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what Aidan meant by a “handsome settlement.” She didn’t need much—just enough to buy a home of her own.
    When she was a child, and too restless to sleep,her mother would settle her for the night by playing a game where they would pretend to design their very own castle. Her mother had a fanciful imagination. She’d encourage Anne to fill it with grand things like stone walls, colorful pennants, a well-filled moat, and enough bedrooms for her mother, father, and herself. Oh, yes, and plenty of food on the table for everyone.
    The two of them would lie side-by-side on Anne’s narrow cot, dreaming and wishing until Anne grew drowsy and finally fell fast asleep. Those nights were some of the happiest memories of her childhood.
    Later, after her parents’ deaths, she had continued the game out of loneliness.
    But it was never the same. She could build the castle in her mind, it would help her sleep, but the game could no longer bring her close to her mother and father. They would never be there to live in the rooms she created for them. She wished that just once she could feel her parents’ presence, sense that they were with her.
    Anne stared at the moon, and added to her wishes that her husband had been someone different. If he couldn’t be a kind, sensitive scholar, she regretted he wasn’t someone more exciting and romantic. More like a Moorish prince than a half-savage Pict—albeit a tall one. As a Moor, she could imagine him in flowing robes with a huge palace and a fortune in gold so she could do whatever she pleased. Everyone would admire her, including married cousins, because people valued money over human emotions. Yes, they would respect her—
    “Wake up,” her Moorish prince said in a blunt, rumbling voice. “We’re almost to Kelwin.”
    Anne blinked a moment, and then came to her senses. She had fallen asleep. Her head rested against his chest, the material of his shirt rough against her cheek. She could even hear the beating of his heart.
    She sat up, alarmed to have confused her husband with a quixotic Moor. He would think her silly if he could read her mind…and use her silliness as another reason to ship her back.
    “What’s Kelwin?” she asked.
    “Home.”
    Home. The warmth he infused in the single word sent a surge of anticipation through her. He said it exactly how she would have said it if she’d had a place to call home.
    “Do you ever miss London?” she asked suddenly.
    “No.”
    Anne nodded. She wouldn’t grieve either if she never saw the sooty city again.
    Anxious for her first glimpse of Kelwin, she leaned forward, his strong arm keeping her safely in place. They rode over the crest of a hill and the scene before them stole her breath.
    The moon’s light sparkled off the North Sea’swhite-capped waves like a pathway to the stars. The coast was dark in comparison and there, by the edge of the sea, was the silhouette of a castle.
    “It can’t be,” she whispered. It was perfect, complete with turrets, towers, and blazing torches. She grabbed his arm. “Stop. Please!”
    He reined in the horse. Hugh and Deacon did likewise. “What is the matter?” her husband demanded.
    “That castle. Is it Kelwin?”
    “Aye.”
    “Your home?”
    A touch of impatience entered his voice. “Of course.”
    “It’s like a fairy palace,” she said with awe.
    He and the others laughed. Hugh said, “But no fairies live there.”
    Anne shook her head. They didn’t understand her meaning, but it didn’t matter. Her mother would have loved Kelwin. This was the dream castle they’d plotted and planned.
    He’d not send her away now.
    She’d never let him.
    “I can’t wait to see it,” she urged. “Hurry.”
    If the contrariness of her actions confused him, he didn’t say. Instead, he did as ordered.
    Kelwin Castle. She even liked the sound of its name. Kelwin Castle of Caithness. How noble!
    Wide-eyed and alert, she watched as they rode closer and closer. She never wanted to