Mungo went about his work that day without any conscious thought of what he was doing. He performed the same tasks as he did every day almost without realizing it. All he could think of was Una. He wished he had fine clothes, a cultured accent, and enough wealth to keep her in the style to which she was accustomed. He would buy the best horses.

But he was daydreaming. Una would not countenance him unless he was a laird or a gentleman and he would never be either, but nobody could take his dreams away from him. She was in his bed every night. Mungo was a man who had lost everything. He had lost his family, his land, his wealth, his hopes and his dreams.

He was fortunate to have found any position at all since he had no references, only plenty of experience in running his own farm. When those lairds who might have hired him heard his history they had wanted nothing to do with him. However, Lyle's father had taken him on, and after working there for three years, Ruaridh had hired him on Callum's recommendation to help Davina in her new venture.

What wrong had he done? He had killed a man who was attacking and trying to rape his wife. He had not done it on purpose and had handed himself into the Justices, but even so, he had been given a year in jail. The only reason why he was spared the noose was because of the circumstances. His wife Aidie died of a fever three months after he was sentenced and his two sons and three daughters were quickly married off to local families.

While he was in prison his land was confiscated, so he had no way to feed himself. He had either to look for work or starve. His history was known to the local lairds, so he had to move further afield. He survived by begging and stealing for a while, then scavenging what he could find from other farmers' crops. He was not proud of it, but it was the only way he could survive.

He was good with horses, but he would have taken any job, until one day he met Callum Shaw riding along the road from Dornoch to Greanoch and asked if he had any work.

"M'laird," he said, "I can turn my hauns tae any farm work ye like but I am fond o' horses mair than onythin' else."

"I could use a good stable hand," Callum said thoughtfully. "Come with me and I will see what you can do. By the way, I am not a laird. Plain 'sir' or 'Mr. Shaw' will do. What is your name?"

"Mungo McLean, sir."

"Get up behind me, Mungo," Callum said. "You will not be able to walk another two miles. There are bannocks and cheese in my saddle bags. Help yourself. You look hungry."

---

"Thank ye, sir, thank ye!" Mungo scrambled up behind Callum Shaw and searched in the saddlebags until he found the bread and cheese. It was slightly stale but to Mungo, it was a feast. The cheese, ripe and soft, was the best he had ever tasted. He wolfed it down and felt energy and strength flow back into his body.

"Some ale there too," Callum informed him.

After the dry bannocks and salty cheese, the ale was like ambrosia. "Thank ye for everythin', sir," Mungo said almost weeping with gratitude, "ye've saved my life."

"It is my Christian duty to help those less fortunate," Callum said. "No more than that."

When they got back to Shaw House, Callum sent Mungo to the kitchen at once. "Go and fill up your stomach," he told Mungo kindly, "then rest for a while. One of the housemaids will show you where to sleep and I will see you tomorrow."

Mungo had no words to express his gratitude. There were still tears in his eyes as he looked at Callum, who smiled and patted his shoulder before entering the house. Just then, a small dark pretty woman in a maid's uniform came up to him and smiled in a flirty way.

"My name is Saundra," she informed him. "Whit's yours?"

"Mungo," he answered, feeling embarrassed. He knew he looked like a scarecrow.

"Weel, Mungo, come wi' me and I will feed you." She looked him up and down boldly. "Ye look as if ye need a good meal."

Mungo had become very thin because of his meager diet and constant walking. His cheeks and eye sockets were sunken and he was very, very dirty. Saundra set a plate of steaming oatmeal in front of him and a cup of goat's milk.

"Get that doon ye, big man." This time her smile held a trace of pity. "Ye look as if ye havenae eaten fer weeks."

"The master gave me somethin' on the way in," Mungo said between mouthfuls. He frowned as he savored the taste of the porridge. "Lass, is there honey in here?" he asked in disbelief.

"Aye," Saundra replied, "we have oor ain hives, so there is plenty. Onyway, ye looked like ye needed it."

He smiled at her and she winked. Mungo attacked his food again. When he had finished his oatmeal after having nearly scraped a hole in the bottom of the bowl, Saundra gave him a bowl of mutton stew. It was a common dish because of the amount of sheep in the area, but it was no less delicious because of that and Mungo savored every mouthful of it.

Afterward, he was so full he could not have eaten a morsel of anything, but when Saundra put a plate of fresh blackcurrants in front of him he somehow found space for them. "Thank ye, lass," he said and handed her back the empty plate. "That was very, very good. I havenae eaten sae well in an age."

She smiled at him kindly. He was an attractive man, she thought, but he had obviously fallen on hard times. "Ye need fattenin' up, Mungo." She sat down beside him, poured herself some milk, and offered him some.

"Naw thanks, lass." He laughed. "If I put ane mair thing in this stomach it will burst!"

"Tell me yer story." Her voice was comfortable and friendly, and he began to unburden himself of all the pain of the previous two years. When he had finished, Saundra put her hand on his on the table. "I am sae sorry, Mungo. There are some things that shouldnae happen tae anybody."

"Aye weel, life goes on, does it no?" He shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned. He smiled at her and she felt like melting into the blueness of his eyes.

"Weel, Mr. Shaw is a very good man," she told him. "He has taken in a lot o' poor people an' even lairds an' ladies. He treats us a' the same. Nae airs an' graces. Noo, I will show ye where tae wash an' where tae sleep." She showed him first to a well just next to the kitchen, with a wooden bucket beside it, then she handed him a bar of rough soap and a coarse towel made of linen.

"The water is freezin', but I will ask the cook tae bring ye a wee bit hot stuff tae warm it up a bit." Her voice was cheery and comforting and Mungo could not remember the last time he had felt so welcome. Then she took him into a room by the stables with four straw mattresses in it. There was a pile of thick blankets beside them.

"Ye can sleep where ye like but the middle anes are aye the warmest." She laughed and he joined in.

Finally, things were looking up. He stayed at the Shaws for three years before Davina decided to start her horse breeding business. During that time, he had worked his way up from the bottom to the top and he had become the stable manager. He would always be thankful for the chance Callum had given him, but the position at Craiglochan was too good to resist. Mungo was worried about giving notice to Callum in case he thought him ungrateful, but Callum thought no such thing.

"Go with my blessing, Mungo," he said when he heard the news. "A man has to make his way in the world and better himself when he can. You love horses and this position is made for you. Anyway, I hear that young Jamie is ready to take your place."

"He is a fine young man," Mungo said and smiled.

"Good luck, Mungo," Callum said kindly, "and God go with you."

Now, as the head of the Craiglochan stud farm, Mungo was in his element. The horses were big and gentle, their foals cute and frisky. Mungo sometimes wished they were the only creatures in the world, but when he looked at Una Anderson he was glad they were not.

Una was all Mungo wanted in a woman. She had beauty, intelligence and wit, she loved horses and, unlike many noble ladies, she was not afraid to get her hands dirty. He tried not to think about her, knowing that he could never in a million years aspire to marry a laird's widow, but he dreamed about her since it was all he could do.

Over the weeks Una went down to the stables more and more. There was some attraction between them that was unspoken, though neither would acknowledge it. They began to have shared jokes, little silly conversations, flirtations. Una knew this man was out of bounds. She knew she could never have a relationship with a man who was a glorified stable hand and spoke like one. But every time she saw him she trembled with desire inside. She dreamt about him warming her bed at night. She gave him tiny gifts like a piece of tablet from the dinner table. Eventually, she could stand it no longer.

The next day she went striding down to the stables, grim-faced with determination, and, without saying anything, dragged him into one of the stalls. She stood, looking up into his blue eyes for a second, then she reached up and pulled his head down to hers to give him a long, smoldering kiss. For a moment, he was so startled that he froze, then he gave an involuntary groan and wrapped his arms around her.

He ended it first, suddenly realizing what they were doing. "My l—" He got no further because she silenced him with a finger on his lips.

"Don't say anything," she whispered. "Mungo, ever since we met I have not been able to stop thinking about you. I went to bed and dreamed that we were riding somewhere beautiful together. It sounds very silly, I know." She paused and looked up at him. "Do you dream about me?"

"Every night," he confessed. "I hae dreamed aboot ye ever since I first came here. But a lady an' a stable man cannae ever be thegither, milady."

She laughed. "Mungo, we just shared a long, arousing kiss. Could you bear to call me Una?" she pleaded.

He nodded, smiling fondly at her. "I think I could," he replied. He cupped her face in his work-roughened hands and they looked at each other for a long time.

"What are you thinking?" Una asked.

"That this cannae be happenin,'" he answered. "It must be a dream."

"Kiss me again and I will show you it is not," she murmured. She pressed herself against the strong, hard length of his body and once again she was enfolded in his embrace. This time the kiss was softer and more tender, but just as arousing and she began to tremble.

"Are ye cold?" he asked, concerned.

"No," she told him and laughed. "Not cold at all. In fact, I think I have a fever."

His face clouded over. "Ye shouldnae say things like that." His voice was quiet and sad. "People die o' fevers. My wife did."

"Oh, Mungo! I'm so sorry. I had no idea." She was shocked at her own clumsiness. "Please forgive me."

"Of course," he smiled at her. "Ye didnae knaw."

"I do not know much about you at all, do I?" She looked at him in wonder. Then she felt a pang of guilt. Ruaridh had only been dead a few months and she was dallying with another man.

"I wish… I wish I were not a lady," she sighed.

"Are ye sure it's no jist loneliness that's makin' ye dae this?" he asked gently.

She sighed. "It is true that I am very, very lonely, Mungo. Davina wants to get me a companion, but that is not the kind of company I want."

He took her hands in his. "I knaw what it is to be lonely," he said. "Ye want somebody tae share that big empty bed wi', somebody that will coorie up tae ye at night, an' haver away tae ye efter the day is done. Aye, I knaw."

"If we cannot be with each other like that." She smiled at him. "Can I come and see you sometimes? We can be loving friends."

"Are ye sure, Una?" He frowned. "Ye must court an' marry a man o' yer ain station in life. Dinnae think aboot marryin' me."

She sighed bitterly. "So many silly rules!" she cried in frustration.

Mungo's only answer was to gently ease her onto the straw and kiss her as if his life depended on it. "Lovin' friends," he murmured, "aye."