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“IS THE FOOD not to yer liking this eve, daughter?” Greer glanced up, meeting her mother’s eye. Nairna Forbes’s pretty face pinched slightly, her cornflower-blue eyes narrowing. As usual, her mother had an air of tension about her.

Greer favored her mother with a placating smile. “No, the meal is delicious, Ma … as always … I ate a little too much venison stew at noon, that’s all.”

“Careful, lass,” Norris, the elder of her two brothers called out, his loud voice ringing across the table.

“No man wants a fat wife.” Next to him, Norris’s own wife, Edwina, cast him a sour look.

Yet her brother, who was red in the face from a surfeit of wine, ignored her. “Ye don’t want to end up like yer Ma.”

Greer’s smile slipped, while Nairna went rigid in her chair. Greer didn’t favor her mother in her coloring, yet she had Nairna’s small, compact frame—and her mother’s curves had gotten generous over the years.

The younger of Greer’s brothers, Kendric, snorted with laughter, while the laird smirked. Even Sutherland’s mouth curved a little.

Greer’s heart started to thump against her ribs, heat flushing over her.

Such comments weren’t uncommon in her family, yet after spending time with the Mackays, she’d gotten used to men treating women with more respect.

She couldn’t imagine Iver Mackay letting anyone insult his wife as Norris just had, yet her father didn’t seem to care.

He merely beckoned to one of the serving lads to bring over more wine.

Usually, Greer would hold her tongue when her menfolk issued taunts, yet this evening, something inside her gave way. Her father might frown upon his wife or daughter losing their tempers—yet there were other ways to let her displeasure be known.

Fixing Norris with a level look, Greer held up her goblet in a toast. “Aye, brother,” she said sweetly, “but when there is a famine, and yer fat womenfolk survive while ye do not … ye likely won’t find so much to laugh about.”

Silence descended across the table.

Norris’s face flushed scarlet while Kendric swallowed his mirth, his grey eyes widening in surprise. Her father stiffened, his blunt fingers clenching around the amber-encrusted goblet he only used when they had special guests.

His glare sliced into her.

However, to Greer’s surprise, Sutherland let out a bark of laughter.

Eyes glinting, he held his goblet up to Greer in an answering toast. “Aye, well said, Lady Greer,” he called out, even as Alexander Forbes continued to stare his daughter down.

“Here’s to ample Scottish lasses … I for one like a bit of flesh to grab onto. ”

“I hear ye caused a bit of a stir at supper.”

Greer tensed, glancing up from where she’d been cleaning her teeth, as was her evening ritual. She’d just dabbed the rough linen cloth into a paste of ground sage and salt crystals and was rubbing it over her teeth and gums.

Her gaze settled on Inghinn’s face. Her maid’s green eyes gleamed as she put aside the clothing she’d been folding.

Spitting out the paste into a bowl, and taking a sip from a cup of boiled and cooled water, Greer sighed. “I did.”

“That’s quite unlike ye.”

“I know … I’m not sure what came over me.”

Greer moved over to where a bowl of steaming water sat awaiting her upon a trestle table. Wringing out a cloth in the water, she began to wash her face.

“I think I do,” Inghinn murmured from behind her. “Yer time away from Druminnor has changed ye … more than ye likely realize.”

Halting her evening ablutions, Greer turned to her maid once more. Their gazes met, a silent understanding passing between them. “Aye,” Greer murmured. “Perhaps ye are right … this summer has opened my eyes to a great many things.”

Inghinn inclined her head. “Such as?”

“My life has been a sheltered one,” Greer replied with a sigh. “Until recently, I thought everyone behaved as my kin do … and that everyone has a marriage like my parents, and my brothers and their wives, do. I now realize that isn’t the case.”

Inghinn nodded. “Sometimes, we need a bit of distance to see things clearly.”

Greer smiled. “Aye … was it something ye were in need of too?”

Her maid blushed deeply at that. Indeed, Inghinn’s life had changed of late.

The journey home from the Kintyre Peninsula had been largely uneventful—except for the violent storm that hit the party while they rode through the Cairngorms …

and the unexpected events of the following morning.

Greer had awoken early, and had lain in her tent, watching the hide sides billow and snap so vigorously that she worried the wind might rip it away.

At a certain point, she’d realized that her maid had left the tent, presumably to relieve herself.

Yet Inghinn never returned. And at dawn, once the storm had spent itself, Greer had ventured outside to find her maid and Captain Errol locked in a passionate embrace just yards away.

It was a shock indeed—especially after the thinly-veiled hostility she’d witnessed between them over the past weeks. Once she recovered from her surprise, joy swiftly followed. Greer cared for both Inghinn and Errol and was delighted for them.

Forgetting her own situation, and an impending marriage she wasn’t looking forward to, Greer’s smile widened now. “Ye know I wish ye and Errol all the best, don’t ye?”

Inghinn glanced away, her embarrassment deepening. “Thank ye,” she murmured.

“I’m in earnest.” Greer put down the drying cloth and moved close to her maid. “When I asked ye why ye never took a husband” —she paused then, meeting Inghinn’s eye— “the man ye referred to … was it Errol?”

Inghinn’s throat bobbed before she nodded. “We had one night together … years ago,” she admitted softly. “But things ended there.”

Greer’s expression sobered. “Why?”

Inghinn huffed a sigh before wincing. “As ye know, we’re both headstrong … proud. He said some careless words after we’d lain together … and I took offense. Then, when he tried to approach me again the following day, I shamed him. We’ve both nursed foolish grudges against each other ever since.”

Greer took this explanation in, her brow furrowing.

She could see how a relationship could take such a turn.

It was a shame they hadn’t overcome things earlier; so much time had been wasted.

All the same, it pleased her to see them both so happy now.

Inghinn radiated joy, and Errol was in a permanent buoyant mood.

Greer had even heard him whistling to himself a few days previous when he’d been crossing the castle’s inner ward.

Inghinn’s gaze met hers then. “Ye have been melancholy since we left Dun Ugadale, Lady Greer,” she said softly. “And I can guess the real reason for it.”

Greer’s stomach clenched. Aye, of course, Inghinn could.

“Aye,” Greer sighed, even as her throat thickened. “Ye tried to warn me … and perhaps I should have heeded ye.”

Inghinn’s moss-green eyes shadowed. “I’m sorry, Lady Greer … it was the advice of a bitter woman.” Her maid reached out then, taking Greer’s hands, and squeezing tightly. Tears glittered in Inghinn’s eyes. “Ye deserve all the happiness in the world … I wish things could have been different for ye.”

Greer swallowed to loosen her aching throat. She then clasped Inghinn’s hands in return before managing a brave smile. “Enough talk about what we cannot change,” she said huskily, “or ye shall have us both sobbing.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m looking forward to yer wedding on Saturday.”

Aye, now they had admitted their love for each other—Inghinn and Errol weren’t prepared to waste any more time.

Inghinn flashed her a watery smile. “As am I.”

“Do ye have yer dress ready?”

“Not yet.” Inghinn sniffed and wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I was just going to make do with one of the kirtles I already have. With a nice shawl and flowers in my hair, I should look fair enough.”

“And I’m sure ye would.” Greer let go of her hands, glad to have something other than herself to focus on. “But we can do better than that.”

Inghinn gave her a quizzical look. “How?”

“Come.” Greer reached for a light shawl and threw it around the shoulders of the kirtle she wore. “Let’s have a look in my wardrobe … I’m sure I have a surcote for the occasion.”

“I can’t wear one of yer gowns.” Inghinn squeaked, her cheeks flushing once more. “Yer Ma won’t permit it.”

“Nonsense.” Greer headed for the door, gesturing for her maid to follow.

“She won’t notice or care. We are of a similar size, and I have an emerald surcote and a pea-green kirtle in mind that would go beautifully with yer eyes and hair.

” She paused in the doorway, smiling at her maid’s stunned expression.

“Errol’s jaw will hit the floor when he beholds ye. ”

It was dusk when Brodie finally reached Rhynie—the nearest village to Druminnor Castle.

The hamlet was small, barely more than a scattering of houses huddled around a dirt street set back from a meandering river.

Arable fields stretched out like a patchwork around it, and the village sat in the circle of green hills that were gilded at this hour as the sun set in a blaze of gold.

It was a bonnie sight, yet Brodie was too weary, after hours in the saddle, to fully appreciate it. All he wanted was a good meal, a hot bath, and a soft bed to collapse into. He’d ridden hard from Dun Ugadale, barely slackening the pace for days. But finally, his destination was almost upon him.

Fortunately, even a village of this size had an inn, and Brodie drew up Brèagha in front of the Easaiche Arms , a squat, white-washed building. And as he led his mare through the yard out back toward the stables, he inhaled the toothsome aroma of roasting mutton.

Brodie’s mouth started to water, reminding him he’d eaten little more than a hunk of bread and cheese all day. Now that he’d reached Rhynie, he’d earned himself a decent meal.

Nonetheless, he spent a while with Brèagha, rubbing her down properly, and ensuring that the stable lad would give her some oats and a manger stuffed full of hay.

“Ye did well, lass,” he murmured, stroking the mare’s noble face. “There are none as swift as ye.”

Brèagha whickered in response before raising her nose, brushing it across his face.

Despite his exhaustion, Brodie smiled. Aye, the journey northeast had been long indeed—and he’d carried the weight of guilt over leaving his brothers heavily—yet Brèagha had been his faithful companion, as she’d always been.

“We’ll find her soon,” he said before placing a kiss on the horse’s velvety nose.

“But first, let us fill our bellies and rest up … what lies ahead isn’t going to be easy. ”

Brodie sighed then, his smile fading. He’d had plenty of time over the past fortnight to think—too much time to dwell on what he’d left behind.

Instead of worrying about his brothers though, he’d eventually busied his mind by coming up with different ways of approaching Greer.

Yet the closer he’d gotten to Druminnor, the surer he’d become that he’d set himself a near-to-impossible task.

He wasn’t foolish enough to believe the Forbes would give him a warm welcome, or that he’d even let him speak to Greer. In fact, the clan-chief was likely to throw him out of the castle on his arse the moment his intentions became clear.

Brodie’s gut tightened as he slapped Brèagha on the neck and left the stable lad to enter the stall with a bucket of feed.

No, if he wanted to see Greer again, he needed a plan.