."

"And my singing would make the hunting dogs break out in a collective howl," Lady Eleanor said regretfully, shaking her head.

Again, everyone but Lewis laughed.

"Yes, I did learn to play the piano, M'Laird" she answered. "I was forced to take singing lessons, but I will not inflict the unfortunate result on your ears."

This caused another wave of mirth.

She flicked a sideways glance at Lewis, who looked up from his plate straight into her eyes. Still, he did not smile; in fact, he said nothing at all, and Edina felt a prickle of anger beginning inside her. He might not be amused by her sense of humour, but surely a slight smile would not kill him?

"I learned many more ordinary, down-to-earth things too," she said. "Things I would like to share with the children in the village and the castle. It has been my dream to start a little school for them, if you ever agree, M'Laird."

"I doubt they will thank you for it," Lewis said sourly.

"Lewis!" His mother was shocked.

The Laird only frowned and asked, "I take it you are enjoying your pheasant, Son?"

"It is very tasty," Lewis replied as he wiped his lips before positioning his fork over his meat again.

However, he looked up as his father asked, "Have you nothing to say to Edina? She has spent a long time away from us, and now she is back. Have you nothing to ask her, and this time, would it hurt you to be a little more civil?"

Lewis looked startled. He had been keeping his head down and minding his own business all this time. But, suddenly, his father's piercing blue eyes were staring into his with such an obvious threat in them that he was sure everyone around the table could see it. He was familiar with that stare, and it usually presaged a towering rage that would only show itself properly when there was no one to witness it. Lewis's father was a gentle man, but like everyone else, he had two sides.

"I apologise," Lewis said, politely but coldly. For a few seconds, he seemed lost for words. "Did you enjoy Inverness?"

Edina forced a smile. "Indeed I did. It is a fascinating place," she answered nervously, but soon she regained her control.

"Do you know there is supposed to be a monster there? Dozens of people claim to have seen it. But seriously, I learned how to find my way around Inverness and how to sew and knit my own clothes, even though I doubt they are skills I will ever need.

I met so many people, lovely ordinary people, and I realised that we are all the same, and that is why I want to be useful to them. I would like to teach the children to read and count, and I would like to tell them stories!"

Edina did not realise how passionate she sounded until her father, Roy McCarthy, who was sitting beside her, patted her hand.

"You look inspired, Edina," he said softly.

"I feel that way," she told him, smiling.