“I don’t expect you to resolve all your hard feelings overnight. But I want your solemn promise that you’ll at least try. Will you promise?”

The two men eyed each other. “Aye, milady,” muttered Hamish.

“Aye, milady,” Duncan echoed.

“Thank you.” She dusted her hands together. “Might we now hunt this grouse? The laird has said my supper will be wanting if we don’t.”

“You heard your lady, then,” Arran said.

The two men gathered up the dogs and their horses and set off to find the grouse. Arran watched them ride on, then looked down at Margot. “Fine work, Lady Mackenzie. You have tread where mere mortals have refused to go.”

She rolled her eyes. “The peace won’t last. But I should hope it will hold until they at least have bagged my supper.”

He laughed, drew her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

He helped her onto her horse and they followed the brothers around the loch until they sighted the grouse again, as the birds were too fat and too heavy to fly far. As a result, the three men were able to snare a half dozen of them. When the dogs had brought the birds back to them, and Hamish had bagged them all, Arran sent the men and the dogs to Balhaire. “Lady Mackenzie and I will be along,” he said. And to Margot he said, “Come,” and took her hand, walking down the grassy slope, then pulling her down onto her belly in the grass with him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I mean to make a hunter of you yet, aye? I’ll at least have you know how food is put on your table at Balhaire.” He put the gun up against her shoulder and showed her how to hold it. He instructed her how to sight the birds. He had no hope that she could bring down a grouse, but he wanted her at least to try.

“They’re wandering about,” she said as she peered through the sight.

“Have you one in your sight?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Aye, then, on the count of three, pull the trigger. One. Two—”

Margot fired before he said three. And with her eyes closed. The barrel of the gun bucked into her shoulder, and her shot was so wildly awful that he couldn’t help himself—he fell over onto his back and howled with laughter.

“That’s so unkind!” Margot cried, laughing, too.

“Diah, but that was the worst shot I’ve ever seen,” he said, convulsing with laughter.

“Because you’re a terrible teacher!” she said, shoving playfully against his shoulder.

Arran grabbed her and pulled her on top of him, rolling with her in the grass. “It’s impossible to teach a woman who closes her eyes when she shoots.”

“You made me anxious,” she said. She was smiling up at him, relaxed. Happy. “I could have done it without you!”