The soldier stared at her as though she had announced she intended to purchase the moon.

“A proposition?”

“Yes.”

“What sort?”

“Marriage.”

His silence was so complete that Elspeth could hear the wind moving through the chimney of the inn behind him.

He looked at her cloak.

Then her boots.

Then her face.

“You’re serious.”

“Entirely.”

He studied her for another moment.

“You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“I haven’t.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I don’t need to.”

That answer finally made something shift in his expression.

He rested one hand on the neck of his horse.

“You’re running from someone.”

Elspeth stiffened.

“Yes.”

“Your father?”

“No.”

“Debt?”

She hesitated.

“Something worse.”

The soldier waited.

“My mother.”

For the first time, the corner of his mouth almost moved.

“That’s a new one.”

“She intends to marry me to a man old enough to have grandchildren older than I am.”

“And you’ve decided marrying a complete stranger is preferable?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds foolish.”

“It is foolish.”

Elspeth’s cheeks burned.

He continued.

“You don’t know where I’ve been.”

“No.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“No.”

“You don’t know whether I’m a decent man.”

“No.”

“Yet you’re offering marriage.”

“Yes.”

He stared at her.

“Why?”

The question struck deeper than she expected.

Because she was tired.

Because every morning she woke with the feeling that another piece of her life had already been decided without her.

Because she could no longer remember the last time someone had asked what she wanted and actually waited for an answer.

“Because if I return home,” she said quietly, “my life will be chosen for me.”

The soldier’s expression changed.

Only slightly.

But she noticed.

“My father left debts behind. My mother believes marriage is the only way to save our estate. She has found me a wealthy husband.”

“And you don’t want him.”

“I would rather live in a cottage with a leaking roof than spend forty years beside a man who sees me as an investment.”

The soldier looked toward the hills.

“Freedom sounds romantic when you have never been hungry.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

His voice wasn’t cruel.

That somehow made it worse.

“You think being disowned is freedom?” he asked. “You think poverty becomes noble simply because you chose it?”

Elspeth lowered her eyes.

“No.”

“Then what do you actually want?”

She looked at him.

“To wake up one morning and know that my life belongs to me.”

The soldier said nothing.

A cart rolled through the square.

A church bell sounded in the distance.

Finally, he asked:

“Your name?”

She hesitated.

“Lady Elspeth MacRae.”

His eyes narrowed.

Recognition.

This time, she saw it.

He knew the name.

“My family has no money,” she said quickly. “No meaningful dowry. If my mother learns I’ve married you, she’ll cut me off.”

“And you’re willing to accept that?”

“Yes.”

He studied her for a long moment.

Then he sighed.

“I’m Alistair Grant.”

“Mr. Grant.”

“Captain Grant.”

Her eyes widened.

“You’re an officer?”

“Formerly.”

Something about the answer made her look closer.

The worn coat.

The scar.

The tired horse.

The hands that were too carefully steady.

“You served in the army.”

“I did.”

“And now?”

“Now I go where I please.”

There was something strange about the way he said it.

As though “where I please” was a privilege he had paid dearly to obtain.

Elspeth gathered her courage.

“Then marry me.”

Alistair stared at her.

“You truly don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Perhaps not.”

“You could regret this.”

“I already regret the life waiting for me.”

That silenced him.

He looked toward the road leading back to Blackthorn Manor.

Then toward the mountains.

Finally, he looked at her again.

“If I agree, there will be conditions.”

“Name them.”

“You don’t lie to me.”

“Agreed.”

“You don’t pretend this is love.”

She swallowed.

“Agreed.”

“And if you decide you hate this arrangement, you tell me. You don’t disappear.”

“I won’t.”

His gaze remained fixed on hers.

“And one more.”

“What?”

“You never allow anyone to make you feel ashamed for choosing your own life.”

Elspeth’s breath caught.

No suitor had ever said anything remotely like that.

Not one.

She extended her hand.

“Then we have an agreement.”

Alistair looked at her hand.

He didn’t take it immediately.

When he finally did, his fingers closed around hers with surprising gentleness.

“All right, Lady MacRae.”

She exhaled.

“You’ll marry me?”

“Yes.”

She smiled for the first time that morning.

She had no idea that the man standing before her wasn’t a penniless soldier.

She didn’t know the horse beneath him had once belonged to a cavalry regiment.

She didn’t know the faded coat concealed a signet ring bearing the Grant crest.

And she certainly didn’t know that the soldier she had chosen because she believed he had nothing…

owned more land than her entire family had ever possessed.

Three weeks later, when Elspeth arrived at his Highland estate, she would discover the truth.

The stranger from the village square was not merely Alistair Grant.

He was the last surviving heir to the Grant Highlands.

And he owned nearly half the valley.

But there was one secret he had kept from her even after agreeing to become her husband.

He had not been passing through Dunbrae by accident.

He had come there because someone was trying to kill him.