Una looked at her daughter, puzzled. They were both trying to keep their hands busy, Davina by spinning and Una by making a tapestry, hoping that somehow it would take their minds off their grief. "Is there something going on between you and Athol?" Una asked delicately, "he looks at you differently these days."

"He has been wonderful, Mother," Davina sighed sadly, "but being concerned for someone's well-being and falling in love with them are two different things. He thinks he loves me, although he has never said the actual word. We talked last night, but I think he is living in a fantasy world. Oh, Mother, you have no idea how much I want to live in that fantasy world too. These last few days, well, this must be what living in hell is like. I cannot imagine anything worse. If you had died—"

"But I did not die," Una said firmly, kneeling down in front of Davina and taking her hands. "Your hands are so cold, my daughter. I miss him too. I get cold in bed if you are not with me. Imagine, I shared a bed with him for half my life, it is hard being alone. I cannot imagine anyone taking his place, but we still have each other. There is a war going on against us, but how many small armies have won against insurmountable odds? We will triumph, and we will be stronger than ever. And now, tell me about your horses, because I want to be part of your new venture!"

Davina was glad to have something new and cheerful to talk about. She wanted to start her new venture with the mare and foal she had bought, and specialize in the breeding of heavy plow horses. She loved these gentle giants, with their Roman noses, soft natures and huge feathered feet. The fast, racy horses favored by the gentry were not for her and her own horse was a stocky hunter, not a lightweight by any means. When Davina thought of horseflesh she thought of power and muscle.

"I want to buy horses from the farms hereabouts," she said, "and maybe even as far away as Fraserburgh, Mother. Only the best breeding stock, mind. No weaklings. I will hire a few sturdy men to help me out, making sure that their pedigree is thorough too. But first, we must find out who our killer is, and who our slanderer is. I want this nightmare to be over, Mother, but most of all I want justice for you and Father. You deserve it."

"Whatever we start to talk about we end up talking about your father," Una said with a heavy sigh. "You are right, my dear. Tomorrow we begin the quest for justice in earnest, but I want you to start breeding your horses soon if only to give you something to do. This cannot take over our whole lives."

"And what will you do, Mother?" Davina asked curiously.

"I will run the household as usual and help you as much as I can," Una said, a trifle over-brightly. "And I will help Athol and Lyle if they need me. I will get justice for us—I feel it in my heart."

Davina smiled at her and poured her some spiced wine from the barrel that Athol had sent over. She handed a goblet to her mother.

"They are so good to us," Una observed, smiling. “Do you have feelings for Athol, Davina? Because I would be happy if you did.” Una’s voice was soft and encouraging, but Davina only shook her head.

"I am very confused, Mother,” she answered wearily, “and I cannot think about it now. Please let it go.”

Una nodded. “If you wish.” She put her hand on Davina’s. “You know that I am always here. You mean everything to me.”

Davina smiled at her mother. “I love you.” She smiled.

Athol could not get Davina out of his mind. He wondered how he had managed to look at her for years and years without really seeing her. He knew the answer of course. He had not noticed her because he had been too busy looking at other exotic beauties and admiring himself too much. He would see her soon, for Una had summoned him and Lyle for dinner that evening. He was impatient. This new feeling had taken over his life and it was wonderful.

Meanwhile, Davina needed to employ some skilled grooms to attend to the breeding stock. She enlisted the help of Laird McAllister, one of her father's closest friends, who sent his best stable manager to help her. Alec Douglas was a short dumpy little man with small dark eyes and a bald pate that looked as if it had been polished, so shiny was it.  He was a happy soul. His laugh was loud and infectious, and he looked as though life was one permanent party. Davina liked him on sight and he was one of those people whom the horses liked immediately too.

"Horses an' a' ither animals is great judges o' character, mistress," he informed her. “They aye knaw when there's a bad lot amang them."

"I have heard that before," Davina replied, fascinated. "As if evil gives off a scent of its own."

"They're canny creatures, horses," Alec replied. He had brought with him a man that the Lyle's father himself had recommended, based on his and Alec's own sound judgement.

This stableman had been employed by Callum Shaw for years and was as trustworthy an employee as could be found anywhere. He was a broadly-set, well-muscled man in his mid-forties, handsome in a rugged way, with gray-streaked black hair and bright blue eyes. He handled the horses with an assurance born of long practice and, though he said little to her, Davina felt an immense comfort in his obvious expertise.

"Thank you, Alec." She gave the little man a wide smile and he looked as though someone had given him a precious gift.

"A pleasure, mistress," he replied, "Mungo will serve ye well, but ye will need anither pair o' hands an' a' ance the foals start drappin'!"

Davina laughed. "From your lips to God's ears!" she prayed, laughing. "You will accompany me to the horse fair as we agreed?"

"Aye, mistress!" he said with satisfaction, rubbing his hands together. "If there's ane thing I love it's horse fairs!"

When Alec had gone Davina went to speak to Mungo, who was forking hay into Dandy's hay net. "What do you think of him, Mungo?" she asked.

He smiled, showing even white teeth. "He's a beauty, mistress," he replied, "sturdy an fit, wi' a gentle nature. Ye'll dae well fae him."

Davina noticed that like many men who worked with horses, he preferred them to people. "Are you married, Mungo?" she asked curiously.

He laughed shortly. “Only tae these beautiful beasties," he answered, running a hand down Dandy's shining black coat. "They dinnae hurt anybody. Naw, mistress. I've never found the right lassie. Or she hasnae found me." His tone and the look in his eyes suggested that someone had hurt him badly before, but Davina had no wish to pry into his personal life, so she said nothing. She bade him farewell and walked back to the castle again, both dreading and relishing the evening ahead.

"Why are you so quiet tonight?" Lyle asked suspiciously, frowning at his friend.

"I am thinking," Athol replied a little defensively.

"About what? Or should I say about whom?" Lyle went on, frowning and laughing at the same time.

Athol gave him a murderous look, which Lyle blithely ignored. Athol sighed. He hated Lyle in this mood when he seemed to know every thought Athol had in his mind. Athol was feeling guilty about his intimate encounter with Maura and wondered if he should tell Lyle. He was the closest thing Athol had to a brother and he knew that whatever he said would go no further, but it still made him uneasy knowing that Lyle might look at him in a different way since he despised Maura so much.

"If I tell you something," he said cautiously, "will you promise not to judge me?"

"I cannot promise that," Lyle answered, "but I will try to understand. Is it bad?"

"Yes and no…" Athol looked at the sea to avoid Lyle's eyes for a moment. Suddenly he decided to get it over with. "I lay with Maura," he blurted out, "on the night of your ceilidh."

Lyle was silent. "I see," he said eventually. "Well, why should I judge you about that? You are a man and she is a woman." He shrugged. "I cannot see why it worries you or why you think it would worry me."

"You do not like her." Athol frowned at his friend. "Do you?"

Lyle shrugged. "I do not know her," he replied, "it is just a feeling I have. I could be all wrong. But whether I am wrong or right, Athol, I have no right to judge you over this or any other matter."

"So, you don't mind?"

"Why should I?" Lyle asked irritably. "It has nothing to do with me."

Nothing more was said until they were within the courtyard. Lyle gave Athol a despairing look. "It is not a friend you need, Athol," he stated as he gave his horse to the stable boy, "but a nursemaid."

When Davina came out to meet them again it was obvious to Lyle, who had not seen her for a few days, that she had lost weight again. It was not much, but enough to thin down her face and sharpen her cheekbones.

"You look lovely, Davina," he said and gave her a wide smile. She blushed and nodded, acknowledging the compliment.

"Come in," she invited, extending an arm in welcome.

Una was waiting for them and for the first time since Ruaridh's death she was not wearing black. She was still in a mourning color, a deep purple dress with a black veil, but the inky darkness of the first week had gone. Neither Lyle nor Athol remarked on it, probably because they had not noticed. However, Davina had commented on it just before they arrived. She tried not to believe that Una had somehow begun to move on so soon after her father's death, but it bothered her.

Una saw her look. "Do you think it is too soon to wear half-mourning colors?" she asked anxiously. "Because I think Ruaridh would have wanted me to." She gave a tremulous laugh. "He always hated me in black."

Davina embraced her. Knowing that her father's feelings would not have been hurt made her feel much better. "If it makes you feel happier, then I am happy too. Father would not have wanted you to mourn forever."

"But maybe it is too soon," Una said doubtfully, frowning. Davina smiled and kissed her mother's cheek as the two men came clattering into the courtyard.

"Do not worry," she whispered, "I will wear dark gray tomorrow. As you say, we need not be in black forever."