The next afternoon, Thea walked beside Lady Clarissa, their arms linked.

Thea had managed to coax the earl’s sister outside for some fresh air and exercise. With any luck, she’d be able to make this part of Lady Clarissa’s routine—for Thea’s part, she always felt refreshed and clear-headed after exerting herself out of doors. Perhaps Lady Clarissa would feel the same.

They’d remained close to the castle, for Thea wasn’t familiar with the surrounding winter-brown hillsides or clumps of forest, nor did she have any desire to return to the inn down the road, and she wasn’t sure if Lady Clarissa could be counted on for directions. So they had made several loops of the castle inside the crumbling remains of the wall, which gave Thea a chance to admire its stark lines in the overcast light of day.

It was something out of one of Ann Radcliff’s gothic novels. The round towers and battlements, built for defense more than comfortable living, were reminders of a far harsher time. The castle’s imposing presence stirred something in her. It seemed well suited to the rugged landscape of the Highlands—as did Edmund MacLainn.

Thea silently chastised herself as they rounded the east side of the castle in silence. She shouldn’t be thinking of the earl in such familiar terms. She shouldn’t be thinking of him at all, yet her mind refused to behave itself.

The man was undeniably handsome, in an untamed way that made the nobility of England seem foppish. He was so rangy and big, every line as imposing and chiseled as this stone castle.

Yet there was a certain gentleness to him as well. He was loving and protective toward his sister, and his evergreen eyes were undeniably intelligent, even when they pierced her with an intensity that sent her stomach tilting and her heart racing.

Thea swallowed hard. Before she’d realized what was happening, some seed of fascination with Edmund had planted itself in her heart. Now it had taken root, but she dared not give a name to the emotion that was beginning to bloom inside her.

She and Lady Clarissa strolled past the tidy stables at the back of the castle, then made their way around the west edge of the keep. As the front of the castle came into view, Lady Clarissa murmured something to the dolls she clutched, then unlooped her arm from Thea’s and knelt to refasten the laces on one boot.

Just then, a smartly dressed man rode up the path leading to the front of the castle. He dismounted smoothly, but before he could reach the keep’s large door, Edmund emerged. Even from more than a dozen paces away, Thea could see surprise flash on his features when his gaze landed on the newcomer. Neither man had noticed Lady Clarissa and her at the corner of the castle.

“What are ye doing here, Selfridge?” Edmund demanded. “I told ye I needed a month before I would have my final decision on yer scheme.”

The man, Selfridge, lifted the black silk hat from his dark blond head and gave Edmund a slight bow. “I’m only here for a visit, my lord,” he said with a smile. “I thought to inquire how your decision-making process was going—and to see if the rumors in the village were true.”

“What rumors?” Edmund snapped.

“That your newest employee has cast some sort of spell over Kinfallon,” Selfridge replied.

Thea stiffened. The man was referring to her. People were already gossiping about her in the village? Certainly she’d drawn attention at the inn when she’d decided to walk to the castle alone, but what could they possibly find interesting about her work with Lady Clarissa?

Or was it her interactions with Edmund that had whispers circulating? Walls had eyes. Even with a skeletal staff at the castle, perhaps someone had noticed a lingering look, a blush or smile, something that gave away her feelings—

Thea compressed her lips. She was being foolish. Worse, she was eavesdropping.

“Come, Lady Clarissa,” she said, extending her hand and helping the woman rise. Linking their arms, Thea walked briskly to where Edmund and Selfridge stood.

Both men turned, Edmund with a dark scowl on his face, and Selfridge wearing a startled expression.

Selfridge blinked. “Lady Clarissa,” he said with a crisp bow. “And you must be the new companion.”

The man’s put-on English accent was jarring to Thea’s ears after a fortnight among Scots. Still, she plastered a smile on her face and bobbed her head at Selfridge.

“Miss Reynolds, this is Mr. Perry Selfridge,” Edmund said, still scowling. “Selfridge, Miss Reynolds.”

As Selfridge came up from a far shallower bow, his dark blue eyes locked on her, keen and assessing. “You clearly have a way with Lord Kinfallon’s sister,” he said, as if Lady Clarissa weren’t standing there. He waved at their linked arms. “You’ve already lasted longer than most of the others.”

The polite smile threatened to slide from Thea’s lips at the rude comment. She noticed a muscle ticking in Edmund’s jaw.

“Miss Reynolds has been most helpful,” Edmund said, fixing Selfridge with a hard look. “In fact, her assistance has allowed me to make a great deal of headway on my assessment of the estate—so much so that I am confident I’ll have a decision for ye in another fortnight, as agreed, though I cannae promise that it will be the answer ye are hoping for.”

Selfridge’s mouth thinned. “Is that so, my lord?”

“Aye.”

“Well, then. I wish you a continuation of your good fortune, my lord.” The last was said tightly as Selfridge’s gaze swung back to Thea. His eyes were decidedly colder now.

“I’m sure ye do,” Edmund replied frostily.

Selfridge continued to stare at her for another long moment. Thea forced herself to remain motionless, but she longed to move behind Edmund and let his tall, strong frame shield her from Selfridge’s cutting gaze.

“I have matters to attend to, Selfridge. Thank ye for yer visit,” Edmund said in a brusque dismissal.

Selfridge bowed, slowly replacing his hat and striding back to his horse. Edmund remained rooted, his eyes fixed on the man’s back until he’d ridden down the road and out of sight. At last, he let out a long breath, some of the tension easing from his broad shoulders.

“Forgive us for interrupting,” Thea said, breaking the awkward silence. “We’ll let you return to whatever matters require your attention.”

She began guiding Lady Clarissa back toward the keep’s door, but Edmund halted her with a big hand on her arm.

“I was actually on my way out to see ye—both of ye,” he corrected quickly. He turned to Clarissa. “It is a joy to see ye walking the grounds as we did in our childhood, Sister.”

Clarissa nodded, but her head drooped. “Margaret is tired. I think I’ll take her to my chamber for a rest.” She disentangled her arm from Thea’s and slipped into the keep, holding her dolls close.

“I may have overextended her,” Thea said, watching the door close behind Lady Clarissa.

“Nay, dinnae doubt yerself,” Edmund replied. “Ye are challenging her, aye, as I have failed to do these last two years, but I see now how much good ye’ve done for Clarissa. I meant what I said to Selfridge.” His voice dropped to a low rumble. “I’m verra grateful to have ye here.”

Heat began to creep into Thea’s cheeks. Needing to change the subject, she said, “I couldn’t help overhearing Mr. Selfridge mention me. May I ask what manner of business you were discussing?”

A frown stole over Edmund’s face for a moment. “He had no place bringing up gossip about ye,” he said. For a moment, Thea thought he would put an abrupt end to that line of conversation.

But then he met her gaze and his eyes softened. “As to the business he has with me—I would love to show ye.”

“Show me?”

“Aye—if ye dinnae mind walking a wee bit more.”

Thea drew in a lungful of the fresh, cold early-December air. “Not at all. Now?”

She already wore her cloak and bonnet, and she was eager to discover what Edmund had in mind, but he had neither overcoat nor hat with him. He’d stepped from the keep in just a dark green frock coat, gray trousers, and his usual tall black boots. His head was bare, his dark hair unbound around his shoulders, and his cravat characteristically loose.

“Aye, now,” he replied, extending his arm to her.

She looped her arm through his, resting her hand on his forearm. Even through the wool of his coat, she could feel the corded strength beneath her fingers. He pulled his elbow to his side, effectively drawing her closer until her shoulder brushed his arm and her skirts rested against his leg.

Before she had time to blush at the intimacy of such nearness, he set out at an easy pace, guiding her toward the rolling hills to the west of the castle.

“This land has belonged to the MacLainn clan for centuries,” he said as they cut across the brown landscape. “When the Jacobite uprising failed, some clans were disbanded, but my family was allowed to retain Kinfallon Castle and the estate surrounding it.”

As they walked on, he continued to explain the history of the castle, the lands, and the MacLainns. When they crested a particularly rocky rise, Edmund paused, his eyes fixed in the distance.

Thea followed his gaze to a whitewashed croft nestled between two hills. She noticed several more small crofts dotting the landscape nearby.

“My people have worked this land through wars, famines, and other hardships too many to name.” Edmund glanced sideways at her, and she was surprised to find a playful smile lifting one side of his mouth. “Ye ken that Highlanders are a stubborn lot, dinnae ye?”

“I’ve heard something of that,” she replied, matching his grin.

He returned his gaze to the crofts in the distance, growing sober. “This land is these peoples’ home, yet it is also meant to produce money—for the maintenance of Kinfallon Castle, and for the Crown. Selfridge has been trying to convince me that I should displace the farmers and turn the land into grazing range for sheep. It is more profitable, apparently.”

Thea drew in a breath. Something Edmund had said when she’d first arrived came back to her. “The clearances—Lady Clarissa’s family. They were forced off their land—killed—for that very reason.”

“By Selfridge.” When her mouth fell open, he clarified. “Nay, he wasnae the one to put the torch to their home, but it was his scheme that killed John and Margaret. The sheep—and Countess Sutherland’s profit—were more important. When Selfridge approached me with a similar offer a year past, I flat-out refused. But then with Clarissa requiring care, and so many failed attempts to find someone up to the task…I neglected the ledgers. It has only been in the last fortnight that I have been able to assess just where the estate stands—thanks to ye.”

He turned to her, and her breath caught at the look in his eyes.

“I am only one link in the chain of keepers of Kinfallon,” he murmured. “But until ye came, I feared that I would be the one to break that chain, to destroy the legacy my ancestors worked so hard to build. Ye have given me hope that no’ all is lost, though—that I am no’ at an ending, but rather a beginning.”

A knot of tangled emotions rose to Thea’s throat. At the same time her heart soared at his words, dread and shame dragged her down. Edmund was a man of honor, a man with a legacy to protect. And Thea—she had no past, or at least she pretended she didn’t. What would Edmund say if he found out the truth about her? Would he still look at her with such unguarded longing in his eyes? Or would he turn away, repulsed by her deception?

“Edmund…” she murmured, her voice low and tight.

Just then, a slew of fat, cold raindrops dropped on them. An angry peal of thunder sounded in the distance. Even before its last rumbles faded, the skies had opened and now torrents of rain fell.

Muttering a curse, Edmund took her hand and bolted for the nearest cover. She scrambled over the uneven ground, trying to keep up with his long strides as he made his way toward a copse of Scots pines. Amazingly, she managed to keep her footing over the rocks and rain-slicked brown grasses—until her boot hit a patch of mud only a few paces from the trees.

With a startled cry, she slid, landing hard on her bottom.

“Shite,” Edmund bit out, dropping to his knees beside her. “Are ye all right, lass?”

“Yes,” she replied. Suddenly a bubble of laughter rose in her throat.

A month ago, if someone had told her that she would be running from a rainstorm with a breathtakingly handsome Highland earl, she would have scoffed. If they’d told her she’d embarrass herself by falling in the mud like an ungraceful foal—well, sometimes all one could do was laugh.

Without preamble, Edmund scooped her up in his arms, just as he’d done the night she’d met him. He dashed the remaining distance to the trees, where the heavy pine boughs shielded them from most of the rain. Yet he held her close for a long moment before setting her on her feet.

“Ye are sure ye’re all right?” He lifted a thumb to her cheek and dragged it slowly across her skin. “Ye have some mud just here.”

Thea’s heart stuttered painfully. She stared up into Edmund’s eyes, so dark and expressive. The whole world came to a standstill. Even the raindrops seemed to slow in their descent toward earth as Thea lost herself in forest green.

Slowly, slowly, Edmund tilted his head toward hers.

“I have wanted to do this since the moment I first saw ye,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning her lips.

And then he closed the distance between them and kissed her.