Elise spun on her heel, strode down the corridor, and took the stairs, reentering the great hall, the floor chilly beneath her bare feet. MacFarlane and her father stood outside the boot room while the butler updated Dad on the castle’s latest issues. Her parents had only just returned from London last evening, but her father’s reddened cheeks, shooting tweeds, and flat cap told another story. He had obviously been out culling the pheasant population on the estate. His dog lay on the floor beside him, covered in burrs, his lolling tongue testament to his recent activity.

Both men turned in her direction.

“Lass, what are you about, hey?” her father asked.

“I’m on my way back to the pool. One of the staff needed help finding something she had misplaced.”

“Back to the pool? My dear, why don’t you take a break from all that physical exercise and accompany your mother and sisters to Melrose? It might do you good to spend a wee bit of time with them.”

Elise let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through her matted hair. “I don’t have the time.” Why couldn’t her family understand the importance of her job and how much it meant to her?

Her father stared her down, his pale eyes expressionless.

Elise shuffled her feet. She hated it when he pulled that face. “Fine.”

Spinning on her bare heel, she started down the corridor. Coming here was a huge mistake.

After returning from an astonishingly enjoyable trip with her mother and sisters in Melrose, Elise slipped unseen into the music room and plunked herself down on the chaise lounge. Wind howled outside the windows, and storm clouds scudded across the sky.

Her eyes swept over the dust-free Steinway, the gilded harp, and the violin cases. As the only non-musical family member in two generations, Elise had taken refuge in this room because no one would consider looking for her here.

While her sisters and brother had applied themselves to lessons, she had pursued other interests. Life was too short to spend it sitting on a hard bench tinkering with bows, strings, and keys.

The holstered gun dug into her shoulder when she stretched to her full length on the soft upholstery. She adjusted the weapon to a more comfortable position and opened her e-reader to a Regency romance, a genre she read only in the privacy of her own company. How could she explain her secret yearning for pretty things when she’d been such an awkward girl?

As a teenager, she had towered over the boys, reaching almost six feet by the time she turned fifteen. None of the young men her age had asked her to dance, not even when her mother had hosted an elaborate party on her behalf after she had completed her cotillion classes.