Grant was still in a partial stupor when everyone else had risen next morning. Maura was absolutely fuming and would have kicked him out of bed if Lyle had not been there to stop her. He lay groaning, only semi-conscious and still reeking of whiskey and wine.

"He normally wakes up with a bad headache after he drinks, but not half dead like this," Maura grumbled. "If we do not leave soon we will miss our boat."

"Mistress Maura, if you miss your boat you are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish," Lyle said graciously. "We have plenty of room."

Maura smiled at him, but it was a false smile. "Thank you, Mr. Shaw, but we need to leave in the next hour, and I am expecting a message from a friend before that." She looked out of the window to see if she could spot Athol's messenger, but there was no sign of him. "I must go to attend to my toilet." She curtsied. "I will be back as soon as I can. I hope he is awake by then."

Lyle watched the door closing behind her, then he waited a few minutes until her footsteps faded out of his hearing. He took the stopper out of the little clay bottle in his pocket and poured in a few more drops of the poppy milk into Grant's goblet of water. He hated playing these mean tricks on Grant, but it was a means to an end. He had already given him a little during the night, not enough to make him unconscious, just insensible. He forced Grant's mouth open with the lip of the cup, then tipped some into his mouth, making sure that he swallowed.

Maura seemed to be angry most of the time these days. She strode down the corridor to her own room, forcing servants to jump out of her way. Where is that messenger? she thought furiously, he should have been here by now!

She ordered a bath to be prepared, her voice so angry that the staff jumped to attention. When it arrived, she complained that the water was cold. It was not but complaining gave her a chance to vent some of her frustration. There was no time to fill another one, so she used it, and was helped by a strange maid who was so nervous that her hands were shaking.

Maura's buttons were not lined up properly, and the laces on her dress were too loose. When the maid dressed her hair, she stuck a pin into Maura's scalp by accident and she let out a roar of pain. Maura took the sharp pin and stuck it into the woman's arm, her face ugly with rage. The servant turned and fled. As it happened, Lyle, who was leaving Grant's room, saw her and pulled her to a stop.

"Catriona, what is wrong?" he asked, concerned.

It took a few seconds for Catriona to pull herself together then she showed Lyle the puncture on her arm which was already bleeding profusely. "Oh, sir, I'm that sorry," she wept, "I stuck a hairpin in milady's heid an' she stuck it in me. She was awfy angry. Will I lose my position, sir?"

"Did you do it on purpose?" Lyle asked, frowning.

"Naw, sir. I wid never dae that." Catriona shook her head vehemently.

"Then you will not," Lyle consoled her. "Go back to your duties and let me sort this out." He went to Maura's door and made himself take a few deep breaths before he knocked. He was fuming, but he would not show that to Maura.

Thinking it was the maid, Maura wrenched open the door, mouth open to shout another reprimand, and stopped dead when she saw Lyle.

"Good morning," he said, smiling. "I believe you have had a problem with one of my staff?"

"The stupid girl stuck a pin in my head," Maura complained. "I hope you are going to dismiss her."

Lyle took a deep breath. "Indeed I am not, Lady Maura," he replied, his tone silky and menacing. "Catriona is one of my very best members of staff and anyone can have an accident. The girl will apologize to you and after that, we will say no more about it. Are you badly hurt?"

"No," Maura replied grudgingly, "has a messenger come for me?"

"He is waiting downstairs and has orders to deliver his package straight into your hands, milady." Lyle bowed and started to turn away but she stopped him.

"Is Grant awake yet?"

Lyle shook his head. "Not fully," he replied, "he is still very groggy." They began to walk to the entrance hall. Lyle was desperately trying to keep calm but finding it very difficult.

"If he is not able to ride I will tie him on a horse!" Maura threatened, "his drinking is getting out of hand."

Lyle could not say what he was thinking, because once he let go of his anger it would be unstoppable, so he said nothing.

"I'm sorry," Maura sighed, "I did not mean that. I spoke out of frustration. Do you have a farm cart?"

”I do," Lyle replied, "but it is much slower than a horse. You would never get there in time to catch your ship."

Maura's brow creased in thought as she went over to the messenger who was standing waiting for her. She took the little bag from him and bade him wait while she went into a side room to count her money. It was all there. She decided that to keep good faith with Lyle she would give the man a tip so she parted with a shilling, which was quite a lot of money. He bowed, smiled, and left.

Maura was jubilant inside but stayed calm on the outside. She had begun to reap her rewards. She knew that their departure time was coming close and she was beginning to panic. She contemplated going without him, but she felt vulnerable on her own. As well as that, the weather was closing in.

"Stay here, Lady Maura," Lyle urged. "As I said, we have plenty of room and my parents would love it."  

"Let me see if Grant has risen yet," Maura sighed, "if he has not, we will have to stay.

"I am afraid Mother Nature is conspiring against you, anyway," Lyle remarked as he looked out of one of the sea-facing windows. "There is a huge storm coming in from the northeast and I would guess that it will make landfall at about midday. Your ship may not be able to leave."

"I'll look at Grant," she repeated and ran up the stairs, skirts flying.

Grant was lying on his stomach, a dribble of spittle running from his mouth. He looked disgusting, and Maura had to fight down the urge to commit violence on his immobile figure. Grant could see his wife as a vague dark shadow. He could groan but not talk, neither could he lift his arm or his leg. Everything was too much of an effort.

Maura took his empty wine goblet then filled it again from the water jug. With an effort, she turned over his inert body then poured the contents over his face. Grant spluttered, blinked, and groaned. He tried to sit up but was unable to. Maura patted his cheek, only just stopping herself from slapping him again. She sat on the bed and sighed. His drunkenness and the weather had cost them their passage back to Fort Augustus and the boat would not sail for another week.

Then she thought a bit more. Was there any way she could put her time at Lyle's to good use? She thought there might be. Her lover lived very close by; maybe they could spend some time together. Cheered by the thought, she put her best face on and went downstairs. The first person she met was Mary.

Poor innocent Mary, Maura thought, she has no idea.

"Good morning," Mary said pleasantly, "Lyle told me you will not be able to leave today."

"The weather," Maura waved at the window, which was just beginning to rattle with the first gusts of the storm. "And Grant, who is still sleeping off his hangover. Now he is 'under' the weather."

"Very clever!" Mary laughed. "But it's good news for us. We'll have the pleasure of your company for another week. I am very glad about that."

"Thank you!" Maura sounded delighted. She linked her arm through Mary's and they went in for breakfast.

They began to eat and shortly thereafter they were joined by Callum and Finella. "We were surprised not to be woken earlier," Finella said. "We thought we would be saying goodbye to you today."

"Weather, Mother," Lyle came up to her and kissed her, then greeted his father with a handshake. "And Grant is unwell."

"So, you're here for another week?" Callum asked, pouring himself some ale.

"Yes, if you will have us," Maura made herself sound anxious.

"You are most welcome dear," Finella smiled.

The family began to chat about ordinary things: friends, people on the estate, and a hundred and one other things that families everywhere talked about. Maura felt alone and out of place; this was such a loving family. Just then, Grant came staggering down the stairs holding his head. Lyle and Maura got up to greet him and help him sit down at the table.

Maura put her arm around her husband; he was a pitiful sight. His hair was tousled and his clothes crumpled. His face was white with purple circles around his eyes and bore crease marks from the sheets.

Lyle had a pang of conscience. He had administered the opiate to Grant and this was the result. Grant was a good person and did not deserve this. If only Lyle had known about the weather. Then it would all have been unnecessary. Still, he reminded himself, Grant had drunk to excess and that was no fault of Lyle's.

"Are you all right, darling?" Maura asked in tones of deep concern. She was outwardly worried but seething with rage inside.

"I'm fine now, my love." He smiled, then kissed her hand. He looked around at his breakfast companions. "Please forgive me," he apologized, "I have made a complete and utter fool of myself. Have we missed our chance of getting to the boat?"

"You would have missed it anyway, Grant," Lyle soothed him. "Look at the weather. Be at ease, my friend. Can you eat something?"

Grant looked at the food and grimaced. "Not yet," he replied. "Some ale perhaps? I have a powerful thirst."

"Wee hair of the dog, eh?" Callum winked at him and filled up a mug. "Get that down you, my boy. You will soon feel right as rain."

Grant downed half the mug in one gulp and then sat quietly beside Maura. "You must eat," she said. She cut half a bannock for him and laid it on his plate. "Try just a little," she urged. Grant obediently put the dry tasteless bread in his mouth and swallowed it with a sip of ale. He felt better almost at once.

He smiled at Maura, his heart swelling with love. He did not deserve such a kind and beautiful wife. "Thank you, dear," he murmured, squeezing her hand. "It will never happen again."

"You said that last time, Grant," she replied and laughed.

"I mean it this time."

"You said that too," she reminded him. After a moment she pushed him against the back of the chair, smiling. "Shoulders back and chest out, my love. Today we start afresh."

There was applause and laughter from around the table before they all fell to their meals again. Maura's demonstration of affection had not fooled everyone, though. Athol and Davina had decided not to go back to Lyle's home that morning but to await word from him. Athol was too restless to stay in the castle so he went out to his estate manager's house to attend to some business.

Davina thought about going for a ride but discarded the idea. instead, she went to keep her mother company. Una was up in one of the turret rooms looking wistfully out to sea. As Davina came in Una smiled at her. There were tears running down her cheeks.

"Mother." Davina laid her head on Una's shoulder. "We need to find you something else to do other than stare out of windows all day."

"Tell me something, daughter," she sighed.

"I was going to go for a ride, but I did not want to go on my own," Davina answered. "Maybe we can go together and keep each other company."

Una thought for a moment, then smiled. "Good idea," she replied. "Then you can show me some of your horses."

"Have you thought how closely the words 'widow' and 'window' resemble each other, Mother?" Davina asked, kissing her mother. "You should not stand by them too often."

Una laughed. "You are right, my darling." She put an arm around Davina's waist and they went to the stables where Mungo was mucking out the stalls. He had two young stable hands to help him but the work was endless.

"Good mornin', milady. Good mornin', Mistress Davina." He smiled at both of them, but his glance lingered a second longer on Una. She had noticed but pretended not to.

Whit a bonny lass! he thought.

What a handsome man! Una sighed inwardly. Like any woman, she had needs and here was a strong, capable, dependable man who could fulfil them. If only she was not a recent widow and he was not working class, then maybe. She quashed the thought at once. Nothing was going to happen between Mungo and herself.

When she came out of mourning she would no doubt be courted by a number of older men of her own class. However, she had always had a habit of wanting what she could not have and now it was Mungo. She knew she did not have the courage or status to defy convention, but she really wished she had. She watched him now as he gentled a fretful horse, talking to her in a soft voice, occasionally kissing her. The horse replied by whickering and messing up his hair with her nose.

"The horses love you," Una observed, smiling at him.

"There's nae secret tae dealin' wi' horses, ma'am," he answered. "Ye need tae gie them love an' respect, jist like humans."

Davina had moved on to speak to one of the stable hands and Una went up to stroke the nose of the mare that Mungo was petting. She stroked the horse's nose, feeling his eyes on her even as she tried to avoid his. Then, unable to help herself, she met his intense blue-eyed gaze and an unspoken message passed between them.

Una's lips parted to say something but she could neither speak nor tear her gaze away from his. Neither could Mungo, and he let his hands fall helplessly to his sides as he drank in every detail of her face. His gaze wandered over her gray-green eyes with their long lashes, her full lips, high cheekbones and her crown of fair hair.

"You are very beautiful, milady," he said huskily.

Una blushed. "Mungo, I—" she began, but he cut her off.

"Forgive me, Milady, I forgot my place for a moment. It will not happen again." He turned away from her and she could see the embarrassment on his handsome face.

"Mungo," she said and he turned around reluctantly. "Never apologize for giving a lady a compliment. Thank you." They smiled at each other and he went into the next stall.

Davina led her mother around the stables looking at broodmares, stallions, foals and yearlings of every color, shape and size, but Una's mind was preoccupied with Mungo. She felt intensely guilty for being attracted to another man so soon after Ruaridh's death and especially one whose social stratum was so much lower than her own.

But those blue eyes! She knew it would be a long time before she got them out of her mind. She realized that she was attracted to men with bright blue eyes since Ruaridh had had them too.

"Mother!" Davina's voice was stern. "You have not been listening to a word I've been saying, have you?"

Una shook herself out of her reverie. "No," she sighed, "I'm sorry, dear. What were you saying?"

Davina looked over at Mungo again. He was talking to one of the stable hands and had his back turned to them. "You cannot have him, Mother," she said firmly.

Una looked shocked. "Who? Mungo?" Her voice was almost a squeak. She flapped her hand at her daughter. "He is a servant. I could never be attracted to a servant."

Davina looked closely at Una's blushing cheeks. "He is also a very handsome man," she pointed out.

"No doubt, but I cannot have a romance with a stable hand!"

Davina thought that the outrage in Una's voice was a little too forced. "Did I mention romance?" she asked innocently.

Una stopped walking and faced her daughter squarely. "Davina, we are both adults," she said sternly, "and you cannot tell me that you have never been attracted to a man you could not have. Yes, I will admit it. I do find him attractive and not just because of his looks. He seems to be a very good man, but we live in a castle and he lives in servants' quarters. Nothing can come of it, so be at ease, daughter. You have nothing to worry about."

"Good," Davina was relieved, "because I would not like to have a stable hand as a stepfather."

They mounted up and rode out, but took another path instead of the cliff path. Una would no longer go that way, not even for a short distance, so they rode down by Loch Greanoch and into the village itself where they stopped at a little shop and bought some apples to eat on the way home.

When they returned the horses to the stables Mungo was nowhere to be found. Davina was relieved, but Una was disappointed. She would have liked to have seen Mungo one more time, even from a distance.

"Stop dreaming, Mother!" Davina chided her. "Let him marry a woman of his own station in life."

"I said nothing about marriage," Una replied, appalled. "Why, your father is hardly cold in his grave. It will be a long time before I even look at another man." But she avoided Davina's eyes.

"But Mother," Davina pointed out, "you just did."