Tilly and Pup dashed after Fergus as he kicked snow about, excited like a wee lad. Hew hadn’t really thought about it before, but he rarely saw Fergus play in the snow these days.

“Come on, Dad. Come on, Faith. Let’s have a snowball fight.” With a handful of compressed snow, Fergus charged towards them and let fly.

“Careful,” Hew called, too late as the snowball thumped into Faith’s chest and exploded, giving her a mouthful of ice crystals.

He needn’t have worried. She wiped off her grinning face and bent to make her own snowball.

“You’re in for it now, mister.” She took off after Fergus, who ran away screaming, the dogs jumping at his heels.

Hew paused to enjoy the spectacle of his son having fun, and their beautiful houseguest clad in a pale blue ski suit, her slender, athletic form holding his gaze. His initial feeling of possession had grown and transformed into a sense of longing.

When Fergus was a baby, Hew had made the decision not to have relationships with women and confuse the boy. Megan more than filled the need for a maternal role model in Fergus’s life, and Hew wanted to give his son his undivided attention. Over the years, that had become a habit.

Watching Faith play with Fergus, Hew acknowledged that might have been a mistake, for both himself and his son. There were nights when he lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, hoping for sleep to carry him away from the loneliness.

Pup jumped up at him, leaving snowy paw prints on his leg, as if trying to persuade him to join in with the fun. He bent to pick up a handful of snow and as he did, a snowball smashed into his shoulder.

“Hey.” He pivoted and tossed his half-formed snowball at his assailant, fully expecting it to be his son, and sucked in a breath as he hit Faith on the side of the head. Chunks of snow stuck to her blue hat and caught in her hair.

She laughed, scooped up two handfuls of snow, and tried to stuff them down the back of his neck. Despite the freezing water soaking into his clothes, his pulse quickened at the feel of her body pressed against his back, her gloved hands on his neck.

“Come on,” Fergus shouted. “Let’s race. Last one home is a flea-bitten sloth.”

They took off after Fergus, laughing, Faith hanging on Hew’s arm to try to slow him down. “No fair. You’re used to wading through snow.”

“I am, that.” He pretended to try to shake her off, all the while hoping she’d hang on tighter.

By unspoken agreement, they slowed to a walk as they neared Boathouse Cottage. At some point, Faith’s hold on his arm had changed, and she’d slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. Now they walked arm in arm, pleasure tingling through Hew at the connection.

When he was with Faith, the snow sparkled more brightly, the air tasted fresher, and the wind sang melodiously through the pine trees. Hew’s heart beat with a noticeable thump, as if it didn’t want to be forgotten.

Why had he been so determined he didn’t want a woman in his life? If Fergus hadn’t been insistent, Faith would never have come to Kindrogan. Yet just because he liked her, that didn’t mean she liked him in the same way.

“Here we are. Home sweet home.”

Hew took the key from underneath the river rock by the door and let Faith inside the cottage that he and Fergus shared. At least it was clean and tidy, although no thanks to him, of course. The cleaning lady who worked for all the Mackenzies had been in a couple of days earlier. Since he and Fergus had been staying at Kindrogan over Burns Night weekend, they hadn’t managed to mess the place up yet.

“This used to be a boathouse?” Faith halted, pulling off her blue hat as she gazed towards the folding glass windows at the front of the property by the waterline.

Before Hew could explain how he’d had the place converted, Fergus grabbed Faith’s hand and tugged. “I want to show you my room.”

Faith cast a smile over her shoulder at Hew, then followed Fergus.

Hew tagged along to stand in the doorway while his son showed her all his treasures—fossils, animal bones, drawings, computer games, books, and much more. She asked lots of questions, appearing to be genuinely interested.

Hew’s chest tightened at the sight of his son’s earnest face. It was obvious Faith’s opinion mattered to him, and she was doing everything right. Could it be that, as wonderful as Megan had been with Fergus, he had missed not having a mother?

The guilt that rose with that thought made Hew turn away and close his eyes for a moment. He knew intellectually that he was not to blame for Nadia’s death, but he couldn’t stop feeling he was partly culpable. He couldn’t cope with more guilt. He dealt with his feelings the same way he always did, by distracting himself.

“Who wants a cup of tea?” he said.

“I’d kill for a coffee instead. I couldn’t see a coffee machine at the castle, and everyone else was drinking tea so I didn’t want to ask.”

“Hmm. We are a little old-fashioned, I suppose.”

He left her guessing on the coffee situation as she followed him into the kitchen. At the sight of the coffeemaker on his counter, she squealed and gave him a quick hug. That halted him and rooted his feet in place for a few heartbeats before he started to breathe again.

Keep cool. Don’t let her know you’re a sad wally, he told himself.

With cups of coffee in hand, Hew and Faith walked from the open-plan kitchen into the living room area. They stood side by side at the tall glass windows overlooking an icy Loch Kinder towards the mist-topped mountains on the far side.

“This has got to be the most fabulous view out a window I’ve ever seen.” Her expression was full of wonder. “You are so lucky to live here.”

“I know. Despite the weather, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

He explained how he’d designed the interior layout of the cottage and overseen the conversion and extension of the old tumbledown boathouse into his home, preserving the historic roof timbers and local stone so it maintained its character and blended with the countryside.

She glanced around, her eyes wide. “You have a beautiful home.” Her gaze caught on the painting on the wall over the sofa, a white-tailed eagle soaring over the loch with the mountains in the background. “Wow. That’s beautiful. It looks just like the view out through your window.”

“It is.”

“The artist was here when he or she painted it?”

Hew nodded. After the way she’d praised the picture, would it be conceited to admit it was his work?

She must have read something in his expression. A thoughtful frown creased her forehead. “Hew, did you paint this?”

“That’s what I do in my spare time.” He led her to the extra bedroom that had become his painting storeroom. Opening the door, he stepped aside so she could see the canvases propped against the walls. “I want to give you one as a memento of your visit, if you’d like.”

She glanced at him and then headed into the room, carefully turning or lifting each canvas to see the pictures. “Wow. Just wow. These are amazing. Why aren’t you selling them?”

He shrugged. His relatives praised his work, but they were family. They would say whatever they thought he wanted to hear. “I’m not sure I’d dare ask someone to pay me for them.”

“Look, even though you’ve got lots of money and you don’t need to sell them, it’s a waste having them shut up in here. They should be adorning walls, bringing people pleasure. What about having a charity auction and selling them to raise money for a Scottish wildlife organization?”

“That’s a good idea.” If they were auctioned, then people would bid what they wanted to pay, and it wouldn’t bother him to take money for them.

As Hew watched Faith in his home, he flashed forward twelve months and imagined having her with him when they celebrated next Christmas at Kindrogan Castle. For the first time, he’d have a partner and not be the sad odd-one-out. Yet before he got ahead of himself, he had to be up front with her and admit his circumstances. He rubbed the side of his hand over his lips.

“There’s something you need to know.” Hew looked down, wishing he was a little more eloquent like Daniel, or his brother Blair, who could talk for Scotland.

“I don’t actually have much money.” He couldn’t meet her gaze, so he stared at his stacked canvasses, certain the words he was about to utter would screw up his hopes for the future. “This cottage is owned by Kindrogan Estate. In other words, it’s owned by my brother Duncan. As is the pickup I drive, and just about everything else I have.”

He risked a glance up to find her frowning at him.

“You must earn a decent salary from the estate?”

“Well, I don’t take much. Just pocket money, really.” He’d turned down the offer of a proper salary when Duncan had suggested it years ago. Back then, he hadn’t been interested in independence. So his brother still looked after him financially as if he were a wee lad.

Hew pressed the side of his fist to his lips and turned away from the door, knowing how lame he sounded. He’d already admitted to her that he dropped out of college. Now she knew he had no savings or even an income.

He raised his head as she appeared in front of him, holding a medium-sized canvas of a view of Kindrogan Castle in the snow, framed by the mountains on either side.

“I’d love to have this one to remind me of my weekend here.”

His heart clenched. Her words sounded as if she had no intention of returning.

“Of course,” he said. “I’m glad you like it.”

She set it carefully on the floor, leaning against the wall, and returned to him. She raised a hand and touched her fingertips to his stubbly cheek.

“I want to set something straight right now. What you did at college ten years ago doesn’t matter one iota, and I don’t care if you have a million in the bank or nothing.” Then she rose to her toes and pressed her lips against his.