If there’s one person in Glenfield—possibly in all northern Scotland—who smiles even less than I do, it’s the old butler.
“Miss Mary is in the gardens,” he informs me. “Near the old oak tree.”
“Thanks, Jamison.”
And without another word, I bolt outside.
I cross the castle grounds without thinking.
My heart pounds too hard.
My thoughts spin endlessly.
What exactly am I going to say?
How do I convince her to stay?
How do I convince her to give me a chance?
I finally find her exactly where Jamison said she’d be.
She’s sitting with her back to me beneath the massive oak tree, staring out across the Highlands stretching endlessly into the distance. The morning sun is only beginning to spill gold across the moorland.
Hamish is lying on her left.
Ragnar on her right.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen them together without trying to murder each other.
Apparently even the sheep understand this moment matters.
I walk closer.
“Morning, Mary.”
She turns around.
Her eyes widen the second she sees me standing there breathless and covered in paint.
“Finn? What… why are you covered in paint?”
I stop in front of her trying to catch my breath.
“I’m redoing the clinic.”
Mary blinks.
“What?”
“I’m repainting it,” I clarify. “Blue-gray. The color you suggested. I took down all the McKinnon photos. I’m replacing the furniture. I’m making it mine.”
She stares at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.
Maybe I have.
“Why now?”
Her voice is soft.
