“Samhain.” She enunciated.Sow-en.“Halloween. All Hallows Eve.”
“Ah. However, we are rather busy in the judicial courts,” Hugh said.
“I may be free tomorrow evening,” Edgar offered. “Braemore is but an hour’s journey by horse or carriage. If you go early, Elinor, I could follow later. Either way, Angus should bring you home before dark.”
“I cannot ask Angus to wait for me. He is busy here.”
“I am nae that busy, Miss Elinor,” Angus said, overhearing as he entered the room carrying a tray of cakes and small sandwiches from the kitchen.
“Could you take me to Braemore tomorrow and return later with Edgar?”
“Leave a lassie alone wi’ a gentleman?” Angus looked shocked. “But that gentleman is a guid sort, I will say. Is it about the hauntings? I heard ye talk.”
Elinor pinched back a smile. Manservant, driver, valet, and butler if he felt like it, distant cousin Angus MacDonald had been with the household for years—invaluable, dear, and somewhat opinionated. “The housekeeper and servants will be there, Angus.”
“The ghosts have been there a long while too and will nae be leaving soon,” he said sagely.
Elinor straightened hertartan jacket and adjusted her bonnet, rocking with the motion of the carriage as Angus drove the miles to Braemore. Peering through the window, she watched the road, the hills, the blue afternoon sky flow past, and fought an anxious feeling. Facing Gavin Stewart unnerved her. This month would have been their wedding. But he needed help that she could provide. She simply felt compelled.
Besides, she missed him deeply. Perhaps there was a chance for peace if she arrived for another reason. Last year she had slipped into his lecture hall, escorted by a cousin enrolled in his class. Gavin had not noticed her in the shadows. Savoring his dark and perfect handsomeness, the timbre of his voice, his ease with the subject and his students, she had yearned to approach him. But she had fled before class ended.
For nearly a year she had abided by his desire to not see her, but the news of more hauntings troubled her. Gavin was not one to ask for assistance. Patting the covered wicker basket beside her, she hoped her plan would help.
Soon she saw the steep Pentland hills covered in late-blooming heather, and shortly after, the castle. Nestled above a glen, Braemore was a fortified house in pinkish sandstone with a medieval tower attached to a later wing. She caught her breath, loving the sight of it again.
But the laird of Braemore expected Edgar and might turn her away, considering the hurt feelings between them. Since then, she had accepted another suitor at her family’s urging, but had ended it. She still loved Gavin and always would.
Sharing the Edinburgh townhouse Edgar had inherited, she tried to accept that she might never marry. She devoted her time to volunteering with a Highland charity society, researchedfolklore, and wrote stories that brought in welcome income; someday she hoped to write a compendium of folklore. But her dream of marrying Gavin and raising a family while continuing her scholarly work had been thoroughly dashed.
In her heart, she felt no man would ever compare to Gavin. He had nearly died in the months following the injury that had brought him back to Scotland, and she had hardly left his side through his long recovery. He asked her to marry him; they were happy, so in love. But one day he sent her away, insisting he did not want to see her. She resisted, but his stubbornness won. She gave him the solitude he wanted. She only hoped it was what he had needed.
Drawing a shaky breath, she straightened her shoulders as Angus guided the vehicle up the slope toward the castle entrance.
Chapter Three
“Sir Gavin,” thehousekeeper said, tapping on the study door. She peered inside. “You have a guest. Miss Cameron, sir.”
Startled, Gavin set his pen in the stand and stood. He had heard a carriage but had hardly noticed as he worked. “Mr. Cameron?”
“Miss Elinor, sir.” Flushed, the woman seemed to repress a smile; he knew she had always favored Elinor. “She is back. Er, came to call. Her driver is with her.”
His heart thumped. Elinor, not Edgar? “Please show her in.”
She entered the room, all grace and beauty in a blue-gray gown and snug tartan jacket of dark blue and green. A gray bonnet curved around her head, ribbons securing it under her chin above a swath of lace at her throat. Cascades of dark curls framed her face. Her eyes were sky blue, her cheeks and lips rosy. She glowed.
Perhaps that was just the afternoon sun slanting through tall windows, adding sparkle to grace. She tilted her head, eyes alight.
“Sir Gavin.” She folded her gloved hands, but he sensed a thread of nervousness. Mrs. Blair hovered by the door, smiling.
“Miss Cameron.” Behind his back, he fisted a hand. “This is a surprise.”
“It is. I apologize. I know you expected my brother.”
“I did. Mrs. Blair, that will be all.”
“Aye sir, but what about Mr. MacDonald?”
“Angus is with me,” Elinor Cameron explained.
