Chapter 1
Istoodinthenorthwesttower of Edleroy Castle, waiting—as I often did this time of day—for news. Usually, a rider would come down our expansive driveway carrying the post. Like a pathetic, pining princess, I’d watch from my perch as it approached and hope or fear for word of any kind. For over three years I had looked out over my beautiful Scotland, waiting.
I could feel the bitterness and resentment setting in. The kind of resentment one feels when they’re left behind or forgotten by the one person in life they thought would always be there.
That person was my true love and future husband, Graham Anderson. He’d left to make a living for us to marry, and I’d promised to patiently wait for him. It took more than patience, however; it required fortitude to wait so long…and mine waned. I felt like I was losing myself. Who was I anymore, other than the girl in the tower?
If I were my old self, I’d tell that girl to stop waiting anddosomething.
“My heart has always belonged to ye, Elsie.”His encouraging words repeated in my memory and comforted me, but only temporarily. In my arrogance, I’d thought waiting for him was nothing. And it had been– at first. I’d had things to occupy me. My sister-in-law, Melody, had a baby, and we doted on little Logan and reveled in the joy of having a child in the castle.
But then Graham wrote that he may be gone another year. Soon after, Graham’s letters stopped altogether. Still, I kept writing, even with nowhere to send the letters. And here I was, left wondering, torn between anger and worry. I closed my eyes as a memory of Graham resurfaced once more.
“I cannae ask ye to wait for me. But…but if I return and have made my fortune, if ye are not attached to another…will ye give me a chance?”
I laughed and readjusted myself on the picnic blanket. We were alone in the sunshine, having been left by Cameron and Melody while they chased down a runaway horse. That drama did not move me, for here was Graham beside me. Telling me his feelings.
“You truly are an eejit,” I said as I placed my hand on his handsome cheek. My fingers tingled at the contact. It was the first time I’d touched him so intimately, and I reveled in it. “I have been waiting for nineteen years. What is one more? But before you go, I wish for a proper proposal. A gentleman would never ask a lady to wait without a clear understanding. Am I wrong?” I grinned at him, knowing he would hear my words as a challenge to his honor.
He sat up straighter and took my hand in his. The gentleness in his mahogany eyes liquified my insides. “Will ye marry me, Elsie? I dinnae think I can live without ye.”
I hoped he saw that my devotion matched his own, that the color of our eyes was not the only similarity between us. “Aye, Graham Anderson. I will be your bride. And you must not keep me waiting too long, for I don’t think I can live without you, either.”
He pulled me closer. Our lips met with tenderness at first, then our emotions overflowed. His hands were on my back as my fingers mussed his neatly styled hair. The rhythm of my heart felt like dozens of cannons firing off one after another, shaking the earth beneathme. We were engaged, and my childhood love had reached fruition. Everything was happening exactly as I wished.
I wiped away an errant tear before it reached my jawline. Far below me, I could see my brother, Cameron, his wife, Melody—large with child—and their son, Logan, playing in the garden. I thought maybe I should join them and find a reason to smile. I was not withdrawn by nature; circumstances drove me to solitude. But as I hesitated, they disappeared. I assumed they had gone inside through the kitchens.
A few minutes later, I watched a carriage make its way down our long driveway toward the castle. It wasn’t the post. I did not recognize the carriage and cursed the hope that began spreading through my extremities like the first buds on a tree in springtime. It pulled to a stop in front of Edleroy Castle. Just as a man stepped out, Cameron and Melody turned the corner, no doubt to see who had arrived.
I stared at the man for a minute before I recognized him. A sudden frost halted the buds of hope from opening, and then they fell from the tree in brown, dying clumps. It was not Graham. It was Graham’s business partner, Arthur Ashby.
No.
It couldn’t be.
But…why else wouldhebe here instead of Graham?
He disappeared inside the castle, and I wasted no time as I rushed down the stairs to meet my fate. As I reached the bottom of the long, spiral staircase, Patrice—my lady’s maid—was coming to retrieve me from my lonely tower.
“Miss…” she began, her face even paler than usual under her numerous freckles. Her green eyes were wide, her red eyebrows raised and pinched together in worry.
“It’s going to be fine, Patrice,” I said with such feeling, I almost believed it myself.
The drawing room was silent as I entered. The tall ceilings above us suddenly made the space feel more like a haunted mausoleum than a castle. I looked from Cameron, to Melody, to Mr. Ashby. Standing next to my brother made Mr. Ashby seem short, but he was likely average, as Cameron was unusually tall. He had well-groomed blond hair that went down to his earlobes, and his clothes were ordinary but carefully pressed. From his lack of wrinkles, I’d guess he was no older than thirty. Overall, a reasonably attractive man who had the appearance of perfect composure. I couldn’t tell whether that was a good or bad sign.
I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows in anticipation, trying to seem unfazed. “Well? Clearly you have come with news, Mr. Ashby. Let’s hear it, then.”
Mr. Ashby cast his startlingly blue eyes around the room before meeting my fervent gaze. I tilted my head to indicate how ready I was to hear him speak.
“I see you know who I am. I wasn’t sure you would, considering our brief meeting in London three years ago.” His tone was not sad or regretful. He sounded confident—cheerful, even. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
He cleared his throat. “Graham regretfully could not come himself. He’s still in the West Indies.”
I interrupted him. “Not dead, then.” My voice was carefully inscrutable.I must keep my emotions at bay until I learn the full truth.
“Erm, no. He is perfectly well…” Mr. Ashby furrowed his brow as if unsure how to react to me. “But he bid me to come deliver this in person.” He held out what appeared to be a letter. “The post has been unreliable…or at least that was our—his—hope when your letters stopped.”
I stared at the letter. Unreliable post indeed. I snatched the letter from his hand and ripped it open without ceremony. After reading through it once, I had half a mind to tear it to shreds.
