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“You never read it?” Lachlan’s voice has an edge to it, like excitement that he’s trying to contain.

Finlay shakes his head. “Not much for history, really. I gave it a look-see when he found the thing, but I’m not much of a reader.”

“Not that you could ever get him to give it up long enough for anyone else to read it,” Rhona snorts. “I’m surprised he never showed it to you.” She frowns at me. “Although I suppose if he never spoke of us…it makes sense.”

Lachlan’s eyes find mine, and I can see the same urgency in them that I feel coursing through me. What was in the journal? Where is it now? Is it back in America, or is it here somewhere? Hidden away?

Rhona starts handing out food, breaking the spell as I tear my eyes away to utter a thank-you, taking a plate from her as hunger seems to hit me out of nowhere.

“This smells amazing,” I tell her.

She grunts. “It isn’t much.”

“It’s great,” Lachlan says, tucking in.

“My Rhona is the best cook in all of Scotland,” Finlay sighs.

Rhona rolls her eyes. “Stop with your sweet talk and eat your breakfast.”

I watch as Lachlan eats quietly, wanting more than anything to reach across the table and cover his hand with mine, if only to offer him some semblance of comfort. I hold back, not knowing if he’sactuallyready to air…whatever this is out in the open, instead extending my leg to rub his ankle with the toe of my sock.

He peeks up at me and I give him a soft smile, one that he returns as he mouths,It’s fine.

I nod as I dig into my own breakfast, listening to the quiet conversation he makes with my grandpa and granny, feeling an odd warmth settling in my chest at the simplicity of it all. With everything I know about our family history, it seems almost special, for MacKays and a Greer to be doing something as easy as sharing a meal.

I shake off the silly thought.

It takes a bit to extricate ourselves from my grandparents’ kitchen table, Lachlan offering up some excuse about needing to get to the cows finally so that we can both sneak away. He tells me he’ll wait for me outside, and sure enough, I find him standing not far from the front door after I finish changing clothes, leaning against thehouse and gazing out at the rolling hills with a contemplative expression.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him immediately. “I didn’t mean to get you trapped in that situation.”

He shakes his head. “S’fine. It wasn’t so bad.”

“My grandparents…” I consider the words before I say them, not wanting to offend him somehow. Not with everything he’s endured. “I don’t think they’re like the MacKays you’ve heard of. I think you can trust them.”

He turns his head to look at me, his eyes roaming over my face. He reaches out to brush an errant curl behind my ear, his lips turning up slightly at the corners. “Maybe I can.”

“Lachlan,” I say firmly. “I don’t think the journal Rhona mentioned ever made it to America.”

His brow furrows. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I went through every single thing my father owned when he died, and I would have seen it.”

“Could he have stored it someplace else?”

“I never saw any paperwork suggesting he had anything stored anywhere.”

“So where would it be?”

“I think…” I nod to myself, convinced more and more that I’m right. “I think it must still be here.”

Lachlan looks unsure. “I’ve combed over this property for months, Key. Don’t you think I’d have found it?”

“You’d combed over the castle too, remember?”

He smiles at that. “Bloody hound.”

“Face it,” I laugh. “I’m your good luck charm.”