The opening night of Hew’s exhibition at Snakeswood Gallery was scheduled to start at four p.m.; the gallery owner, Mrs. Franklin, said she hoped to catch the passing commuters.

To his way of thinking, when people finished work on Friday, they wanted to get home to start their weekend and were unlikely to stop to buy a painting. But he bowed to the gallery owner’s experience. With Fergus, Megan, and Duncan along to keep him from bolting, he stepped through the door into the brightly lit space a little before the appointed hour.

Trepidation knotted in his solar plexus while he waited for the first visitors to come in. He paced up and down the black granite tiles, ultra-aware of his paintings hanging on the white walls, each illuminated by a dedicated light. His work looked too ordinary and unremarkable to be spotlighted, and he felt like a fraud. Even worse was the panel near the door featuring a huge photograph of him with a biography underneath.

By the time the gallery door opened and an elderly couple came in, he was nearly hyperventilating. If they wanted to talk to him, he doubted he was capable right now. Mrs. Franklin greeted the prospective customers with flutes of champagne.

“Good luck.” Duncan gripped Hew’s shoulder in a show of brotherly support. “Whatever happens tonight, you’ve done well even getting to this point.”

“What do you mean, whatever happens?” Megan shook a finger at Duncan. “Positive thinking from the troops, please. Hew’s going to sell lots of paintings and be a huge success.”

“People will love your paintings, Dad,” Fergus said through a mouthful of potato chips he’d taken from the bowls of nibbles laid out on a table by the door.

Hew drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. He wanted to sell some paintings, of course. Yet he wasn’t as scared of the prospect of failure as he had been when Faith first persuaded him to go ahead with the exhibition. In the past couple of days, he’d learned there were far more frightening things in life.

When Faith had texted him on her way to London, he’d felt helpless and angry that the woman he loved was heading into danger to search for terrorist bombs, and there was nothing he could do to protect her. Compared to that, his worries about the exhibition seemed like nothing.

The time slipped past. People arrived, browsed, and left. Some tried to engage him in conversation, but mostly Megan answered for him.

Hew tried to concentrate but he felt dazed, his thoughts constantly straying to Faith in London, wondering if she was all right and when she would be back. He missed her acutely, especially now. She should be here to share this evening with him. Without her encouragement, it wouldn’t have happened.

By six thirty, a steady stream of people walked in off the street. Hew suspected half of them only came in for a free glass of champagne or orange juice, but a few were obviously here to view his paintings. Two already had small red stickers on the price labels to indicate they were sold.

Mrs. Franklin had asked what he would like to charge for each painting, and he’d sent a list with the canvases when they were shipped. He’d nearly had a meltdown when he arrived for the press preview yesterday and noticed she had at least quadrupled his suggestions. When he challenged her, she said, “Artists always undervalue their work.”

“Dad, look.” Fergus tugged his sleeve to attract his attention. “The gallery lady is putting a red dot on the picture of the dogs in front of the castle.”

Hew swallowed, wondering if he had slipped into an alternate reality. It seemed Mrs. Franklin’s valuations had been right, although who was crazy enough to pay all that money for his paintings, he couldn’t imagine.

“We just love your work, Mr. Mackenzie. Such a pleasure to meet you.” An American woman shook his hand, and he tried to smile. “Do you have a Facebook page?”

“Ah…” Hew looked to Fergus. This was his son’s area of expertise.

“You can find information about Dad’s work here.” Sounding far more mature than his ten years, Fergus handed a flyer to the American woman.

She perused it and looked up questioningly. “You’re not on Twitter?”

Hew suppressed a wince. “Social media is…” He wanted to say a waste of time, but instead he managed to come up with something less likely to offend. “It’s all new to me.”

Mrs. Franklin drifted across the room towards him, exchanging pleasantries with people as she went. “Didn’t I tell you?” She waved a hand to indicate the activity. “The tourists love authentic Scotland, Mr. Mackenzie, and you’re about as authentic as it comes.”

She had insisted he, Fergus, and Duncan wear kilts. He felt like a tourist attraction as a group of attractive young women speaking French snapped photos of him on their phones. He was saved by Mrs. Franklin, who politely told them photography was not allowed in the gallery.

Megan came to his side, her Mackenzie tartan sash over her dress proclaiming her allegiance, and slipped her arm around his waist. “Who would have thought it? My little brother, the famous artist.”

“Stop teasing.” He smiled as he put an arm around her shoulders. Once it became clear that Faith wouldn’t be back in time to accompany him, Megan had stepped into the breach, as she had all his life.

When his mother walked out of their lives, he’d been fifteen and felt the loss deeply. Megan was only a few years older, but she’d been there for him. When he brought Fergus home as a tiny newborn, it was Megan who took charge and looked after them both at a time when his life was in shatters. And she had stood at his side last night when, for the first time in his life, he’d given press interviews.

“It’s such a shame Faith isn’t here to see your finest hour,” Megan said, a teasing note in her voice.

Hew’s hand reflexively went to the place where his phone should be, and his fist clenched over the empty pocket. He must have left his phone in his other jacket when he changed. What if something happened to Faith and she tried to contact him urgently?

“What’s the matter?” Megan rested a hand on his arm.

“I left my phone at the hotel.”

She dug in her small black bag and pulled out her phone. “Call Faith on this if you like.”

Hew ran his fingers back through his hair in frustration. “I don’t remember her number.”

“Would you like me to send Duncan to get it for you?” They both glanced to where Duncan had stationed himself like a sentry against the wall. “He’d love an excuse to escape,” Megan continued. “You know he hates social get-togethers as much as you do.”

Yet Duncan had volunteered to come and give Hew moral support, leaving Naomi to look after the children.

Hew was about to say yes, when there was a stir in the room as people stepped back to make way for someone.

The crowd parted and Faith strode towards him, a grin on her face, still dressed in her green military combat uniform and black boots, her hair neatly put up under a navy beret.

“This isn’t what I hoped to wear tonight,” she said as she leaned into him.

With a flood of unbelievable relief to see her safe and sound, he closed his arms around her and kissed her, for once oblivious to everyone else.

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” he said softly.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

“You won’t get in trouble, will you?”

He touched her silky hair, wound in a bun at the back of her beret. It was strange to see her in uniform. He was used to seeing his brothers wearing exactly the same thing, but the ensemble looked different on Faith.

“If I’m careful, they won’t notice I’m missing. I booked a return flight to get me back for 17:00 hours when I’m on duty again.”

“Won’t they spot you’ve gone?”

Faith laughed, a weary sound as she glanced around at the curious faces watching them. “As far as my CO is concerned, I’m in my hotel room asleep.”

• • •

After Faith had greeted Hew’s family and shook hands with Mrs. Franklin, she and Hew retreated to the office at the back of the gallery for a few minutes of privacy. As soon as the door closed, Hew pulled her close and kissed her for long moments.

It was so good to be with him again, to be in his arms. She’d told herself she wanted to come tonight to support him, but it had been as much for her. The last few days had been so stressful, she needed to relax into the arms of the man she loved, even if only for a short while.

“Missed you,” he whispered. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

She stroked the short hair on the back of his neck and pressed her cheek to his. “They never deploy veterinary officers to the front line. It’s the dog handlers who are out there taking the risks with the military working dogs.”

“Military doctors aren’t supposed to be on the front line either, but I know that isn’t always the case.”

“Well, I only have a few more weeks now, so no need to worry.” The last thing she wanted was to cause him distress.

As she relaxed against him, she closed her eyes and weariness swept through her. Any more of this and she would fall asleep in his arms. She was running on empty after forty-eight hours without sleep; she should be in her bed, out for the count. Yet some crazy part of her had checked the flight times from London City Airport to Edinburgh, and when she’d discovered the scheduled flights perfectly matched her timing, it felt like fate wanted her to come.

“You look tired,” Hew said.

“Just a little.” She had examined herself in the mirror in the airport restroom and knew she didn’t look her best with dark circles beneath her eyes, but she was here with Hew and that was all that mattered. “Tell me how the exhibition is going.”

“Four paintings sold so far, I think. Ridiculous, as it seems I’ve lost count. Other things on my mind.”

“That’s brilliant. I want to have a proper look around and bask in your reflected glory.”

Hew laughed and kissed her again.

With her hand enclosed tightly in his, they wandered around the room, stopping often to exchange pleasantries with gallery visitors, and laughing with them over Faith’s unorthodox attire.

“Oh, you’ve sold the large white-tailed eagle over the loch. I knew that would go. It’s one of my favorites.” Faith noticed the price and her eyes widened. “Goodness.” She pointed at the discreet white label with raised eyebrows, not wanting to say too much when there were potential customers around.

Hew leaned close. “I know,” he whispered by her ear. “Mrs. Franklin’s idea.”

Probably because she wanted to maximize her percentage, Faith thought. Although by the time they finished their circuit of the room, another painting had been sold, so they were obviously priced in line with market expectations.

She was here at Hew’s side as she’d dreamed, and he was doing so well.

Finally able to relax after the mad dash to get here, the stress of the last few days hit her. Faith drank a few glasses of orange juice, ate some peanuts, and admitted to herself that only Hew’s arm around her waist was holding her up. She checked her watch. If she went to bed soon, she would have time for about five hours’ sleep.

“I know you can’t leave the exhibition yet, but do you mind if I stay in your hotel room for a few hours? I’ll get a taxi.”

“Of course. If you don’t mind sharing with Fergus as well.”

She smiled. One of these days, she hoped they would all share a home together, so they might as well start now.

“You do realize I’m not letting you out of my sight until I put you on that plane back to London? Not that I want you to go back, of course.” Hew drew her close again, sighing. “I can’t wait until you’re out of the army. I hate to think of you in any danger.”

“Hew, you’re in danger every time you lead a rescue team up a mountain.”

“Yes, but I understand the perils of nature. I don’t understand the human predilection for killing each other.”

Since she arrived, Faith had been trying to suppress her yawns, and it was getting harder. She put a hand over her mouth and her eyes watered.

“Come on. I’m taking you to the hotel for some sleep before you fall down.”

In the last thirty minutes, the number of people in the gallery had dropped off, but she hated to take him away from the scene of his success.

“Are you sure?”

He didn’t answer; he had already turned to find Mrs. Franklin.

“Thank you for making this a success,” he told her. “I need to leave now.”

Mrs. Franklin glanced at Faith with a knowing smile. “Of course. We’ve had a very successful evening, Mr. Mackenzie. I hope you’re pleased.”

He nodded.

“I’ll keep you updated on sales via e-mail.”

“Thank you.”

Fergus, Duncan, and Megan shared a cab with them back to the hotel. Faith was so tired, she dozed through the journey, and sleepwalked the elevator ride up to the second floor. Hew’s room was similar to the last time he visited her, only this room contained two queen-sized beds.

After a quick wash, she stripped down to her underwear in the bathroom, put on a hotel bathrobe, and stumbled towards the beds. As Fergus went into the bathroom, Hew drew back the bedcovers on one of the beds for her. Once she slid in, he tucked her up like a child.

Hew sat on the side of her bed, stroked her face, and kissed her temple. “Thank you for coming when you really didn’t have time. It means so much to me.”

She took his hand, kissed his palm, and pressed it to her cheek. “I love you, Hew Mackenzie. I was very proud of you tonight.”

He slipped off the bed onto his knees, putting his face level with hers. “I love you so much, darling Faith. I know we’ve only known each other for four months, but when you know, you know. I’ve been thinking and making plans in my head that I hope you’ll agree with. I don’t have a ring for you yet, but I need to say this now in case…just in case. Will you marry me, Faith Wallace?”

His words pierced the sleepy fog invading Faith’s mind, making her wonder for a moment if she was dreaming. She opened her eyes and really looked at Hew, into his dark, earnest eyes. There was no mistaking the emotion and longing she saw there.

Her surprise dissolved in a heady rush of love and excitement. Before she could answer, the bathroom door flew open and Fergus ran up behind Hew in blue pajamas, his eyes alight with excitement.

“Say yes, please say yes. Then you can come and live with us, and Dad won’t be lonely anymore.”

“Yes. Oh yes, I’d love to marry you.” Faith threw her arms around Hew’s neck and she clung to him, tears in her eyes at the thought of him ever being lonely. She would make sure that never happened again.

Fergus put his arms around them both, and they readjusted to include him in a group hug. She kissed the boy’s hair and hugged him tight. If not for him, she would never have met Hew.

How strange life was. When she’d thrown that bottle in the ocean with her Romantic Hearts Book Club friends, she’d never in her wildest dreams expected it to come to anything. Of all the people in the world, her bottle had reached Hew—her real-life dream hero. Maybe there really was a little magic in the world.

“We’ll have fun together, the three of us,” Hew said.

“Um, can we make it four of us?” Fergus said. “I’ve always wanted a little brother or sister.”

Hew drew back and waggled his eyebrows at Faith.

“We’ll have to see what we can do about that,” she said. And they both laughed.