“Well. Let me make it up to you. I was thinking we’d go for a ride this evening. Would you like that?”
Eliza’s eyes widened. “Yes, you know I would!”
“I was thinking we’ll need to find a saddle horse for you. Perhaps a Friesian mare to have as a match for Apollo. She can be your wedding gift. And we’ll begin with building your stables after the repairs to the house are complete.”
A new horse! She’d left Star with Lydia and missed her daily rides ever so much. Eliza jumped up and kissed Malcolm on the cheek. Despite his frustrating moods, he knew her so well.
Malcolm was waiting beside the fountain of Leda and the swan near the pergola, its bowers heavy with red grapes. Apollo pawed at the ground and tossed his ebony mane when he saw Eliza, and she palmed a handful of sugar cubes beneath his velvet mouth. He snuffed and gently nibbled them from her fingers.
“I knew you were going to spoil him. He’s anxious for a run. He hasn’t been on a proper ride since we married,” Malcolm said.
“It’s because you’ve been far too occupied with other diversions.”
“With no regrets on my part.” He swatted her playfully on the rump.
Eliza swung herself up onto Apollo’s back, and Malcolm settled in behind her. They flew through the rear gates and onto the wooded lane behind the mansion, galloping down the hill toward the stone circle Eliza had discovered on a summer walk that now seemed a lifetime ago. As they neared the stones, they slowed to a trot and Malcolm pulledApollo over to a patch of clover, where he promptly lowered his head and began to graze. Malcolm helped her down from the saddle. The stars were bright pinpricks in black paper, their beauty undimmed by the waning crescent moon.
“This is my favorite place on the estate,” Malcolm said, drawing Eliza by the hand to the table-like slab at the center of the circle. “My mother, being of the north, where superstitions about stone circles are rife, was always frightened of it, but I’ve found myself drawn here since I was a boy, time and again.”
Eliza sat on the stone, giving Malcolm a mischievous grin as she leaned back on her hands. “Tell me about your mother. You’ve not offered much about her, and I want to know what she was like. I don’t even know her name.” The lie fell so easily from her lips.
Malcolm took off his hat and sat next to her. “Her name was Ada. Ada Miriam MacCulloch, the belle of Oban. She met my father when she was just a girl. She was quiet, but a bit wild around the edges. She loved to fish and hunt. She was a hell of an archer and a crack shot.”
“She sounds quite spirited.”
“She was, but she changed a great deal, over time. Mostly the fault of my father. He had a tendency to drain a person’s humor—to get inside their head. She faded a bit as the years wore on. There’s something of hers I’ve been meaning to give you, by the by.” He undid the button of his waistcoat and drew out a gleaming brooch. Its twining rowan branches formed a heart of gold, with his clan badge at the juncture, the arrow pointing upward, its tip elongated like a key.
“What is that?”
“It’s called a luckenbooth. It’s tradition for a Scottish groom to give one to his bride. This is the luckenbooth my grandfather MacCulloch gave to my grandmother. And my mother gave it to me, for the bride she knew I would one day wed.” He pinned the clasp to the bodice of her riding habit, where it rested below her shoulder. “Now you’ve the key to my own heart,mo chridhe. Always keep it with you.”
“It’s beautiful.” Eliza smiled wistfully and leaned to kiss his cheek. “I do hope your mother would have approved of me. Now that I’ve heard all about your mother, what was Gabriel like? You didn’t tell me you were a twin, by the way.”
A shadow seemed to pass over Malcolm’s countenance. “Yes. We were twins. But even so, we were different in many ways. Things between us often were not so well.” A familiar expression etched itself in the corners of his eyes. “I loved my brother, but at times, he was more like my rival. He was adventurous and free, where I was more careful and studious. I admired and envied his easy way with people. You know how it is with siblings. Their petty jealousies. Well. I’ve said enough. He’s gone and I’m still here, and there’s no use hashing out our flaws.” Malcolm went silent, looking down at his hands.
His sudden reserve spoke volumes. Eliza chose not to press things further. “The druids used stone circles like this for human sacrifice, isn’t that right?” she asked, changing the subject.
“That’s one story. There are also tales of the fair folk traipsing among them.”
“You’re talking about fairies? I didn’t take you for the fanciful sort.”
“The fae are nothing to mock in this part of the world, darling. They’re quite real to us Britons. Terrifying, rather.”
Eliza laughed. “Surely you can’t be serious? I’ll admit my disbelief may be tested when it comes to ghosts and spirits ... but fairies are a bit of a stretch.”
“My mother told us stories that would make your hair stand on end.”
Eliza scooted closer to Malcolm, leaning against his shoulder. He was warm and solid next to her, the scent of tweed and damp moss filtering from his jacket. “I love a good scary story. Tell me. Please.”
Malcolm chuckled. “Well, if you insist. It’s a tale about a lass who lost her way in the forest beneath Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in all of Scotland.”
“I want to go to Scotland someday. Will you ever take me?”
“Someday, mo chridhe, but first, our story.” He put his finger to her lips, quieting her, and a frisson of heat ran through her at his touch. “This pretty lass, we’ll call her Bess”—at this, he winked—“had been promised to a local minister—a fine young man with a pure heart toward God. The banns had been read, her dowry had been paid, and all of her family were gathering for her nuptials. She’d decided only the wildest mountain roses would do for her bouquet, so she trekked to the foothills of Ben Nevis the day before her wedding to gather her posy.”
“She sounds a bit reckless, doesn’t she? Walking out all alone without a chaperone.”
“Rather.” Malcolm smiled at her in the low light and wove his fingers through her own. “After Bess finished her gathering, she headed back. It was the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, but the sun had already fallen well behind the mountains, and from there, it dropped quickly. Once she’d gotten into the woods, she found the path harder and harder to see.”
