"That's the daftest thing I've ever heard," she said.
He shrugged. "Maybe. So, will you marry me?"
Jeannie stared into the steady hazel eyes, trying to read his true intent. She could read nothing, so she looked away into the distance, trying to decide what to do. She could smell the mud on her, feel it tightening on her skin as it dried. She must look a sight.
"I give you my word I'll take good care of you, Jeannie McLeay."
His word. The one he never broke. And he had big, broad, lovely shoulders, even if he was cracked in the head. "When?" she asked.
"Today."
Jeannie closed her eyes, counted to ten, and then counted again, just to make sure. And then she tossed commonsense to the wind. "All right, I'll do it. Where do we go?"
"The nearest kirk. St Andrew's-by-the-burn?"
She nodded. It was the closest church, though Grandad wasn't a believer and she'd never been allowed to attend.
Cameron Fraser mounted his horse and held out his hand to help her up behind him.
She hesitated and glanced back at the sheep waiting in a close huddle at the end of the causeway. Rab, the sheepdog, lay quietly, watching her, watching the sheep, ever vigilant.
Cameron Fraser followed her gaze. "If you want, Jimmy will stay to take care of your sheep."
She looked skeptically at the cousin who swayed on his horse, grinning muzzily. "They'll be safer wi' the dog. Have ye a handkerchief?"
He handed her a clean, folded handkerchief, no doubt thinking she meant to clean herself with it. The state she was in, she was beyond one handkerchief.
She picked up a stone, plucked a sprig of heather growing by the side of the road and knotted them both into the handkerchief. Then she let out a shrill whistle. The dog raced toward her like a dart.
She tied the handkerchief onto his collar. "I'll miss ye, Rab," she whispered, stroking the dog's silky ears. He'd been the only source of love and affection she'd had in six long years. She'd miss him, but Rab would be all right with Grandad. Her grandfather was a lot kinder to animals than he was to people.
"Away home wi' them, Rab," she said. "Away home." The dog raced back and began to circle the sheep. A bark here, a nip there and the herd began to move. They'd be home soon.
"Will no-one worry when the sheep come home without you?" Cameron Fraser asked her.
"No. Grandad will understand the message in the handkerchief. He won't be troubled, as long as no sheep are missing, and Rab will get them home safe."
It was the exact same message her mother had left when she ran off with her father more than twenty years ago. Mam had left a stone, a sprig of heather and a note. A stone for Grandad's heart, and heather for Mam's hopes for the future. Jeannie had no paper for a note, but Grandad would remember.
He frowned. "But he'll want to know where you've gone, surely."
Clearly it didn't reflect well on her that she had no-one who cared. Jeannie tried to pass it off with a laugh. "He'll be relieved to have me off his hands."
Cameron Fraser quirked a brow at her. "Trouble, are you?"
"Aye, I eat too much and I'm the worst shepherdess he's ever had."
He smiled for the first time, and it was as bright as the sun reflecting off the silvery loch. It set off a flutter deep inside her.
"He never wanted me in the first place. I was dumped on him when my mother died six years ago." Lord, she was babbling. She bit her tongue.
"From now on, you can eat what you like, and you'll never have to look after sheep again." He held out his hand.
"I'd marry the devil himself for that promise." She took hold of Cameron Fraser's hand, swung up behind him and, heart in her mouth, rode off to meet her fate.
Chapter Four
The small stone kirk of St. Andrew's-by-the-burn was the last remnant of a hamlet that was slowly dying. The elderly minister and his wife were in the front garden, tending to the rose bushes.
