“If I weren’t already married,” Elias said, “this is exactly the sort of place I’d love to say my vows.”

In fact, the image on the computer screen was where he and Violet had said theirs vows, but a version of Castle Brodie as it might have been in the first earl’s day. Roses vined up the walls of the bailey, heather grew in thriving beds along the walks, windows sparkled in the Highland sun, and pots of blue and white pansies lined the front steps.

Elias had the odd thought that Auld Michael and his Brenna would have recognized this version of the castle as their own too.

“Maitland has a surprising eye for details,” Violet said, peering over Elias’s shoulder at the mock-up. “But then, he’s a developer.”

“Or he’s listening to Jeannie,” Elias suggested, pulling Violet into his lap. “Are you ready to argue with me about the bees and the lavender?”

“If you’re ready to argue with me about the milkweed.”

They argued a lot. Violet was cautious and practical, Elias had the exuberant creativity of the tyro. He understood business, and he understood hard work, but Violet understood the land. Learning how to put all that together would take them a lifetime, and the journey was off to a delightful start.

“We could compromise instead of arguing,” Elias said. “We have more than a thousand acres to bargain with. You give me five acres for lavender, and I won’t fuss over planting milkweed in all the hedgerows.”

The milkweed was for the monarch butterflies, the lavender was for Zebedee, who’d been right about more than Elias had been willing to admit. 

“Milkweed seeds are not cheap,” Violet said.

“Neither will it be cheap to develop rain resistant lavender,” Elias said, “but think of all the gardens and gardeners who will benefit. Think of the marvelous honey we can sell, and how happy the bees will be.”

Elias still had corporate clients, but he cyber-consulted for the most part, and could see the day when his focus was entirely on the farms and his family. Violet’s blog and website were growing, and within a year, they’d be selling honey, preserves, spices, and seeds from an online store.

“I’m happy,” Violet said, kissing Elias’s cheek. “Are you happy?”

She did this, periodically brought Elias back to earth with simple, direct questions. She also reminded Elias that they had decades to shape their property into the legacy Elias envisioned it becoming. No man knew for certain how long his time on earth would be, but increasingly, Elias was so pleased with his present, his future had ceased to worry him.

“I’m very happy,” Elias said. “I think Dunstan and Jane are happy to have family in the area too, though if he doesn’t stop introducing me as the resident earl, I will—”

“You will spoil our godchild rotten,” Violet said. “Marriage must be agreeing with me, because I’ve even spared a thought for Max Maitland. I think he was relieved to get out of the business of ripping up farmland, not that he’ll admit it.”

Elias sent the computer to sleep and rose with his wife in his arms. “Maitland might have been relieved to get away from yet another housing development, but I don’t think he’s found his rhythm yet in Scotland. Jeannie’s reports are interesting.”

Wee Henry had taken a shine to Maitland, of all the curiosities.

“We might have to visit,” Violet said as Elias carried her up the steps. “But only after Jane’s baby has arrived, and the crops are off, and the—Mr. Brodie, where are you taking me?”

Elias could contemplate a transatlantic flight much more calmly than he had before his wedding. Violet was an intrepid traveler, having spent too many years in thrall to her farm. She’d even mentioned opening a distillery as part of the farm’s five-year plan, and Cousin Magnus and his wife Bridget had all but threatened to back the venture.

“I’m taking you to bed,” Elias said. “I wouldn’t mind another trip to Scotland later in the year, but for now, the only place I want to be is in your arms and in our bed.”

“Do you miss home, Elias?”

He set her on the bed, then lay down beside her. That particular question was one she hadn’t put to him previously, but it was time to ask it of himself.

Violet crouched over him—no prevaricating or changing the subject allowed apparently. As usual.

“You would have made a good Scot,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “You have the perspective, the tenacity, the wiliness. I thought that Scottish legacy was my greatest asset.”

“The past is important, and I love your Scottish legacy.”

Elias had taken to wearing his work kilts around the farm, mostly to please his wife. “Important, yes, but I know better now. My greatest asset is your love, and the present and future I can share with you. The past has value, but to make a life’s work out of enshrining the past would have been a mistake.”

“And this way, nobody has to deal with Max Maitland or his big ideas. You are wearing too many clothes, Elias Brodie.”

Violet set about remedying that situation with her customary dispatch, and soon Elias’s clothing was heaped on the floor, along with his schedule for the afternoon, and the list of suggestions he’d intended to email to Jeannie.

Ah, well. Jeannie apparently had her hands full dealing with Maitland and his big ideas, a situation Elias would investigate when next he was in Scotland. For now, all he wanted was to please his wife, build their future, and guard their dreams as fiercely as he’d once guarded a certain Scottish castle.

As fiercely as he loved Violet and was loved by her in return. Elias’s last thought as Violet commenced a kissing spree that went farther south on his person the longer she persisted, was that Auld Michael and his Brenna had founded an empire that had thrived for ten generations.

At the rate Elias and Violet were going, the eleventh generation would soon be making an appearance, and in all the ways that counted, the castle would still be there for them. The castle was not stones and bricks and parapets, any more than it was acres of crops or a weathered barn.

The best castles, the castles worth defending, were all built of love and always would be.

To my dear Readers,

I like to think that somewhere not far from my bide-o-wee in western Maryland, Elias and Violet are raising their rain-resistant lavender, as well as some really cool chickens, and a wee bairnie or two. Dunstan and Jane drop by for eggs, or just to visit on the front porch, and the relatives (Liam and Louise, Niall and Julie, Magnus and Bridget), take turns vacationing in Damson Valley too.

If you’d like to catch up with those fine people, Magnus Cromarty’s story—Tartan Two-Step—is part of a two-novel ebook duet with ML Buchman, . Dustan and Jane’s RITA -nominated novella (Kiss and Tell) appears along with Liam’s story (Dunroamin Holiday) in the novella duet . Niall’s story (Love on the Links) is paired with a tale for Scottish farmer Declan MacPherson (My Heartthrob’s in the Highlands) in the novella duet , and all four novellas have been bundled into one volume (), which is available exclusively on my website store (and is the best bargain, just sayin’).

I love Scotland, and for the final story in the Trouble Wear Tartan series, you’ve probably guessed that Max Maitland will end up in Scotland, where he’s managing restoration of Castle Brodie with the help of Jeannie Cromarty… or despite her help. I expect to have that story available for publication later this year or in early 2018.

You can keep up with all my new releases, sales, and illustrious doin’s by signing up for the newsletter, following me on , or catching up with me on social media. I’ve include an excerpt below from , and also a short scene from my June 2016 release, . Thanks for spending this time with Elias and Violet, and, as always…

Happy Reading!

Grace Burrowes