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Nodding, Donal left the room, while Sir Ludo talked with Ellison and Sorcha, hardly taking a breath in his animated discussion of Highland history. While Sorcha listened politely, looking a bit bored, Ellison had a rapt expression. She was fascinated.

Ronan smiled, loath to interrupt. But they should be going. When Mairi entered the hall, he stood to meet her.

“How is the wee beast?”

“No bones broken, but her leg is sore injured. She should stay here for a bit and I will care for her. Donal seems in a rush to leave,” she added.

“We must get back to Strathniven.”

She nodded, her dark liquid eyes lingering on his. “Do you know which shepherd owns the wee lamb?”

“Donal will find him, but let her recover here. Thank you, Mairi.”

“Aye. Ronan—” She touched his arm. “It is so good to see you.”

“And you,” he said gruffly.

“Is it the same? You are still so distant. I feel we can never quite talk.” Her eyes searched his. He saw the glint of tears suddenly. “Will you never forgive me?”

He sighed, emotions tumbling. Behind him, he heard Ellison replying to Sir Ludo. He realized he was ever alert to her voice, her presence, ever wondering what she thought, how she felt. When had that happened? He drew his brows together.

His feelings for Mairi had been passionate, then ravaged by betrayal like a fire consuming him, hurting him deeply. He knew how deeply she had loved his brother. To her, Ronan was like a brother, a friend. Time had tempered his feelings, bringing him to acceptance and true friendship.

Yet only in that moment did he know he could finally let go. What he had begun to feel for Ellison Graham was fulsome and new, not like the frustrated passions of the past. He wondered when that change had occurred. He had not been aware of it, and yet it had happened.

“Ronan?” Mairi asked.

“Aye, forgiven,” he murmured, bringing his thoughts back. “Do not fret.”

She sighed. “And Donal?”

“I have always loved that lad, always will. He has your intelligence and heart.”

“He wants to go to university and study medicine, did he tell you?”

“I hope to help him do that. My freedom is a bit in question as yet.”

“But you are home now.”

“Some conditions must be met. When all is resolved, I will be back.”

“Good. This is your home, Ronan. But what of Linhope and MacInnes?”

“Still held in Edinburgh.” He did not want to elaborate. Not yet.

“I hope they are released soon too. Listen, please,” she said, her hand on his arm. “I know we hurt you. I hurt you,” she clarified.

He shook his head. “It is not necessary now—”

“It is. I never seem to find a chance to tell you, because you spend so little time with me. I understand. But I know I made mistakes and I regret them. I could have been more honest with you. And yet you have always been good to us, despite all.”

“You are my family.” Now, he searched for a remnant of the wild love he had once felt for Mairi. Searched for the deep wound too. Both were gone, faded like a dream. Over the years he had healed and had not noticed. “It is I should ask forgiveness of you.”

“You always had it. You never gave me a chance to tell you.”

He nodded, humbled, then glanced at Ellison; she looked toward him, then away.

“You never married,” Mairi said, following his glance.