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“Rosie,” she says softly.

“What?”

“Dinnae look at me as if I’ve been shattered.”

I blow out a breath and sink onto the bench beside her. “That bastard struck you in front of half the household and your father stood there being useless. I think I’m allowed one look.”

“Aye, well,” she mutters, settling beside me, “we cannae choose family, can we?”

“No,” I say, softer now. “Not the one we’re born to.”

She glances at me.

“But we can choose the one we belong to,” I go on. “The one we find. The one that finds us back, sometimes in the darkest places of our lives. The ones who stay. The ones who stand by you no matter what comes.”

I lean closer and take her hand.

Ellen huffs a laugh through her nose and tips her head against my shoulder for a moment. “Well. If I could rid myself of that bastard of a cousin, and keep you as a proper member of my family, I daresay I would.”

“Only that one?”

She cuts me a sidelong glance. “Perhaps two. There are a fair many MacGregors that seem to have lost their way since the great Rob Roy ran a tight ship.”

I can’t help it. I smile.

“You can’t mean to tell me all the good in the Clan MacGregor ends with you,” I tease.

Ellen snorts softly. “It may well end with me by blood, and with Aileen by marriage. But she’s got the heart of a Fraser through and through.”

I only squeeze her hand. “No. Somewhere down the road, I’d wager there’ll be another MacGregor born with more heart than sense, and enough honour to make the whole clan a proud one.”

Ellen says nothing to that, only leans a little more of her weight into me. “I bet ye’re right. Ye’re right about many things.”

I smile. “Careful, I may have that written down and witnessed.”

“If ye like. Though I’ll deny it the moment it’s inconvenient for me.”

This is the thing with Ellen. Even now, with her lip split and the whole day gone to hell, there’s still nothing fragile about her. She’s all sharp wit and stubborn strength—forbiddable in every way.

I reach over and take her hand.

Her fingers curl round mine at once.

“I was frightened for you,” I say quietly.

That wipes the last trace of playfulness from her face.

“I ken.”

“I mean it.”

“I ken,” she says again, gentler this time. “I was there. I saw yer face.”

I look down at our hands.

“There was a moment when I thought James would kill him. And another when I thought Alex might save him the trouble,” I admit.

At that, Ellen gives a faint, unwilling laugh.