“You sound so upset, Heather. I thought lasses were impressed by such things.”
“I am upset! This marriage is meant to be a convenience to thwart my uncle’s plans. But you failed to tell me that I’d be annoying an earl in the bargain. You said your father wishes you to marry another.”
“Aye, but he can’t dictate everything that goes on here. You’ll be a breath of fresh air, Heather.”
“Why do I get the feeling that not everyone will feel as you do?”
“Give it an hour, then. Who couldn’t love you?” He smiled at her, and she wished she had his confidence.
The carriage rushed onward. At the gaping maw of the keep’s front door, Tavish brought the carriage to a halt. Several people stood outside, most dressed as servants or in common clothes, but one was clearly a lady.
Niall leaned over to Heather, his breath stirring her hair and tickling her ear. “The one in front, that’s Maeve,” he explained. “My little sister.”
As soon as they got out of the carriage, the tall woman with long auburn hair stepped up to Niall, scolding him even while putting out her hands to take his own. “Can you not ever learn to use a pen? We had no idea when you’d return.”
“I rushed the whole way,” he replied, embracing her. “What was the point of writing when I knew I’d beat my own letters back?”
“You will never change,” she chided affectionately. Then she gave Heather a polite but intensely curious glance. “And this is?”
“My darling Maeve, please meet Heather. We got married a few days ago,” he added, in an offhand way.
She blinked. “What?”
“Married. It’s a sort of ceremony. Usually in a church, though we had ours in front of the smithy at Gretna Green.”
“You got married?” his sister gasped. “At Gretna Green? And to anEnglishlass?”
Niall patted her shoulder, grinning like he just told the best joke in the world. “Aye. That I did and I don’t regret it for a moment.”
“Sweet Lord, she’s wearing Mam’s ring,” Maeve said, regarding Heather’s hand in shock.
“Oh, yes I am,” Heather said quickly. “Niall gave it to me…as part of the wedding. Um, how do you do? I’m Heather Hayes…well, Heather MacNair, that is.”
Maeve just continued to gaze at her, rendered speechless.
“Well,” Niall said with false heartiness. “Let’s go in, shall we? Heather, wouldn’t you like to see your new home?”
“I truly don’t know,” Heather murmured.
They entered, Niall shepherding Heather along as she tried to take in the surroundings. Mostly she got the impression of massive, medieval stone and heavy shadows. Though it wasn’t gloomy—it was far too populated to be gloomy.
Housemaids moved to and fro, and footmen traipsed about on various errands. A giant of a man bearing a long rifle strode by. He stopped to greet Niall respectfully, and offered a bow to Heather. Of all the people so far, he was the first to take the news of “Mrs. MacNair” in stride.
“Ach, welcome to Carregness, ma’am. I’ll have to bring back something special for your first feast here. Do ye like venison?”
“I think so,” Heather replied. “Though in truth I can’t remember the last time I had it.” The last few years under her uncle’s guardianship were not exactly times of extravagance—she usually ate mutton or fish. And at Wildwood Hall the fare was plain, though plentiful. Mrs. Bloomfield believed that girls didn’t benefit from exotic foods. They required fresh, filling meals to keep them growing and happy. “Are you gameskeeper here?”
He chuckled. “Aye, ma’am. I bring the forest to the table…and keep the poachers at bay.”
“We don’t have poachers,” Niall objected.
“Aye, sir, because you have me!”
It was clearly a long-running joke between them. Niall wished him good hunting and they continued inside. Heather was heartened by the encounter, but once they reached the great hall—a massive space with clerestory windows, heavy roof beams, and an army’s worth of weaponry on the walls—Heather got nervous again.
A man who looked nearly the twin of Niall stood up from where he’d been sitting at a table near a dark-haired lady.
“Ian!” Niall called. “I’m back.”
