To do battle with Seamus-for her inheritance, her independence, her inalienable right to remain the lady of the vale, to reside at Casphairn Manor and care for her people. Three weeks of turmoil and drama later, she'd returned to the vale; Seamus had spoken no more of suitors, nor of her calling. And, Catriona was quite certain, he had never again taken The Lady's name in vain.

Now Seamus, the devil she'd conquered, was gone. His eldest son, Jamie, would succeed him. Catriona knew Jamie, like all Seamus's children he was mild mannered and weak willed. Jamie was no Seamus. In considering how best to respond to the solicitor's request, she d been much inclined to start as she meant to go on, and reply suggesting that, after the will was read and Jamie formally appointed as her guardian, Jamie should call on her here, at the manor. Although she foresaw no difficulty in handling Jamie, she preferred to deal from a position of strength. The vale was her home, within its arms, she reigned supreme. Yet…

She focused again on the parchment, after an instant, the outline blurred-once more the vision swam before her mind's eye. For a full minute, she studied it; she saw the face clearly-strong patriarchal nose, determinedly square chin features chiselled from rock in their angularity and hardness. His brow was concealed by a lock of black hair; those piercing blue eyes were deep set beneath arched black blows and framed by black lashes. His lips, held in a straight, uncompromising line, told her little-indeed that was her summation of his face-one meant to conceal his thoughts, his emotions. From chance observers.