His face flushed, and a faint sheen appeared on his forehead. She eyed her own plate with misgiving and poked at the haggis with her fork. The grayish blob, already removed from the stomach in which it had been cooked, crumbled apart, and a spicy odor like sausage lifted from it. Pretend it is sausage, she told herself.

She took a forkful, closed her eyes, and put it in her mouth.

A moment later, she was gasping and reaching for her glass of water. “The pepper!” she said when she could finally speak, her voice cracking in protest.

Robert nodded in sympathy. “My brother-in-law Alexander MacLean takes great delight in forcing me to eat all sorts of Scottish foods, though he knows that my grandmother is more Scottish than he. I’ve had all sorts of haggis, which comes in an amazing variety, some much stronger than others, which is why I rarely ask for it. But this one . . . I’ve never seen so much pepper in a haggis.”

“I should have ordered the goose.”

He looked at his plate. “I’m glad I didn’t serve myself a generous portion.”

She had to laugh and managed another bite, glad to find that the roasted potatoes were more to her liking. She confined herself to that side of her plate. All in all, it was a filling meal, made pleasant by the warm fire and Robert, who kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling stories about growing up in the old vicarage.

She could almost see it nestled among the trees and hear the laughter of children as they played pranks and tried to stay out of trouble with their overly sensitive father.

It made her think about the quiet life she’d lived with Rowena the last five years, tucked away in a remote village. Their small cottage was surrounded by a low stone wall, far away from the crazed madness that had once been Moira’s life. She’d thought the isolation was a good thing, but hearing Robert’s tales of his adventures with his brothers and sisters, she wondered if she’d overprotected Rowena. When I have her back, I’ll make sure I’m preparing her for the real world.

Robert embarked on a story about his twin sisters, Triona and Caitlyn, and how they’d attempted to use the barn loft as a place to escape their troublesome brothers, only to fall through the hay trap just as their older brother, William, was romancing a milkmaid.

Across the table, Robert watched Moira chuckle sleepily. She was so tired, yet refused to admit it. She’s such a stubborn woman. Why do I find that so appealing?

He softened his voice as he told childhood tales, speaking slower and in a more soothing tone, willing her to relax, to rest.

Within a few minutes her eyes began to flutter, and soon her head tilted down, sleep finally claiming her.

He smiled, proud of his efforts. My sisters are just as stubborn. Perhaps that’s why I like Moira so much.