“It could be the location of an ancient settlement. Mrs. Blackburn—John’s sister, as I explained earlier—has not yet made her determination. When she does, the museum will send others to investigate.”
She tilted her head. “Mrs. Blackburn? You’ve mentioned her more than once today.”
“Aye, Christina Blackburn, the antiquarian. She has been digging in the hill, finding some very intriguing things, while her brother, who came with her, has taken over the abandoned mural project.”
“You also mentioned that she is posing for the briar princess for the mural. She must be lovely to be chosen for that, even if it is her brother’s work.”
“Stunning, rather,” he murmured. “Did I mention that I am posing for the prince?”
She laughed. “Now I must see this painting! And meet the stunning Mrs. Blackburn. Did she talk you into posing? Howeverdid she convince you—” She peered at him. “Aedan Arthur MacBride! Are you smitten with Mrs. Blackburn?”
“Smitten? Hardly.”
“Stop hedging. Is she the one who has changed you so?”
“Oh, I doubt I have cha—” He stopped. He did feel different. Lighter within, made of finer, kinder stuff in thought and emotion, and he was finding it easier to show how much he cared about others. He laughed more, too, felt more relaxed, less burdened.
But for the curse of Dundrennan that loomed over what he truly wanted—a life with Christina, free to love her, free to be happy.
The sunset glowed through the window and he felt a touch of that incandescence within himself. Love filled him, and he could not deny it any longer. He must face it, though it held a risk. It was too late now to turn away from that.
“Ah, here they are,” he said almost in relief when a door opened and voices came through the hallway.
“Miss MacDonald, Mrs. MacDonald, please come in!” Mary said, welcoming Dora and Effie into the drawing room. Connor MacBain, tall and fair haired, followed.
“Thank you for seeing Dora, Connor,” he said as the doctor approached.
Blond and handsome, looking more like a Viking marauder than a reserved and rather shy physician, Connor smiled. “There is good news. It’s quite possible I can help her.”
As the women chatted—Dora began telling Mary what the doctor had said—Aedan leaned to hear Connor, who indicated he wished to speak privately.
“She has cataracts of the eyes, unusual in a girl so young and otherwise healthy.”
Aedan nodded. “Can you treat the condition?”
“Generally cataracts are treated by couching, that is slipping the tissue downward with a probe. It takes a very careful hand,” Connor explained. “I have had good success in removing clouded tissue with delicate use of tiny instruments. The operation does require ether, which has risks. I explained all to her and she is considering it.”
“If anyone can help her, it is you,” Aedan said.
“She could do very well with it, I think. She’s young and strong and deserves this chance. Otherwise, she will lose her sight almost entirely.”
“Dear God,” Aedan murmured.
Dora came toward them. “Dr. MacBain, I would like to try this,” she said. The sunset light turned her red hair to gleaming bronze and shone over her strangely veiled eyes. The pretty glow in her face, Aedan realized, was hope. “But it is beyond our means just now.”
“If you want this, Dora,” Aedan said, “everything you need will be provided for.” Dora smiled, and turned as her grandmother and Mary MacBain joined them by the window.
“Ye’re a dear, Sir Aedan, always were that. And lately that kind heart o’ yours shines a bit brighter than before. I’m glad to see it.”
“I was just telling him the same thing, Effie,” Mary said. “He claims it’s stuff and nonsense. But something has happened to change our grumpy lad for the better.”
“Oh aye, and about time, too. Now, tell me,” Effie said, pointing toward the gathering twilight, “is it too late to get some of that fruit ice cream I was promised for coming all the way to the city?”
Aedan laughed. “We could all hurry out to see if the shop is still open. We have something to celebrate for Miss Dora.”
“And for you, too, Aedan MacBride, if you would only admit it,” his sister said.
“Oh, but I like my secret,” he murmured, heading for the door.
