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that boy was doing proper work. I was in the fields at fourteen, learning the land my father paid for with his very life.”
    “Which is why you always wanted Ian to have lessons,” Harriet replied calmly. She had heard many times how her grandfather had worked in the fields he’d so proudly bought until the day before he died of a heart attack--undoubtedly from a life of hard labour. Harriet moved with quick, agile grace around the kitchen, taking a cloth and reaching for the fish pie that had been resting on the warming shelf over the hearth. “Ian is receiving the education you never had, Father.”
    “Much good it will do him,” David said with a grunt. He glanced at Margaret, his expression turning shrewd. “Well, then. Sandy's finally done it.”
    “They're on the ship, yes,” Margaret answered, her eyes flashing.
    “Never thought he would. Had a good position, though, didn't he, as tacksman? Still, there's nothing to being your own man.” David's chest puffed with pride. “We've the largest landholding on the island. Free land...” His face darkened for a moment, and Harriet tensed for another diatribe. What had her father found fault with now? Then his expression cleared, and he said firmly, “the land's ours, always has been.”
    “And always will be,” Harriet finished with a smile. She knew how proud her father was of being a landowner. “We all look forward to hearing of the MacDougalls’ good fortune, I’m sure,” she added, and her hand slipped inside her apron pocket to feel the weight of her letters. She wished Allan had them for the long ship journey, to remind him of her, to comfort him in the moments of doubt and discouragement he would face, as surely as she would.
    “In due time.” David shot her a speculative glance, and Harriet thought she knew just what he was thinking. No doubt he was wondering if Allan had spoken to her.
    Let him wonder, she thought with a sudden burst of savage satisfaction. Let her father feel one slight grain of the uncertainty and doubt she’d harboured over the last months, and even years. She knew the thought was unworthy of either her or Allan, and she forced the bitterness away. Surely now was a time for peace... if only she could find it.
    “Let me get your supper, Father. Margaret will call the others to the table.”
    As Margaret left the kitchen, Harriet bustled around, laying plates and cups. David watched her, a brooding expression on his face.
    Harriet felt his heavy gaze upon her and she looked up from the table. “Is everything all right, Father?”
    “As well as it can be.” David rubbed a hand over his whiskered jaw. “I suppose you’ve said your farewells... to all the MacDougalls?”
    “Allan was here,” Eleanor piped up as she came into the kitchen, a mischievous grin lighting her elfin features. The other followed behind and took their places at the table. Grace was said and the meal served before Eleanor could continue, blithely ignoring Harriet’s sharp warning glance.
    “Harriet and Allan took a stroll down to Duart, and when Harriet came back she was as flushed--”
    “Eleanor!” Harriet cut in sharply. “Enough. You’re gossiping like a fishwife.”
    Eleanor blushed in shame, and Harriet bit her lip. She’d no cause to shout at the younger girl. Eleanor did not know the whole truth of the matter, and neither did Margaret by the confused look she was giving Harriet.
    “But of course you’ve said, Harriet!” she exclaimed.
    “Said what?” David snapped.
    A silence, heavy and brooding, descended on the table. Even Ian and Rupert, their heads bent together over some nonsense, looked up in perplexity.
    Margaret flushed and glanced at her plate, clearly realising she’d spoken amiss. Harriet sighed and decided honesty was the better course, even if such plain talking incurred her father’s wrath. “Allan asked me to wait for him, Father. I’m sure you’ve guessed it already. When he returns, his fortune secure, he