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    A Bound Heart
    A Bound Heart
    A Bound Heart
    Ebook454 pages7 hours

    A Bound Heart

    By Laura Frantz

    4/5

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    Though Magnus MacLeish and Lark MacDougall grew up on the same castle grounds, Magnus is now laird of the great house and the Isle of Kerrera. Lark is but the keeper of his bees and the woman he is hoping will provide a tincture that might help his ailing wife conceive and bear him an heir. But when his wife dies suddenly, Magnus and Lark find themselves caught up in a whirlwind of accusations, expelled from their beloved island, and sold as indentured servants across the Atlantic. Yet even when all hope seems dashed against the rocky coastline of the Virginia colony, it may be that in this New World the two of them could make a new beginning--together.

    Laura Frantz's prose sparkles with authenticity and deep feeling as she digs into her own family history to share this breathless tale of love, exile, and courage in Colonial America.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBaker Publishing Group
    Release dateJan 1, 2019
    ISBN9781493416622
    Author

    Laura Frantz

    Laura Frantz is a two-time Christy Award winner and the ECPA bestselling author of 15 novels, including The Seamstress of Acadie, The Rose and the Thistle, The Frontiersman's Daughter, Courting Morrow Little, The Lacemaker, and A Heart Adrift. She is the proud mom of an American soldier and a career firefighter. Though she will always call Kentucky home, Laura lives with her husband in Washington State. Learn more at LauraFrantz.net.

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    Reviews for A Bound Heart

    4/5

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    • 4/5
      A Bound Heart by Laura Frantz captured my attention instantly with its setting, the foreign words, the underhanded activities, and the subtle attraction between Magnus and Lark. Descriptive imagery brought the places and characters to life in my mind. As the story unfolded, several issues began to play out: slavery, smuggling, adoption, a personal relationship with God. These matters added a pleasing depth to the story and induced character development. The action and romantic tension carried the story along until sometime after they landed in Virginia. At that point, the momentum and my interest waned a bit. However, Laura Frantz writes beautifully and the satisfying ending more than made up for the slowing pace. Overall, I liked A Bound Heart by Laura Frantz even though it wasn't quite what I expected. It has a permanent home on my bookshelf and I'll read it again. I recommend it as a faith-filled love story to fans of historical romances.Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."
    • 4/5
      Laura Frantz is truly a master of vivid descriptions of beautiful landscapes and sea/skyscapes as she lyrically composes the lives and times of her historical characters. A Bound Heart is set in Scotland. While Ms. Frantz is such a romantic writer, she could probably make Antarctica sound like a vacation spot, I had to wonder if I would like the island of Kerrera any more than Isla did. Smugglers, fighting against unjust taxes, a corrupt court, an ocean voyage of horrors, several love triangles; all make for a very tightly woven story. Frantz’s characters are full of life, passion, and pride in their heritage. When these freedoms are removed, what will remain behind? It was very interesting to learn about the Scots’ way of life in the 1750s. I must admit, I had a hard time with a love triangle involving a married person. While no wrong actions occurred, I would have preferred to see one party or the other take steps to put physical distance between them. The glossary was a huge help, as was the context in which Frantz used the unfamiliar words. A few wonderful quotes: On the horrid ship: “Lord, all I have is Ye. Make that enough.” “Fear had a terrible taste.” This is a good book, but it will not be my favorite Frantz book. To each his own. Anxiously awaiting the next Frantz novel. I was given a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher and NetGalley. All opinions expressed here are solely my own and no positive review was required.
    • 3/5
      Lark may not be wealthy or high class but she's a well thought of, beautiful lass. Set in beautiful 18th century, Scotland; Lark's world is filled with sea breeze and gardens. She works in the laird's castle making tonics and other herbal remedies catching the eye of both the laird and the local captain. After an unfortunate tragedy, she is sent to Virginia to be an indentured servant. It will take all her faith and strength to survive the voyage and the years of hard labor awaiting her. To further complicate matters she adopts a young baby whose kin have all perished on the ship and she discovers that both her admirers, the laird and the captain are also aboard. Lark is nurturing, good hearted, and always tries to look at the positive, her only downfall is that she is quite naive. She's been handed an awful lot and she doesn't know if she'll ever get to see Scotland or her beloved grandmother again, but she handles it darn well. A bit unbelievable at times (every single male character throws themselves at Lark, EVERY ONE) and the ending was a bit anti-climactic; but overall still a good cozy historical read.
    • 3/5
      Laura Frantz is one of my favorite Christian fiction authors. I love how she takes an interesting moment in history, and makes it come to life in the eyes of her characters. That said, I had a hard time getting into A Bound Heart. I found myself picking other titles to read instead. But I had to review the book, so I dutifully sat down to read it through. I'm glad I did. It turned out to be a good book. A Bound Heart seems to lack the richness I've come to expect from her stories. But, overall the characters and settings are good. I like the character of Lark; she is someone I want to be friends with. Her attachment and loyalty to an orphan baby is commendable. Her steadfastness to her childhood friends Magnus is sweet.The plot centers around Lark, keeper of the Laird's herbs and bees on the island of Kerrera, in Scotland. One day, a dreadful mix up of Lark's tonics, causes the death of Magnus' wife. Though Lark is innocent, she becomes the scapegoat for the family of the dead Lady. Around the same time, Magnus comes to her trial wearing a kilt, which is the King of England has outlawed. Both Lark and Magnus are banished as indentured servants. The rest of the story becomes their fight to survive and keep tabs on each other while being shipped to different places.If you are a fan of Laura Frantz, or enjoy clean Christian fiction, I encourage you to read A Bound Heart. While the story is slow in places, it is a satisfying read.
    • 4/5
      Title: A Bound HeartAuthor: Laura FrantzPages: 407 (ARC)Year: 2019Publisher: RevellMy rating is 4 out of 5 stars.Lark MacDougall is descended from Scottish aristocracy, but over time her clan has been assimilated or killed so there are few left. She serves as the apothecary for clan MacLeish, whose laird she grew up with. Magnus MacLeish is a lawyer as well as head of his clan of over 300 people. They depend on him to settle disputes and provide leadership. He is aware of the smuggling that is going on but does nothing about it as he knows his clan needs the supplies. These goods are needed for them to survive as they supplement what can’t be produced themselves. Most of the islanders are involved in unloading the smuggled goods and must always be on the watch of the authorities. Rory MacPherson is the captain of the smuggling ship and thinks he and Lark should marry, then head to America.Due to dire circumstances Lark, Rory and Magnus are arrested and sent to Virginia as indentured servants, with Magnus making a further journey to Jamaica. Lark boards the ship and within days becomes mother to an infant when his caretaker dies. Now, Lark is headed for a new country, in a new job, indentured for two years with an infant. Lark adjusts well to plantation life. She remains in the role of apothecary and tends to her herbs and plants and bees. She gives what help she can to the slaves, which sets her against the factor. Magnus does well in his job as manager of a sugar, tobacco and cocoa plantation in Jamaica. What purpose does God have in separating them from their homeland and each other? Will they ever see each other again?When I want to read historical fiction, Laura Frantz is one of my go-to authors. Her characters are written with depth and are ones I can identify with. The scenes of Scotland were so vivid I could smell the heather and peat fire. Lark and Magnus had such reliance on the Lord in every day of their lives and were able to surrender to His will in the face of terrible circumstances. I can’t wait to see where and when her next novel will take place!Disclosure of Material Connection: I received one or more of the products or services mentioned above for free in the hope that I would mention it on my blog. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255. “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”
    • 4/5
      I found this book to be a little slow getting started. The cover blurb says that the story is about what happens to Lark and Magnus after they are both sent to Virginia as indentured servants, but the book is half over before you get to that point. I don't like having so much setup to get to the point where I thought the story was going to start. If the blurb had not implied that to be the beginning of the story, I would have enjoyed the first half of the book more.That being said, it was a very enjoyable read. The romance on top of the historical setting made for an excellent story.
    • 3/5
      I was disappointed in the Bound Heart. It was not only slow starting but the characters were poorly developed. I was also surprised at the amount of faith and scripture that was quoted in the book. I’m not sure I would recommend this book.
    • 5/5
      Initially I had difficulty finding the rhythm to the language of this story, but somewhere in the third chapter all fell into place. A Bound Heart is a delightful story of two people with so much in common yet in very different stations in life. Through a series of very vexing circumstances it appeared that love would find a way, but new complications continue to arise, and priorities have to be examined and reconsidered. It is a story of learning to wait upon the Lord, and of holding on to trust in Him. Both the characters and the setting of A Bound Heart are engaging, whether they are the ones you adore or the ones you abhor. The reader will experience a history-steeped Scottish isle, a disease-provoking West Indies island, and a both welcoming and threatening Virginia Colony. (I especially enjoyed mentally revisiting Colonial Williamsburg.) The reader will also experience a broad range of emotions that Frantz is so skilled at evoking. One cannot help but care about the characters she creates. I highly recommend A Bound Heart along with any book by this author. I thank NetGalley and Revell Books for providing me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. I was under no obligation to provide a positive review and received no monetary compensation.
    • 5/5
      An incredible epic tale from a master storyteller!I have heard of Laura Frantz's gift as a historical romance author but this is my first book by the celebrated and beloved author. She has certainly found herself another avid fan. I know whose backlist of titles I'll be reading through in 2019. If you love well-written historical romance full of adventure and heart-gripping characters, you will thoroughly enjoy this book.Magnus, our Scottish laird, and Lark, the stillroom (kind of like apothecary and herb garden combined) mistress and beekeeper, take the reader back to 1752 Scotland in the midst of ongoing struggle and turmoil between England and Scotland. Magnus is a steadfast, kind, generous and proud leader of the MacLeish, whose loyalty lies wholly with God, his country, and his people. Though admired by his colleagues and people, personal tragedy follows Magnus. Lark whose name means "open hearted, brimming with life and spirit" is true to her namesake and is beloved by all. Due to tragic circumstances upon tragic circumstances, Magnus and Lark find themselves as indentured servants bound for the new colonies - Magnus to Jamaica and Lark to Virginia. Through all the heartbreaks and heartaches, their faithfulness to their Lord and Savior and to each other endures. Even in the midst of unjust justice system and cruelty of slavery, Magnus and Lark find ways to show God's goodness to those they encounter; their desire and action to see God glorified are admirable and completely applicable to all of us today.My heart is full and completely satisfied after reading this book. I can't wait to delve into Laura Frantz's other books as I impatiently wait for her next novel.I was given a copy of the book by Revell/Baker Publishing Group via Interviews and Reviews. I was under no obligation to post a positive review. All comments and opinions are solely my own.
    • 5/5
      “A Bound Heart” by Laura Frantz was one of my most anticipated reads of 2019. Christian historical fiction that is partly set in Scotland? Sign me up! From the settings to the characters, I fell in love with this book!Ms. Frantz’s descriptions of the scenery are lyrical and breathtaking (certainly doing Scotland justice). The first part of the book that is set in Scotland reminds me of Poldark with the smuggling and the rugged coastlines. Ms. Frantz also has an amazing grasp of the Scottish culture. The two main characters, Lark and Magnus, are so likable and well written. Lark instantly became a favorite for me. She is so sweet, innocent and Godly. I love watching Lark’s struggle with her faith when her life is turned upside down. She asks some frank and honest questions of God. I especially love seeing that despite their troubles, both main characters praise God and count their blessings when going through suffering and loss. What a wonderful encouragement and reminder to Christians! I loved this book and highly recommend it! You won’t be disappointed!Content: I give this book a PG-13 rating. Some examples of the content are: mention of brandy and smuggling; a man has a reputation for wenching; a man swears but the word isn’t actually written; a person is possibly addicted to opium and may have committed suicide; men smoke; a baby is born out of wedlock; men take women as lovers on a ship; a man attempts to rape a woman but does not get far.Rating: I give this book 5 stars!Genre: Christian fiction; Historical fiction; Romance; ScotlandI want to thank Revell and Laura Frantz for the complimentary copy of this book for review. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I express in this review are my own. This is in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s CFR 16, Part 255.
    • 5/5
      Lark wants nothing more than to care for her bees, tend to her herb garden, and create tinctures to heal the people of Kerrera. Little does she know that her simple island-world will come crashing down, when she is accused of being an accessory in the murder of Isla MacLeish, wife of the Laird of Kerrera, Magnus MacLeish. As she stands trial and is accused of horrible crimes, only one person comes to her defense, Magnus. But his defense not only does not save Lark, it also condemns Magnus and both are cast out of Scotland forever as indentured servants bound for the New World. As Lark and Magnus sail across the Atlantic to the Americas, their lives are put in terrible danger and new responsibilities pull at them both...and new feelings. However, as new feelings begin, so must they end as Lark is destined for America and Magnus for the Caribbean. Will their hearts, bound in love survive their bonds of servitude and ultimately separation?This was a really good book! I read it in 2 days and I can't wait to see if this becomes a series as I REALLY want to know what happens next to all of these characters! Thank you so much LibraryThing for the advanced copy of Ms. Frantz's book!
    • 5/5
      wonderful historical romance. The beginning takes place in Scotland but then moves to The American South and Jamaica. The main characters have know each other since early childhood, but are of different social status. Their lives seems to take them in different directions but somehow they manage to overcome the barriers It was a fun read!! **A Library Thing Win**
    • 4/5
      Laura Frantz is an excellent writer, so I was more than pleased to see that I would be reading one of her newest releases. "Early Colonial Virginia (and other colonies as well, I imagine!) was kind of a dumping ground for convicts/indentured servants. (I believe Australia and other British holdings were also utilized this way too in its colonial days.) If you had criminals, you didn't want them causing trouble in your home country, so they were simply shipped out.In this story, "A Bound Heart", you'll see that a Scottish lass is accused and convicted of a crime she did not commit. Her master came to her defense in court and is denounced as a kilt-wearing Jacobite." The court declares him a convict and reduces him to the status of a common criminal. It's an interesting story, but I can't say that it's a favorite. The Scottish language is hard for me to grasp. But I know many other readers will embrace this book.
    • 5/5
      A Bound Heart is another stunning, captivating story from Laura Frantz, and at this point, having read most of her books, I expect nothing less.The plot centers on the friendship between Magnus MacLeish and Lark MacDougall. Though they have been friends since childhood, Scottish societal expectations limit their interactions, as well as the possibility of romance growing between them. Tragedy strikes, and scandal soon follows to disrupt life as they know it, sending them to begin again in the New World.A Bound Heart is a sweeping tale with lush historical descriptions, strong characterizations, and faith and danger aplenty. There is a lot to keep Magnus and Lark apart, and while reading, I turned pages anxious for reunion and hope, yet never sure what would happen next. Their story kept me completely engaged, and I loved it. Highly, highly recommend. I received a complimentary copy of this book and the opportunity to provide an honest review. I was not required to write a positive review, and all the opinions I have expressed are my own.
    • 4/5
      Title: A Bound HeartAuthor: Laura FrantzPages: 407 (ARC)Year: 2019Publisher: RevellMy rating is 4 out of 5 stars.Lark MacDougall is descended from Scottish aristocracy, but over time her clan has been assimilated or killed so there are few left. She serves as the apothecary for clan MacLeish, whose laird she grew up with. Magnus MacLeish is a lawyer as well as head of his clan of over 300 people. They depend on him to settle disputes and provide leadership. He is aware of the smuggling that is going on but does nothing about it as he knows his clan needs the supplies. These goods are needed for them to survive as they supplement what can’t be produced themselves. Most of the islanders are involved in unloading the smuggled goods and must always be on the watch of the authorities. Rory MacPherson is the captain of the smuggling ship and thinks he and Lark should marry, then head to America.Due to dire circumstances Lark, Rory and Magnus are arrested and sent to Virginia as indentured servants, with Magnus making a further journey to Jamaica. Lark boards the ship and within days becomes mother to an infant when his caretaker dies. Now, Lark is headed for a new country, in a new job, indentured for two years with an infant. Lark adjusts well to plantation life. She remains in the role of apothecary and tends to her herbs and plants and bees. She gives what help she can to the slaves, which sets her against the factor. Magnus does well in his job as manager of a sugar, tobacco and cocoa plantation in Jamaica. What purpose does God have in separating them from their homeland and each other? Will they ever see each other again?When I want to read historical fiction, Laura Frantz is one of my go-to authors. Her characters are written with depth and are ones I can identify with. The scenes of Scotland were so vivid I could smell the heather and peat fire. Lark and Magnus had such reliance on the Lord in every day of their lives and were able to surrender to His will in the face of terrible circumstances. I can’t wait to see where and when her next novel will take place!Disclosure of Material Connection: I received one or more of the products or services mentioned above for free in the hope that I would mention it on my blog. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255. “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”
    • 5/5
      A young Scottish miss; a powerful Scottish Laird sent across the ocean as indentured servants. Their lives had not done much to prepare them for their the new lives, thrust upon them.A great historical novel. Earned a place on my Favorites shelf.Provided a copy from LibraryThing. Not obligated to post a review.

    Book preview

    A Bound Heart - Laura Frantz

    Table of Contents

    Cover

    Endorsements

    Half Title Page

    Books by Laura Frantz

    Title Page

    Copyright Page

    Dedication

    Scots Glossary

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    Author Note

    Acknowledgments

    Excerpt from the Next Story

    1

    About the Author

    Back Ads

    Back Cover

    List of Pages

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    In the 1750s, a lass and a laird are ripped from the Scottish isle and friendship of their youth and sent to the West Indies and Virginia Colony as indentured servants. Will they ever find one another again? An epic journey of faith and love wrought through hardship. Laura Frantz is a gifted writer.

    Julie Klassen, bestselling author

    "Equally suspenseful and heart-wrenching, Laura Frantz’s A Bound Heart takes readers on a journey that begins in the misty isles of Scotland and crosses oceans to the sun-drenched plantations of the New World, with finely drawn characters who rose from the pages to quickly capture my sympathies. From start to finish, A Bound Heart is an absorbing, tenderhearted story about the grace of second chances."

    Lori Benton, author of Many Sparrows and the Christy Award–winning Burning Sky

    "Make a spot on your keeper shelf, because this is one story you’ll want to reread! From the Scottish Highlands to colonial America, A Bound Heart keeps you riveted until you’ve turned the last page. You won’t want to leave Lark and Magnus behind. Classic Laura Frantz stellar writing, weaving in history and a solid biblical message. Highly recommended!"

    Michelle Griep, award-winning author of The Captured Bride

    "A soaring tale. With her trademark attention to detail and lush imagery, Laura Frantz takes readers on an unforgettable journey certain to stir the soul. Magnus and Lark captured my heart, and their courageous story stole my sleep until I reached the last page. Sweeping readers from Scotland to Virginia to Jamaica, A Bound Heart dazzles with authenticity. A triumph."

    Jocelyn Green, Christy Award–winning author of Between Two Shores

    "Every Laura Frantz novel transports readers to a place long since past, a journey Frantz always skillfully, seamlessly facilitates. A Bound Heart thrums with the pulse of both historic Scotland and colonial America, but at its center is a relatable heroine of modern sensibilities, as lovely and unusual as her name. With unbound hair and bound heart, Lark is a woman of contradictions. She has one foot in the old world and one in the new, certain of her principles and gifts but uncertain where, and perhaps with whom, she belongs. As she skillfully prepares tonics to bring comfort to others and tends to her constants—her bees, her faith—readers long for Lark’s hero to be found constant too, and deliver the happiness she so richly deserves. Extraordinary storytelling in every way—a feast for historical romance lovers."

    Sandra Byrd, author of Lady of a Thousand Treasures

    Books by Laura Frantz

    The Frontiersman’s Daughter

    Courting Morrow Little

    The Colonel’s Lady

    The Mistress of Tall Acre

    A Moonbow Night

    The Lacemaker

    A Bound Heart

    THE BALLANTYNE LEGACY

    Love’s Reckoning

    Love’s Awakening

    Love’s Fortune

    © 2019 by Laura Frantz

    Published by Revell

    a division of Baker Publishing Group

    PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

    www.revellbooks.com

    Ebook edition created 2019

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

    ISBN 978-1-4934-1662-2

    Scripture quotations, whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters, are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

    This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

    Published in association with Books & Such Literary Management.

    Contents

    Cover

    Endorsements

    Half Title Page

    Books by Laura Frantz

    Title Page

    Copyright Page

    Dedication

    Scots Glossary

    1

    2

    3

    4

    5

    6

    7

    8

    9

    10

    11

    12

    13

    14

    15

    16

    17

    18

    19

    20

    21

    22

    23

    24

    25

    26

    27

    28

    29

    30

    31

    32

    33

    34

    35

    36

    37

    38

    39

    40

    Author Note

    Acknowledgments

    Excerpt from the Next Story

    About the Author

    Back Ads

    Back Cover

    Dedicated to my sixth great-grandfather,
    George Hume of Wedderburn Castle,
    Berwickshire, Scotland

    Scots Glossary

    addlepated—mixed-up

    aflocht—troubled

    Alba—ancient term for the kingdom of the Scots

    auld—old

    Auld Reekie—Edinburgh

    Auld Toun—old-town Edinburgh

    bairn—child

    bannocks—oatcakes

    bethankit—God be thanked

    blether—gossip

    bonny—pretty

    brae—hill

    Braiste Lathurna—the brooch of Lorn

    braw—handsome

    Buik—Bible

    canna—cannot

    couldna—could not

    da—dad

    didna—did not

    dinna—do not

    doesna—does not

    douce—sweet, lovely

    dunderheed—fool

    fash—worry, vex

    gaol—jail

    ghaist—ghost

    gruamach—sulky, moody

    haeddre—Scottish heather

    hasna—has not

    haud yer wheest—hold your tongue

    hoot!—pshaw!

    howdie—midwife

    hungert—hungry

    ill-scrappit—rude, bitter

    ill-trickit—wicked, dangerous

    isna—is not

    jings—gosh

    kelpie—water fairy

    ken—know, understand

    kirk—church

    laird—landowner ranking below a baron and above a gentleman in Scottish order of precedence

    leine—shirt

    loch—lake

    loosome—delightful

    michty me—goodness gracious!

    Moonbroch—ring around the moon

    neeps and tatties—turnips and potatoes

    och!—oh!

    peely-wally—sick

    ruadh—red

    sennight—week

    sgian dubh—black dagger

    shooglie—shaky

    shouldna—should not

    slàinte—(to your) health

    smirr—sprinkle

    sonsie—pleasing, pretty

    sporran—leather pouch

    stayed lass—spinster

    tapsalteerie—topsy-turvy, upside down

    tolbooth—courthouse, jail

    unchancie—dangerous, risky

    wasna—was not

    wheest—quiet, hush, to hold one’s tongue

    willna—will not

    wouldna—would not

    1

    Nae man can tether time or tide.

    Robert Burns

    Isle of Kerrera, Scotland, 1752

    As the sun slid from the sky, Lark pressed her back into the pockmarked cliff on the island’s west shore. The sea stretched before her like an indigo coverlet, a great many foam-flecked waves tossing gannets about. A south wind tore at her unbound hair, waving it like a crimson flag, as crimson as the fine cloth she’d seen smuggled ashore the previous night. These free-trading times were steeped in danger. Countless moonlit liaisons and trysts. Sand-filled shoes and sleepless nights. How oft she’d prayed an end to it all.

    On this breathless May eve, the only aggravation was the sting of tiny midges as night closed in—and the thickset Jillian Brody as she bumped into Lark and nearly sent her off the cliff’s edge.

    Look smart, aye? There’s tax men about.

    I pray not, Lark breathed, craning her neck to take in the sweeping coastal headland that could only be called majestic. She wouldn’t tell Jillian she was more addlepated about the handsome captain of the Merry Lass than the chancy smuggling run, and that she braved the midnight hour to gain but a glimpse of him or his ship.

    Yer not out here for the same reasons as the rest o’ us. Jillian managed to stand akimbo, hands fisted on her ample hips despite the path’s ribbon-like lip. What’s this I hear about ye refusin’ to help bring in the haul?

    My conscience smote me, Lark told her. I canna be in the business of stealing even if it betters the poor.

    Hoot! Jillian spat the word out as the night wind began a queer keening, lifting the edges of their plaid shawls. Yer fellow islanders are not so high and mighty. Be off wi’ ye then.

    The dismissal, though said in spite, was gladly heeded. Lark turned and hastened away, stepping ably along the path though ’twas nearing midnight. Darkness didn’t fall till late, which left precious little time for the free traders to do their work in the smothering safety of night.

    Tense, she climbed upwards, casting a glance over her shoulder at the beach now and again. But this long, miserly eve brought no goods ashore, nor a handsome captain home again, and so she entered the wee cottage no bigger than a cowshed, its humble stone her home since birth. Only she and her granny fussed with the peat fire and kept a-simmer the kettle of porridge or soup, which always seemed to taste of smoke. She washed up before donning a worn nightgown, then all but fell into the box bed, exhausted.

    Early the next morn she trudged through the mist to Kerrera Castle. Glad she was to have gotten even a snatch of sleep.

    Once on castle grounds she quashed the urge to steal into the walled garden and drink from the spring that bubbled forth in a stony corner. Like ice the water was, even in the heat of summer. Most servants weren’t allowed in the formal garden. Kerrera’s mistress did not like the help to be seen. Her fragile constitution could not bear it. The glorious bower was reserved for Lady Isla and Kerrera’s infrequent guests.

    Bypassing humble beds of herbs in the kitchen garden, Lark came to the beloved bee garden. Here she could stay content forever. Against one ivy-clad bricked wall were numerous bee skeps. Made of thick coils of straw, they were fashioned into golden domes, a wee door at the bottom of each. Even now their inhabitants hummed a lively tune, already at work among enticing calendula and borage, awaiting a feast of bee balm and snapdragons and cosmos in summer. Come August she would take a hive or two into the heather, making the coveted heather honey of which the laird was so fond.

    Her gaze swung to the bee bath she’d created years before, a chipped, shallow dish for fresh water. Beach pebbles were scattered about for the busy creatures to perch on while drinking lest they drown. Their droning seemed to intensify with her coming. The bees sensed her, their singing rising and falling as she moved among them. They did not favor everyone, merely tolerating the head housekeeper yet circling the maids benignly. But they stung Cook in a fury. The laird of Kerrera Castle moved calmly and respectfully in their midst, much like Lark, both of them spared the piercing pain. She’d always wondered about their reaction to Lady Isla. But the laird’s wife rarely ventured near the bee skeps.

    Seeing all was well, at least in the gardens, Lark turned toward the castle.

    There ye be, Lark.

    Was she tardy? Mistress Baird, the stern housekeeper, never greeted her, only made her feel guilty. In the bowels of the castle came the liberating chime of the case clock in the servants’ hall.

    Not late. On time.

    From her chatelaine, Mistress Baird removed the key to the stillroom. Lark took it, murmuring thanks, and turned to go. She took the crushed-shell path to the small stone building attached to the castle’s orangery, which had been damaged in a storm, a few panes of glass broken. The few awakening plants within were seeking summer, showy bright blossoms adorning one glassy corner.

    The stillroom door creaked open. The scent of damp, cold stone and pungent peppermint embraced her, a reminder of yesterday’s tasks. She reached for an apron dangling on a hook, tied it around her waist, and set to work.

    Out the back door she soon went into the kitchen garden, mindful of her mission. The basket on her arm overflowed with herbs before she returned inside again, consulting the receipt book open on a near table though she knew the tincture by heart.

    Good morning to ye, Lark. The laird stood in the open doorway, startling her. He was in finely tailored Edinburgh garments, his hands caught behind his back.

    Seldom did he come here. She hadn’t seen him for a fortnight or better. He was mostly in Edinburgh at the courts of law. Once the distance had chafed. Now she was schooled to its pain. Close as twin lambs they’d once been, beginning when her mother was wet nurse to his. Only back then she’d not known he was a MacLeish, laird of Kerrera Castle. For all she knew he was one of the servants’ children. A ruddy-cheeked, sable-haired barrel of a lad. Nor had he known she was merely a servant’s daughter. Together they’d been weaned then toddled about before running together over the braes like unbridled colts.

    Seeing him now, she nearly dropped her basket. Yer lairdship—

    Be done with that, Lark.

    Sunlight spilled into the space between them. And an unseen wall of reserve. She would not—could not—call him Magnus ever again.

    We arrived late last night. I sent word ahead to ye. Did ye not receive it? About the needed tonic?

    Nay. She sensed his distress. His stoicism did not fool her. His very presence bespoke something dire.

    To Hades with the post, he said with no small exasperation.

    Dinna fash yerself, she said as in days of old, hating that he seemed so vexed.

    He looked skyward, his somberness unchanging. There’s to be no heir for Kerrera.

    Her soul went still. Not again. What could she say to this? Six losses. ’Twas the reason the mistress was so gruamach. Kerrera desperately needed a babe, an heir. But no remedy or tincture could be had if one’s womb was closed, Granny said.

    The doctors have sent Lady Isla here to recuperate. Beyond the stench and noise of the city.

    Her hands nearly shook as she blended the herbs at hand. What a predicament! ’Twas no secret the mistress didn’t care for the western islands. She found Kerrera uncivilized. Remote. A hue and a cry from her Edinburgh roots. Yet the doctors had sent her back.

    The laird ran a hand through unkempt hair, gaze fixed on the sea that gleamed more gold than blue as morning bloomed beyond the castle walls. What would ye advise?

    Something calming. Her gaze lifted to the crocks and jugs on a shelf overhead as her thoughts swirled and grappled for answers. Chamomile. Lavender oil. Lemon balm.

    How soon can ye ready a tonic?

    Some things canna be rushed, she said. Ye dinna want a false remedy. Besides, I’ve more than one tincture in mind. She bent a knee before she brushed past him, leaving the stillroom for a forgotten herb.

    I have faith in ye, Lark, he told her as she reentered the stillroom. Mayhap more than in the Edinburgh physics.

    Yer faith is misplaced, mayhap. She met his azure eyes for a moment longer than she should have, if only to delve the depths of his pain. Prayer is oft the best remedy. But this shall help in the meantime. She handed him a small glass bottle. Have her ladyship’s maid steep this in the hottest water, then wait a quarter of an hour before drinking it down.

    What does it do?

    Rests her ladyship’s womb. She flushed, hands busy with the next task. ’Twas awkward discussing such matters, but she forged ahead. Returns her courses.

    He was looking at her expectantly, no hint of embarrassment about him. But clearly flummoxed. Even disappointed. Did he think she could produce a child?

    His gaze shifted. Studying the concoction in hand, he merely said absently before leaving, Bethankit.

    She mulled his bad news the rest of the afternoon, her reverie interrupted when she shut the stillroom door for the day and heard a rustling close behind her. She startled, her heartbeat calming at the sound of an unrefined yet familiar voice behind the hedge.

    "Prepare for tonight. The Merry Lass is expected. When ye return to yer croft, stretch a bedsheet over yer peat stack once ye get the confirmation of landing. If the coast is clear I’ll shine the light. But beware. There’s talk the tax men are about."

    Another smuggling run? I canna—

    Wheest! So the blether I hear is true then? Ye’ll not help? The captain is dependin’ on ye!

    Lark sighed, torn between bowing out or doing her part as a fellow islander. The least she could do was spread a simple sheet, aye?

    Lord, forgive me.

    Giving the news bearer a reluctant aye, she took the path down the cliff. The mere mention of excise men was enough to stop her cold.

    "The Merry Lass will be bringin’ a load of salt, ye say?"

    Nay, Granny, I didna say. We can only hope.

    God be praised if so!

    Together they sat at their small table, partaking of nettle kail and the last oatcakes slathered with crowdie, before a smoke-stained window. The view was wide and jaw-dropping, even to Granny who’d lived there the longest. Perched on a cliffside, their humble croft seemed in Kerrera Castle’s shadow. The castle was above them, the crown jewel of the coast with its splendid pink harled stone and profusion of towers and turrets, a sea marker for ships coming ashore.

    "Who’s the captain of the Merry Lass?" Granny asked.

    Lark’s stomach somersaulted. Captain MacPherson . . . Rory MacPherson.

    Och! Mad Dirk’s lad?

    Aye, Granny, all grown up.

    Reckon he’ll spare us a sack of salt?

    Lark swallowed another bite of supper, used to her grandmother’s repeated questions. The whole village is in need of such if we’re to make it through another long winter.

    The laird willna let us starve. Granny poured tea with a steady hand that belied her age. The steam whitened the air between them, the aroma laden with guilt. Smuggled Irish tea it was, like the smuggled salt to come. The last lugger brought only whisky. We have no need o’ that but for medicine—or to befuddle the excise men.

    Salt, on the other hand, was a necessity for preserving the fish to sustain them. And none could afford salt—or tea—since the Crown taxed both nigh to death.

    Granny took a sip. How are matters at the castle?

    ’Twas the one query Lark had no heart to answer. Lady Isla has lost another babe.

    God bless her. Granny’s dark eyes narrowed to apple seeds. The laird too.

    Is there nothing to help beget an heir?

    A faraway look came into Granny’s eyes. Lark waited for some remembrance to kindle. In her day, Granny had been the stillroom mistress like Lark’s mother had been the wet nurse. My feeble mind has too many dark corners. I canna ken much.

    Well, if ye ever do . . . Lark kept her eyes on her tea, wishing babies were as easily gotten as salt.

    Where was the Merry Lass this twilight eve? Even if she looked hard, the ship eluded her. Painted black with dark sails, the sloop was nearly invisible on a moonless night. For now, the sun rode the western sea like an orb of fire, casting tendrils of light across their empty bowls and full cups.

    ’Twas calm. Warm. Lark’s gaze sought the expanse of beach where the first tubmen were gathering to bring in the cargo. Soon the sand would teem with horses and carts, island women armed with cudgels and pitchforks to accompany the goods inland.

    But before the Merry Lass put on all sails and headed straight for them, lookouts must be posted. Then Lark would stretch a bedsheet over their peat stack while someone else onshore shone the light.

    The immense sea cave boasted only a few ankers of brandy to one side and empty, shadowed sleeping platforms at the back. As midnight deepened, cold water licked Lark’s bare feet and teased the toes of the captain’s boots. With the incoming tide, there was precious little time to talk. ’Twas always the way of it. No time. Little talk. Great disappointment.

    So, lass, what have ye need of? Be quick to ask. Dressed in long boots, trews, and a striped jersey, Rory MacPherson had the look of a pirate, pistol and cutlass at hand. He made light of the tax men by calling them names, but the wariness remained. I’ll see no treasure fall into the hands of the Philistines, aye?

    She smiled, Rory’s grin infectious. Tonight, the excise men had been outwitted by the free traders once again. The haul had been a roaring success. Forty chests of tea. Thirty mats of leaf tobacco. Eighty ankers of brandy. Two casks of figs and sweet licorice. A great quantity of salt. Oats.

    Salt and oats. Lark imagined Granny’s glee. Molasses, mayhap.

    Aye. Could he sense her delight? Her reluctance? She swung like a pendulum between the two. She nearly said tea but feared appearing greedy.

    Tea? he stated with vigor as if sensing her longing. A few bricks or a chest?

    I canna haul a chest—

    I can. I’m on my way to the Thistle. Ye take the rest.

    Weighted down they were. But she was strong and fleet of foot, oft taking the craggy path in the dark by the lights of Kerrera Castle. Soon the tide would wash away their footprints and return the Merry Lass to sea, the braw captain along with it.

    For now, breathless, her shawl slipping, Lark followed him up the cliff, the elation of a full larder eaten away by the coming separation. Rory never stayed long. Though he stood hale and hearty, surefooted in his upward climb while dislodging a stone now and again, he would soon be gone, a ghostly memory. It seemed she lost another piece of him whenever he left, till the essence of him was no more substantial than the mist that hovered over the water.

    She’d felt that way about the laird when he’d wed. Such a part of her life he’d been till Isla had turned his head. Rory had taken to the sea soon after, and she felt rent in two by both losses. While these men made their way in the world, she stayed the same, bound to croft and castle.

    She looked up, the sound of the thundering surf in her ears. Tonight Kerrera Castle shone bright as a lantern just above. She glanced down quickly, then took her eyes off the path—off Rory’s broad back laden with the tea chest—to rest her eyes on the castle’s largest window.

    There in sharp relief stood the laird, Magnus MacLeish, looking down at them. She resisted the impulse to throw up a hand. His tall silhouette was more familiar than the captain’s sturdy shadow in front of her. She looked a tad too long. Her foot slipped. Pain seared her turned ankle. Noisy pebbles scattered like buckshot, causing Rory to turn around.

    The castle’s cellars sometimes held cargo secreted away when the threat of excise men made it too risky to move the goods inland. But tonight, with no hazard at hand, they walked free and cargo laden. Breathing hard, she stood taller when they crested the cliff and left the trail, favoring her turned ankle.

    Ye still with me, lass?

    She shifted her burden, the leather straps digging into her back. Indeed.

    "Indeed? He cast the mocking word over his shoulder. Why so fancy? Are ye getting above yer raising when a simple aye will do?"

    She went hot, glad the darkness hid her flush. ’Twas a word she’d heard the mistress say in her crisp, aristocratic tones. Ever since, aye seemed too common, like dirt—much like the ancient croft ahead, turned a beguiling white in the moonlight but still simple. Unadorned.

    Once there, Rory released the tea chest and Lark gave up her own burdens. Granny cracked open the door, her smile wide despite her missing teeth. Such as ye give, such will ye get.

    Rory gave a little bow at her hard-won words, to which Granny’s cackling laugh was short-lived. Only during a run did Granny seem to forget her dislike of the captain.

    Lark looked about for any lurking shadows as rain began spattering down, promising Rory a wet walk to the Thistle. Granny began taking the goods inside one by one to secret away in a hole beneath a hearthstone while Lark faced the captain. I thank ye.

    Is that all ye’ll give me? he returned.

    Used to his teasing, she sweetened her goodbye with a curtsy, but the merry singing of Granny’s teakettle did little to banish Lark’s melancholy as Rory began backing away from her, hat in hand.

    Someday ye must tell me of yer travels. If the French ladies are as comely as they say. How green Ireland is, she called after him, her voice falling away in the damp dark.

    Small wonder he wanted to be away. The Thistle did more than wet his whistle. She’d heard tales of him charming the tavern wenches there with satin ribbons and bits of lace from foreign ports. He’d not given her such fripperies, naught but salt and tea and oats, a fact that held the appeal of curdled milk.

    But her own charms were few. She had no power to hold him. No ale with which to entice him. He was less inclined to talk than the laird of late. But even if he’d paid her attention, her spirit stayed unsettled. All this smuggling—ill-gotten goods—squeezed the very life out of her.

    Granny hovered in the croft’s open door, as if chaperoning their parting. Take thy tea, Lark.

    And so she did.

    2

    Oats. A grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.

    Samuel Johnson

    Magnus moved about the castle’s unlit corridors, the taper he carried a-dance in Kerrera’s draft. ’Twas chill for May, and the prior winter had been long and lean. The village children who’d perished from disease and want of nourishment over the cold months were never far from his thoughts, as marked as the crosses that shadowed their graves in the kirkyard. His view from his study window took in those wind-beaten crosses. They and his own desire for a child melded into a lasting melancholy he prayed warmer weather would mend.

    How different it would be if childish laughter echoed in Kerrera’s halls. Six bairns lost in as many years. What he would give to have his half-dozen ringing his table and overflowing the nursery. On the heels of this wistful thought came the crushing reality that Kerrera would stay empty and echoing.

    His bride was weak. Not in strength of will. Her pedigree and even the jut of her jaw bespoke a far from congenial partnership. But she was barren. Unable to carry a child. If only such calamities could be foreseen ahead of contracts and commitments. Till death do us part now held an onerous ring. But he would honor his vows, the covenant they’d made, and keep praying for miracles.

    He passed Isla’s door, treading lightly so as not to disturb her, his collie at his side, the nuzzle of the dog’s damp nose a comfort.

    His wife’s bedchamber was partly ajar, her voice leaking out. Magnus?

    He motioned for Nonesuch to stay in the hall before entering, aware his fading candle was mostly melted. No matter. Her sumptuous room—gold themed with London’s finest furnishings—glowed with no less than a dozen tapers in candelabras. Tonight, despite the late hour, a book lay open on her lap, more volumes on her bedside table. She read her days away and sometimes her nights till dark circles rimmed her eyes. Kerrera’s library seemed more hers than his. He was a man of action, managing his tenants and holdings with little time for the printed page other than Scripture.

    Isla. He stood at the foot of the immense bed he shared less and less, its curtains half closed. A fire in the hearth warmed his backside but failed to make its way to the castle’s cold corners. Her lady’s maid was busy doing whatever ladies’ maids did.

    I cannot sleep. Abandoning her book, she stroked the twin pugs on either side of her. I must have more of the stillroom’s tincture. From the bees’ mistress.

    Lark’s remedy?

    Isla all but bristled, and he rued the stubbornness that kept him naming the servants if for no other reason than it nettled his wife. Never did she call the servants by anything other than their standing in relation to her. That nettled him.

    The stillroom maid, yes.

    Did yer own maid not give ye the tincture this morn? he asked.

    Indeed. But ’tis all gone, she gave me so little. Can you not send for the lass now? Rouse her?

    Nay. His mind skipped back an hour to midnight when he’d last seen Lark on the cliff’s path with her burden. She was no doubt abed, having taken tea with her granny like the three of them had oft done in his youth. They’d sipped the hot brew while the stillroom’s former mistress spun stories of Kerrera’s glory days when his father and grandfather, former lairds, were alive. "In the morn she’ll return to the stillroom. Bide

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