Page 57 of To Love a Scottish Lord (Highland Lords #4)

She entwined her fingers with his, realizing, suddenly, that they were moving. Surprised, she gripped his left hand. This morning, she’d insisted upon massaging his arm. But this was the first time she’d seen any change in his condition.

“I’ve been having some sensation,” he admitted. “Like a tingling.”

“Can you move your arm?” she asked, excited.

He shook his head. “No. Just the fingers and only a little.”

“Still, it’s more than you had,” she said, smiling at him. “This is the very best news, Hamish,” she said, bending to press a kiss to his palm.

He raised her head and kissed her mouth. She surrendered without much protest, wrapping her arms around his neck.

There it was again.

“Don’t you hear that?” she asked, pulling back. “Like thunder, but the sky is clear.”

She glanced out the window, staring at the sight before her eyes.

“Is that Gilmuir?” she asked, finding it difficult to swallow.

Hamish followed her look, and nodded. “Not quite as I remember,” he admitted. “But yes, that’s Gilmuir.”

She had imagined it to be large, and it was. But she’d never realized that it might dominate the land on which it sat, or envisioned the blue loch that surrounded it on three sides. The glen rose from the land bridge, became hills that were nevertheless dwarfed by the magnificence of Gilmuir.

Hamish tapped on the top of the coach, a signal for the driver to stop. The horses slowed and then halted, the coach wheels rolling backward and then finally stopping.

Opening the door, he unfurled the steps and turned to help Mary down from the carriage.

“My father used to stop in this very place every year,” he said. “His mother was a MacRae, but she married an English earl. One of the conditions she arranged before their marriage was that she return every summer to Gilmuir with her son.”

Mary didn’t say a word, looking as awed as he felt.

He hadn’t seen Gilmuir for three years, but it might have been a century.

Alisdair had expanded the old castle until it took up most of the promontory.

No one, seeing the behemoth of a building his brother had created, would be able to remember the ruins that had once stood on this spot.

Most of the scaffolding was gone, and in its place was a four-towered structure that dominated the countryside.

In the middle of the new Gilmuir was a huge courtyard, spanned by an arch and framing the view of the loch. Hamish wondered if the staircase to the secret cove still existed or if Alisdair had built another way down to what was now his shipyard. They’d find out shortly.

“Well, Mary MacRae, shall we go home to Gilmuir?”

She looked momentarily disconcerted.

“Your new name sounds right,” Hamish said, smiling at her.

“It feels right,” she said, returning the smile.

They both got into the carriage again for the descent through the glen.

A circular drive curved in front of a wide flight of steps. At the top were two broad, heavily carved oak doors, flanked by a pair of lanterns mounted on tall iron poles. Similar lanterns lined the road from the glen. At night, the approach to Gilmuir would be both dramatic and welcoming.

Hamish opened the door before the driver could dismount, and helped Mary from the carriage. Taking his hand, she held her skirts with the other and mounted the steps to Gilmuir beside him.

A moment later, she heard the booming sound once again.

“What’s that noise?”

“Cannon,” Hamish said, identifying the sound. He descended the steps and stood in the courtyard staring out at the loch. There, on the horizon, was a ship, and from the puffs of smoke dissipating as it drew near, it was also clearly the source of the noise.

Mary joined him, shading her eyes from the bright sun.

“Why are they firing on us?” Mary asked, wondering where the inhabitants of Gilmuir were and why they weren’t alarmed by the noise.

“They’re not,” he said, bemused. “They’re signaling.”

“But why?”

“To announce their arrival.”

“Who?”

“My father.” He turned to Mary. “You’re about to meet my parents,” he said, beginning to smile.

“There were times I despaired of ever seeing you again,” a voice said from behind him. Hamish turned and greeted his oldest brother; the first time he’d seen him for three years.

Alisdair surveyed his face in silence.

“I’d heard you’d been tortured. Is that true?”

Hamish’s smile faded. “Did Brendan tell you that?”

“Our brother has been suspiciously silent, Hamish. But his crew has not.”

“What you heard was true enough, Alisdair.”

A little girl followed by a toddler came running from the castle. Their feet flew over the grass, and Hamish was reminded of tales his mother had told, of growing up at Gilmuir as a child.

They ran to Alisdair, and he greeted them with a laugh as each gripped one of his legs. Both had silky black hair, and their features marked them as Alisdair’s children, just as the intense blue eyes of the youngest child decreed him a MacRae.

“Aislin you’ll remember,” Alisdair said, ruffling the hair of his daughter. “And this little lad is Robert.”

Hamish knelt until he was eye-level with both children.

“Well,” he said smiling at the little girl, “I knew about you. In fact, I was here not long after you were born. But I had no idea about Robert.”

“We call him Robbie,” Aislin offered.

“I can talk,” Robbie said indignantly.

That was, however, the extent of their conversation.

Hamish glanced over his shoulder, realizing he’d been rude. Standing, he drew Mary forward, placing his arm around her while he introduced her to his brother.

“I’d like you to meet my wife, Mary,” he said.

Alisdair looked as surprised as Hamish had been at the sight of his brother’s children. However, he hid it faster.

“You’re the Angel of Inverness,” he said.

“She doesn’t like to be called that,” Hamish said protectively.

Alisdair didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Welcome,” Alisdair said, extending both hands to Mary. She placed hers in his. “You’re welcome to Gilmuir and to the family,” he said warmly.

“Did you know they were coming?” Hamish asked, glancing out to sea once more. The vessel was the Ionis; the flag it flew identified it as the flagship of their merchant fleet. Only one man was entitled to fly that pennant, and his father did so rarely, since he disliked being at sea.

“I didn’t,” Alisdair said, turning to look at the loch. “But I’m glad of it. I never thought that they’d come home to Scotland.”

“Nor I.”

“They’ll need to dock on the other side of the necklace of rocks and come around by land. We’ve hours until they arrive. Why don’t we go inside, and you can greet Iseabal. I expect James today or tomorrow.”

Hamish must have looked surprised, because Alisdair smiled. “We’ve been watching their ship since it entered the firth,” he said. “What about Brendan?”

“He’s on his way,” Hamish said. “He’s doing an errand for me.”

All day, he had tried to keep Mary’s thoughts from the verdict, and he knew he’d been only partially successful. When Alisdair looked quizzical, Hamish realized he’d have to tell his older brother the story.

Mary slipped her hand in his. He clasped it tightly, and together they walked toward Gilmuir.