Highlander Mine - Juliette Miller

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curled around the back of it, extending far into the distance, smooth as a mirror, reflecting the cloudless purple sky. Quaint orchards dotted the landscape with small trees so lovingly tended they might have been topiary sculptures. And beyond them, as far as the eye could see, farmed hills rolled gracefully, striped with rows of crops. Layered shades of earthy browns and greens were so rich in promise and hue they looked as if they’d been painted with an artist’s brush. Sheep and cattle grazed the farthest foothills, tiny dots of red, black and woolly white. If I’d been asked to dream up the most bucolic, heavenly setting I could fathom, even my most grandiose fantasies would not have captured the charm of the scene I looked upon now. Kinloch offered the ideal blend of careful cultivation and rambling nature, as though the combined vigor of the fertile earth and the breezy air had found some sort of perfect alignment here under the skilled hands of the Mackenzie clan. The tall stone wall that circled the keep reached all the way to the far horizon, containing and showcasing the beauty and plenty of the landscape within it.

      The manor itself rose impressively from the surrounding splendor. From its highest turrets, flags flapped in the wind. The flag of Scotland. And just below it, one that was unfamiliar to me, emblazoned with a stag’s head. The Mackenzie crest, I guessed.

      “I have never, ever seen anything so grand in all my life,” I murmured, aghast. Hamish’s head rested against my shoulder as he dozed.

      It was Katriona who responded. “You’re the daughter of a doctor from a prosperous family of Edinburgh. You must have seen grand buildings before.”

      My eyes disengaged from the scenery to rest upon Katriona’s face. Her pithy comment stole a degree of beauty from the day, as though a cloud had just passed over the sun. Her impeccable grooming had suffered only minimally from the travel, her dark hair still neatly bound. Light shadows touched the hollows below her eyes, but her complexion was creamy and becoming in the pink light. Her slim, almost willowy figure was wrapped in a tartan shawl. She was not unattractive and if she had possessed even a shred of tenderness she might have been quite lovely. As it was, I couldn’t help feeling slightly amused by her light but undisguised derision. It wouldn’t do to return her rudeness. I was far too experienced with manipulative belittlement to rise to her bait. And despite the hours of sleep, I felt almost more tired than I had along the rougher days of our journey. I already knew Katriona disagreed with her companions about my invitation. She had agreed to it only because Ailie and Christie were kindhearted, a trait she might have admired and aspired to. I smiled politely, remembering my role and my story. I kept my tone mild and pleasant, which was much easier to do if I made a point of speaking to Ailie and Christie as well.

      “I’ve seen many grand buildings,” I said. “Castles and cathedrals. Modern hospitals and stately courthouses. Elite schools and domed, acoustically attuned music halls.” Rarely, I didn’t need to add. More often, I’ve deliberated upon the interior décor of a decadent gaming hall, listening to the scuttling roll of a dice across a felt-lined table, feeling the supple glide of the deck of cards I hold in my hands as I shuffle the cards and deal them to unscrupulous men. In my quieter moments, I retreat to an unused private library where I find sanctuary in the pages of old, dusty books as I pursue my treasured ambition of learning, and of teaching: a dream that is as passionate as it is pointless. “Many of them are architecturally designed masterpieces, of course. But they’re all city buildings. I’ve never been out of Edinburgh before now, and I can only marvel at the beauty of the countryside. And this countryside is far more beautiful than I might ever have imagined. It somehow lends a completely different magnificence to a manor than rows of other grand buildings do.”

      Christie and Ailie seemed pleased by the observation; they appeared to take my comment about the glory of their home as a compliment, as it was intended.

      “You’ve never been out of Edinburgh?” Katriona asked. To her, the information was clearly another strike against me. “What a pity.”

      I wasn’t sure of her meaning. And I wasn’t overly compelled to find out exactly what her meaning might be. I was too distracted by the commanding view of the fields and the mountains beyond.

      The carriage was slowing, coming to a stop at the front entrance of the manor. Footmen opened the doors and helped us disembark. To Hamish’s dismay, the guards had ridden off once we were inside the walls of the keep and were nowhere to be seen.

      “Amelia,” Ailie said. “Christie will show you and Hamish to your guest chambers. You’ll be quite comfortable there for now.” I remembered: I was to undergo an extensive interrogation by the almighty laird himself, and at his very first opportunity. I honestly didn’t feel up to such an encounter at this present moment. My usually staunch self-preservation-at-all-costs outlook felt as if it had been somehow undermined, just slightly, by this vast, resplendent place. I wanted to be left alone, to drink it all in and appreciate it for a time.

      Christie seemed to sense this. “After I show you to your chambers, you can take a stroll through the gardens if you’d like. After all the traveling you’ve done, you might like to take some time, to settle in and clear your head before the noon meal is served in the hall.”

      I was very touched by her kindness. I smiled at her. “Thank you, Christie.”

      She returned the smile. She reached to finger a long ringlet of my hair that had come loose. “Your hair is the most outstanding color. Not blond, not red. Something in between. With a myriad of shades from rose gold to copper.”

      “Strawberry blond,” clarified Hamish. It was what my sister called it. We had read the term in a book somewhere and we had mused at the fanciful-sounding word. In fact, we had no idea what a strawberry was, or what color such a thing might be.

      My nephew was in somewhat of a mood, since he’d discovered the soldiers had taken their leave of him. Christie had noticed his immediate attachment to the burly guards—and their weapons. “No doubt you’ll have an opportunity later, Hamish, to visit the soldiers’ barracks, and to meet with Lachlan, and perhaps even Laird Mackenzie himself. He has the biggest sword of them all.”

      Hamish was placated enough by her comment, but it left me with a singular flush of unease. Knowing I would have to face this Laird Mackenzie—and his big sword—and spin my elaborate lie seemed less larkish than it had from afar, now that we were here within the walls of Kinloch.

      Christie led us into the manor, through a grand hall that was being cleaned by a number of efficient workers and up a stone staircase. Every detail of this place shone with gleaming attention. Large candles sat in grooves carved into the outer edge of every second step, illuminating our path with a modernistic glow. Deer antlers had been weaved to make a rustic chandelier overhead. Tapestries depicting hunting scenes, the scenic loch I already recognized, a wedding and other stunningly crafted portraits of Mackenzie history decorated the stone walls. We were led to our private chambers, which was small but charming, and very clean. It was a narrow room with a large window at one end. There were two single beds laid with thick furs, a dresser between with a porcelain pitcher and bowl on top and a small table with two chairs placed by the window, which overlooked the orchards.

      “’Tis very simple, but I hope you’ll find it suitable enough during your stay,” Christie said.

      “It couldn’t be more perfect,” I assured her. “Much better than a hay wagon.”

      Christie smiled again, her white teeth small and neat. She was so pretty and petite. I was several inches taller than she was and much more voluptuous. I knew I had the kind of figure that won the attention of men—I’d had more than enough experience with their admiring glances and lascivious comments to understand that much. But now standing here next to Christie made me feel less like a womanly treasure and more like a prize-winning heifer. “Once you’re settled, feel free to stroll the gardens as you like,” she said. “A meal will be served at midday, in the hall. You’ll hear the bell. When Knox is ready to see you, he’ll send someone.”

      With that, she left us to it. I washed my face with some cool water and brushed my hair, tying it in a loose coil, but Hamish was too energized to stay cooped up in our room.

      “Let’s go, Ami. I want to

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