Hearts In The Highlands

Mr. Gallagher pointed to the west, where the sun was beginning its slow descent behind the mountains beyond the loch. “The highest peak is Ben Lawers. I’ve always wanted to climb it.”

Maddie looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“Why not?” He smiled, a smile that began in his blue eyes and slowly reached his lips. “Think of the view from the summit. On the other side of the range lies Glen Lyon, one of the loveliest glens in all the highlands.”

“It sounds spectacular.” She was no longer looking at the mountain, but at Mr. Gallagher. He was a man of action, like her brothers. While she was…What did she have to show for her life?

“Would you like to climb it, too?” His eyes met hers once more.

“Yes,” she found herself saying. “Has any woman ever climbed it?”

There was a challenge in his blue eyes. “What does that matter? You could be the first.”

MILLS & BOON

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RUTH AXTELL MORREN

Ruth Axtell Morren wrote her first story when she was twelve—a spy thriller—and knew she wanted to be a writer. There were many detours along the way. She studied comparative literature at Smith College, spent her junior year in Paris, taught English in the Canary Islands and worked in international development in Miami, Florida, where she met her future husband, who took her to the Netherlands to live for six years.

She first gained recognition as a writer when her second manuscript finaled in the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest in 1994. Ruth’s first two Steeple Hill novels, Winter Is Past (2003) and Wild Rose (2004) both won awards in contests sponsored by Romance Writers of America. Wild Rose was selected as a Booklist Top 10 Christian Novel in 2005.

After living several years on the down east coast of Maine, Ruth and her family moved back to the Netherlands, to the polderland of Flevoland, where she still lives by the sea. Ruth loves hearing from readers. You can contact her through her Web site: www.ruthaxtellmorren.com.

Ruth Axtell Morren

Hearts in the Highlands

For Susan,

Remember, it’s never too late.

And let us not be weary in well doing, for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.

—Galatians 6:9

Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

—Robert Burns,

“Farewell to the Highlands”

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Chapter One

London, 1890

“Imagine waking up, a knife at your throat—”

Since Reid Gallagher stepped into his great-aunt’s parlor, Maddie had been transported to another time and place.

He leaned forward in the velvet upholstered armchair, rumpling the lace covers on each arm with his strong hands.

“It was touch and go for a while there.” Humor underscored the quiet rumble of his words. “They stormed us on horseback, surrounding our camp in the dead of night, brandishing their knives and cudgels. All we could do was fumble for our weapons in the dark—”

Maddie sat riveted, listening to the rugged man with the lean, deeply tanned face, sun-bleached sandy hair and thick mustache a shade darker. His words evoked a kaleidoscope of images—a British surveying party in the midst of the lonely desert, the night air cool, the stillness broken by a band of rebels, the neigh of horses and bray of camels….

“Oh, dear heavens!” Lady Haversham left off stroking her Yorkshire terrier. “Was anyone killed?”

He looked down, his tone grim. “Two, including Colonel Parker, the head of our expedition. Our men rallied immediately, of course. We sleep with our weapons near at hand, so we were able to rout the group in no time—”

“My smelling salts!” Lady Haversham fanned her face. “I feel about to faint. Madeleine!” The terrier, Lilah, jumped up with a sharp bark.

Maddie hurried to her employer’s side. “Hush, Lilah!”

“Do please hurry.” Lady Haversham sat with her head against the antimacassar, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow.

Maddie reached for the tapestry bag that kept a host of things Lady Haversham might need at any given moment. In a second, she located the small vial and waved it under the elderly lady’s nostrils.

She started at the whiff. “Oh!”

Maddie immediately withdrew the vial and fetched a small cross-stitched cushion to place behind her. At the terrier’s continued barking, she took the tiny dog in her arms. “See, your mistress is perfectly fine,” she crooned, petting Lilah’s long, silky hair until the dog was quiet.

“That’s better,” Lady Haversham said. “I felt so light-headed for a moment.” She reached for her pet. “Come, my darling, Mama’s right here.”

The russet-colored terrier settled back down on her mistress’s lap. Mr. Gallagher stood beside his great-aunt’s chair, anxiety etching his brow. Lady Haversham reached out a hand, which trembled slightly. His sun-browned one grasped her pale, age-spotted one like a great bird enfolding a baby bird under its wing.

“You see, my boy, how I am. I’m so glad you’ve come home at last.” Her voice quavered while her watery blue eyes gazed up into his with relief.

Mr. Gallagher’s glance shifted to Maddie, and she was struck by their light hue against his dark, weathered features, like finding a bright blue marble amidst rough burlap. She gave a hesitant smile, wishing to reassure him. If only she could tell him a week didn’t go by that Lady Haversham wouldn’t come near to dying in one form or another.

But Mr. Gallagher had turned his attention back to his great-aunt. “Maybe I should call your physician?”

“No, don’t trouble yourself. I’ll be well if I just sit quietly.” She closed her eyes again, but kept her hold on her nephew’s hand, her gnarled fingers clutching it as if to a lifeline.

“I worry about you, living so far away in a heathen land. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you. You and Vera are my only relations.”

Something flickered in the tall man’s eyes, as if he weren’t used to having any emotional ties. “You needn’t have worried. You see me here fit as always. Don’t upset yourself anymore thinking of it.”

Lady Haversham reopened her eyes. “I can’t help it. Thank God you’re back on British soil. At least this incident caused your return, for which I am grateful. I hope you are home in England for good.”

“I’m back for a few weeks, at any rate.” His tone betrayed no joy at the fact. “Until the two governments satisfy themselves that it’s safe to continue our work.”

When it appeared his aunt had recovered, Mr. Gallagher slowly disengaged his hand from hers. “The situation as it stands now is that two bands of Bedouin presently think they own the Sinai. There are continual skirmishes between the two tribes. Our British party happened to be caught in the middle of this one. The Tuara who attacked our camp wanted to make sure we were hiding no Tiyaha among us.”

Lady Haversham waved away his description. “Oh, it’s too confusing for me. All I know is my heart can’t take the thought of you among those savages.”

“Well, you needn’t fear for now. The attack on our camp stopped all work while both the Egyptian and British authorities investigate things.” He moved back a pace and ran a hand through his hair, leaving the thick blond strands disheveled. Maddie could hear the frustration underlying the words, and she sensed he was a man who wouldn’t willingly endure enforced idleness.

Lady Haversham continued to stroke Lilah’s long hair. “Well, I am thankful for that at least. Please ring for some tea, Madeleine. I’m sure we could all use some. This news has been most upsetting….” The old lady brought her lace-edged handkerchief up to her mouth and shook her head.

“Of course.” Maddie headed for the bellpull.

With a last look at his aunt, Mr. Gallagher returned to his chair. “I’m sorry, Aunt Millicent. I shouldn’t have been so blunt.”

“It’s not your fault. You haven’t been back in a few years. It’s understandable you didn’t realize my frail condition. The least thing upsets me. It’s my heart, you see. Dr. Aldwin says I mustn’t have anything upset me.”

“I didn’t realize how…delicate you’d become since I last saw you.” He gave an awkward laugh. “I’ve been so far from British society during that time, in the company of men, I’ve forgotten how to put things more gently for a lady’s ears.”

“Good heavens, you mustn’t let yourself become uncivilized.” Lady Haversham sat straighter, letting the cushion fall to the floor and causing Lilah to let out a bark. “We shall have to remedy that now you’re back in London. Of course, I no longer entertain. My nerves can’t take crowds. But your sister and her husband can organize things.”

He leaned forward, alarm in his blue eyes. “Aunt Millicent, you know I’m not interested in attending parties—”

“Nonsense. Your friends and acquaintances want to know you’re back in town. It would be a disservice to deprive them of your company.”

He scrubbed a large hand across his jaw, as if wanting to argue the point but afraid of upsetting his aunt further.

Maddie resumed her own seat and took up her needlepoint.

His aunt settled Lilah back down. “As I was saying, Vera will hold a few teas for you, perhaps a musicale one evening.”

“I’m here only to cool my heels until the ambassador finds out what kind of trick the sultan is playing—”

“I know you don’t like to socialize. But your friends will be hurt if you come stealing into town like a thief in the night, no one the wiser.”

“I only came back because I was forced to….”

Maddie wrenched her attention away from this interesting exchange when a black-clad maid with frilly white apron entered the room. Knowing exactly how Lady Haversham preferred her tea, Maddie set about pouring the older lady’s cup first. But her heart couldn’t help being moved by the man who so clearly felt out of his element in London. She remembered her own difficulty readjusting to England when she and her family had first returned from the Middle East.

Maddie placed the cup and saucer beside Lady Haversham and took Lilah from her. “Give her a little platter of cake.”

“Yes, my lady.” Maddie set the miniature dog on the carpet, knowing she’d probably have to clean up after her within the hour. As she approached Mr. Gallagher’s chair, the dog following at her heels, Maddie felt a tremor of nervousness at addressing him directly. “How do you take your tea?” she inquired above Lilah’s barking.

“Just one lump and a wedge of lemon, thank you.” He spared Maddie only a glance then sat back, an elbow against the chair’s arm, his fingers idly smoothing his mustache, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“Very good,” she said, stifling the desire to be noticed by this man. By now she should be used to being overlooked by Lady Haversham’s visitors like another piece of furniture in the room. Taking herself to task, she walked back to the tea cart. The terrier jumped onto the settee and leaned eagerly toward the loaded cart, barking her interest in its delicacies. With a grim sigh, Maddie cut her a sliver of cake and placed it on the flower-edged Limoges dessert plate. Lilah was ahead of her, already back on the ground and barking her impatience. Maddie set the treat down on the floor, where Lilah immediately began to devour it, her little body twitching in eagerness.

Maddie proceeded to pour Mr. Gallagher his cup, hoping Lilah would hold down the cake at least until their guest had departed. When she returned to him, he reached for the cup before she had a chance to set it down.

“Thank you. Perfect,” he added with a smile of approval at the wedge of lemon she had set beside the cup on its saucer.

The sudden smile relieved the harshness of his features. Maddie felt a warmth steal over her. Dismayed by her own reaction, she stepped away from him. “Would you care for a slice of cake?”

“That would be fine.” Again he gave her a smile, which affected her more than it should for such a brief, superficial exchange. A part of her yearned to prolong the conversation. Instead, she bowed her head and hurried back to the tea table.

She scolded herself for the pleasure it gave her to fill his request. Knowing how good her employer’s appetite was, Maddie cut Lady Haversham a large slice.

“I’ve brought back some pieces collected last year at a dig in Hawara,” Mr. Gallagher said to his aunt. “The British Museum was quite pleased with them. I’ll be doing a series of lectures while I’m here.”

“Your Uncle George had quite a collection of artifacts himself from all his travels in the Orient.”

He smiled, looking more relaxed than he had since he’d entered the overstuffed room. “Yes, I recall. He used to show me things every time I visited.”

“He had countless items. I’ve kept everything carefully stored in boxes over the years.” She sighed. “If anything should happen to me, what is to become of all of it?”

He cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable with the drift of the conversation.

“There was a pyramid at the site of our dig.”

She brightened. “How fascinating.”

When Maddie had poured her own cup, she set it down to cool and took up her needlepoint. Under the guise of rethreading her needle, she observed Mr. Gallagher, unconcerned that he would notice. His focus was on his great-aunt, as he described the project. Thankfully, Lilah had settled at Maddie’s feet for another nap.

Although he wore a well-tailored sack coat, vest and trousers, the light khaki material of the trousers and the lightweight tweed of his jacket gave Mr. Gallagher a much less formal look than the average man about London. The few gentlemen to visit Lady Haversham—her solicitor, physician and old Reverend Steele—all wore long dark frock coats with matching vests and trousers, their somber colors seeming to underscore their lofty positions.

This man’s lighter-colored garments, like the desert sand, brought a foreign element into the parlor, making the room with its heavy dark furniture and surfaces covered with bric-a-brac suddenly appear more confined and overcrowded than usual.

Maddie drank in Mr. Gallagher’s words as he described the relatively new study of how long-ago civilizations had lived their daily lives. Maddie could picture it all so clearly because she’d spent a good portion of her girlhood in the Holy Land with her missionary parents. Egypt was very close to Palestine, and Mr. Gallagher’s narrative brought back memories of desert sands, swarthy people riding their camels or donkeys and bleached huts at the foothills of scrubby mountains.

As he described the harsh conditions of the dig, Maddie pictured him in wrinkled khakis and tall scuffed boots, a battered hat shading his piercing blue eyes from the sun. She’d noticed their color as soon as she’d been introduced to him, the moment he’d taken her hand in his in a strong, though brief, handshake. She judged him to be in his late thirties or early forties.

Mr. Gallagher would probably be startled at how much she already knew about him. When Lady Haversham wasn’t discussing her various ailments, she boasted of her great-nephew, who had followed in his great-uncle’s footsteps to become an Egyptologist and surveyor to the Crown in the lands between Africa and India.

Maddie’s attention quickened when she heard Mr. Gallagher tell his great-aunt, “The Royal Egypt Fund is sponsoring the lectures. It’s in their interest to promote Egyptology with the general public.”

“Yes, your uncle was on the forefront of getting the government interested in the artifacts over there. You must tell me when you’re to lecture, although I hardly get out anymore, you know. It was a dreadful winter. I didn’t think I’d survive that attack of pleurisy. Then with my usual neuralgia, I don’t know how I manage.”

“My first lecture is at the end of the week.”

“Oh, goodness. Well, this April weather is still much too changeable for me to venture forth.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect you to take any risks with your health.”

Maddie hoped he’d say more about when and where the lecture would be.

There was a lull in the conversation, then Mr. Gallagher said, “I’ve brought back a mummified head.”

“You haven’t!” His aunt’s eyes widened. “How ever did you find one?”

His fingers stroked his chin as he mused, “Sometimes it’s when you stop searching for something that you find it.” His glance crossed Maddie’s at that moment, and she realized she’d been staring at him.

To cover her embarrassment, she blurted out, “Would you like some more tea?”

“Oh, my yes, how remiss of us,” his aunt said immediately.

He looked down at his cup as if he’d forgotten he’d been holding it. “Yes, that would be just the thing.”

Before Maddie could rise, Mr. Gallagher stood and ambled over to the tea cart. Lilah stirred, but she only twitched her nose at the toes of his boots and didn’t bark.

Maddie felt dwarfed by the man’s above-average height as he paused in front of the cart. He continued his line of conversation as he held out his cup and saucer to Maddie with a smile.

“We discovered several mummy portraits dating to the Roman period. The site around the pyramid appears to be a royal burial ground.”

“Your Uncle George always wanted to find some proof of this procedure, but alas, was unsuccessful.”

Maddie poured the tea, hoping her hand didn’t shake. Then she lifted one lump of sugar with the silver tongs and set it into the cup with a small plop, fearful the tea would splatter. All the while, she was aware of his hand holding the saucer. Strong looking, tanned, like his face, to a deep hue. Then she noticed the gold wedding band on his ring finger. Lady Haversham had told her he was a widower of many years. Maddie’s heart went out to him in sympathy, thinking how he must continue to mourn his late wife, if he still wore the ring.

She discarded the used lemon slice and took a fresh one with another pair of tongs, then placed it on the edge of the saucer. There it slipped off, and as her hand flinched, trying to retrieve the lemon, he covered it for an instant with his free one.

“Steady there.” A trace of humor laced his husky voice.

She met his blue gaze and whispered a thank-you. “Anytime,” he murmured, before moving away from her.

She sat for the rest of his visit remembering the feel of his warm palm against her skin. Warm like the Egyptian sun.

Her mother used to say, “Your hands are always like ice.” Her father would immediately reply, “Cold hands, warm heart.”

Was it true? Did she have a warm heart? Sometimes, lately, she felt it squeezed dry by her employer. She shook aside the thought, reminding herself of her Christian duty to serve.

Mr. Gallagher sat back down. “I’ll be featuring the mummy’s head at my first lecture. It should draw a crowd.”

His aunt cut into her piece of cake. “When is the lecture precisely?”

Maddie’s hand stilled on her cup as she listened to his answer.

“The first one will be Thursday morning at ten. Another will be held on Friday afternoon. We’ll judge which times draw the most attendance before scheduling the others.”

Thursday at ten. That would be perfect. Lady Haversham generally didn’t stir until noon. Maddie would have plenty of time to get to the museum and back before she was even missed.

Thursday at ten. She committed the time to memory and determined to read everything she could lay her hands on about Egyptology in the meantime.

A new fear cropped up. Would Mr. Gallagher see her at the lecture? If so, what would he think? She didn’t want to appear forward in any way. After all she was only his great-aunt’s paid companion.

Paid companion. The ugly words reminded her who and what she had been for the last decade of her life.

From a young woman who’d dreamed of serving the Lord on the mission field, to a poorly paid employee at the beck and call of a spoiled society lady, the only difference between Maddie’s position and that of the other servants was the dubious distinction of sitting at her employer’s table. In everything else, she was repeatedly demeaned by word and gesture countless times a day.

Maddie sat back with a sigh, telling herself, as she’d been telling herself each day since she’d begun her job under Lady Haversham, that she should take joy in her service. She’d almost convinced herself until this afternoon, when Reid Gallagher had entered this airless parlor and reminded her of that other world out there that once had been her world, too.

Chapter Two

“These gilded mummy masks are particularly nice specimens.” Reid held up a pair of shiny gold heads for the audience to view. His eyes scanned the packed hall of the British Museum. The Egyptian Fund would be pleased with the sold-out crowd. There were even people standing in the back.

“We also have coverings for the upper parts of the body and the feet.” As he spoke, he set down the masks and took up the carved forms, the former showing crossed arms, and the latter, bare feet molded in gold.

“These were discovered in what we presume is a burial ground in Hawara, a few miles west of the Nile. The pyramid in the midst of this area was the burial tomb of King Amenemhat III.

“We were fortunate to uncover so many undisturbed items. Because they were buried so well, looters hadn’t yet discovered them.”

Reid kept looking from the objects he described to the people in the audience, trying to gauge if they were following what he was saying. He knew from previous presentations that his audience was composed of people from all walks of life. Few would have any in-depth archaeological knowledge.

His eyes swung back from the rear of the hall toward the front. Suddenly, his gaze backtracked, thinking he’d recognized a face. He had to peer behind a lady’s wide straw hat, flanked on either side by two large bird’s wings. A young woman sat behind and to one side of it. She appeared to be listening intently to his talk. A pity that from where she sat, there was little detail she’d be able to discern of the artifacts.

“This king lived in what is known as the Middle Kingdom.” He held up a large sculpted head of the pharaoh, all the while trying to place the face of the young woman. Reid had few acquaintances in London anymore, much less female ones.

Then it came to him. Aunt Millie’s latest companion. Reid glanced once again at the woman in the back as he explained how excavations were carried out. “We use a system called stratification, where a series of layers are carefully dug.”