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used long ago when the shepherds and their families brought the cattle to graze on sweet grass in the high hills. No one has been here for decades, I think. It is not in very good repair."
    Evan shifted to sit with his back against the wall, closer to the girl. "We could stuff some of the biggest holes and block the gap in the roof somehow," he suggested. "I could try to wedge something between the rafters."
    She rubbed her arms. "With a wintry squall like this, we could have even colder winds and more snow before morning. Oh dear—we could be stranded for days."
    "I'm sure not," he said quickly. The girl nodded. She was of strong, practical Highland stock, Evan thought, and he was certain she would be calm and capable no matter the situation.
    "I hope so, Mr.—I have not yet learned your name."
    "Mackenzie. Evan Mackenzie. Pleased to meet you, Miss MacConn." He smiled, holding out his hand, touching her fingers lightly. Though they had touched before, that brief intentional contact sent a subtle shock through his body, and he felt an inward astonishment. What was it about Catriona MacConn, he thought, that could set his senses reeling?
    He did not offer his titles with his name, rarely did so. His peer status made him uncomfortable and set him apart in his work as an engineer of bridgeworks. Uncertain of his inheritance due to the rift with his father, he had devoted himself to earning a livelihood and a reliable reputation of his own. He had the habit of introducing himself as Mr. Mackenzie, but for the rare formal occasion.
    As for his reliable reputation—that had suffered greatly two years earlier. He did not want his name and title shattered too, especially in Glen Shee, considering his father's deeds here.
    "Mr. Mackenzie." She smiled politely, and he felt relieved that she did not seem to recognize his name. She was enchanting, he thought, with a fey smile and elusive dimples. "There are many Mackenzies hereabouts. Are you related?"
    "Could be," he said carefully. "I am more or less a Lowlander myself, though my father's people were from this region, and my mother was born in Inverness." He did not add that he had spent some of his childhood in Glen Shee. Those memories were precious and private, and he could guess that Catriona MacConn would not be pleased about his identity.
    "Well, you're Highland by blood at least, if not by upbringing," she said. "Mackenzies have been the lairds of Kildonan Castle and the estate of Kildonan in Glen Shee for generations. They have held the title of earl for perhaps twenty years."
    "I'd heard that."
    "Perhaps you know the current Lord Kildonan, or knew his father, the late earl."
    "I have heard of them." He moved away and began to stir the brose again. He ought to tell her, but wanted to wait.
    "The old earl was an awful man, Mr. Mackenzie, though I beg your pardon if he was your kinsman. I am sorry the man died—he was shot when he set down his own gun while deer stalking, and that is no way for a man to go—but there were many who were not unhappy when he left us."
    "Indeed," Evan answered flatly, though he felt a fresh pang at losing his father with so much unresolved between them.
    "I have not met the new earl, but I suspect he is no better than his father. He has not bothered to come north yet, and his father died months ago."
    He glanced at her, tempted to say that he had been diving off a sea rock working on a lighthouse project during those months. The news of his father's death had not reached him quickly, and the man had been buried by the time Evan had found out about it.
    And he did not expect the people of this glen to warmly welcome the new Earl of Kildonan. "Did you know the previous earl, Miss MacConn?" he asked.
    She shook her head, and shivered. Bitter cold air seeped into the room through a multitude of cracks and crevices.
    "I did not know him personally," she answered. "He caused much trouble and sadness in this glen when he evicted the people to make room