Mac had been painting with gusto this past year, in his usual getup of nothing but kilt and painting boots and a gypsy kerchief to protect his hair. He now spent his time fully dressed in the stable yard, doing preliminary sketches of Chance’s Daughter, while his wife kept her robust children from going too close to the horses, an arduous task.

A few days later Ian and Beth and child turned up, accompanied by Daniel, who’d traveled down with them.

In years past when Ian had visited Waterbury, he’d develop a rigid routine, allowing himself only into certain rooms and along certain paths around the unfamiliar house and grounds. He’d be fine if allowed to follow that routine, but the moment anything disrupted it, Ian would fall into confusion and rages, what he called his “muddles.” Only Curry, his valet, had been able to calm Ian back into the comforting routine.

This year, Curry seemed to have been recruited as makeshift nanny. He bounced the ten-month-old Jamie Mackenzie in his arms while Ian assisted Beth from the carriage.

Ian called out that they’d arrived and took his son back from Curry. He slowed his steps for Beth, who was plump with child, as they entered the house. Beth hadn’t been to Waterbury before—last year she’d been pregnant with their first child, and Ian had not wanted her to travel. This year, Beth had insisted.

Cameron greeted them, then stood back with Mac as Isabella hugged Beth and chattered with her about the journey. The two dogs that had accompanied Ian and Beth now swarmed around McNab, the three of them probably also chattering about the journey.

As Ian took Beth’s hand and started to lead her up the stairs, Cameron’s housekeeper blocked their path.

“I’m afraid you’ve been put into a different room this year, my lord,” the housekeeper said. “Her ladyship—Lord Cameron’s ladyship, that is—thought you’d be more comfortable in a bigger chamber. It’s a front one, my lord.” She smiled tightly, familiar with Ian. “It has a very nice view.”

Behind Ian, Curry stopped, looking worried. Beth smiled encouragingly at Ian and squeezed his arm.

Ian didn’t look at the housekeeper but glanced at Cameron, briefly meeting his eyes. “The one at the top of the stairs? I was going to ask you for it, Cam. My usual one will be too small. Ainsley was right to change it. This way, my Beth.”

He glided on up the stairs, baby on one arm and Beth on the other. Curry followed, the look of relief on his Cockney face obvious. The housekeeper relaxed as well, and Mac raised his brows at Cameron.

“Our baby brother has grown up,” Mac said.

He had. Beth had taken the wreck that was Ian and given him a life.

“Ainsley is very perceptive,” Isabella said, leaning on Mac’s shoulder. “I believe I have mentioned that she is excellent at organizing. She’s certainly done wonders with this dusty old place. When is she returning?”

“I couldn’t say.” Cameron’s voice was stiff.

“I’m certain the queen has her running about on some mad errand,” Isabella said. “Ainsley will finish it and sail back here before you know it.” She tapped Cameron’s wrist. “But I will never forgive you for marrying her in that underhanded way, without telling me.”

Cameron thoughts flashed back to Ainsley in Hart’s London parlor, promising in her unwavering voice to honor her husband and worship him with her body. “It was necessary.”

Mac laughed. “Because Ainsley wouldn’t have agreed if Cam had given her time to think about it.” He kissed his wife’s cheek. “It’s the only way to get a woman to marry a Mackenzie.”

“Yes, but one bride in this family should have a sumptuous wedding,” Isabella said. “We could do a second one, as Beth did with Ian.”

Cameron didn’t answer. For now, his bride was elusive, buried with the queen at Windsor while Cameron grew surlier by the day.

Daniel went out with Cameron to the paddocks in the morning to watch the horses run. Cameron liked Daniel there, enjoyed standing next to the solid wall of his son. The idea of Daniel coming to partner with him after university was a good one.

After they watched Chance’s Daughter leave the other horses in the dust yet again, Daniel said. “You’ll have to trust her, Dad.”

“Who, Chance’s Daughter?”

“Very funny. Ye know I mean Ainsley.” Daniel’s voice was even deeper now, his stance more confident. “If Ainsley says she’ll do a thing, she’ll do it.”

The next set of horses came running down the flat, hooves pounding, mud flying. The roar and rush was supposed to make Cameron’s world come alive, but without Ainsley to watch it with him, that world was flat and dull.

“Women change their minds at the drop of a feather, son,” he said. “You’ll learn that.”

Daniel gave him a patient look. “She’s not women, Dad. She’s Ainsley.”

He pushed away from the fence and strolled toward the stables, waving at the trainers on the way, but his words lingered.

She’s Ainsley.

The world took on a flush of color. Ainsley would come home. She’d said she would, and the truth of that struck Cameron with force.

He’d never trusted a woman before. Elizabeth had long ago stolen that trust from him, and Cameron had held women at arm’s length ever since. He’d always ended his affairs long before the lady in question had a chance to betray and hurt him, having learned, painfully, that he had to control any liaison he entered.