“I am well aware of what Glasgow is like, Mr. McAllistair, and I am sure I will be given opportunity to come and go as I please.”
Logan took her hand and slid it through his arm, keeping his hand over hers as they walked to the inn. Nothing out of the ordinary escorting a lady like this. He truly longed to make her more than a friend. Having her to hold pulled at his heart.
How would he watch her with another man? He tightened his grip on her arm, as if he could stop her from leaving him. Sheena was betrothed to Mr. Mackenzie; that fact never left his thoughts. Betrothals equaled marriage. Only the formalities remained. How could God’s plan for them come to this? Logan stopped, making Sheena stumble backward a bit.
“Sheena.” Logan looked at her with an intensity he felt surge from his core. “You cannot marry Mr. Mackenzie.”
About the Author
EVA MARIA HAMILTON found true love online. She has been married for over twelve years and has a beautiful daughter. An enthusiast for lifelong learning, Eva’s studies span diverse fields of academia in both Canada and the United States. With a diploma in human resources management, a bachelor of arts degree in psychology, an honors bachelor of arts degree in history, and a master of science in education, Eva realized her studies focused on one thing: the human condition. What better way to share this knowledge of and passion for humanity than by writing about it? Part of a close and loving family, Eva would like to embrace her readers as friends. With computers playing such an important part in Eva’s life, you’re invited to connect with her on her website at www.EvaMariaHamilton.com.
Highland Hearts
Eva Maria Hamilton
I dedicate this book to my immediate and extended family, especially my mother-in-law, Josie, father-in-law, Joe, sister-in-law, Yvonne and the Tomasevic and Perri families, with a special thanks to my husband, Jason, daughter, Michelina, parents, Lina and Bob, brother, Bill, and grandmother Angelina for all their help, encouragement and support writing this book.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to the Toronto Public Library for hosting Deborah Cooke as their Romance Writer in Residence extraordinaire. Deborah, thank you. And thanks to Missy Tippens who introduced me to the lovely F.A.I.T.H. Girls and talented writers and friends of Seekerville. Your camaraderie, along with friends at Harlequin.com are invaluable. To my wonderful editor, Emily Rodmell, and everyone in the Love Inspired family at Harlequin, including Tina James and Krista Stroever, you have my gratitude. Plus a special thanks to Carolyn Graziani and everyone in the art department, including Sam Montesano, for creating a beautiful cover. And to God, whom I thank daily for all my blessings, thank you for always filling my life with such outstanding people.
My lover spoke and said to me, Arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See!
The winter is past; the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come. The cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.
—Song of Solomon 2:10–13
Chapter One
Callander, Scotland 1748
Sheena Montgomery stood completely still at the top of Bracklinn Falls. The sound of rushing water filled the gorge. The rock underfoot felt hard and cold, a mirror image of her heart.
Alone, she looked past the tip of her toes dangling dangerously over the edge of the steep cliff. Several yards down the water crashed against the soft pudding stone, wearing it away. With all its fury, the water fought, eking out a way through the world. Pushing forward, not caring what it hurt in its path.
“Sheena?” a man’s voice leapt out of the silence behind her, making Sheena whirl around so fast she lost her footing. In shock, she waved her arms frantically trying to regain her balance.
The man raced forward. His strong arms pulled her away from a certain death. “There now, I’ve got you. You’re all right.”
Sheena stood staring at the man’s face, his raggedly long brown hair and beard unfamiliar to her. But his eyes, those deep brown, soul-piercing eyes. Unforgettable.
Sheena’s voice caught in her throat for a fleeting moment. “Logan?” Her eyes surely fooled her. She envisioned herself succumbing to her father’s mental illness. Because Logan McAllister had left Scotland five years ago. He couldn’t be here. She never thought she would see him again.
“I hoped to find you here, lassie.” Sheena just looked at Logan. In all the years he’d lived in the Americas, he’d never sent word. Not one letter saying he was still alive.
But she wasn’t losing her mind and wouldn’t die the same way her father had this past autumn. Logan’s arms cradled her against his warm chest. Her senses heightened. His smell, his touch, his very being, raced through her with dizzying speed. She stared at his lips, remembering their warmth.
“In our special place,” he told her, and Sheena couldn’t deny the meaning this place held for them. She remembered only too well all the times they had come here hand in hand, talking about the day they would wed.
Since the day he’d left, she’d hiked miles up this crag. Like a pilgrimage site, it became a shrine to their relationship. A place where she felt close to him again, like being in his presence, even though he was in another country.
But weeks stretched into months and then years and Sheena gave up on her silly girlhood dream, forced to acknowledge that Logan never meant to ever come back to Scotland. And yet, he stood in front of her now, grinning as if no time had passed and nothing had changed. Anger welled up in Sheena.
“Mr. McAllister.” She pulled away from him. She couldn’t say his given name as she always had before—he stood before her now almost as a stranger. Calling him Logan would show closeness, something she could no longer attest to. Besides, she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing how much she had pined for him during his absence or how much he had hurt her when he chose to leave.
He apparently didn’t agree with her logic. “We’re a little past formalities, aren’t we, lassie?” Logan’s lips formed a wry smile under his thick beard. A spark lit up the light golden flecks in the brown eyes Sheena had once adored.
“Nay, Mr. McAllister. I don’t think so.” A gust of wind sent Sheena’s auburn hair into an annoying flurry that blocked her vision. She raised her hands quickly to get control of it.
“You are a sight for sore eyes.” Logan’s wry smile turned into a full grin. “Five years left you even more beautiful.”
“Five years,” Sheena repeated, her irritation erupting, as she pulled roughly on her unruly locks to keep them in place.
“I still remembered how to get up to our waterfall.” Sheena furrowed her brow at Logan’s words, but Logan didn’t seem to acknowledge her anger. “It’s just as I remember.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She didn’t move, hardly dared to breathe as she watched him to see if he did indeed look just as she remembered him.
He still wore the same socks that didn’t slouch an inch lower than his knees where green ribbons held them up, but instead of his kilt he now wore brown breeches. The color had faded somewhat, and they looked as well-worn as his brown shoes.
His buttoned-up brown vest could do with some mending, not to mention how much scrubbing the collar of his white shirt needed.