Jessamine stilled while she was in the Merc and listened to the women gossiping behind her. She had bound her ribs as tightly as possible, and the pain was bearable if she moved slowly and did not raise her right arm. She focused on the women rather than her ever-present pain and wondered if they knew she was here, before realizing they did not care if she heard. She feigned interest in ribbons as she focused on their vitriol.

“Slut.”

Another woman spoke. “Spent the whole night with him, but they aren’t married!”

A third, more righteous than the last, added to the discussion. “We thought the schoolteacher was bad, but this one’s worse! I don’t want to speak to her again about anything.” A snicker followed. “As if I’ll believe anything she prints again. Has no common decency.”

Jessamine took a deep breath, forgetting about her broken rib, and clutched a hand to her side. She turned to face her detractors in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner and smiled. “Hello, ladies.” Her smile lost any friendliness and took on a feral tinge when she saw Mrs. Jameson in the group. “I hope you are having a wonderful day.”

Mrs. Jameson marched up to her and poked her in her side.

Thankfully it was her unhurt side as J.P. had had the sense not to call attention to her injury.

“You are a disgrace! You should not be allowed to live in our town.”

“I will forever find it fascinating how your standards are different when they pertain to anyone who isn’t your son.” She gasped as she attempted to take a deep breath. “The only reason Mr. MacKinnon was forced to remain by my bedside …”

She paused as a woman muttered, “You mean in your bed!”

“By my bedside,” she repeated, “was because your son broke my rib. Mr. MacKinnon insisted on caring for me.”

Another woman, unknown to Jessamine, snorted. “As if you’ll have us believing that man would care for your injuries after all you’ve written about him!”

“It’s certainly more plausible than your notion that he’s desperate to be in my bed.” Jessamine smirked and raised an eyebrow.

The women in front of her blushed and tittered and lowered their gazes. Only Mrs. Jameson met her bald statement with a glower. “You are shameless. You refuse to acknowledge the bounds of propriety.”

“When they are promulgated by women like you, I have no need to understand your version of propriety.” Jessamine met Mrs. Jameson’s glower, recognizing she was her true foe.

Mrs. Jameson took a deep breath. “You have no right to defame my son! He is a wonderful boy.”

Jessamine laughed, gasping at the pain it provoked. “That’s his problem. You continue to consider him a boy, and he acts as though his actions will never be punished. One day someone will make him pay for all his wrongdoings.”

Mrs. Jameson straightened her shoulders. “I do not have to stand here and listen to the likes of you. Ladies?” she said as she spun on her heel and marched out of the Merc.

Jessamine watched them stomp down the boardwalk and enter the café. She let out a shallow breath, so as not to cause any more pain to her broken rib, and then faced the mocking glance of Tobias. “Hello, Mr. Sutton.”

“Miss McMahon,” Tobias said with a smirk. “What can I get for you?” He frowned as she set a list on the counter. “And I suppose you want this delivered?”

“Yes, by the end of the day.” She met his gaze and smiled when he nodded his agreement. “Thank you.”

He called out to her when she approached the door. “You won’t always have the upper hand over me, miss. One day I’ll find a way to get back at you.”

She refused to look at him and slipped outside to return to her print shop.

* * *

Ewan wandered to the sawmill on a cold early-November day. He tucked the scarf tighter into his jacket and around his neck before stuffing his hands into his pockets. A thin layer of frost covered the trees and grass, although the area nearest the sawmill remained unfrozen due to the heat from the mill and the activity in the yard.

Nathaniel loaded a wagon with his friend Karl but paused when he saw Ewan approach. He motioned for them to continue to work and helped them finish loading the wagon. “Do you have any more to do?” When Karl pointed to the empty wagon next to the filled one, Ewan smiled and helped them fill it too. The quiet camaraderie and the work eased some of his tension.

When they had finished, Karl muttered his thanks before returning to the sawmill. Nathaniel remained outside, sweat pouring off his brow. He and Ewan approached the nearby creek and rinsed their hands before scooping up some water to drink. Ewan splashed his face and neck, shivering at the freezing temperature of the creek.

“I always forget how cold the water is this time of year!” he said as he dried his face with his scarf.

“Ya, but is refreshing.” Nathaniel slapped him on the back. “Thank you for your help. You saved us time, and it will allow Karl to prepare for his evening with Leena.”

Ewan raised an eyebrow and half smiled.

“He is taking her to the café tonight. I go too, of course, as it is not proper for her to go only with him. But I talk with Harold the entire time and give them time alone.”

Ewan smiled. “You’re a good older brother to your sister.”

Nathaniel sobered. “Your brothers have not been so good to you.” When Ewan frowned, he said, “Why did they allow you to stay with that reporter? The one who abuses you?” He pointed to the bruises on Ewan’s face.

“She didn’t give me these. I fought in the Boudoir and …” He shrugged.

“Ya, but she abuses you in other ways.” Nathaniel watched Ewan with concern.

Ewan shook his head. “She was injured, Nathaniel, and needed my help. It was my decision not to leave.”

Nathaniel sighed. “You harmed her more than you helped her. Leena told me that the Jameson woman was quite upset as she marched down the boardwalk today. The mother wants you for her daughter.” He laughed as Ewan shivered again.

Ewan sat on a wood stump. “What else have ye heard in town? No one says what they feel in front of me or my family.”

“Townsfolk say that, if you do not wed the reporter soon, others will find their way to her bed. Or that you were smart to extract your revenge as you did.” He shrugged. “You will not have to suffer due to your actions.”

Ewan shook his head. “It’s never the men who have to suffer.”

Nathaniel nodded. “No, only the women.” He slapped Ewan on the back. “Do you need more wood?”

Ewan nodded, quickly discussing the order he needed filled and then departed as Nathaniel reentered the sawmill. Rather than return to his worksite, Ewan made a detour down Main Street to the bakery. The bell tinkled as he opened the door, and he smiled as he saw the finely wrought shelves and space he had helped create for Annabelle. At the time, she and Cailean were adversaries, and Ewan had never suspected that she and Cailean would marry.

Leticia emerged from the back and smiled at Ewan. “We’re sold out,” she said with an apologetic smile as she pointed to the bare shelves.

“Aye, I should have kent better.” He rubbed at his head. “Is Anna around?”

Leticia motioned for him to follow her into the back room where Annabelle prepared baskets for delivery. Leticia hefted two and called out a goodbye as she exited the back door.

“Give me a moment,” Annabelle said. Her stomach was ever increasing, and she now walked with a slight waddle. She moved to the front where she flipped the sign to Closed, locked the door, and pulled the curtains. “I should have done that a while ago. Most townsfolk know not to come in after two.”

Her smile faded as she looked at Ewan. “Are you all right?” She pointed to a stool, and he collapsed onto it. His customary good mood returned for a moment when she put a plate of cookie pieces in front of him, along with a glass of milk. “I know this doesn’t make it all better, but sometimes it makes it all bearable.”

“Cailean did no’ understand how fortunate he was when he married ye. Nor did we.” He smiled as she fought tears. “’Tis the bairn, I imagine, that makes ye weepy.”

She nodded and sniffled. “What’s the matter, Ewan? You haven’t been like yourself for days.”

He chuckled and then lowered his head to lean on his forearms crossed over themselves on the butcher-block countertop. “That’s where ye’re wrong. This is more how I am. Moody and pensive. The carefree ne’er-do-well was no’ truly me.”

Anna pulled out a stool and sat. “I always wondered what you were running from. Losing your money at the gambling table. Whiling away your hours at the Boudoir.” She met his gaze, so much like Cailean’s before he had made peace with the death of his first wife and baby. “You’re not that different from Cailean or Alistair, and I could never understand why you would lose money, rather than pay them back the funds they had taken out for bringing you to America.”

Ewan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Cailean isna the only one to lose someone he loved. I did too. I also lost every dime he sent to me.”

Annabelle gripped his hand and shook her head. “I don’t understand. How did you get here?”

“I stole and then I gambled what I’d stolen.” He smirked. “Thankfully Lady Luck didna abandon me that night.”

She frowned as she studied her brother-in-law. “It doesn’t take away the fact that your brother sent money for you to travel here. That he took out a loan. Why haven’t you helped to pay him back?”

Ewan shook his head. “Did ye ken Cailean had promised me money a year afore it arrived?” He looked at Annabelle with leashed anger. “A year.”

She squeezed his hand. “I don’t understand. What’s important is that he sent it. That he never forgot his family and wanted you to be together.”

Ewan growled and rose. “Nae, ’tisn’t what’s important! If he’d done what he promised, I wouldna have lost her! I would never have had to let her go!”

Annabelle sat stock-still a moment in the face of his anger and grief. “Cailean did not cause anyone’s death, Ewan. Not his wife’s. Not his baby’s. Not your love’s. He’s only ever done what he could to help those he loves.” She swiped at her cheek. “If you resent your brother this much, you must speak with him, talk it out. If not, perhaps you should consider living elsewhere.”

Ewan spun to face her and stared at her with confusion. “I resent fate. I resent his inability to get a loan earlier. I resent false hopes.” He took a deep breath. “Aye, I resented him for a long time, and I can no’ lie and say it did no’ soothe an ache to see him as miserable as I was.” He flinched at her indrawn gasp of air. “Selfish man that I am, it helped to ken I was no’ the only one sufferin’ the loss of someone I loved.”

He paused and looked at his sister-in-law. “But, after I spent time with him, after so many years apart, I kent what I always knew was true. He was my brother, and Cailean had done all he could for me.” Ewan took a deep breath. “It was no one’s fault but fate’s and her father’s and …” His voice broke as tears poured down his cheeks.

“Oh, Ewan,” Annabelle murmured as she rushed toward him and pulled him into her embrace. “There’s nothing I can say to take away that pain.” She rocked him back and forth as she cried with him as she held him in her arms.

When he calmed, she sniffled and patted his back. “I don’t think your carefree mask was all a ploy. I think you enjoy your unfettered life and your ability to do what you please.”

“Aye, I’ve enjoyed it for years.” He took a deep breath and scrubbed at his face. “But I dinna find the pleasure in it now as much as I used to.”

She waited a moment for him to speak and then sighed when his gaze remained unfocused and distant. “Does it have something to do with a certain red-haired journalist?” She smiled when he flushed.

She tugged him to a stool and sat next to him when he remained quiet. “Cailean felt guilty for loving me. He thought he was betraying Maggie and their bairn.” She sighed. “Love isn’t like that, Ewan. There isn’t a quota on how much we can love. If that other woman truly loved you, she’d want you to be happy now that she’s not here.”

Ewan lowered his gaze. “I ken that. I do.” He rubbed at his eyes. “But I couldna have picked a worse woman.”

Annabelle laughed, not bothering to wipe the tears off her face or to blink away the ones still in her eyes. “Why do you say that? I think she’s perfect for you. She challenges you, which is something I think you need. You’d be bored within a week with an agreeable, docile woman.” She met his frown. “I may not always like what she prints, but it is her business.” She gripped his hand. “What is important is what you know to be true. You must believe that she is the woman you want to court and marry, not worrying about what others will think.” She hugged him again. “Be happy, Ewan.”

He let out a long, stuttering breath. “I’m tryin’, Anna.” He met her gaze, embarrassment and shame in his expression. “I dinna want ye thinkin’ I wish Cail harm. That I dinna …” He shook his head.

“I know how much you love your siblings, Ewan.” She squeezed his hand. “I know what it is to wish I’d done something differently for my sister rather than to always have a long-standing rift between us. I’m thankful you haven’t put past hurts before your present relationship with Cailean.”

Ewan nodded. “I’m glad ye’re my sister, Anna.” He squeezed her hand and rose. “I’ll see ye at home.”