Six months later

The last of the evening light had just disappeared beyond the distant horizon, casting Uilleim Castle into shadow. Rosa pulled her cloak tighter around her body, trying to fend off the biting cold of a Scottish winter.

Glenn clicked his tongue disapprovingly, and Rosa rolled her eyes.

"When McWilliam asked you to keep an eye on me, I'm not sure this is actually what he had in mind." The young man had barely left her side since her husband had left yesterday morning for business at McCrae Estate.

"It's too cold be outside in your condition," Glenn answered, not afraid to give as much as he got.

"In my condition? I'm expecting. Not dying." She touched Glenn's upper arm with affection. His beard, which easily brushed the collar of his shirt, lent him an air of gruffness, but Rosa wasn't fooled. He was a loyal young man, and if McWilliam had to insist on a bodyguard while he was away, then she was glad it was him.

Not that she did need a bodyguard. There'd been no trouble since Cameron's incarceration. No murders, no thefts. Nothing but peace and quiet and loving.

Sure, she could never return to England. But Uilleim Estate was more her home than London or Bradford had ever been. In just six short months, she'd learnt more about sheep than any city girl could possibly find encouraging, but she had more friends now than she'd ever had in the hustle and bustle of England. And with McWilliam in her life, she couldn't imagine ever wanting more.

Except...

She dropped her hand to her swollen belly, a smile playing with her lips. All was well.

What about the stolen money, a voice asked at the back of her mind. Apart from the 500 pounds they'd found in Rodd's cottage, they hadn't been able to locate it. Cameron wasn't telling anyone where it was hidden. For all they knew Amelia had it.

Amelia... McWilliam had wanted to alert the Bow Street Runners to Amelia's part in the theft and murderers, but Rosa had asked him not to. Panic churned in her stomach as it always did when she thought of her cousin. Had she done the right thing letting her off? Amelia hadn't actually hurt anyone herself. She'd just been foolish enough to listen to Cameron. And Rosa couldn't really hate her for that. Both Rhona and McWilliam and everyone on this estate had been fooled by him too.

Rosa let out a deep, slow breath. Amelia was young yet. There was still hope for her. And Emily—the pain of her death would stay with Rosa forever, there was no denying it. Even though she was slowly beginning to come to terms with the fact that it hadn't been her fault. And, as McWilliam had become prone to saying, it was in the past and now was the time to look to the future.

"There," Glenn broke the silence, pointing into the darkness.

Rosa straightened, and, a second later, Mist trotted into view. A square-shouldered, six-foot tall Scot, in a belted plaid and dark jacket, wasted no time. Dismounting, he closed the distance between them with three great strides.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against his side. As he always did.

"What are ye doing out here, Thistle? It's freezing."

"I didn't think you could feel the cold," she teased. He was radiating as much heat as ever.

"But I can imagine it's freezing." He pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulder, then tucked Rosa under his arm.

"I can look after myself," she said, mock-glaring up at him.

"Aye. That's what I'm afraid of." A sly smile.

"There's time for that later," she berated, heat touching her cheeks, knowing Glenn could hear every word. "Rhona's asking for you."

He frowned. "Is she..."

"Well. And so too is her bairn," she answered, adopting her new family's traditional tongue.

"She's had the bairn?" He lent back to better see her face, and while he was covered in a layer of shadow, she could still see the silver halo around each of his beautiful storm-blue eyes.

"Aye." She couldn't help but smile. "That's what I've been waiting here to tell you."

A smile split his face. "A lass? A lad?"

His excitement was palpable. "Mr High and Mighty, King of the Castle, you'll have to see for yourself."

"You're not going to tell me." He nipped at her bottom lip in the way that always managed to melt her insides. "Not even if I ask nicely?"

"Maybe..." She narrowed her eyes, in her sternest governess look. "But you're going to have to try very, very hard."

"That, sweetheart, sounds like a challenge." He lowered his head, his gaze fixated on her mouth. "And I do so love a challenge."