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“They’re as foolish as you are, mo cridhe.”

Hamish had told her mo cridhe meant “my heart” and mo leannan meant “my beloved.” She knew she shouldn’t quiver with delight every time Kylemore used the endearments, but she couldn’t help it.

He was right. She was most definitely a foolish lassie.

Kylemore crossed to take her hand and lead her toward the couch in front of the grate. A fire was a constant feature now the year drew in.

“I want to talk to you.”

He didn’t sound as if he had anything serious on his mind. He lounged against the cushions like a young sultan contemplating his favorite concubine.

“For the last time, I don’t want to learn to ride.” She sat next to him.

“No, it’s something else.” He raised the hand he held and placed a kiss on her palm. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

She gave a husky laugh and leaned forward to press her mouth briefly to his. How she loved this physical ease. It bubbled under the surface of her new life as an ever-flowing source of joy.

“You’ve only been away for the afternoon.”

“I know, but I still missed you.” Gently, he folded her fingers closed as if to keep his kiss safe.

“Now who’s foolish?” She reached up to stroke the silky dark hair back from his face. “Shall I cut your hair tonight? You’re turning into a shaggy Highlander. I find myself quite terrified of you.”

“My valet at Kylemore Castle sees to such tasks.”

“Yes, but…” Then, as though she staggered under a punch, she understood the significance of what he’d just said. “Kylemore Castle,” she repeated, although she’d heard him perfectly clearly.

“Autumn’s closing in, Verity. We can’t stay over winter. The place is uninhabitable and totally inaccessible. Not to mention colder than an ice cave in Hades.”

He spoke as if what he said was reasonable, while in reality, it rang the death knell to all her happiness.

“I…I see,” she said shakily.

And of course, she did.

Their idyll had lasted a little over three weeks. Twenty-two short days. Such a paltry reward for her lonely years of struggle.

It wasn’t fair, she wanted to rage although she’d come to terms with life’s essential unfairness at fifteen.

Just another week. Another day.

I’m not ready to give you up yet.

And all the while, she knew no reprieve would ever be enough unless it promised forever. And forever couldn’t be.

“So can you be ready to leave tomorrow?” Still that calm voice went on as if he didn’t crush her with every measured word. “Angus and Andy have left to sail the boat in from the coast. They and Hamish travel with us. The others will pack up the house and follow when the boat returns to collect them.”

“So soon?” she whispered. Once she’d loathed every blade of grass in this valley. Now it broke her heart to leave.

Oh, Verity, a voice inside her whispered. It’s not leaving the valley that breaks your heart and you know it.

“This far north, the weather can turn in an i

nstant. I want to be sure I get you out safely.”

“Yes,” she said dully. “Of course I’ll be ready.”

At her side, hidden from his eyes, her free hand clenched into a fist as she battled for control.


Tags: Anna Campbell Historical