She turned to Arabella. “She came home acting differently, speaking differently. And she was determined tae have aSeason in London.” Grandmother made a clicking sound with her tongue.
Her eyes returned to the picture, tracing over the face of her daughter. “Hamish and I were quite set against it at first. We told her no. But then...” She paused for a long moment, making Arabella wonder if there was something she was leaving out. “After a while we relented. In London, she met your father. Several months later, they were married.” Grandmother’s voice had turned flat as if the story was over.
But Arabella’s curiosity wasn’t satisfied. “But that still doesn’t explain what changed her so drastically. It had to have been more than finishing school.”
Grandmother’s lips pinched together. “Has she told ye nothing of her past? Of her life growing up here in Scotland?”
The truth would give her pain, but Arabella couldn’t lie. “She doesn’t speak of it.”
“And ye have never asked?”
She shook her head. Somehow, she’d always understood she couldn’t. Shouldn’t.
Grandmother’s shoulders sagged, her eyes distant. “There are some things I can share, Arabella. And there are some things that are yer mother’s tae tell. If ye’d like tae know more, I’m afraid ye’ll have tae ask her yerself.”
GAVIN STOOD OUTSIDE the stables, waiting for his horse. It was early—before eight—and the air was still crisp, the sun’s rays peeking over craggy green mountains. After several long days of gray skies and drizzly rain, it was a welcome reprieve.
Not that he hadn’t gotten out these past weeks. He’d been down to the pub a time or two, had dinner with friends on several occasions. But in giving Nan time and space with her granddaughter, he’d spent one night too many alone, with only the fire for company.
Finlay his groom, stepped forward, leading Baird by the reins.
“Thank ye, Finlay.” Gavin put one foot in the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle.
“My pleasure, Mr. McKenzie. I always say yer horses are like my children. I ken I am not supposed tae have a favorite, but if I did...” He gave a furtive glance over his shoulder. “Baird would be mine.”
Gavin chuckled. “I’ll not tell the others.”
And then he was off, urging Baird into a trot. Gavin turned north, toward the low sweep of hills where new lambs bleated at their mothers. A soft breeze blew in off the coast, pulling at his coat.
“Sir!” Mr. Murray stood near the fence line, arm raised.
“What can I do for ye, Mr. Murray?”
“I took that rowboat down the river tae test it out like ye asked, but I dinnae think the patch job held, sir. It took in water, slow but steady.”
Gavin sighed. He’d spent an entire morning patching that hole. With a decision about an upcoming investment weighing on him, he’d needed a change of scenery, needed to work with his hands while he mulled things over in his mind. He’d busied himself repairing the boat and thought he’d done an adequate job of it. Apparently not.
“Where is it now?”
“I stacked it atop the other one.” His eyes flitted toward Gavin’s. “Thought we might send it down tae the village for repairs.”
“I’ll ride down and take a look. I might want tae have another go at it.”
Mr. Murray sighed, as if he knew he’d not talk Gavin into allowing someone with actual carpentry experience to repair it. “If ye’d like, sir. Good day.”
The sun climbed higher as Gavin set off up to the steeper climbs where many of the herds grazed. He gave Baird his head as they rode toward the northern edge of his property. His eyes swept over the hillsides, green and verdant, spring edging into summer.
He surveyed the land, unable to keep his thoughts from his father as he rode. It was he who had taught Gavin the importance of inspecting his properties with his own eyes.Ye’ll have a steward. And a land agent. And they’ll be invaluable tae ye. But no one will care for the land the way ye do, Gavin. Not one.
Next he turned west, where the mountains gave way to rolling hills. The impossible beauty never failed to move him. Mother had loved this time of year. Said it made living in dreary and dreich northern Scotland the other three-quarters of the year worth it.
He turned south, toward the river, where his property bordered Nan’s. Since the death of his parents, she’d become his family. Which is why it felt strange having Miss Hughes here, taking the time and attention that were usually his own. Not that he begrudged Nan time with her granddaughter. It was only that these past weeks had been impossibly dull.
Save for the times he’d crossed paths with Miss Hughes.
Gavin was not a man prone to exaggeration. But he very nearly considered himself asaintfor the restraint he’d shown in his interactions with her these past few weeks. Not that he’d been perfect.
The first week at kirk, sitting in the pew behind her, he’d made a point to sing the hymns out of tune and with a stronger-than-usual Scottish brogue. Miss Hughes had shifted in her seat, trying to figure out who was responsible for singing off-key, only to look back and realize it was him.
