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T here was no sight more uplifting than the first glimpse of Strathburn Castle, nestled in the foothills of Beinn Urraim. The carriage rounded a corner and Murdo’s heart sang as the turrets came into view, pale gray against the backdrop of fir trees.

“What do ye think?” he asked.

Clara leaned out of the window, and Murdo held his breath in anticipation. Then he spotted the duchess watching him with her sharp, intelligent eyes.

“It’s beautiful!” Clara exclaimed. “It looks like a fairytale castle. And the mountain stretches up into the sky!”

“Careful, lass.” Murdo caught her hand. “I wouldn’t want ye tumbling out.”

The carriage hit a rut and lurched sideways, and she fell into his arms, laughing. Unable to resist, he lowered his mouth to hers. The duchess averted her gaze, but the smile on her lips spoke of her approval.

In fact, both the duke and duchess approved.

When the duke had ordered Murdo into his study, he’d imagined the older man challenging him to a duel.

But, after questioning Murdo’s intent, he grasped Murdo’s hand in a surprisingly firm grip and told him that were he to make Clara happy, then he had his blessing.

The moment had then been tempered by a soft-voiced affirmation that, were Murdo to harm a hair on Clara’s head, the duke would hunt him down and shoot him like a dog.

But if anything, the threat—or rather, promise , given the determination in the duke’s eyes—made Murdo respect him even more. Irrespective of whether Clara was his daughter by blood, the man loved her with a ferocity capable of bringing a battalion to its knees.

As the carriage reached the castle and drew to a halt, Clara stiffened and straightened in her seat.

A lone woman stood before the entrance. She came forward as Murdo opened the carriage door.

“I was wondering where ye’d got to, lad,” she said. “Yer letter said ye’d arrive before noon, and it’s after six.”

“We stopped for luncheon at an inn.”

“The Covenanter in West Newton?” She shook her head. “Why waste yer money when there’s a perfectly good meal waiting for ye at home?”

“Forgive me, Joan,” he said.

“It’s Mrs. Grant when we have guests, lad,” she said. Then she pulled him into an embrace. “Welcome home. Well, where is she? Let me take a look at her.”

Murdo exited the carriage then held out his hand. “Ye can come out, Clara.”

She climbed out, slipping on the bottom step. Blushing, she dipped into a curtsey.

“Pleased to meet you,” she said.

“Och, lass, I’m only the housekeeper!” Joan said. “Let’s take a look at ye, then. Aye, ye’re a bonny thing, all right. I can see why ye’ve captured the young master’s heart.”

“This is Clara,” Murdo said. “My fiancée.”

“I know that from yer letter,” Joan replied. “Though ye’d best wait until the laird’s taken a look at her before ye address her as yer fiancée.” She smiled at Clara. “For appearance’s sake, no more, lass.”

Clara’s mother emerged from the carriage. Compared to her blushing, nervous daughter, the duchess exuded a dignity that commanded respect, and the housekeeper lowered into a curtsey.

“This is my fiancée’s mother,” Murdo said, “the Duchess of Pittchester.”

“I-I hope ye enjoy yer stay here, ma’am,” Joan said.

“I’m sure we will, Mrs. Grant,” the duchess replied.

“Well, come inside and I’ll send Brodie to see to yer trunks.”

“Isn’t Duncan about?” Murdo asked. “They’ll be too heavy for Brodie.”

“Duncan’s been on the moors all day. Callum can help Brodie.”

“Where’s James?” Murdo said. “Or my da? I thought they’d be here to greet our guests.”

“Yer brother will be with Duncan. As for yer da, he’s visiting the McCallum. Furious he was when he left, so I daresay he’ll not be back until morning, now.”

“Why was he angry?”

“He insisted James accompany him, to see Shona McCallum. But James disappeared before breakfast. I swear those two will come to blows before James settles down. But yer da will be delighted ye’ve chosen a bride—and ye’ll be wed in time for the Lughnasadh festival.

” She patted Murdo’s arm. “I always said ye’d beat yer brother to the altar.

Perhaps there’ll be less need for James to take a wife, now. ”

“James will do his duty,” Murdo said.

“Is James your father’s heir?” the duchess asked.

Murdo nodded.

“So you won’t be living here if you’re not to inherit, Mr. McTavish? Will you take a house nearby?”

“Och no, Yer Grace,” Joan said. “All the family lives together. It’s our way.

Except the daughters, of course, who go to live with their husbands’ families.

But Strathburn’s big enough for ye all—and a sackful of bairns in the future.

Now, let’s get ye inside. There’s a nip to the wind, and ye’ll not be used to it, I daresay.

Ye’ll be wanting yer rest after that journey. ”

She led them into the building, yelling for Callum and Brodie. Shortly after, the two young servants appeared from the side of the building and began unloading the trunks from the carriage.

Clara slipped her hand through Murdo’s.

“Will ye mind living with the rest of my family?” he asked. “It’s only my father and brother, and my brother’s family when he marries.”

“Is that why you said you wanted me to meet them before we married?” she asked.

“I wanted to be sure ye liked them.”

“What if they don’t like me ?”

He laughed. “Nonsense! They’ll love ye. Now, would ye like a tour of the castle before supper?”

She gave a shy smile. “I’d love to. It’s going to be my home, isn’t it?”

He captured her lips in a kiss. “Aye, lass. That it is.”

“She’s a fine-looking lass,” the housekeeper said as Murdo waited at the foot of the staircase. “Ye’ve chosen well—better than yer da would have chosen for ye. I’m sure he’ll approve, don’t ye worry.”

“He’ll approve of her fortune.”

The housekeeper frowned. “Surely ye’re not wanting the lass for her fortune?”

“It’s what Da wants.”

“And ye?” she said. “I’d hoped that ye could marry for love, seeing as yer brother…” She shook her head and sighed. “It matters not. James is loyal to the clan. He’ll marry Shona McCallum and be content.”

“Shona’s a fine lass,” Murdo said. “She’ll make him happy.”

“If ye say so,” she said, “and yer English lass will make ye happy.”

“I’m not marrying her for her fortune, Joan,” Murdo said. “I love her.”

“I ken that, lad, seein’ as ye can’t take yer eyes off her. Like a lost puppy, ye are, with yer tongue hanging out. But will she make ye happy for all that she’s an outsider? Is she a good lass?”

“The best,” he said. “She’s wild and free, says what she thinks, would rather be outdoors, and isn’t afraid of hard work.”

“Then perhaps ye’ve found that rare thing.”

“Which is?”

“Yer soul mate. We all have one, but it’s rare to encounter them in the mortal world.”

“James might find his soul mate in Shona McCallum.”

“Och, lad, ye don’t know yer brother at all, do ye?”

Before Murdo could ask her meaning, Clara and the duchess appeared at the top of the staircase.

Murdo caught his breath. She was a beautiful creature anyway, but here, in his home, as she descended the great staircase on which countless ladies of Strathburn had trodden over the years gone past, she was breathtaking.

She fitted. His beloved home seemed to mold itself around her, as if it knew she belonged here, with him.

Joan let out a chuckle. “Besotted, ye are, lad, and rightly so.”

As the two women reached the foot of the stairs, Murdo offered his hand and Clara took it.

“Ladies, would ye like a tour of the castle now ye’ve had yer rest?”

“I’d love that!” Clara replied. “Do we have time before supper?”

“Plenty of time, lass,” he replied. “Mrs. Grant, would ye tell Morag to have supper ready at eight?”

Joan nodded and disappeared along the hallway toward the kitchens.

“We’ll start with the great hall, I think,” Murdo said. He led them toward the high-ceilinged room near the back of the building, overlooking the mountain.

“Oh my, it’s enormous!” Clara said, vibrating with excitement. “And look at that fireplace, Mama!”

In front of the fireplace lay what looked like a bear-sized rug, covered in wiry gray hair. A pair of dark brown eyes appeared at one end. Then a tail moved at the other, thumping on the floor.

“Easy, Buck,” Murdo said, as the deerhound lifted its head up, its ears erect.

Clara approached the animal.

“Careful, lass—he doesn’t take to strangers.”

She crouched beside the dog and extended her hand. “Hello, friend,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’re a beautiful boy, aren’t you? I hope you don’t mind our intruding on your privacy.”

The animal’s tail thumped on the floor. Clara remained still, her hand open, as if to show she meant no harm, and Murdo held his breath as she placed her hand on the creature’s head.

Then the deerhound let out a whine and rolled onto his back.

Clara giggled and rubbed the dog’s chest. “Is that what you want, boy?”

Then the dog scrambled to his feet and nudged Clara with his nose. She teetered sideways and, with a laugh, fell to the floor, wrapping her arms around the animal.

“Buck!” Murdo roared. “To heel!”

The dog flattened his ears and let out a whine. But rather than leap to safety, Clara threw her arms around the animal’s neck.

“Don’t hurt him!” she said, her face twisted with distress. “He’s only being friendly.”

“Release the dog, darling,” the duchess said. “Mr. McTavish wasn’t going to whip him.” She turned to Murdo. “You weren’t, were you?”

“Of course not—but yer daughter…”

“Is perfectly safe, as you see,” the duchess said. “She’s good with animals. You must have seen her with my Lady Athena at home.”

“Lady Athena is a pug,” Murdo said. “Buck’s big enough to knock a grown man sideways.” The dog nestled against Clara, and Murdo smiled. “But it also seems as if he’s astute enough to recognize a friend. Come here, Buck—don’t I get a welcome?”

The dog bounded toward him.

“Been catching any hares in my absence?” Murdo said, scratching the back of Buck’s neck.

The dog thumped its tail against Murdo’s leg, and he laughed.