She ought to take a shower and put on fresh clothes. Instead, with a groan, she fell down on her back on the bed. The rosary’s wooden beads clacked together. It was happening. The Great Mare had finally taken pity on Hæra and willed Sister Madeleine to come to her. Now all Hæra had to do was hold up her end of the bargain and take what she’d been given.

She would. She closed her eyes as the breath shuddered out of her. She clutched the wooden beads and thought of Sister Madeleine’s sea-green eyes and soft, full mouth.

Hæra would take, and take, and take.

Madeleine’s rented bike wobbled back and forth on the road as she made her way to Ætlaquoy, her teeth chattering in spite of her sweater and jacket. The Orcadian wind turned biking into a miserable exercise. Summer, my foot.

She should have taken Jonathan up on his offer to pick her up. Instead, she’d had the foolish idea that biking would get out her nervous energy, as well as giving her ample time to think. So much for that. She could only think about how cold she was. Her bare hands ached on the bike handles.

At least the place was easy to find. She was already at the turn from the main road down the gravel path to the farm. A handsome painted sign marked the turn, reading, “Ætlaquoy.” She’d already forgotten how Jonathan had pronounced that.

Madeleine made the turn. The farm’s buildings were easily visible. Thank the saints, she was almost there, although she had to admit that parts of the ride hadn’t been totally unpleasant. A bit of sunlight had emerged, and in a few hours there might be an actual sunset. It was a spirit-lifting sight.

She needed that lift. It didn’t seem real that she was here, about to have a conversation with Jonathan about what had happened on that beach six years ago. Possibly Jonathan would have no answers for her. This dinner might be no more than an exercise in mutual bafflement.

The gravel driveway led past green pastures dotted with white sheep. In the distance stood some cattle. Madeleine knew nothing about sheep farming, so she supposed this number of animals must be impressive. Harry Duggan had said Jonathan’s farm was successful.

Then again, Harry Duggan had said a lot of things. If only she’d realized he’d been talking about Jonathan, she’d have paid closer attention. As it was, she at least remembered Harry mentioning a “bairn” who lived with Jonathan—his illegitimate child. Someone who’d been beaten when she’d arrived and undoubtedly had a difficult background. It was hard to imagine Jonathan, even with a neat beard and clear eyes, taking care of a surprise daughter’s trauma—but what did Madeleine know about him?