Alex kicked Shadow to as fast a pace as he dare in the darkness. The moon was still riding high above and the road stood out like a white ribbon against the dark landscape. This meant that he dare risk a gallop. It also meant that he and Bree would be visible to anyone who cared to look.

He glanced over his shoulder, dreading what he might see. Although there had been no alarm calls it would not take long before the guard changed and those he’d knocked unconscious in the guard house would be discovered and then they would have an angry warband on their tail.

He squinted against the wind, scanning the road behind. It was empty. In the distance the castle reared like some hungry beast perched on the outcrop and in the village a few lamps burned but there was no sign of pursuit.

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. In front of him Bree was clinging to the saddle, her knuckles white. Her hair, spilling loose down her shoulders, kept whipping Alex in the face but he didn’t mind. She was free. They were free. That’s all that mattered.

It was Alex’s job to ensure they stayed that way.

About a mile further on the road dipped into a fold in the land and the castle was no longer in sight. Here Alex slowed Shadow to a walk and left the road. A stream meandered along the side of the road and he guided Shadow down into it. It wasn’t deep, barely to Shadow’s ankles, but it would be enough to throw any pursuers off their trail—at least for a while.

Alex winced at a sudden pain in his arm. He pressed his hand against the wound and it came back wet. He shook his head. No time for that now. They followed the stream for several miles until it widened and deepened into a slow-moving river, then crossed it and climbed the bank on the other side.

They were in a dense woodland, dense enough he hoped to give them cover should anyone follow them this far. He knew the land well as he’d often hunted and scouted around here and he guided Shadow at a trot along well-hidden animal trails, heading steadily south.

Numbness grew in his arm but he ignored it. He had to get Bree to safety. That’s all that mattered.

***

Bree gritted her teeth, biting down on the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She fought the urge to keep looking back over her shoulder every five minutes. She kept expecting to hear horns behind them and the clatter of hooves. But so far the only sound was the clop of Shadow’s hooves on the road and the horse’s breathing.

Keeping her panic at bay was the fact that she had Alex by her side once more. It felt good, so good, to have him close again. She’d missed him.

He lied to you, she reminded herself. He’s not who he seems. You can’t trust him.

But right now she didn’t care. She clung to the saddle desperately as Shadow lurched into a stream, followed it for several miles, then climbed the bank into woodland. She had so many questions. Where were they going? Why had he lied to her? Who was he really?

She didn’t ask any of them. She was afraid of the answers.

As dawn was beginning to lighten the sky Alex called a halt for a brief rest. He jumped down from the saddle and staggered for a moment before righting himself. He held out a hand and helped her down. As Alex saw to Shadow Bree stalked off a few paces, trying to gather her thoughts.

They were on the top of a wooded ridge and a few meters further on the land fell away, giving a view over the landscape for many miles. Undulating purple hills marched into the distance, with lochs sparkling here and there like jewels in the dawn light. Bree hugged herself, sucking in a deep breath of the cool morning air.

Alex came to stand behind her. She felt him rather than heard him. His presence washed against her senses. She closed her eyes.

“Why?” she whispered, keeping her back to him. She couldn’t face him yet. She didn’t know what she might say or do if she did.

He didn’t need to ask what she meant. “Because ye would have run from me if ye knew the truth.”

“Would I? How can you be so sure?”

It took a while for him to answer. “Because everyone does. I am an outcast. Little better than a brigand although I try to tell myself otherwise. Would ye have wanted such a man for company?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. “You should have told me the truth,” she said at last. “At least then I could have made up my own mind.”

“And what then?” he replied, anger in his voice. “What would ye have done? Gone off on yer own in a strange time? Ye think ye would have survived?”

“At least I would have had a choice!” she yelled, spinning towards him.

She froze, her words dying on her lips. Alex was doubled over, his face contorted with pain.

She took a step towards him but he suddenly collapsed into the dirt with a thud.

***

The great hall seemed smaller than he remembered and dimmer, full of shadow. Still, the darkness wasn’t enough to obscure the view of Merith, Laird of Clan Murray, as she glared down at him from the high table. Alex shifted his weight, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the manacles chaining his wrists dug into his flesh no matter how he positioned himself. Cold was seeping into his knees from where he knelt, head-bowed, on the flagstone floor, awaiting his laird’s judgment.

He dared to raise his eyes and saw his parents sitting to either side of the laird. His father’s face was expressionless although his skin had gone pale, all the blood drained from it. His mother looked horrified, her eyes wide. His cousin, David, sat at the end of the table staring at his hands. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Alex.

The disappointment and shame in his family’s eyes was a bigger punishment than anything Merith could bestow upon him. Even if she sent him to the gallows he would not feel as morose as he did right now. In fact, after all he had done, it would be a release.

Laird Merith slowly stood. She was a hard woman, but fair, and had the respect of all the local clan leaders even though she was a woman. Her dark eyes seemed to pierce him to the quick.

“Alexander Murray,” she intoned, her voice echoing to everyone who’d gathered in the great hall to observe his judgment. “From this moment forth ye are banished from the Murray Clan. Ye no longer have the right to the name Murray or to set foot on Murray lands. Go now and do not return. If ye do, yer life is forfeit.”

His mother let out a strangled cry and his father’s jaw twitched as if he wanted to say something.

“Damn you, Alex,” he said. “Damn you.”

Alex looked at his father, puzzled. His voice sounded strange. Almost like a woman’s.

“Damn you, Alex!” the voice came again and this time he realized it was definitely a woman’s. “Wake up! Please!”

He drifted slowly into consciousness. When he opened his eyes he found Bree leaning over him. It took a moment for his addled brain to decipher what was going on. Then it all came crashing back and he lurched upright, looking around wildly. It was a mistake. A wave of dizziness almost sent him sprawling onto his back again but Bree grabbed his shoulder and steadied him.

The left arm of his tunic lay a few feet away, cut from the rest of it. It was soaked in blood. Make-shift bandages circled his arm, binding it tight. They looked suspiciously like the hem of Bree’s dress.

“Thank god,” Bree breathed. “I thought you might never wake up. You lost a lot of blood.”

Alex stared stupidly at the blood-soaked bit of rag. One of the guards in the gatehouse had jumped him from behind and slashed his arm before he had a chance to react. After that they’d been too busy fleeing to see to his injury. He poked at the bandages. They were well wrapped and no blood leaked through. He would need to get it stitched when they reached Dun Carrick but that must wait.

“Ye have done a good job, lass,” he said. “My thanks.”

Bree rocked back on her heels and looked him over. “I had to do first aid training when I joined the museum. You’d be amazed how many visitors manage to trip over things or fall down stairs.” She cocked her head. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been hurt?”

“Didn’t have time,” he muttered. With a grunt he climbed to his feet, staggering under a new wave of dizziness. When it passed he crossed to Shadow who was cropping grass nearby. “Just like now. We have to get moving. We are yet within Lord Donald’s domain. If he has picked up our trail he will be coming after us.”

Bree looked like she wanted to say something. Then she glanced in the direction of Lord Donald’s keep and snapped her mouth shut. With a curt nod she set her feet into the stirrup and climbed into the saddle.

It was harder for Alex. His left arm had gone numb and there was no strength in his fingers. Cursing he managed to struggle into the saddle in an ungainly fashion and settle behind Bree.

“Ye will have to take the reins, lass.”

She turned to look at him. “What?”

“I canna grip properly. Ye will have to do it. Dinna worry, I’ll guide ye and Shadow is a well-trained beast. He willnae let either of us fall.”

He held out the reins which Bree took gingerly. Alex showed her how to hold them then wrapped his good arm around her waist.

“Ye willnae be able to hold onto the saddle so I will steady ye,” he explained before she could complain.

Bree nodded stiffly. When Alex was satisfied with the way she was holding the reins he set his heels to Shadow’s flanks and sent him trotting along the ridgeline. Bree did well and he could tell she was starting to feel more comfortable in the saddle. Alex tightened his grip on her. It wasn’t strictly necessary but Alex couldn’t help it. Lord, but it felt good to have her so close, her body pressed against his. He could almost trick himself into thinking they were out for a leisurely ride together, him and his woman. Almost.

It was a pleasant fantasy, nothing more. Each time Bree looked at him he saw the doubt in her eyes and it cut him to the quick. So be it. He deserved no better.

Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm. It was going to be a long ride.

***

This was not Bree’s idea of fun. Being in control of an enormous warhorse was a million miles away from the pony rides she’d enjoyed as a kid. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the reins and she was sure that Shadow sensed her unease as he kept tossing his head and whinnying.

“I don’t like this anymore than you do,” she muttered to the horse. “But how about we just make the best of a bad situation, eh?”

“Throw an apple into the bargain and ye might have yerself a deal with him,” Alex said.

Bree stiffened but didn’t reply. Alex’s arm was wrapped around her middle, keeping her steady in the saddle and, she had to admit, it felt good.

Really, Bree? she asked herself savagely. After everything he’s kept from you? Why don’t you ever learn? He’s worse than Adam! At least he never pretended to be anything but a lying, cheating, rat!

She blinked, fighting back sudden tears. Alex had gotten her to trust him and then shattered it. She felt stupid, a naive little girl who had no clue about how the real world worked. She shook her head. She had no answers. All she knew was that she shouldn’t be enjoying the sensation of Alex pressing up against her half as much as she was.

“Stop in that grove over there,” Alex instructed.

Bree guided Shadow into the lee of a large oak tree and pulled him to a halt. Alex slid to the ground, wincing as the movement jarred his arm.

“Wait here.”

“Where are you going?” Bree asked.

“To scout back along our trail and ensure we aren’t being followed. Dinna follow me but if I’m not back in an hour ride south, keeping the mountains dead ahead of ye. Eventually ye’ll reach Dun Carrick.”

With that he ran into the trees. In seconds he was lost in the gloom. Bree swung out of the saddle and led Shadow over to a patch of thick grass. The big horse snorted then swung his head down to help himself to this impromptu snack.

As the minutes ticked by, she became increasingly edgy. She strained her ears to catch any hint of danger and jumped whenever a leaf rustled or a branch snapped. Every few moments she would glance over her shoulder in the direction Alex had gone. Eventually she gave up and mounted Shadow again, ready to flee if needed.

She glanced to the south. Somewhere out there lay Alex’s home and Bree’s chance of returning to hers. If Alex didn’t come back would she be able to find it on her own? She gulped in air, sudden panic flooding her at the thought. Alex was coming back.

A branch snapped. Shadow threw his head up and snorted. Bree tensed, ready to set her heels to the horse’s flanks. The bushes parted and Alex stepped out.

“I canna find any sign of pursuit,” he announced. “For now at least, it looks like we’re safe.”

Bree blew out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. Alex mounted behind her and they set off again, moving ever south.

That night they had no choice but to camp in the open. Bree would dearly have loved to visit one of the many villages they saw in the distance—some of which had inns according to Alex—but she understood his caution. They were still too close to Lord Donald’s lands.

They made camp in awkward silence. Bree went about her tasks diligently—making a fire, setting out the bed roll, getting food from the saddlebags. She sensed Alex’s eyes on her the whole time but he didn’t speak. The silence grew between them like a wall. She cleaned his wound and changed his bandages—ripping more material from her dress in order to do so, but barely spoke and deliberately didn’t meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure how she’d react if she did.

After supper Bree mumbled good night and then retired to their single tent, rolling herself in her blanket and staring up at the ceiling of the tent in the darkness.

The following morning Bree woke more tired than when she’d gone to bed. Her eyes were grainy from lack of sleep and her body ached all over from sleeping on the hard ground. She emerged from the tent to find a meager breakfast laid out for her and Alex sitting on the other side of the fire.

“Good morning,” he said quietly.

“Morning,” Bree muttered. She sat by the fire and ate the food in silence, washing it down with watered ale from a skin that Alex passed to her.

Glancing at him, she saw that he didn’t look good. There were shadows under his eyes and his golden skin had taken on a pale pallor. She finished the food and then crouched in front of him.

“Let me see.”

He frowned but didn’t complain as she took his injured arm and peeled back the bandages. The cut had scabbed over and was no longer bleeding but Bree didn’t like the look of it. None of the make-shift bandages were sterile and it would be easy for infection to set in.

She shook her head. “This needs looking at by somebody better qualified than me.”

He nodded. “Aye. When we reach Dun Carrick. There is a healer there.”

“When will that be?”

He glanced at her and then turned to look south. “Soon. By midday if the weather holds.”

Clouds were gathering in the north, turning the sky as stormy as the color of Alex’s eyes. The wind picked up, lifting the ends of Bree’s hair.

“Well, we’d better be going then hadn’t we?”

“Aye, lass. We had.”

They broke camp and mounted up in the same way as yesterday, Bree in front holding the reins and Alex behind, good arm wrapped around her waist. They rode in silence, only punctuated by occasional instructions Alex gave to alter their course or their speed.

As they rode the landscape began to be dotted with crofts. Stone-built cottages with smoke billowing from the chimneys sat high on the hillsides and the fields were dotted with sheep and long-horned cattle. A dog barked at them from the doorway of a cottage before its master called it back and a group of children stopped their game to watch her and Alex pass.

They were passing through a stand of woodland when Alex suddenly indicated for her to stop. She looked over her shoulder to see him peering at something through the trees. Squinting, Bree made out the ruins of a building, an old farmhouse by the looks of it. She guided Shadow closer. Most of the roof had fallen in and vines crept up the walls. It looked as though nobody had been here in a long, long time.

Alex was staring at the building with a strange look on his face. A half-smile curled his lips.

“What is it?” Bree asked.

“This belonged to my family,” he said, smiling. “We used to use it as a summer house. I often came here as a child with my parents and even more when I was a teenager. David and I used to camp out, pretending we were brave warriors out on campaign. Laird Merith never used to let us go far so this was the next best thing for two young lads not yet allowed out on patrol. There’s a brook just through those trees where we used to catch trout.”

His expression turned wistful suddenly. “But that was a long time ago. Look at it now. Ruined.”

They moved on. The closer they got to Dun Carrick the more morose Alex’s mood became. He said not a word but Bree felt it. He was like a thundercloud, as dark and threatening as those that gathered overhead. Luckily the rain held off and towards late morning they finally topped a rise and Bree found herself looking down into a lush valley. A river snaked its way along the bottom, looking like a ribbon of lead in the gloomy light. It passed by the walls of a large keep that dominated the far end of the valley.

Bree gasped despite herself. This was nothing like Lord Donald’s keep which had been austere and a little frightening. This one had flags flapping in the breeze and was made of a light-colored stone that seemed to sparkle.

A village had grown up around the walls of the keep, spreading out along the banks of the river and up into the valley sides. Bree saw people in the streets going about their day and there was a hum of activity in the air. It looked prosperous.

“This is it? We’re here?” she asked Alex.

“Aye,” he mumbled. “We’re here. Welcome to Dun Carrick, seat of the Murray clan.”

***

As Bree guided Shadow down the hill towards the keep, Alex pulled up the hood of his cloak, hiding his face. Although he’d been gone many years there still might be some here who would recognize him. That would never do. It would invite a whole world of trouble. He shifted his weight, wincing at the pain that lanced up his arm. Bree was right, the wound needed a healer. The pain was getting worse although in a way Alex welcomed it. It was a distraction to the pain he felt over Bree.

He hated the way things were between them. The awkwardness. The distance. He hated the look of mistrust he saw in her eyes when she looked at him. He longed to tell her the truth, to let it all come spilling out and be damned with the consequences, but long years of keeping his secrets buried deep meant he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He forced himself to concentrate on their path. The road they joined was wide, large enough for two carts side by side, and led directly up to the gates of the keep. It rose out of the valley majestically, just like he remembered it, the many flags flying from its turrets snapping in the wind.

He never thought his homecoming would be like this. He’d always dreamed of riding home in triumph, in glory, people lining his path to cheer him on. Instead he was slinking into Dun Carrick in disguise, hoping to avoid the notice of the very people he had once hoped would cheer him.

The village had grown in the years he’d been away and from the quality of the clothing the villagers wore and their general look of good health, it appeared Clan Murray had done very well without him. He wasn’t surprised. His aunt Merith was a fine laird and with his mother and father by her side, he had always known Clan Murray would prosper.

Bree was looking around wide-eyed, drinking it all in. No doubt she was filing away everything she saw, learning as much as possible about the village, just as she had when they stopped in the stone circle what seemed like a lifetime ago. Up ahead, he spotted the street they needed and nudged Bree.

“Turn left here, lass.”

She glanced at him, puzzled. “Aren’t we going up to the keep?”

“Nay, lass. Not just yet. Left, if ye please.”

Bree pursed her lips but did as he asked. At the end of this street they reached Alex’s destination: the local inn.

As Bree pulled Shadow to a halt in the stable yard she gave Alex a questioning glance. He didn’t answer but just jumped down from Shadow’s saddle and then helped Bree down as well.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

A stable lad came running to take the horses and Alex tossed him a coin. “Taking a room,” he answered. “For the time-being. Until I can arrange to speak to somebody from the castle.”

She eyed him but said nothing.

“There is one thing,” Alex said haltingly. “Something ye aren’t gonna like.”

Bree crossed her arms. “Oh?”

“Ye must pretend to be my wife.” Bree’s eyebrows shot up and he continued before she could protest. “How else would I explain coming to an inn with ye? Things here are not the same as in yer time. Here a man would only be taking an inn room with his wife or his doxy. Which would ye rather be?”

Bree opened her mouth to speak then snapped it shut again. She threw up her hands in frustration. “Any other lies you want to invent while we’re at it?”

He winced at that.  Alex led the way inside, being sure to keep his hood up so it shadowed his face. Inside they found the innkeeper laying the hearth in an almost-empty common room. There was a brief discussion, a few coins changed hands, and then the innkeeper led them upstairs to a large, clean room.

“Will ye be wanting something to eat?” the innkeeper asked.

“Aye,” Alex answered. “And some watered wine if ye please.”

“And a bath!” Bree added. “Could you send some hot water up?”

The innkeeper’s eyebrows rose at the sound of Bree’s strange accent but he didn’t comment. “Aye, my lady. Of course. I’ll see to it right away.”

He backed out of the room, leaving Bree and Alex alone. Alex pointed at the bed. “Ye take the bed. I’ll sleep by the fire.”

Bree nodded then took a few steps towards him. “Let me look at your wound.”

She reached out to touch him but he stepped back. “Nay, dinna bother. I will go see a healer in the village.”

A brief look of hurt flashed across her features. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

Silence descended. Alex desperately wanted to say something, anything, that would bridge the gap between them but he couldn’t think of a single damned word. What could he say that would make it all right? There was only the truth and that would do far more damage than good.

“I’m going out,” he said abruptly. “Dinna speak to anyone unless ye have to and stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

Before she could answer he left the room, took the stairs two at a time and hurried out the front door into the street. The noises and smells hit him like a hammer. It felt so like...so like...home. The scent of mud and grass, the clink of metal being worked in the distance, the screeching of children as they went about their games. Lord, how he’d missed it.

Pulling his hood closer around his face, he stalked down the street. There were many people he didn’t recognize—newcomers who had settled here since he’d left. But there were far more that he did know.

At the corner of the street he paused and ducked into the shadows whilst a burly man hauled barrels into a cart. The man was called Niall and Alex had shared many a cup of ale with him in the tavern. He fancied himself something of a singer and wouldn’t believe Alex or anyone else when they told him he had a voice like a wailing cat. Alex smiled at the memory. He longed to call out, speak to Niall, reminisce over old times. Instead he moved on.

Further along the street he passed the smithy where Finn and his son, Connor, were bent over the forge, sending sparks flying as they hammered horse-shoes. Finn had more gray in his hair and Connor, a man now, had filled out, becoming a broad-shouldered young man. Alex paused for a moment to watch them but neither of the men looked up from their work.

On the edge of the village he reached his destination: a tiny cottage with a large garden that led right down to the river’s edge. He knocked on the door but there was no answer. Going around the back of the cottage, he spied an elderly couple bent over in the garden collecting plants.

Alex hesitated but then called out and raised a hand, pushing down his hood so they could see his face. The old man’s eyes widened and the old woman clapped her hands over her mouth. Then they were both rushing towards him, the woman throwing her arms around him, the man thumping him on the back in greeting.

“I never thought to lay eyes on ye again, young man,” Hilda said, smiling warmly. “Ye are certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

“I never thought to be here again,” Alex replied. “And I’m not sure I’m a ‘young man’ anymore.”

Hilda studied him. “Aye, maybe not.”

“Come inside,” said Malcolm, her husband. “Take some food and drink.”

The cottage was tiny, just two rooms, and was just as Alex remembered it. One room was given over to the couple’s living quarters, with a bed and two rickety chairs by the fire whilst the second room was taken up with a large table strewn with bunches of drying herbs and shelves built into the walls. The cottage smelled exactly the same as he remembered too—the combination of all those herbs giving it a spicy, almost exotic scent.

Alex lowered himself onto one of the chairs whilst Malcom crossed to the iron pot warming by the fire and began pouring warm mead.

“What have ye done to yerself?” Hilda demanded, spotting Alex’s injury. She took hold of his arm and inspected the soiled bandages. “Here, let me take a look.”

Alex didn’t move as Hilda carefully unwrapped the bandages and inspected the wound beneath. Hilda and Malcolm had been the village healers for as long as Alex could remember and they’d patched him up more than once when he was a lad. Their little cottage had become something of a refuge and he’d often come down here to help with the gathering of herbs and preparation of poultices when he was determined to get out of his chores up at the castle.

“This is a sword-cut if ever I saw one,” Hilda said. “How did it happen?”

“Do ye really want to know?” Alex asked.

Hilda shared a look with Malcolm. “Aye, maybe it’s best if I dinna ask. Drink yer mead whilst I clean this up for ye.”

Malcolm set a cup of mead in front of Alex and then settled his bulk into the creaking chair. Alex accepted the mead gratefully, trying not to wince as Hilda began cleaning his wound with wine.

Malcolm eyed him over his mug. “So, lad,” he began in his rumbling voice. “What brings ye home after all this time?”

Alex met Malcolm’s gaze, wondering how much he could reveal. He’d always trusted Hilda and Malcolm but he didn’t want to tell them anything that might put them in a difficult position.

“I had to come home,” he said at last. “Temporarily at least. I have a companion who needs help. Help only my mother can provide.”

Malcolm’s eyebrows rose at that but he didn’t pursue the matter. “I see. Well it seems ye are in luck, lad. Yer mother and cousin are currently in charge up at the castle.”

“My mother? David? What of my father and Laird Merith?”

“They’re away, visiting a neighboring laird to discuss some business or other.”

Alex sat back, taking this in. At last, some luck. If Merith was away there was a chance, just a chance, he might be able to get help for Bree before he was chased out of Dun Carrick. He took a sip of mead, mulling over his options. Hilda leaned over, poking at the wound with a small wooden spatula, checking for infection. She tutted and began rummaging through bottles on a shelf.

“Would ye be able to do something for me?” Alex asked.

“Aye, lad. Name it,” Malcolm replied.

“I’d like to send a message up to the castle.”

“Of course. What message and for whom?”

“That can wait,” Hilda replied. “Until I’ve done what needs doing. Here.” She handed Alex a piece of wood and then held up a needle and thread. “Bite down on the wood. Ye need sewing up and it’s going to hurt.”

A while later Alex bade Hilda and Malcolm farewell and, the message sent and his wound cleaned and stitched, made his way back to the inn. It had been good, better than good, to see two of his old friends again but it had also brought back painful memories. What if his message to the castle went unanswered? Worse, what if guards were sent down to the inn to drag him up to the castle in chains?

He gritted his teeth. If that happened, so be it. His punishment was long overdue anyway. Once back at the inn he ordered a tankard of ale and took a seat in the common room, settling down to wait.

Through the window he could see the villagers going about their business, doing the normal day-to-day things that villagers did. He sipped his ale, twirling the tankard impatiently in his hands. Time passed. He finished the tankard and ordered another. It began to grow dark and Alex was just about to give up when the door opened and a hooded figure paused to look over the room. Seeing him, the figure paused and then approached.

Alex sat up straight, suddenly tense. The figure sat down opposite him. Hands reached up and pulled the hood back just enough for Alex to see the face hidden beneath. He inhaled sharply.

“Mother.”

Gretchen Murray regarded her son with the same stormy blue eyes he’d inherited. Past her middle years now, she was still a striking woman with chestnut hair and creamy skin. Her eyes shone as they took him in, gleaming with unshed tears.

“Alexander,” she whispered hoarsely. “I don’t believe it. I thought the message from Malcolm must have been a mistake or somebody’s idea of a stupid prank. My god, I can’t believe it’s you.”

Even after all the years of living in the Highlands, his mother still spoke with an American accent. She sounded startlingly like Bree.

Alex opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. How long was it since he’d seen his mother? Four years? Five?

“Are ye well?” he croaked at last.

“After all this time, that’s the best thing you can come up with? Yes, I’m fine, Alexander,” she replied.  “So is your father, although he would probably have a heart attack if he saw you were here. Hell, I nearly had one myself when Malcolm’s message reached me. What are you doing here, Alex? You know what Merith said. The years haven’t changed her mind.”

Alex nodded. “I had to take the risk. I need yer help, mother.”

“My help? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Nay, not me. There is somebody I’d like ye to meet. It’s she who needs yer help. She’s upstairs.”

Gretchen’s eyebrows rose. “She?”

“It’s naught like that!” Alex protested. “Will ye come meet her? Please?”

Gretchen watched him for a moment. Then she reached out and curled her fingers around his. “Of course I’ll come and meet her. It’s good to see you, son. It’s really good.”

Alex squeezed her fingers for a moment before pushing his chair back and rising. “This way.”