Anne fell in love with Scotland on sight.

That she had Ranald at her side probably had a lot to do with it, as well as the fact that her entire family had made the move to the Highlands together. They’d closed up Sinclair House and left London once and for all.

Hamish hadn’t wanted to travel once he’d discovered the news about Elizabeth’s tender condition—she’d thrown up on him, actually—but Elizabeth had insisted she was fine and couldn’t wait to start their new life. Their wedding at St. James’s had been attended by the entire ton, which was directly attributed to the Duchess of Moncrieff and Lady Jersey, both of whom had touted it as the event of the season and not to be missed.

Aunt Esmeralda had been in her glory.

Though she seemed excited about the move to Scotland as well. At least Anne hoped she was excited about the move. But it could have been the fact that three of her four nieces were—at this very moment—preparing to provide her with grandnieces and nephews. She was over the moon about that as well.

Victoria and Peter were the only holdouts, because they planned to marry in Scotland so Peter’s sister, Catherine Mackay, could attend the wedding.

It was all so very delightful.

“You’re smiling,” Ranald whispered into her ear as they trundled along in the last leg of their journey.

“Am I?” Anne squeezed his hand. “I’m just pleased at how everything turned out.”

“I am gratified to hear it.” His lips were warm on hers.

Ah. She loved him.

“I’m pleased we found each other—”

“So gratified to hear it—”

“But I’m pleased for everyone as well.”

“As am I. No doubt the duke will be pleased as well.”

“And heaven forfend the duke not be pleased.”

“Indeed.”

Anne huffed a happy sigh. “Elizabeth and Hamish are so in love.”

“Aye. They are.”

“And Mary and Jamison.”

“He’s a good lad.”

“Victoria and Peter.” She smiled at him. “But mostly I’m so happy my whole family will be close. I hated the thought of being separated.”

“You’ll never be separated from them again.” He grinned. “Unless you want to. Fortunately, my house is large.”

She chuckled. “They won’t all live with us.”

“Of course not. I was referring to Aunt Esmeralda.”

She smacked him. Jesting about Esmeralda had become a hobby of his.

Surely he was jesting . . .

She glanced out the window, and something captured her attention. A beautiful brick mansion on the shores of a glimmering blue loch. She caught her breath. She’d seen some lovely sights on their journey through Scotland, but this was breathtaking.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

She caught his eye and breathed, “I do.”

“Well, welcome home, my darling. This is Bowermadden.”

It couldn’t be. She gaped at him. “It’s huge.”

“I did say it was huge.”

“You didn’t mention how huge.” They took a corner and her attention snapped to what appeared to be a party on the lawn. “Who are those people?”

Ranald grinned. “The welcoming committee, nae doubt.”

Anne’s heart swelled. A welcoming committee? How . . . charming.

“My friends and I want you all to feel at home,” he said, kissing her forehead. When the carriage rolled to a halt in the grand circular drive, he hopped out and offered her his hand. “Shall we?” There was an expression on his face that caught her heart. One of hope and anticipation and welcome. It was so moving, it made her want to weep. But of course she couldn’t weep. It wouldn’t be seemly. Instead, she tipped up her chin and sent him a grin and joined her husband on the drive.

As she stepped down, a tall, stately dark-haired man and a delicate blond woman—with an enormous belly—came up to greet them.

Ranald grinned and bowed before the man. “Your Grace.”

Anne stared at him, taken utterly by surprise. He did not dress like a duke—at least not the dukes she’d met in London. In fact, he was wearing a kilt and he looked . . . rumpled, but in a very comfortable way. His smile was warm and welcoming and he had a charming twinkle in his eye.

“May I have the pleasure of presenting your cousin, Lady Anne Bower, formerly Anne St. Claire.”

The duke held out his hand, and, with hardly any hesitation, Anne took it. He grinned at her and then, instead of kissing it, pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her cheek. “I canna tell you how pleased I am to finally meet you,” he said. He shot a look at Ranald and added, “And to hear of your wedding. Well done, my friend. Well done.”

The lovely woman at the duke’s side huffed. “Since neither of these gentlemen seem inclined to do so, I shall introduce myself,” she said, though Anne had already guessed she was the duchess. It was easy now to see why the duke had not wanted to leave her side. “I am Lana. I canna wait to get to know you better, cousin.” She also kissed Anne on the cheek.

“Ah,” the duke said with a grimace as he glanced at the others, disembarking from their various coaches. “There is Esmeralda. We had better greet her posthaste.”

“Indeed you should,” Ranald said with a laugh. “She will be put out that she was not the first to meet you.”

As the two strolled away, the group that had been on the lawn reached them. Catherine and Duncan arrived first. The former had a quick hug for Anne and then, after a few words of greeting, tugged her husband away because she’d spotted Elizabeth.

Anne didn’t mind the desertion in the least as Catherine and Elizabeth were the best of friends and had a lot of catching up to do since Catherine’s kidnapping and both their subsequent marriages. Besides, another lady, with a friendly smile and beautiful black curls, stepped up to take her place.

“You must be Anne,” she said with a smile. “I’m Hannah.” She didn’t allow a handshake. She came right in for a hug. “I feel as though I know you already. Welcome.”

“Hannah Lochlannach is the Baroness of Dunnet,” Ranald told her. “Here’s her husband, Alexander.”

To Anne’s shock, the baron, an enormous muscled man with harsh features and gentle eyes, hugged her as well.

“Ach! And here’s Andrew!” From Ranald’s tone, it was clear he and the man with white-blond hair were good friends. “If he looks familiar, it’s because he’s Alexander’s brother.”

“Lady Bower.” Andrew bent over her hand and then, when he met her eye, he winked. “Welcome to the family.” If her heart hadn’t been full to bursting, it would have been then.

“Thank you for such a warm welcome.”

“I am just pleased to see Ranald wed,” Andrew said with another wink. It was clearly an affliction he had. “After all, why should he no’ suffer with the rest of us?”

“Well, really.” This from the stunning redhead who stood behind Andrew.

He pulled a mock grimace. “Ach. You dinna hear that, did you, my darling?”

“You know damn well I did.” She frowned at him and then smiled at Anne. “I’m Susana Lochlannach. This oaf”—she jerked a thumb at Andrew—“is my beloved husband.”

Ranald leaned in. “Susana is also Hannah’s sister.”

“We married brothers,” Susana said with a mock sigh. “God only knows why.”

“Because you have excellent taste?” Andrew said, flashing some seriously wicked dimples. “And may I mention, you undoubtedly got the better end of the deal.”

To which Susana rolled her eyes.

“Where is Catriona?” Ranald asked, scanning the children playing on the lawn.

“Doona worry,” Susana said. “She and Isobel were bored, so they went hunting.”

Ranald’s nostrils flared. “Hunting?”

“No’ to worry.” Andrew clapped him on the shoulder. “We dinna give them weapons.”

“Ah . . . what a relief,” Ranald said, but he looked a little green.

“Look,” Susana said. “Here they come now.”

Anne followed her gaze to the edge of the woods, where two small girls had emerged from the trees and were running toward the coaches. One had white-blond hair that matched Andrew’s and the other had beautiful burnished locks of red that Anne would recognize anywhere. “There she is,” she whispered, and Ranald tightened his hold on her hand.

“There she is.”

“Papa!” Catriona picked up her pace when she spotted her father, then launched herself into his arms.

Anne watched with joy—and a hint of trepidation—as the two hugged.

She and Ranald were so happy together . . . but what if Catriona didn’t like her? How horrible would that be?

She held her breath as Ranald, with Catriona still in his arms, turned to face her.

“Here she is,” he said, but Anne was unsure which of them he was talking to.

The girl studied her with a somber expression on her face. “She’s my new mama?” she asked dubiously.

Anne’s heart plummeted to her toes. She shot a panicked look at her husband, and to her annoyance, he grinned. “She is.”

Catriona nibbled on her lower lip. She studied Anne for far too long. “Do you like puppies or kittens?” she finally asked in a tone that implied the question might decide the fate of the world.

Anne stared at her for a moment, knowing her answer could determine whether or not this child would accept her. It was a heavy weight to bear. But she had to tell the truth. “I . . . ah . . . love them both.”

Relief gushed through her as Catriona’s face blossomed with delight. “Excellent.” She patted her father on the cheek. “I told you I need a puppy.”

Ranald grimaced, but Anne could tell it was in mock dismay. His daughter wiggled to get down and then she ran over to Anne and took her hand.

With a wink, the little imp said, “I think we shall get along famously.”

And they did.

Oh my, they did.