Page 1 of A Match Made in Heather

Prologue

Kincardine, Scotland

August, 1809

Garrick McGuiness’s hands trembled as he checked his timepiece for the fifth time in nearly as many minutes.

Midnight.Thank God.

As he hurried toward the garden gate where Arabel would be waiting, he slipped the watch into his coat pocket, right next to a pressed sprig of heather. Arabel had plucked it from the field where he’d first made love to her less than a fortnight ago, then wrapped it in a bit of the green ribbon she’d worn in her hair. If she knew he carried it with him, she’d laugh at him for being sentimental.

But he was certainly that, all right. And deeply in love. Tonight, after they’d eloped and started their new life together, she would be his completely, and they would no longer have to love each other in secret.

This wasn’t how he’d wanted to marry her, but their plans had been rushed. So rushed, in fact, that he didn’t have time to buy a ring. But the new job in Inverness as head groom for Laird Donnelly was waiting for him, along with a private cottage where they would live. With orders to be at the estate within the sennight, there was no time to linger.

Yet Arabel had been firm in her resolve to wed him. She would be waiting by the gate as planned, eagerly watching for him to take her to the blacksmith’s shop in the village, where a gig had been hired for them. She’d be wrapped up in her fur cape, with her rug of Rowland tartan to spread across their laps to keep them warm and her packed satchel at her feet. Ready to travel, ready to start their life together. By this time tomorrow, they’d be wed, and the entire world would be theirs for the taking.

Her family would never accept him. They both knew that. They’d only been able to elope tonight because she was staying here at Castle Highburn with her aunt and uncle for the summer, instead of with her family at their estate. The Rowlands were a proud and arrogant lot, with enough wealth and power to buy respect, if not earn it. But Arabel couldn’t care less how little fortune he possessed—little? He laughed.None.She loved him, and as long as he had her heart, he could believe anything was possible. Including that a beautiful creature like her could love him.

When he turned the corner of the garden wall, he saw her. The light of the full moon shined upon her as she waited, staring down the lane in the direction where she thought he would approach.

He grinned. She was restless and couldn’t stand still, and he understood that perfectly. The same anxiousness to be off simmered inside him.

“Arabel,” he called through the darkness, as loudly as he dared.

Startled, she wheeled around, and dread pulsed coldly through him at the sight of her. Something was wrong. Instead of her travel outfit, she wore a muslin dress, with only a wool shawl wrapped around her shoulders to warm her against the cold. There was no packed satchel at her feet.

Had she changed her mind? They had no choice but to elope. Surely, she understood that . . . didn’t she?

Yet she stood where she was, making no move to run to him. With each step he took toward her, his heart pounded harder, so hard that when he stopped in front of her and she didn’t lift a hand to reach for him he winced at each painful thud.

“Arabel, what’s wrong?” Concern thickened his voice. Had her parents learned of their plans?

“I can’t,” she whispered. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I can’t go with you.”

Then his heart stopped completely, and he flinched at the lurching pain. “But we agreed to leave tonight. We have to be to Inverness in three days.” He reached for her. When she stepped back, cold panic surged through him.Dear God. . . “What’s happened?”

“My family arrived this evening,” she told him in a nervous rush. “No one knew they were coming. Papa and Mama in the carriage, then my brother David—”

“Shh,” he whispered reassuringly, cupping her face in his hands to calm her. He kissed her until her panic eased from her in a trembling sigh. “Tell me again. Take your time.”

Fighting down a desperate urge to yank her fiercely into his arms to protect her, he gently touched her chin to make her look at him. But she closed her eyes, as if physically pained. The moonlight revealed her pale face, with tears spiking her lashes.

“It’s Samuel,” she choked out. She pressed her fist against her chest, as if to physically fight back the pain as a silver tear slipped down her cheek. “Garrick, he’s in trouble.”

Her brother? He stared at her, an odd mix of relief and bewilderment cascading through him. “What has he done?” . . .now.The unspoken word hovered in the shadows as surely as if he’d uttered it. Her brothers were always getting into one kind of a scrape or another.

She hesitated, then whispered, “He’s been gambling.”

That was nothing new. Samuel and David often played more at cards than they could afford.

He forced a smile at her concern and gently stroked his knuckles down her cheek. Angus Rowland would pay his son’s debt and chastise Samuel enough to keep him at home on the straight and proper path for at least six months before his son racked up his next debt, just as he’d always done. As predictable as the seasons. “Your father will take care of it.”

“Not this time.” She wrung her hands. “Oh, Garrick, it’s so much worse than before.”

He stiffened. “How so?”

With a soft sob, she shook her head, unwilling to tell him. A flash of anger sped through him that she’d keep secrets from him. That she’d put her family before him, tonight of all nights. “I can’t say—I promised. If word gets out about what he’s done . . .” She pulled in a shaking, ragged breath. “But it’s awful, and he needs me.” She opened her eyes and stared at him through the midnight shadows, the tears in her eyes glistening like quicksilver. “I cannot go with you.”