The wake was an ordeal, but at last, it was finished. Una and Davina were exhausted, but there was one day’s rest before the funeral so that they would have a chance to sleep. Both of them, after two nights of wakefulness with only snatches of sleep here and there, fell into bed in the morning and slept till dawn the next day.

Maura had been at the wake. She had been wearing black, and its darkness brought out the dramatic color of her bright auburn hair so that she looked like an exotic flower. There were many redheads in Scotland, but few as uncommonly beautiful as Maura McKay. She knew it and was using her attractiveness to its best advantage since it was her most powerful weapon.

She looked around the room to find Davina and was pleased to see her standing on her own by the door. She looked so sad that Maura almost felt sorry for her. Almost, but not quite. Empathy was not in Maura’s nature. She went up to Davina and curtsied, a look of concern on her face.

“Mistress Anderson,” she said anxiously, “you do not look at all well. Are you feeling ill?”

“Mistress McKay,” Davina replied and attempted a smile. “I am missing him already, but I will cope. My mother and I have each other.”

Maura smiled at her kindly. “Come and visit me,” she suggested, “we are living with Lyle for a few weeks until our wedding is done, then going back to Fort Augustus a few days later. You can give me an opinion on my gown, and of course, come to the wedding.”

Davina thought for a moment. This was just the sort of thing she needed to boost her spirits and help her to start to heal. “I will, thank you,” she replied, “it will give me something to look forward to, and I can see Lyle’s future wife at the same time.”

“And we can talk about your father if you wish,” Maura said gently. “When my father died, everyone was too scared to mention his name, but I would have loved to talk about him. He was so funny and clever. After two years, I still miss him.”

Davina clasped Maura’s hand in one of her own. Good, Maura thought, it’s going well.

Lyle watched them grimly, wondering how he could find out what was going on and if he could somehow warn Davina. There was something very, very dubious about Maura and he felt it every time he was near her. Now, seeing her talking to Davina, both of them smiling, he was afraid. He was afraid for Grant too. Such a woman would never be faithful to him. Just then, Maura looked up and caught his eye, then smiled at him coquettishly. He smiled back so that he did not cause any ill-will, but he needed to watch his back now. She sensed that he had guessed something.

Davina was pleased that she had made a new friend, but now there was the funeral to face. She sat at the front of the church with her mother, dry-eyed and tense. Six of the biggest mourners brought the coffin down and set it in front of the altar, and she sat almost immobile as Father Anthony intoned the dreary Latin words.

Davina had never understood why Mass was not spoken in Gaelic or English, and she spent most of the time during the service thinking about Ruaridh. The service in the churchyard was solemn and depressing. A misty rain had begun to fall, Davina and Una had both started to weep, and the mourners were chilled to the bone. As Davina watched the coffin being lowered into the ground, her one thought was that her father was trapped in that box with the lid nailed shut. Shortly they would dump six feet of earth on him, sealing him in forever, and she could not bear to look at it. She turned and ran away, howling with misery. Una would have run after her, but Athol stopped her.

“Let me,” he said and sprinted down the hill. There was a smooth slope there that ran almost to the cliff edge and he was concerned that her momentum would carry her over it. “Davina!” he called out as loudly as he could. “Davina, stop!” He had to shout a few times before she heard him.

She came to a stop just before the bottom of the hill and he skidded to a halt beside her. He took her by the shoulders and shook her slightly. “I thought you were going to throw yourself over the edge!” His voice was a growl of anger. Davina dropped to the ground and put her head on her lap, wrapping her arms around them. Then she burst into tears. He dropped to his side beside her and held her tightly.

“Shh... I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I did not mean to upset you, Davina. Forgive me. Forgive me, please.” He kissed her forehead softly. She smelled of lavender, he noticed and her skin was as soft as a rose petal.

She sobbed for a long time against his shoulder, then she looked up. “Thank you,” she whispered. He smiled, realizing for the first time how pleasant it was to be holding her. He did not realize until later that what he was feeling was desire.

Then she stood up, seeing Una running, almost tumbling down the hill towards them. She nearly lost her balance, but Athol saved the day again by catching her in his arms. Davina and Una clung to each other for a moment, then Athol took each of their hands and led them silently back up the hill.

Towards the very top, Una began to flag. She leaned over, hands on knees, to catch her breath, but Athol picked her up without effort and carried her to the top of the hill, where he set her down. She smiled at him gratefully, shaking her head.

“I cannot believe you did that, Athol!” she said, shaking her head in admiration. “You are not even out of breath!”

“There is no magic to it, milady,” he replied, laughing. “Lifting sheep, baling hay, harvesting barley—it all helps. I work alongside my men. They are wonderful fellows. In truth, I could not sit behind my father’s desk all day and I am far too restless to sit and gamble with other young men. They have other pastimes which I despise too. No, I like the outdoor life.”

Una felt the muscles on his upper arms. “I think it likes you too,” she said, smiling.

Father Anthony had waited for them to come back. He was used to interruptions of this sort; grieving relatives were notoriously unpredictable. They often did the strangest things in the middle of the service and especially at the graveside, when the finality of the situation hit them hardest. Now, he quietly resumed the service while Athol put an arm around Davina and her mother, standing between them for the rest of the service. Davina found his presence wonderfully distracting.

However, when it was their turn to throw a handful of earth on the graveside and they saw it landing on top of the coffin, Davina and Una broke down completely and half-walked, half-ran back to the castle.

Lyle came over to offer assistance, so between him and Athol, they supported the two women until they got back to the castle. Once there, they went into their favorite parlor and sat down by the fire. Lyle went, unbidden, to receive the mourners and see to their repast, then Athol ordered some hot mulled wine and sweet biscuits before closing the door. He settled a blanket around each of their shoulders and sat down, holding his hands out to the fire.

“Were you ever a maidservant, Athol?” Una asked, smiling.

“I am hoping to be one someday, milady,” he joked, “I am still in training.”

They all laughed then. Athol’s attempt to cheer them up appeared to be working. They sat by the fire reminiscing for a while, talking about when they were younger and the escapades they had got up to. When they mentioned Ruaridh, Una became tearful, but she did not lose control. The wine was sweet and spicy, and biscuits redolent of honey and ginger. After a while Una became sleepy.

“It’s been a hard few days,” she remarked, standing up and yawning. “I think I could sleep for a week. No—” She put her hand up as Davina started to accompany her. “Thank you, sweetheart, but I can manage to get up the stairs on my own.” She turned to Athol. “Thank you for all your help today, Athol. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“My pleasure, milady.” He smiled and kissed her hand. “Please look after yourself, and if you need help with anything send me a message at once.”

“May I kiss you?” Una asked shyly.

“Of course.” Athol was taken aback and slightly abashed, but he offered her his cheek. To his surprise, she took his face in both hands and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“You are a good man,” she said warmly, then turned and left quietly.

Athol put his fingertips to his lips. “My goodness,” he said softly, “I did not expect that!”

“She is a very affectionate person.” Davina smiled.

Athol pulled Davina down to sit beside him and she found herself very unexpectedly pressed against him with his arm around her shoulders. What is he doing? she thought, tensing up immediately. He felt it at once.

“Davina, we are friends, are we not?” he asked. She began to pull away from him, but he resisted her and she sat where she was, frowning in puzzlement.

“Yes,” she replied, wondering where this was going.

"I wondered why you treated me with such disdain sometimes," he frowned, then looked at her straightforwardly.

She sighed. "I was not aware that I did," she replied, "but I always felt that you were a bit too… vain."

“You are not the first person to say it," he replied, "it is my demon, but I am conquering it, I hope. But may I say that you are blooming these days, in spite of the circumstances."

She blushed. "Thank you," she replied, astonished.

He hesitated for a moment. “What do you think of Maura MacKay?” he asked the question in a matter-of-fact way, but he was frowning with concern.

“I am going to see her before she leaves again,” Davina replied, “I think she’s a warm person and very lovely.”

“That was the impression I got too,” he replied thoughtfully.

“But you know she is betrothed, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know," he replied, sighing theatrically. "My heart is broken—yet again!" They laughed.

“You will have to find yourself another lady to dote on.”

“You, perhaps?” he asked, smiling.

Looking into his greenish-brown eyes, she wondered if he was jesting or if there was a purpose behind his suddenly flirtatious manner. Probably jesting, she decided. “No,” she answered, “not me. I am not spoken for but nobody seems to want me. Too fat, probably!” She laughed sadly.

“I told you before you’re not too fat!” he said sternly, "Maura is beautiful, but it is in the eye of the beholder, so they say. There are many types of beauty and yours is one of them."

“To what do I owe all this flattery?" She laughed then changed the subject. “I am thinking of starting a horse-breeding business. I bought a mare who was in foal a few months ago, you remember? Well, it gave me the idea. I love horses, and I have the capital, so why not?”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” he replied, “and you are just the person to start it, Davina. You have ambition. You will do well.”

She hugged herself and smiled. “I am so glad you think so,” she replied, “it will be good to have some moral support.”

“I will help you in any way I can. You just have to ask.” He smiled at her. "It will be my pleasure."

“I am so glad to hear it,” she said, sighing with relief. “I think I am going to need all the help I can get!”

He left a few minutes later. As she watched him galloping away, she reflected that tonight's was the most intimate conversation they had ever had, and her heart raced at the thought.

I must be going mad, Athol thought. Davina? But there had been something between them tonight and suddenly the thought of Maura seemed much less attractive.