needs attention." With a polite nod, he went to the door.
"Do meet us in the dining room or the library," Amy said.
He looked over his shoulder. Seated amid the other ladies, Christina Blackburn seemed to bloom like a pale rose. Fascinated by her, he feared he could not easily stay away.
"Perhaps," he said, as he opened the door.
Chapter 5
The rainbow luster of the books made Christina gasp in awe as she followed Lady Strathlin into the library. High windows admitted silvery, rainy daylight gleaming on polished tables and leather chairs. Soaring bookshelves with brass mesh shutters spanned the walls from floor to ceiling.
She turned. A gallery walk skimmed the upper walls, accessed by iron staircases, and bookshelves were even boxed into pillars that divided the huge room into private reading bays beneath the gallery level.
Above the fireplace hung her father's oil painting of Mary, Queen of Scots, for which her mother had posed. Christina smiled with delight, turning again. Despite its size, the library was cozy, warmed by wood, leather, bright carpets, plenty of light, and the enticing smell of a wealth of books.
"It's wonderful," Christina breathed. She loved books and libraries, and in the years since Stephen's death, reading and studying had provided a much-needed haven of safety.
"This was once the great hall of the old medieval keep," Lady Strathlin said. "Sir Hugh renovated it for his library. His study is through that alcove." She pointed to a corner with an open door. Christina saw a mahogany desk, leather chair, and more bookshelves.
"How many books are in the collection?" she asked.
"Over eight thousand." Aedan MacBride stepped out from behind a pillar in his shirtsleeves and vest, his thick hair slightly mussed, as if he had combed his fingers through it. Behind him she saw a larger table scattered with papers, pencils, a slide rule, and a few maps. She had not realized he was there, and felt herself blush. "This library was one of my father's chief passions, besides his poetry, and of course Dundrennan itself."
"Aedan!" Lady Strathlin said. "Is Dougal with you?"
"Here, love." Another man rounded the same pillar, his tall, powerful build and lighter coloring complementing Aedan MacBride's lean, dark Celtic grace. He came forward to kiss Lady Strathlin's tilted cheek and turned to take Christina's hand.
"I'm Dougal Stewart, Lady Strathlin's husband." His smile was kind, his handshake warm and firm. She liked him instantly.
"Christina Blackburn, from the National Museum. I'm so glad to meet you," she answered.
"Dougal is a lighthouse engineer," Aedan explained. "Perhaps you've heard of the Caran Lighthouse in the Western Isles."
"Yes, of course! It was completed recently," Christina said. "Quite an admirable feat, from what I understand."
Dougal shrugged, smiling. "My real fame is as the husband of the admirable Lady Strathlin—and of course as Amy's brother and Aedan's cousin."
Aedan MacBride huffed in amusement. "I hope you've come to claim your husband, madam," he told Lady Strathlin. "He is driving me mad with facts about the ratio of wave force to solid mass." He glanced at Christina. "If Dougal does not have some project to challenge him, he will harangue anyone who will listen with numbers and ratios and tales of nature."
She laughed, glad to be included so naturally in their camaraderie.
"There is plenty to distract me these days," Dougal replied. "My wife and our children—they are safely tucked up at Balmossie, Mrs. Blackburn—challenge me constantly." He tucked Lady Strathlin's hand discreetly and tenderly in his. Her fair skin suffused in a pretty flush as she looked up at him.
The warm glow of the couple's love and respect for each other seemed tangible, Christina thought, and she nearly sighed with longing. Her chance for an intimate, joyful relationship had been cast already with Stephen—she had gambled and lost.
Noticing Aedan MacBride frowning, she remembered Lady
"Do meet us in the dining room or the library," Amy said.
He looked over his shoulder. Seated amid the other ladies, Christina Blackburn seemed to bloom like a pale rose. Fascinated by her, he feared he could not easily stay away.
"Perhaps," he said, as he opened the door.
Chapter 5
The rainbow luster of the books made Christina gasp in awe as she followed Lady Strathlin into the library. High windows admitted silvery, rainy daylight gleaming on polished tables and leather chairs. Soaring bookshelves with brass mesh shutters spanned the walls from floor to ceiling.
She turned. A gallery walk skimmed the upper walls, accessed by iron staircases, and bookshelves were even boxed into pillars that divided the huge room into private reading bays beneath the gallery level.
Above the fireplace hung her father's oil painting of Mary, Queen of Scots, for which her mother had posed. Christina smiled with delight, turning again. Despite its size, the library was cozy, warmed by wood, leather, bright carpets, plenty of light, and the enticing smell of a wealth of books.
"It's wonderful," Christina breathed. She loved books and libraries, and in the years since Stephen's death, reading and studying had provided a much-needed haven of safety.
"This was once the great hall of the old medieval keep," Lady Strathlin said. "Sir Hugh renovated it for his library. His study is through that alcove." She pointed to a corner with an open door. Christina saw a mahogany desk, leather chair, and more bookshelves.
"How many books are in the collection?" she asked.
"Over eight thousand." Aedan MacBride stepped out from behind a pillar in his shirtsleeves and vest, his thick hair slightly mussed, as if he had combed his fingers through it. Behind him she saw a larger table scattered with papers, pencils, a slide rule, and a few maps. She had not realized he was there, and felt herself blush. "This library was one of my father's chief passions, besides his poetry, and of course Dundrennan itself."
"Aedan!" Lady Strathlin said. "Is Dougal with you?"
"Here, love." Another man rounded the same pillar, his tall, powerful build and lighter coloring complementing Aedan MacBride's lean, dark Celtic grace. He came forward to kiss Lady Strathlin's tilted cheek and turned to take Christina's hand.
"I'm Dougal Stewart, Lady Strathlin's husband." His smile was kind, his handshake warm and firm. She liked him instantly.
"Christina Blackburn, from the National Museum. I'm so glad to meet you," she answered.
"Dougal is a lighthouse engineer," Aedan explained. "Perhaps you've heard of the Caran Lighthouse in the Western Isles."
"Yes, of course! It was completed recently," Christina said. "Quite an admirable feat, from what I understand."
Dougal shrugged, smiling. "My real fame is as the husband of the admirable Lady Strathlin—and of course as Amy's brother and Aedan's cousin."
Aedan MacBride huffed in amusement. "I hope you've come to claim your husband, madam," he told Lady Strathlin. "He is driving me mad with facts about the ratio of wave force to solid mass." He glanced at Christina. "If Dougal does not have some project to challenge him, he will harangue anyone who will listen with numbers and ratios and tales of nature."
She laughed, glad to be included so naturally in their camaraderie.
"There is plenty to distract me these days," Dougal replied. "My wife and our children—they are safely tucked up at Balmossie, Mrs. Blackburn—challenge me constantly." He tucked Lady Strathlin's hand discreetly and tenderly in his. Her fair skin suffused in a pretty flush as she looked up at him.
The warm glow of the couple's love and respect for each other seemed tangible, Christina thought, and she nearly sighed with longing. Her chance for an intimate, joyful relationship had been cast already with Stephen—she had gambled and lost.
Noticing Aedan MacBride frowning, she remembered Lady
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