the 51st Highland Division had been trapped inland and many of the men taken prisoner. The threat of the war, which at first had seemed to lie far off beyond the wall of hills, had begun to insinuate itself into the little white croft houses along the lochside now, casting an ever-present shadow of fear even on days when the sunlight sparkled across the water.
It dominated all their thoughts these days, making Flora’s private concerns seem petty in comparison. And yet she still couldn’t help mulling over Sir Charles’s behaviour towards her yesterday. He’d been so cold. Usually he treated her with a brittle joviality, at best, or a casual disregard. But something had shifted since he’d become aware of the closeness between her and Alec. Her pride was still stung by the way in which he’d humiliated her. She tried to push those thoughts aside. She knew Alec loved her, but would he defy his father if it came to it? She’d sensed his anger yesterday and yet he’d been helpless to act. Both he and his mother were held fast in the steely grip that Sir Charles exerted on his family. Was their love strong enough to withstand that force?
She sighed, opening her eyes at the sound of a blast from a ship’s whistle out on the loch. Another battleship had pulled into the harbour, manoeuvring as it dropped anchor, and a tanker was drawing alongside to refuel it. Tomorrow morning she’d be back on duty at the camp at Mellon Charles. At least that would be a welcome distraction, knowing she was doing her bit for the war effort.
She reached into her mending basket to pull out a sock in need of darning and began to thread a thick needle with a strand of Lovat green wool. The sound of footsteps on the path behind the house made her turn, expecting it to be her father back from seeing to the garron. But it was Alec who appeared, his face creased in a frown. His expression melted into a broad smile at the sight of her sitting there and he threw himself down on the bench beside her, sweeping her into his arms, narrowly avoiding being impaled by the darning needle in her hand.
He was quick to apologise for his father’s behaviour. ‘I can’t believe how awful he was yesterday, showing off in front of the Urquharts like that. Making a point of inviting the Kingsley-Scotts, too. He’s been impossible all weekend. Poor old Ma has retreated to her bed with a headache now that they’ve gone. He just refuses to accept that the war has changed everything.’
‘But has it really changed everything?’ Flora asked, resting her head against his shoulder and gazing out at the vast grey hulks anchored in the bay. ‘Is the world now so different that the likes of a laird’s son can be with a gamekeeper’s daughter?’
He drew back, holding her at arm’s length, trying to read her expression. His dark eyes were filled with pain and love. ‘Flora, I have never thought of you in that way. Nor your father, nor Ruaridh. They are like family to me, always have been. And you – well, you must know that I’ve loved you for years. And I want to love you more, for all the years we have left. In this uncertain world, it feels like my love for you is the only certain thing I have to hold on to. Whatever happens, for God’s sake, Flora, don’t let my father take that from us.’
She lowered her gaze, trying to hide the doubts she still felt. Very gently, he traced the line of her face with the palm of his hand, then tilted her chin upwards so that he could see her eyes again.
‘I know it’s not easy,’ he said, ‘but once this war ends, the power my father wields over us will be defused. We’ll be free to marry then.’
‘What about your mother, though?’ Flora knew how Alec worried about leaving Lady Helen on her own at Ardtuath House. Sir Charles had grown more and more irascible as the way of life to which he’d always felt entitled was further eroded by the war, and more than once, Alec had admitted to Flora that he’d seen telltale bruising on his mother’s arms, which he suspected to be marks of her husband’s temper. When he asked her how she’d come by the bruises, though, Lady Helen always made excuses, deflecting his questions.