“Sometimes it’s much easier to go along with a situation than to call a halt,” Margaret said. “Especially when you think it’s what you want. In New York there was a gentleman, a good friend, and I wanted him to mean more to me, but as you said it doesn’t work that way.” She smiled wryly. “Randolph and I are still friends. He’s very happily married now and has a little girl.”

“Helen is married, too.”

They paused by the banks of the river, where the clear water tumbled over the pebbled bed. Donald picked up a flat stone and skimmed it down river.

“Five,” Margaret counted. “That’s impressive.” She picked up a stone, but her own attempt sank after one bounce.

“Here.” He picked up another stone and gave it to her. “Now hold it like this, and pull your arm back—let me show you.” He stood behind her, adjusting her arm. She still used the same perfume. Her hair tickled his chin.

She cast the stone, laughing as it sank again, whirling around, and whatever she had been about to say died on her lips as their eyes met. The urge to take her in his arms and to kiss her was almost overwhelming. She wanted him to—he could see it in her eyes. But if he kissed her now, and it led him nowhere—no, he couldn’t go through that again.

Stooping, he picked up another stone and handed it to her. “Perseverance is the key.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Four

THE MORNING OF QUEEN VICTORIA’S visit to Achnacarry was bright and sunny. Margaret, perched by the window staring out at the River Arkaig, was enjoying the luxury of a breakfast of tea and bread and butter in her bedchamber. Despite her reservations, yesterday had turned out to be most wonderful of days. Though there had been the occasional awkward moments between Donald and herself, the sympathy that had always existed between them had been rapidly re-established. They had sat up talking long into the night. Some of the conversation was expended on filling in the gaps in their respective histories, but they had also talked of other, inconsequential things, the sort they used to discuss in their letters. Only as dawn was fast approaching had the mood changed. Donald had turned to her to say good night, and the easiness between them became charged with a desire for a different kind of closeness.