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“THOSE RIBBONS ARE perfect,” Greer murmured, running her fingers over the glossy emerald silk. Even though her mood was low these days, she couldn’t help but admire the loveliness of the ribbons. “They’ll match yer surcote and will look perfect with yer dark hair.”

“Aye, but they’re costly.” Inghinn’s voice was a little strained.

“They are … so let them be my wedding gift to ye.”

“Lady Greer,” Inghinn gasped. “Ye have already been so generous. I can’t—”

“Why can’t ye?” Greer turned to face her maid, cutting her off mid-sentence.

Panic fluttered up then. While she focused on Inghinn and Errol’s upcoming wedding, she could keep her despair at bay.

She might not have a happy future before her, but her maid did, and she wanted to make Inghinn’s wedding day special.

The two women stood at one of the many stalls in the bustling mid-week Rhynie market.

This was the last Wednesday of the month, and as such, many merchants from all over Aberdeenshire traveled to hawk their wares.

There were plenty of farmers selling livestock, fresh meat, eggs, and produce, yet several specialist stalls made up the market this morning.

Greer and Inghinn had already visited the soap seller and the couple who sold exotic spices before Greer spotted her favorite cloth merchant.

She’d then dragged her maid over to inspect his wares.

Inghinn muttered an oath under her breath. “I don’t want yer parents thinking I’m taking advantage of yer generous nature.”

Greer snorted, her panic subsiding now that Inghinn heeded her. “They won’t.”

Of course, she couldn’t be sure of any such thing, yet she wouldn’t let fear of her parents’ censure prevent Inghinn from looking a vision in her wedding dress.

Turning to the merchant, she smiled. These days, smiles were an effort, yet she forced herself to keep up a facade.

No one needed to see the sadness that dogged her steps.

“I’ll have three feet of that emerald ribbon, please. ”

The merchant grinned back. “Right away, Lady Greer.”

“Three feet?” Inghinn asked. “Do we really need that much?”

“Aye.” Greer swiveled around and pinned her maid with a stern look. “I wish to use some of the ribbon as flourishes on yer surcote.”

Inghinn nodded, excitement sparking in her eyes as her worries about proprieties faded just a little.

The truth was her maid had loved the last few days.

The two of them had been working on one of Greer’s surcotes, adjusting it so the gown and the kirtle underneath fitted Inghinn perfectly.

However, it still was a little plain for a wedding dress; they both knew the ribbon would be a lovely addition.

Paying for her purchase, Greer waited while the merchant packaged it up. She then handed it over to her maid and waved to Captain Errol.

As always, her shadow waited a few yards away, keeping an eye on the clan-chief’s daughter as she wandered the market.

It was hardly necessary though. Not in Rhynie, which she knew like the back of her hand, and where the locals all looked out for her. Indeed, the real reason the captain had jumped at the chance to join them this morning was because Inghinn was accompanying Greer.

His walnut-brown eyes gleamed as he approached the women, his gaze then meeting that of his bride-to-be.

A long look passed between them, and Greer’s mouth curved.

Their respective duties at the castle kept them apart most of the time, yet, after their marriage, Inghinn would move into Errol’s quarters in one of the guard towers.

Greer’s attention flicked to her maid then, and she spied the longing there.

“Why don’t ye take a few moments at the Easaiche Arms together?” she suggested lightly. “Ye can enjoy an ale while I finish browsing.”

Inghinn stiffened. “We can’t walk off and leave ye, Lady Greer.”

“No, we can’t,” Errol agreed, his dark brows drawing together.

“Nonsense,” Greer replied with an airy wave of her hand. “I’m perfectly safe here. Now, off ye go. I shall find ye when I’m ready.”

She’d deliberately used an imperious tone; one she’d heard her mother wield many a time with servants. One that warned against being argued with. Greer then moved off, toward the next stall, which sold beautiful glazed pottery, dismissing them.

It did the trick, for when Greer glanced over her shoulder again, Inghinn and Errol had headed off in the direction of the inn.

Inghinn looked back at Greer then. Catching her eye, Greer winked. Her maid had been doggedly loyal over the years and had put aside her own wishes to serve the Forbes clan-chief and his family. As had Errol. It was time the two of them were paid back for their loyalty.

They knew she was safe here too. She wouldn’t wander off.

In truth, it was a relief just to be by herself for a while. When she was on her own, she didn’t have to pretend; she didn’t have to plaster a smile on her face.

Browsing the stalls, Greer took in the familiar sights, sounds, and smells of the market: the honking and bleating of livestock; the chatter of local voices; the smell of earth and ripe cheese; and the tanned, friendly faces of the men and women buying and selling.

Usually, Greer felt part of it all, but this morning, she watched the bustle from a distance.

She no longer belonged to these lands.

She’d left her heart, and a part of herself too, behind in Dun Ugadale.

She’d soon leave Druminnor behind as well. It was just two moons until Samhuinn—until she would travel to Dunrobin Castle and become Malcolm Sutherland’s wife.

Greer’s breathing grew shallow.

She still couldn’t accept the idea. Even after spending a few days with Sutherland, she wasn’t comfortable with him.

He tried his best to engage her and had even sought her out a few times when she took a stroll with her father’s dogs or worked in her mother’s rose garden.

The direct way he looked at Greer and his frequent smiles told her that he was pleased with his choice of bride.

But Greer felt nothing for him. Sutherland’s presence at Druminnor only served to make her despair grow. And all the while, she continued to long for Brodie.

But her yearning for the impossible sometimes made it difficult to breathe.

Her betrothed was due to depart for the north tomorrow. Today, however, he was off on another hunting trip with her father.

Greer lingered over her browsing. Leaving a stall that sold a variety of wonderful cheeses, she spied a vendor selling honey in front of an alleyway that led between two buildings.

Honey was one of Greer’s favorite things, especially blossom honey, with its floral flavor and creamy texture.

In the past, she’d have gotten excited about such a stall, yet today, she found it hard to summon any enthusiasm.

Irritation bubbled up then. This melancholy couldn’t continue. Enough moping , she chastised herself. Life still goes on, and so must ye .

Perhaps she would buy some honey to have on her morning bannocks. Her mother loved it too and would be grateful.

Welcoming the distraction, she headed toward the honey vendor.

A crowd gathered around the stall as two women haggled with the vendor over a large pot of heather honey. Greer would have to join a queue, yet she didn’t mind. She always enjoyed watching some lively bartering.

However, she was halfway across the space between the two stalls when a strong arm slid around her shoulders. An instant later, a familiar, gruff voice rumbled in her ear. “Good morning, Greer.”

She stumbled, her heart lurching into her throat. Her chin kicked up, and then she was staring into a pair of warm hazel eyes. “Brodie,” she gasped. “What the—”

“Not here, lass,” he murmured. “Too many curious eyes.” His hold tightened a fraction then as he led her past the haggling women and into the alleyway.

Greer’s heart started to pound. She couldn’t believe it. Brodie was here . Questions jumbled around in her head, yet she bit her tongue. He was right, they needed some privacy. They kept walking, ducking behind lines of drying washing that shielded them from view.

And as soon as they were hidden, Brodie stopped short, pushed Greer up against the wall, and kissed her hungrily.

She returned his embrace with equal lustiness, going up on tiptoe as she wound her arms around his neck.

When they’d kissed in his forge nearly a month earlier, she’d let him take the lead. Yet the memory of Brodie’s hot kisses emboldened her, and she eagerly stroked his tongue with hers before gently biting his lower lip—only to be rewarded by a low groan from him.

Eventually, they pulled apart, both gasping for breath.

Greer gazed up at him, her hands splaying over Brodie’s chest. To her, he’d never looked more handsome.

He wore a leather vest over a lèine tucked into braies.

His hair was a little longer, his skin more deeply tanned than when she’d seen him last, and a dark shadow of stubble covered his strong jaw.

“I don’t understand,” she panted. “How is that ye are here?”

His mouth quirked. In this light, his eyes seemed more green than hazel; she’d noted that they often shifted hue when he was in the grip of strong emotion. “I owe ye another apology, lass,” he said huskily.

Greer’s lips parted. “Ye rode all this way to tell me ye are sorry?”

“Aye … some apologies must be made in person.” His expression sobered, and he lifted a hand, his fingertips tracing her cheek. “I treated ye badly on the morning of yer departure from Dun Ugadale … and I have hated myself for it ever since.”

She swallowed. “I understood why ye acted as ye did, ye know?”

He nodded. “Aye, but that doesn’t make it right.” His fingers continued to stroke her cheek and jawline. “Ye don’t deserve to be treated so.” His features tightened. “Ye are everything that is bonnie and bright in this world, Greer … and when ye walked out of my life, ye took the sunlight with ye.”

Greer continued to stare up at him, her breathing hitching. She would never have expected such an admission from Dun Ugadale’s ill-tempered blacksmith—a man with walls more impenetrable than Stirling Castle.

“And I’ve missed ye,” she whispered after a breathless pause. “More than I could ever express.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Ye are much better with words than I am.”

She arched an eyebrow. “After that admission? I think not.”

His throat bobbed. “I’ve had plenty of time over the past days to decide what to say to ye.

I arrived here two days ago and was trying to think of a way of meeting ye in secret.

I thought to myself: where would a pretty lass with a love of life go?

Then I heard that the last market of the month was approaching …

and I knew ye would likely travel here, to the village, for it. ”

“Ye made a clever guess,” Greer replied. “And ye did well to stay away from Druminnor … Malcolm Sutherland is currently a guest.”

Brodie’s features tightened, his gaze darkening. “He is?”

“Aye … he’s out hunting with Da today and departs for the north tomorrow.”

“And yer wedding date?” Brodie asked roughly.

“Two days after Samhuinn … it will take place at Dunrobin Castle.”

Silence fell between them then, those words hanging in the air like a death sentence.

Suddenly, nausea swept over Greer, and she swallowed, hard. Lord, it felt as if she were being buried alive and this man was the only one who could pull her free. Brodie represented everything she’d never dared to hope for: freedom, courage, and passion. True belonging.

She stood at a crossroads now, and she had to make the most important choice of her life.

Greer didn’t ponder the decision for long though, for her heart knew what it wanted. Enough of doing what was expected of her—it was time to be defiant. “I’m not wedding Sutherland,” she said, breaking the silence. “It’s ye I want.”