Maura McKay was a strikingly beautiful woman, and wherever she went she turned heads. She lived in Fort Augustus, near Inverness, and had been visiting her cousin Annabella when the invitation to the ceilidh had come. Both girls were eager to go. Annabella was already betrothed, but Maura was still free. She had turned down every man her father suggested and now that he was dead it was too late for him to help her, which was just the way she liked it.

No matter, she thought with an inward smile, I will pick my own husband. So she did.

When the invitation came she had been excited and even if there were no potential husbands there it would still be fun. She had long wanted to see the inside of Craiglochan Castle with its commanding view over the sea. The inside of the building was rumored to be sumptuous, and the food even better. Apparently, their food was the best in the Highlands and a spice merchant, Auguste Chevalier, came to see them from time to time to make sure their cuisine was the best in the district. Maura could not wait.

When she walked into the great entrance hall she saw at once that it was lit with the gleams of thousands of candles, quite a few of them in polished gold and silver sconces. This must have cost a fortune! she thought as her gaze roamed over the silk wall-hangings and colorful Turkish rugs. She resolved there and then to restore her own shabby residence to its former glory. It was old, run-down, and the estate was going to seed, but as yet she had found no husband with enough money to restore it to a state that was fit to be seen.

Maura was very fussy. Not only did her husband have to be rich but exceptionally handsome too. She could not be seen going around with an ugly husband; it would make her look desperate. She did not have a very smart residence, but she could afford to wait. Anyone who looks like me will not wait long, she thought. Her gaze drifted to the wooden chairs around the wall, each one intricately carved by a master craftsman. What a great, great pity she could not marry the laird of this castle. But there was only a daughter and two women could not marry each other. She laughed inwardly at the thought.

She had no idea that she was being watched by a young laird-to-be, and he was just right for her: tall, handsome, and best of all, rich. She was asked to dance by a slightly older, gray-haired man and accepted. She did not really want to concern herself with mature men, but she had to be noticed. So, she went through the steps of ‘Strip the Willow’ with a bright smile on her face. She was wearing a green dress that enhanced her hand-span waist and picked out the color of her big green eyes perfectly. She was the center of attention and she was enjoying it very much.

There was one man who suddenly caught her eye. He was tall and dark with long brown hair and warm hazel eyes, just the kind of man she liked. To her delight, she saw him approaching her after the dance had finished. He smiled at her and two lovely dimples appeared on his cheeks. He bowed over her hand and kissed it.

“Athol Murray at your service, mistress,” he said eagerly, “and who do I have the honor of addressing?”

“Maura McKay, sir.” She gave him a little curtsey and a coy smile.

“May I say that you are the prettiest lady I have seen for an age, mistress?” he said gallantly.

“You may say it as many times as you like, sir,” she replied, laughing. “Thank you. A lady never becomes tired of hearing such things!”

“Does the lady dance?” he inquired politely.

---

“She does,” Maura confirmed.

Athol bowed once more and led her onto the dance floor. They could not speak during the dance because of the noise of the music and when they left Maura was whisked away by someone else, so they had no chance to talk, but Maura knew she would see him again. She would make sure of it.

When Athol saw Maura his jaw almost hit the floor. She was lovely beyond his power to express it and as she moved in and out of the dancers on the floor he watched every move she made. She was as graceful as a swan and looked radiantly happy. His eyes followed her until the dance was over and then he approached her. He was nervous since even Davina had turned him down that night.

She will not bite you, Athol, he told himself sternly, but when her beautiful green eyes looked up into his he was immediately reassured that all would be well. She had obviously been born to dance, and he realized that he had never enjoyed dancing so much in his life. However, after their dance the most he saw of her was her bright hair flying as she went from partner to partner, looking as if she were enjoying every second of the evening. She had probably forgotten him already, he thought miserably.

But Maura had not forgotten him. She was not one of the guests who was staying overnight and as she rode home, he was still very much on her mind. She would have liked to find out who he was and get as much information as she could about him, but she was cautious. Her father’s castle was far away and he could not make trips to see her very often. Besides, she had other plans for him. Little did Athol know that he had fallen into the clutches of one of the cleverest and most devious women ever born.

Athol was too busy to go to see Davina or her mother the next day, and the next, and the next. Eventually, he decided to write a note and have it hand-delivered by his manservant, Hamish, with instructions to give it to either Lady Una or Davina. It was addressed to Una so he was fairly sure that Davina would not open it.

Hamish delivered the letter to Una, who thanked him with a puzzled frown. Why would Athol Murray be writing to her? She broke open the seal and began to read.

Dear Lady Anderson,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have a small problem which I hope you may help me solve. I am in search of a lady called Maura McKay whom I met at the ceilidh on Sunday. I was unable to do anything but ask her name so I do not know where she is staying. If you cannot help me, perhaps Davina can do so. Many thanks.

Your servant,

Athol Murray

Una read the letter through, frowning as she did so. What a nerve, she thought, tapping the letter against her chin. She debated whether to tell Davina or not and turned it over in her mind for a few minutes. Eventually, she decided that since Davina did not seem interested in Athol Murray, if she ever really had been to start with, that she would let her daughter see the letter.

Davina looked at it carefully. “He does not say why he wants to see her,” she remarked, “but I know she was staying with her cousin Annabella. It was a short visit, so she may be gone now. I will take a reply and ride over there now. It’s a good day for a bit of exercise.”

She was hoping against hope that she could deliver the letter and make a hasty exit but unfortunately, as she rode into the gate Athol was riding out. He smiled his widest and most seductive smile at her and she smiled back in a slightly less encouraging fashion.

“Davina,” he said happily, “it’s good to see you! How are you?”

As you see me,” she said, handing him the letter her mother had written. “Here is the answer to your question.”

He took it from her and he put it in one of his saddlebags, then she turned Daisy around so that she could go home again. “I expect you’re wondering why I wanted to find her,” he said.

“No, it’s none of my business, Athol.” Her voice was cool, then there was silence for a moment.

“I have never known a woman not to be curious before,” he said, smiling.

“Well, you’ve learned something today,” she replied. In truth, she was dying of curiosity. She just didn’t want him to find out.

“I’ll tell you anyway,” he sighed, "I want to court her and maybe marry her. I was so struck by her beauty I-I couldn’t stop thinking about her.” He looked at Davina. "I’m sorry, do you want to hear this?”

Davina sighed in exasperation. “Athol,” she said irritably, “tell me or don’t tell me. I care not either way. Who you court or marry is none of my affair.”

“But I thought—” He was nonplussed for a moment.

“That I cared for you?” She gave a little, cynical laugh. “A momentary fantasy, Athol. You think too much of yourself. Now if you will excuse me I must get home. Good day!”

Then she urged Daisy into a trot and was soon far in front of him. Athol felt hurt. He liked to think that girls were breaking their hearts over him. Oh, well, he thought, plenty more fish in the sea.