Dr. Kent opened the door to her office and smiled, welcoming Sophia in with a kiss on each cheek. She was Columbian and looked thirty, despite being forty-five years old. She had olive skin, very short brownish hair and brown expressive eyes. She didn’t dress conservatively; she didn’t talk pompously; she wore just a hint of makeup. She encouraged her patients to call her by her nickname, Mina, and she talked—really talked—during the sessions. And smiled a lot. No stern looks or frowns from Dr. Kent.

Edward was the one who had referred her. Based solely on her appearance and demeanor, Sophia would never have guessed she was a psychiatrist, who graduated from Stanford University, with a doctorate in psychoanalysis from the University of Essex.

“How are you, Sophia?”

“I’ve been better.” Sophia sat in the armchair instead of lying on the couch. She preferred to look at Dr. Kent’s face and the doctor was very comfortable with this arrangement.

Dr. Kent’s trained gaze swept over Sophia’s face. “You look better than yesterday. Much better.”

“I’m trying to convince myself of that as well,” Sophia said wryly.

With her lips twisting ruefully, Dr. Kent sat in her armchair, facing Sophia and crossed her legs. “You know, Sophia, you are human. You don’t have to punish yourself because you can’t always live up to the high standards you set for yourself.”

High standards? You have no idea. Sophia grimaced, “People expect me to behave according to the high expectations I’ve always set. I have always had perfect and model behavior. I—Sophia, the lawyer, the teacher, the heiress, even the widow and the mother…we are myths, hiding our dark secrets under fairy tales.”

“We are here to deconstruct these myths you have created for yourself and shed some light on those supposedly dark secrets of yours.” Dr. Kent smiled and put her elbows on her knees.

“People see what they want to see and they will react to me based on who they want me to be.”

“And who do you want to be, Sophia?” she asked quietly.

I don’t know. Sophia didn’t answer.

“Secrets,” Dr. Kent mused, “they weigh on us. How much are you carrying on your shoulders?”

“A lot,” Sophia breathed.

“You know you need to unburden yourself of your secrets, don’t you?”

“Once secrets are told…their power to wound becomes greater.”

“What hurts more, Sophia? The one time confession of a sin or an unconfessed sin that festers and rots?”

Sophia exhaled a gush of air. “Mina, if one of your patients sat right here in this armchair and told you they had committed a crime—a murder—what would you do? Would you report them to the police?”

Dr. Kent reclined slowly, resting her back on the chair and scanning Sophia’s face. She was very good at reading Sophia’s emotions, because she held nothing back in therapy. But, for the first time, Dr. Kent was puzzled and intrigued by how blank Sophia’s face was, even though her question gave much away. “Sophia, it’s not my position to judge or report a patient. And, without taking circumstances into account, I cannot examine what has led to this supposed act. Tell me, when you take on a new case, do you condemn the person at first sight?”

“Touché,” Sophia smiled. But her smile was gone as quickly as it had come. Sophia took a big envelope from her Hermès bag and handed it to Dr. Kent. “I’ve killed eleven of the men in this photo.”

Dr. Kent had to make an effort to stop her mouth from dropping open. She calmly surveyed the photo, lifted her brown eyes, pinning Sophia with her stare. “You killed these men. Very well. What kind of fantasy is this?”

Sophia looked away from the doctor and broke down sobbing. The words spilled from her mouth as she vomited the whole story. At least, the parts of it she remembered.

“Sophia, sometimes the guilty one is not the person who has committed the crime, but the person who has created the possibility for it to be committed.” Dr. Kent tried to tell her about how nature’s laws were bendable, breakable even, if done for the right reasons and that not all laws were good. She tried to reason with Sophia that other people were responsible for the dark night itself. “Many times, criminals think they have committed a crime bigger than the crime itself, because of their own guilt,” reasoned Dr. Kent.

“Are you trying to tell me that I am not guilty?” Sophia asked, drying her eyes and face. “That the men that were killed are responsible for their own deaths?”

“No, Sophia. I’m just saying that what happened was a consequence of their odious act. And that you think you’ve committed a crime worse than you have just because you have been nurturing a guilt bigger than it should be.”

Sophia could relate to the thought that some souls are full of guilt. “So…”

“Sophia, anyone who knows you and this wretched story will tell you that you have repented. I agree with Edward’s words. You are doing everything you can.”

“I was angry. I wanted to harm them. Don’t you understand, Mina? I wanted to make them suffer for everything they did to Gabriel.”

“Feeling angry is a part of us. It’s a natural response to being attacked, insulted, deceived or frustrated. They killed Gabriel. They made him suffer.”

When Sophia started to shake her head, Dr. Kent held up her hand.

“Let me finish, Sophia. Excessive anger is only a symptom of mental health problems, when it harms you or people around you. This can depend on whether you express your anger, and how you express it. Something happens that makes you angry, you express your anger and then move on. Something very serious happened. You knew the criminals wouldn’t be punished. That made you angry and you expressed it and then moved on.”

“So you are saying that anyone is allowed to take justice into their own hands?”

Dr. Kent shook her head firmly. “No. Never. I’m just saying that what you did is psychologically justifiable. You have to come to terms with it, Sophia, or it can have serious negative consequences in the long run.”

* * *

This is ridiculous.” Sophia stomped her foot on the hall marble floor. “I’m not going to bed in the middle of the day. I want to go riding with the kids. I don’t see why—”

“I said no. No riding. No running.” Alistair frowned at Sophia, crossing his arms over his chest. “Up to the bedroom, Sophia.”

“Stubborn man.” She crossed her arms and frowned up at him, imitating his stance.

“Stubborn woman,” he hissed back.

“Lord Pot meets Lady Kettle.” Lachlann chuckled and grabbed Gabriela and Ariadne by the hand. “Let’s go, girls. Michael, come on. Those two will be here all day.” Alistair’s father left the hall, heading toward the stables, with the children beside him.

“Alistair Connor, that’s a bit over the top, don’t you think?” Alice shook her head at Alistair, amazed at his overbearing protection.

Alistair whipped his head to frown at Alice this time. “Medical orders. Don’t interfere.”

Tavish went to Sophia’s aid. “I’m the doctor here. And I say—” He interrupted his sentence when Alistair stepped in his direction. “Er, I’m going to make a suggestion.”

“Suggest with caution, Tavish Uilleam,” Alistair admonished.

“We could go rowing and then have a picnic by the loch. Sophia could use some fresh air and sunlight. Tomorrow afternoon we could go riding.”

Alistair looked at Sophia and she smiled at him, pleading with her eyes. He couldn’t resist. “Rowing it is then. I’m going to change. Say…in fifteen minutes, by the loch?”

Tavish winked at Sophia and made a face at the back of Alistair’s head. Alice and Sophia walked out of the hall, giggling and whispering conspiratorially.

Leonard, who was silently observing the whole exchange, let out a chortle and slapped Alistair on the back, saying cryptically, “Keep trying, Alistair. Keep trying.”

* * *

I need to talk with my father.” He kissed her quickly on the lips as they arrived from the loch. “I’ll head to the sauna after, and you, my lady, are going to bed for an hour, at least, before dinner. I’ll meet you later in our room, all right?”

“All right.” Sophia stood there admiring Alistair’s well shaped butt as he disappeared behind the double doors to the Laird Library.

“Sophia! Sophia!” She turned her head to see Michael bolting across the great hall toward her with the two girls behind him.

“What are you doing, kids?”

“Will you go outside and play with us? Will you, Sophia?” Ariadne begged. “Uncle Tavish Uilleam, Mummy, and Daddy are on their way to the Spa.”

Sophia looked around and asked Gabriela, “Where is Maria?”

“She went to get a ball with Flannagan. But I want you to come, Mamãe. Please?”

Sophia hesitated.

“It’s still light out. We can play in the Elm Courtyard and Maria and Flannagan can come along too,” Michael suggested. “It’ll be fun.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, laughing as the children jumped and cheered around her. “Just for a little while then.”

The children’s faces lit up, the girls grabbed her by the hands and Sophia ran along with them.