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There it was again. Mention of home. Mention of the place where he would not be. He took her face in his hands before she could move away. She gave a gasp that he swallowed with his kisses. He kissed her deeply, drinking in the taste and feel of her, moving his hands down her spine and around her waist. If he could just imprint this in his memory, perhaps he would not miss her so much.

By the time he had drawn away, her hands were looped around his neck. Why life had thrown such a woman into his life only to drag her away again, he did not know. But what he did know was having her in his arms made him forget his past, forget that he might well be unworthy of her. When he kissed her and made her shiver and gasp, he finally felt her equal.

“What was that for?”

“You are too damned beautiful, lass. I could not resist.”

“Good. You resisted too long.”

He smirked. “I resisted all of—what—two days? That is hardly an eternity.”

“Still too long for me.” She took his hand, and they made their way down the other side of the mountain toward the cottage.

As promised, it took just under an hour to reach the cottage. A small dwelling, made of gray stone and with what must’ve once been white trimmed windows, the wee cottage had a sort of rustic appeal that he could well understand her grandfather liking.

“My grandpapa really was like you.” Minerva peered up at the building. “Escaping to rundown old buildings, away from the luxury of his real life.”

“I have no intention of escaping any longer.”

She twisted her head to look at him. “So, you will cease playing farmer? And take charge of your servants? It is hard to picture you playing the landowner.”

He gave a tilted smile. “Aye, that is what I intend. And it’s all your fault, lass.”

She pressed a hand to her chest. “My fault?”

“Aye. You spent this journey looking forward, not backward. You were determined to defeat your past. I must do the same with mine. That means embracing what I have gained instead of running away from it.”

“Goodness. I had little idea I could have such an effect.”

“You are capable of more than you realize.” He tugged her briefly into him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Now, shall we find whatever it was your grandfather wanted you to have?”

He pushed open the door to be greeted by the dark confines of a kitchen. It was hard to tell whether the building was evenstill in use. An old lamp sat on a battered table and several pots and pans were stacked on the side. Swirls of dust followed their movements as they stepped into the building, suggesting the cottage was not in use anymore.

“What exactly did your grandfather wish you to collect?”

Minerva scowled. She tugged a letter out from an inner pocket in her pelisse and flicked the wrinkled paper open. “He did not exactly say. I assumed it must be something valuable, but there is nothing of value here.”

She handed over the letter, and Lachlan perused it. There were no clues to what this item might be. Though, the words made him smile. Clearly, Minerva’s grandfather had great sympathy for her plight and was determined that she would enjoy life once he was gone. It was certainly an irregular way of helping her overcome her fears, but it seemed to have worked.

Too well, perhaps. He doubted her grandfather intended for her to become romantically involved with a Scotsman.

If that’s what this was.

He went to hand her back the letter then paused. “Min?”

She blinked at him, perplexed.

“Lass?” he tried again.

“That is the first time you have called me Min.”

“Forgive me, you do not like it.”

She shook her head. “No, I like it very much. It is just usually only family calls me it and, well, I—”

“You should look at this.” He stepped over to the wooden mantlepiece and plucked the letter off it. “This is your grandfather’s handwriting, no?”

She followed him and nodded. “Goodness, yes it is. I wonder when he left this here.”