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"Where is Bruard?" she asked hesitantly.

"Inland from Skye, well north of here."

So no chance of any casual meeting once he left.

And this mysterious Innish he aimed to visit, that was even further away. Without the storm, she’d never have met him. The storm or fate.

Having flung him before her like a gift from the sea, fate now seemed determined to send him away again. So cruel.

"Did ye leave your wife at Bruard?"

She feared she was being obvious, but his ready answer gave no hint that he questioned her motives in asking. "Och, lassie, I’m no’ married. No’ yet."

That was a relief. At least there was no Mrs. Drummond at home who owned his heart. "Do ye have family on Innish?"

The faraway look appeared again. "No."

She had a horrible suspicion that there might be a lady on Innish, a rival for his affections. When he’d spoken of marriage, the "not yet" betrayed future intentions, she couldn’t help thinking.

Kirsty told herself it was daft to be so convinced that this was the laddie for her after just one meeting. But her stubborn heart wouldn’t listen to reason. When she looked at Dougal Drummond, her stubborn heart said "mine, all mine."

Around them, the village and small harbor started to come to life. At this time of year, the

re was little fishing, but on a fair if cold day like this, the old timers liked to sit in front of the small tavern and watch the world go by. Johnny Garrett had already found his place on the bench and observed Kirsty and Mr. Drummond with unconcealed curiosity. The stranger’s arrival would soon be news throughout the island. And Kirsty had no doubt the crofters would guess just what made the laird’s daughter blush and flutter.

"The house is at the end of the village. Will ye come away with me now, Mr. Drummond?"

"With pleasure, Miss Macbain. And I appreciate your kindness to a chance-met stranger."

"It’s the Highland way," she said dismissively. "I’m sure if I washed up at Bruard, you’d do the same."

Could she follow him back to his home and engineer another meeting? What use, if his heart was engaged elsewhere?

"But he belongs to me," said that insistent little voice in her heart.

No, he’s leaving. And he’ll never come back. Instead, some horrible witch who lives on Innish will get to enjoy all his kisses and his sweet declarations and his smiles, while I’m left bereft and lonely, here on Askaval.

Life just wasn’t fair.

Chapter 2

Dougal watched the unusual lassie strut ahead of him, leading her pony. He’d never seen a girl in boy’s clothes before. The effect should be shocking, but something about the way the doeskin breeches clung to her graceful curves fascinated him. Which was odd, because until now his taste in females had tended toward the helpless and feminine and clinging. Pretty wee flibbertigibbets who appreciated a strong man’s arm to support them as they tottered through life.

His gaze dwelled on the sway of Miss Macbain’s hips as she walked. Until he reminded himself that he was a knight on a holy quest and lusting after nubile maidens in tight clothes did him no credit.

It took more effort than it should to drag his attention up to consider his surroundings. And just in the nick of time, too.

Miss Macbain turned to check on his progress. "I’m sure ye are more than ready for a hot meal, Mr. Drummond."

The line of houses along the quay was neat and well kept. One large blackhouse seemed to be some sort of hostelry, if the old codgers sitting outside and clutching tankards of ale were any indication. All called out a greeting to his unconventional guide, who answered with an ease that hinted at untroubled relations between the laird and his tenants.

The boats moored in the harbor were in equally fine shape. The fields stretching over the hills were marked off with fences in good repair, and the sheep in their thick winter wool looked plump and healthy. There was a bit of debris from the storm, but Dougal could see any damage was superficial.

"Are ye hungry, Mr. Drummond?"

"Och, lassie, if ye’d care to pour some gravy on my boat, I’d eat it in one bite," he said with a smile as he caught up with her.

She laughed. "Ye were lucky to make it to shore."


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical