Highland Hearts. Eva Hamilton Maria

is well past the age of being referred to as a lad. But aye, he returned.”

      Sheena held her temper in check as her aunt spewed forth her distaste of Highlanders. “Why on earth would he come back? There is nothing for his kind here. Just goes to prove my point about those people. No sense. Do you know how much it costs to travel by sea? No wonder his people are so poor. They have no idea how to make or save money. Dreadful waste. It is like a different world up here in the Highlands. I so miss Glasgow. And civilization.”

      The sound of a servant entering the room diverted their attention. “Supper will be served now,” the parlor maid said as she curtsied awkwardly, fleeing the room the second her words escaped her lips. Sheena didn’t blame Cait for rushing away—she only wished she could, as well.

      “See what I mean.” Jean pinned her needle into the cloth. “You must be thankful your fate is tied to a notable house Sheena. You will only have to suffer these people as your servants. You shall be forever grateful to me for that, child.” Jean laid her embroidery aside and rose with an air of dignity to lead the way to supper. Sheena didn’t argue. Her aunt wouldn’t understand why Sheena considered Cait her best friend.

      “Aye, Jean, we are very thankful to you and Kyle for finding such a suitable match for Sheena.” Tavia took her sister’s arm, creating a wall in front of Sheena that made her unable to sidestep them. “Arranging your betrothal to Ian Mackenzie was the best thing your uncle and aunt could have done for you Sheena. Ian is the son of one of the richest tobacco lords in Glasgow—you will be set up in the nicest house …”

      “Estate,” Jean corrected her.

      “Aye, estate.” Tavia grinned. “And Sheena, you will have all the finest things. You will want for nothing.”

      Maybe one day Sheena would feel gratitude for Jean and Tavia’s interference into her life, but not today. Not after seeing Logan at their waterfall. And surely not after he stirred all those old emotions she’d painstakingly buried inside the locked chambers of her heart.

      Yet with her dowry bestowed upon Ian, to whom did that heart belong?

      Chapter Two

      Weary from his long journey home and his ensuing argument with Sheena, Logan finally smiled as the thatched roofs from huts came into view ahead of him. His family didn’t even know he walked these moors. Logan almost laughed aloud; his surprise appearance would surely bring rejoicing. And he could use some of that.

      “Uncle Logan?” A lad with the same brown eyes and hair as Logan jumped down from a rock after a moment’s hesitation.

      “Aye.” Logan waved, his heart swelling.

      “Uncle Logan.” Ewan’s shriek sailed across the moor. Logan dropped his bag and scooped up his ten-year-old nephew. “Uncle Logan, you’re home.”

      “Aye.” Logan laughed, noticing how much his nephew had changed in five years.

      “As I live and breathe.” Nessia stood before them wearing the same married-woman’s kertch upon her head and looking nearly the same at twenty-seven as she had at twenty-two when Logan had last seen her. “You’ve come home.” She embraced Logan. “Angus is out back. Come, you have to see your brother.” Nessia grabbed Logan’s hand and rushed him around their one-room dwelling.

      Ewan ran ahead of them. “Da, Uncle Logan has come home.”

      “Logan?” Angus rose slowly from the mucky soil he farmed, even though at age twenty-eight he could no doubt easily jump to his feet. Angus’s apparent shock as Logan approached changed into a facial expression that mirrored Logan’s thoughts. It had been too long; coming home felt right. “I don’t believe it. This is a great day.” Angus hugged him. “Praise the Lord Almighty.”

      “You must be famished, Logan. Come inside. I’ll get you something to eat.” Nessia ushered them around to the sole entrance at the front of the hut.

      The walls, nearly three feet deep, held an open wooden door swinging in welcome. Logan stepped through, seeing only black as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. Even though the spring sun shone at seven at night and wouldn’t go down for a couple more hours, the one small window in the dwelling didn’t seem keen to let in the sunshine.

      “Duncan, this is your uncle Logan.” Angus knelt down on the earthen floor to his youngest son’s eye level. “You were just a wee lad when he left.”

      “This is the brother you always talk about?” Barefoot, Duncan eyed Logan and Angus nodded.

      Logan didn’t like that his nephew didn’t remember him. Wee Duncan wouldn’t even recognize him if they walked right past one another. But what did he expect? A lot had happened in five years. Only a fool would think it a short time. Look at all he’d missed.

      He definitely missed taking care of Sheena. And he understood her anger toward him. But he didn’t share it. Not given what her father had forced him to do. He had needed to go to the Americas to secure their future.

      He’d obeyed her father and taken the only step he could that would allow Sheena to one day become his wife. And he would never regret that. He returned worthy to wed her. But he also accomplished a lot more than what he’d set out to do—he’d amassed the means to offer her a decent life, something he couldn’t have done five years ago.

      But what if she wouldn’t accept him now? Even after he explained. Without her … Nay. God saw him home safe and for that he should celebrate. He’d win Sheena’s love back. With God’s help. Somehow.

      Logan held out his hand and Duncan took it. “You look like my da when he’s ill and doesn’t trim his beard and moustache for a very, very long time.” Duncan’s innocence made the room erupt in laughter. Despite the age gap of two years, eight-year-old Duncan could be mistaken for Ewan’s twin. McAllister men evidently shared a striking resemblance.

      “Come, sit.” Nessia ladled broth into a wooden bowl from a black cauldron over an open flame. “Eat.” She put a wooden spoon in the bowl and handed it to Logan.

      He didn’t need to be told twice. “Thanks. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten a good meal.” His compliment produced a grin from Nessia before she turned to dish out the lads’ meals. “Is there cow’s meat in this?” Logan knew his clansmen hardly ever ate meat.

      “We lost another cow a couple days ago.” Angus downed his drink from a large pewter tankard before refilling it and handing it to Logan. Logan smiled. One drinking vessel for the whole household. Could his family cope with a richer life outside Scotland?

      “So tell us everything.” Angus leaned toward Logan.

      “Let him eat first, Angus,” Nessia chaffed. “He’s starving.”

      “All right, but I’m excited. I want to hear all about the Americas.”

      “You’d like it, Angus,” Logan said. But he didn’t elaborate after receiving a stark look of warning from Nessia.

      He wanted to tell Angus everything though. His travels had opened his eyes to the larger world. Scotland lagged behind in many ways. He could benefit his brethren by sharing all he learned. Like telling them to end this nonsense of fearing trees and stop digging them up as soon as wealthier men planted them.

      The farmers here would never produce good crops until they learned to block the wind and let trees and other plants with deep roots dry up the soil. He wished he could show them. The Americas grew acres of trees and yet the land also yielded bountiful crops. Food that people here didn’t even know existed. Food that could fatten up their chronically skinny cows and sheep. Food that would stop the starvation.

      “Would you like more?” Nessia offered after Logan finished his last spoonful of broth.

      Sitting back, Logan patted his stomach with both hands. “As delicious as that was, I’m full.” And yet, even if his stomach still growled from