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Nathaniel loaded a wagon with his friend Karl but paused when he saw Ewan approach. He motioned for them to continue to work and helped them finish loading the wagon. “Do you have any more to do?” When Karl pointed to the empty wagon next to the filled one, Ewan smiled and helped them fill it too. The quiet camaraderie and the work eased some of his tension.

  When they had finished, Karl muttered his thanks before returning to the sawmill. Nathaniel remained outside, sweat pouring off his brow. He and Ewan approached the nearby creek and rinsed their hands before scooping up some water to drink. Ewan splashed his face and neck, shivering at the freezing temperature of the creek.

  “I always forget how cold the water is this time of year!” he said as he dried his face with his scarf.

  “Ya, but is refreshing.” Nathaniel slapped him on the back. “Thank you for your help. You saved us time, and it will allow Karl to prepare for his evening with Leena.”

  Ewan raised an eyebrow and half smiled.

  “He is taking her to the café tonight. I go too, of course, as it is not proper for her to go only with him. But I talk with Harold the entire time and give them time alone.”

  Ewan smiled. “You’re a good older brother to your sister.”

  Nathaniel sobered. “Your brothers have not been so good to you.” When Ewan frowned, he said, “Why did they allow you to stay with that reporter? The one who abuses you?” He pointed to the bruises on Ewan’s face.

  “She didn’t give me these. I fought in the Boudoir and …” He shrugged.

  “Ya, but she abuses you in other ways.” Nathaniel watched Ewan with concern.

  Ewan shook his head. “She was injured, Nathaniel, and needed my help. It was my decision not to leave.”

  Nathaniel sighed. “You harmed her more than you helped her. Leena told me that the Jameson woman was quite upset as she marched down the boardwalk today. The mother wants you for her daughter.” He laughed as Ewan shivered again.

  Ewan sat on a wood stump. “What else have ye heard in town? No one says what they feel in front of me or my family.”

  “Townsfolk say that, if you do not wed the reporter soon, others will find their way to her bed. Or that you were smart to extract your revenge as you did.” He shrugged. “You will not have to suffer due to your actions.”

  Ewan shook his head. “It’s never the men who have to suffer.”

  Nathaniel nodded. “No, only the women.” He slapped Ewan on the back. “Do you need more wood?”

  Ewan nodded, quickly discussing the order he needed filled and then departed as Nathaniel reentered the sawmill. Rather than return to his worksite, Ewan made a detour down Main Street to the bakery. The bell tinkled as he opened the door, and he smiled as he saw the finely wrought shelves and space he had helped create for Annabelle. At the time, she and Cailean were adversaries, and Ewan had never suspected that she and Cailean would marry.

  Leticia emerged from the back and smiled at Ewan. “We’re sold out,” she said with an apologetic smile as she pointed to the bare shelves.

  “Aye, I should have kent better.” He rubbed at his head. “Is Anna around?”

  Leticia motioned for him to follow her into the back room where Annabelle prepared baskets for delivery. Leticia hefted two and called out a goodbye as she exited the back door.

  “Give me a moment,” Annabelle said. Her stomach was ever increasing, and she now walked with a slight waddle. She moved to the front where she flipped the sign to Closed, locked the door, and pulled the curtains. “I should have done that a while ago. Most townsfolk know not to come in after two.”

  Her smile faded as she looked at Ewan. “Are you all right?” She pointed to a stool, and he collapsed onto it. His customary good mood returned for a moment when she put a plate of cookie pieces in front of him, along with a glass of milk. “I know this doesn’t make it all better, but sometimes it makes it all bearable.”

  “Cailean did no’ understand how fortunate he was when he married ye. Nor did we.” He smiled as she fought tears. “’Tis the bairn, I imagine, that makes ye weepy.”

  She nodded and sniffled. “What’s the matter, Ewan? You haven’t been like yourself for days.”

  He chuckled and then lowered his head to lean on his forearms crossed over themselves on the butcher-block countertop. “That’s where ye’re wrong. This is more how I am. Moody and pensive. The carefree ne’er-do-well was no’ truly me.”

  Anna pulled out a stool and sat. “I always wondered what you were running from. Losing your money at the gambling table. Whiling away your hours at the Boudoir.” She met his gaze, so much like Cailean’s before he had made peace with the death of his first wife and baby. “You’re not that different from Cailean or Alistair, and I could never understand why you would lose money, rather than pay them back the funds they had taken out for bringing you to America.”

  Ewan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Cailean isna the only one to lose someone he loved. I did too. I also lost every dime he sent to me.”

  Annabelle gripped his hand and shook her head. “I don’t understand. How did you get here?”

  “I stole and then I gambled what I’d stolen.” He smirked. “Thankfully Lady Luck didna abandon me that night.”

  She frowned as she studied her brother-in-law. “It doesn’t take away the fact that your brother sent money for you to travel here. That he took out a loan. Why haven’t you helped to pay him back?”

  Ewan shook his head. “Did ye ken Cailean had promised me money a year afore it arrived?” He looked at Annabelle with leashed anger. “A year.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I don’t understand. What’s important is that he sent it. That he never forgot his family and wanted you to be together.”

  Ewan growled and rose. “Nae, ’tisn’t what’s important! If he’d done what he promised, I wouldna have lost her! I would never have had to let her go!”

  Annabelle sat stock-still a moment in the face of his anger and grief. “Cailean did not cause anyone’s death, Ewan. Not his wife’s. Not his baby’s. Not your love’s. He’s only ever done what he could to help those he loves.” She swiped at her cheek. “If you resent your brother this much, you must speak with him, talk it out. If not, perhaps you should consider living elsewhere.”

  Ewan spun to face her and stared at her with confusion. “I resent fate. I resent his inability to get a loan earlier. I resent false hopes.” He took a deep breath. “Aye, I resented him for a long time, and I can no’ lie and say it did no’ soothe an ache to see him as miserable as I was.” He flinched at her indrawn gasp of air. “Selfish man that I am, it helped to ken I was no’ the only one sufferin’ the loss of someone I loved.”

  He paused and looked at his sister-in-law. “But, after I spent time with him, after so many years apart, I kent what I always knew was true. He was my brother, and Cailean had done all he could for me.” Ewan took a deep breath. “It was no one’s fault but fate’s and her father’s and …” His voice broke as tears poured down his cheeks.

  “Oh, Ewan,” Annabelle murmured as she rushed toward him and pulled him into her embrace. “There’s nothing I can say to take away that pain.” She rocked him back and forth as she cried with him as she held him in her arms.

  When he calmed, she sniffled and patted his back. “I don’t think your carefree mask was all a ploy. I think you enjoy your unfettered life and your ability to do what you please.”

  “Aye, I’ve enjoyed it for years.” He took a deep breath and scrubbed at his face. “But I dinna find the pleasure in it now as much as I used to.”

  She waited a moment for him to speak and then sighed when his gaze remained unfocused and distant. “Does it have something to do with a certain red-haired journalist?” She smiled when he flushed.

  She tugged him to a stool and sat next to him when he remained quiet. “Cailean felt guilty for loving me. He thought he was betraying Maggie and their bairn.” She sighed. “Love isn’t like that, Ewan. There isn’t a quota on h
ow much we can love. If that other woman truly loved you, she’d want you to be happy now that she’s not here.”

  Ewan lowered his gaze. “I ken that. I do.” He rubbed at his eyes. “But I couldna have picked a worse woman.”

  Annabelle laughed, not bothering to wipe the tears off her face or to blink away the ones still in her eyes. “Why do you say that? I think she’s perfect for you. She challenges you, which is something I think you need. You’d be bored within a week with an agreeable, docile woman.” She met his frown. “I may not always like what she prints, but it is her business.” She gripped his hand. “What is important is what you know to be true. You must believe that she is the woman you want to court and marry, not worrying about what others will think.” She hugged him again. “Be happy, Ewan.”

  He let out a long, stuttering breath. “I’m tryin’, Anna.” He met her gaze, embarrassment and shame in his expression. “I dinna want ye thinkin’ I wish Cail harm. That I dinna …” He shook his head.

  “I know how much you love your siblings, Ewan.” She squeezed his hand. “I know what it is to wish I’d done something differently for my sister rather than to always have a long-standing rift between us. I’m thankful you haven’t put past hurts before your present relationship with Cailean.”

  Ewan nodded. “I’m glad ye’re my sister, Anna.” He squeezed her hand and rose. “I’ll see ye at home.”

  Chapter 9

  The following Sunday, a week after he had spent time with Jessamine, Ewan worked in the livery helping Bears. Alistair and Cailean were still with their wives, and Ewan relished the time alone in the barn with the horses. Bears was a hard worker, but he rarely spoke, so Ewan had no expectation of conversation, and he appreciated the uninterrupted time to think.

  The rumors about him and Jessamine had only multiplied during the week, although he had kept his distance. The fact she had refrained from publishing a paper this week had heightened the townsfolk’s curiosity as they were interested in the latest N&N and what she would write about him. His absence from her life had only seemed to heighten the burgeoning scandal, rather than diminish it. The townsfolk now referred to him as the town’s heartbreaker and murmured about Jessamine as the wronged woman.

  He sighed before digging his pitchfork into a pile of dirty hay. He loaded up a wheelbarrow and moved the hay outside. He breathed in the crisp fall air, infused with the scent of woodsmoke. The sound of men chopping trees carried on the wind, as many were storing up firewood for the winter. He turned into the barn and met Bears’ gaze.

  “What else do ye need me to do?” Ewan asked as he swiped at his brow.

  Bears shrugged. “You’ve done enough. You won’t outwork your demons here.”

  Ewan stilled and then glared at Bears. “Ye dinna ken what ye’re talkin’ about.”

  Bears’ long hair swung over his shoulders as he moved with an innate grace around a stall, spreading hay onto the floor and readying it for another horse. “I know more about it than you think. Loss is the one constant we all share.”

  Ewan snorted. “I thought love was.”

  Bears turned and his brown-black eyes shone with intelligence and understanding. “No, that’s what the poets tell us. We know better.” He turned away and continued his work.

  Ewan stared at Bears’ back a few moments until he realized he would have no more conversation from Bears. With a muttered curse, Ewan set aside his pitchfork and walked to the side of the barn and the hand pump. He bent low, dunking his head in cold water before rising and shaking his head clear.

  He grunted when a towel was thrown at him and scrubbed at his face and head. Cailean stood watching him with a mixture of concern and impatient exasperation, his constant expression when looking at Ewan for the past few years. “What have I done now?” Ewan demanded.

  “It’s what you’ve failed to do,” Cailean said. He flicked a glance at Bears and then shrugged. “I thought you’d have asked for her hand, but it’s been a week.”

  Ewan sat on the stool Cailean set out for him and continued to absently scrub at his head. “I ken how long it’s been since I’ve seen Jessie,” he whispered. Cailean sat in silence, and Ewan met his brother’s gaze. “Why … How did ye ken about Flora? It was after ye left. I never told a soul. Even Sorcha dinna ken about her.”

  Cailean bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “When you arrived, you weren’t the brother I remembered. You were damaged.” Cailean looked out at the paddock and the horses snoozing in the late fall morning. A soft breeze blew, and a gentle light shone over the mountains. “Alistair told me it was leaving Skye that had affected you, and I realized what leaving had done to him.”

  Cailean cleared his throat as though trying to alleviate his guilt at his middle brother leaving Skye with him. He met Ewan’s shuttered gaze. “I knew it was more than that. One night a few months after you arrived, when I was lonely and missing Maggie to my marrow, I went to the Boudoir. You were there but sitting downstairs, sipping whiskey. Not the watered-down pap the Madam sells but honest-to-God whiskey. And you were muttering about Flora.” Cailean took a deep breath. “I sat next to you and shooed away the Beauties. And you told me of who you’d loved. But you never said she’d died.”

  Ewan groaned and shut his eyes. “I thought no one kent.” He rose and wandered to the door of the paddock.

  “Why do you think I worry about you gambling and going to the Boudoir?” Cailean watched his youngest brother, unable to hide his concern.

  “Ye worry about the money I’m losin’. About the fact I never paid ye back.” He growled as Cailean spun him to face him.

  “Nae,” Cailean rasped. “Never. I worry because I ken ye’re livin’ in the past when ye go to those places. Not the present. That ye have no dream for the future. Ye cling to ghosts as fiercely as I did.”

  Ewan’s ironic laugh echoed through their part of the barn. “Is that no’ what I warned ye of? Clingin’ to ghosts?” He watched as Cailean remembered their past conversation. “I only kent what ye were doin’ because I’m so good at it myself.”

  Cailean gripped his brother’s arm, refusing to allow him to storm away and to end their conversation. “I know I failed you. I know you blame me for her death.” He nodded. “Yes, I spoke with Belle. There are no secrets in our marriage.” He waited a moment for Ewan’s anger to fade. “I’m sorry, Ewan. I did what I could.”

  Ewan shook free of his brother’s hold. “I ken that. Now. After I arrived and saw how hard ye and Al worked. After I saw the toll yer grief still took on ye and how Alistair fretted.” Ewan forced a smile. “I refused to be the youngest brother, brought low by grief too. I would be cheerful, and carefree, everyone’s friend.”

  Cailean’s steady gaze caused Ewan to shift and lower his head. “You succeeded.”

  “Aye, I did. And I have kent joy.” He raised his head in defiance.

  Cailean tilted his head to the side. “When?”

  Ewan rubbed at his face. “When I’m battlin’ with Jessie. She’s unlike anyone I ever kent. The exact opposite of Flora.” He flushed as though he had sullied Flora’s memory in some way. “I never ken what Jessie will say or do next, and it’s exhiliratin’.” He sighed. After a moment he whispered, “She needed me that night, Cail. I couldna abandon her.”

  “Aye. I understand that. However, the gossip is vicious right now. And I fear her next paper will not be well-received, no matter what is written in it.”

  “She turned me down,” Ewan whispered. He met his brother’s shocked gaze and nodded. “Said she’d faced scandal before without having to shackle herself to an overbearing Scotsman who thinks he knows what’s best for her.”

  Cailean laughed. Ewan punched him in the chest, and he stumbled backward. Alistair, who had just entered the barn, grabbed Cailean before he tumbled into a pile of hay.

  “Why are ye punchin’ Cail?” Alistair asked. His brown eyes shone with a quiet contentment, only adding fuel to Ewan’s ire.

  “I can
na be around the two of ye today!” Ewan growled.

  “Get yer own woman,” Alistair said with a shrug.

  Cailean chuckled and said, “He tried, but she said no.” He met Bears’ curious gaze as he brushed a horse in a nearby stall, and Cailean winked at him. Bears half smiled and continued his work.

  “The reporter turned ye down?” Alistair raised both eyebrows and then shook his head. “When?”

  Ewan rolled his shoulders as though uncomfortable about the conversation. “Last week. I asked her Monday afore I left.”

  Cailean groaned. “She was takin’ pain medication. She was half out of her mind with it. You never ask a woman when she’s in such a state.”

  Alistair shrugged. “Ye never ken. If she wasna grateful for all he did, she may never want to marry him.”

  Ewan glared at his brothers. “Ye are no’ helpin’.” He kicked at the hay spread about the floor. “She said I was takin’ advantage of her. That I should be ashamed that I was more concerned about what others would say than common sense. That I didna ken her and should no’ want to marry her.”

  “Ah,” Alistair said with a knowing nod. “The lass is afraid.”

  Ewan laughed. “That woman has no’ been afraid of a thing in her life.”

  Cailean shook his head. “No, I think Al’s right. You scared her. Now you have to woo her if you want her as your wife.” His smile spread, mischief glinting from his gaze. “Should be a sight to see.”

  News & Noteworthy: I have recently discovered that the town’s most disreputable gentleman is not nearly as disreputable as he would like us to believe. In fact, I believe his entire disreputable persona is an act. I have recently discovered that Mr. D.G. is a man of his word who continues to honor his lost Scottish love. Poverty and desperation separated them, but he remained steadfast in his constancy and his determination to find her. He searched the large city of Glasgow, Scotland, for her, long after their separation on the Isle of Skye. Imagine his desolation to discover, after months of dreaming of her, that she was dying in squalor. Never one to abandon those he loves, Mr. D.G. remained with her until she died. One wonders if any woman alive can compete with her ghost.