She cut a fine figure in her new, expensive clothes. Perhaps now Hugh would notice her. His efforts in Edinburgh had given her the first real glimmer of hope that he did see the Mary beyond the girl who brought him coffee and toast.
The clothes were wonderful. But it was the attention Hugh had given her all that afternoon, the words of encouragement for every item she tried on, and the small affectionate touches of his hand that had set her heart racing.
“Don’t be silly, and don’t get your hopes up. This is Hugh,” she cautioned herself.
At some point, he would break her heart and, knowing the sweet and often baffle-headed man that he was, Hugh would likely have no idea what he had done.
She met him downstairs a short time later. The great hall reminded her of the dining halls at St John’s College, though the long dining tables were missing. The hall itself was divided up into several living areas, with large tapestries hanging from the roof to create the illusion of separate rooms.
Hugh nodded at the tapestries. “My father had them installed. He decided that the castle no longer needed to be a great meeting place, but rather somewhere that his family could live. We move all the furniture out of the way and replace it with tables for events such as Hogmanay,” he explained.
“And Christmas?”
He shook his head. “Not in Scotland. Christmas is not celebrated widely here. The Church of Scotland doesn’t hold with the holy day, so the Radley family celebrates it privately, and then hosts the big celebration over New Year’s.”
Hugh had never struck her as being a typical Scotsman. He didn’t have much of a lilt in his voice, and only the use of the occasional Scottish word indicated that he was anything other than a full-blooded Englishman.
“Come. Let me show you the castle. The weather is still fine, but Master Crowdie tells me we will be in for a major frost overnight, and possibly snow.”
Mary followed him out of the great hall, expecting to turn right and venture into the courtyard, but Hugh turned left and headed for a set of nearby stone steps.
“You will want your gloves and hat held on tight where we are going,” he said.
“And where is that?”
“The ramparts.”
He put one foot on the bottom stone step, then held out his hand to her. Mary took it. If she had thought he was being a little overprotective about her climbing the steps, she soon understood his reasoning.
The steps wound tightly around the staircase, hugging close to the wall. In some places the stones had been worn away so badly that she had to avoid the step and take two at a time. She was hot and huffing by the time they finally reached the top of the castle.
Hugh stopped at a huge door made from hard elm and looked back the way they had come. When he let go of her hand, Mary sensed the loss. His strong grip as he led her up the stairs had been an interesting revelation. The quiet, bookish Hugh Radley was a man of unknown physical strength.
“Ewan is going to get a stonemason over from Glasgow to look at rebuilding the steps. They may have served their purpose when this was a fortified castle, but now they just make it difficult to carry things up and down,” said Hugh.
He pushed on the door and stepped through it. Mary followed him out into bright sunshine. She held her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. At the same time, a sudden blast of chill wind tore at her hat. It flew from her head and landed on the stone rampart, where the wind quickly picked it up once more and skipped it out of reach.
“Oh!” She went to step past Hugh to rescue her hat, but he moved in front of her.
Bent low, he chased after it. His sure-footed leaps from one side of the narrow ramparts to the next showed how much at home he was on top of the castle.
With a deftly timed sweep of his hand, he finally caught Mary’s hat. She applauded his success as he spun around on one foot and held it up, a triumphant smile on his face.
“Well done, Hugh.”
He trotted back to her and with a flourish, returned the hat to its rightful owner. A familiar flash of heat raced down her spine as their gazes met. Mary held the tight smile she had perfected for such moments with him; she dared not reveal the full smile her heart so desperately craved to give him. A heart not risked is a heart not broken.
She held the hat firmly in her hand, not wanting to add its loss to the cost of replacing her hatpin.
The wind on the ramparts was fierce and unrelenting, but Hugh did not seem to mind. While Mary was busy trying to keep her hair out of her face and protect her ears from the stinging cold, he went about with only a coat and scarf to keep the elements at bay.
When they finally managed to find a spot out of the wind, it took her a good minute or so to pin her hair back. Heather’s earlier efforts at fixing Mary’s hairstyle had been blown away.
“If you look over there, you can see Castle Hill. On top of it is Stirling Castle. That’s where a number of the kings and queens of Scotland were crowned,” he said, pointing to a tall crag in the distance.
“Including Mary Queen of Scots,” replied Mary. She may not have travelled much in her life, but she knew her history. Access to the extensive library was one of the privileges of having grown up at Cambridge University.
“Now that I have a better understanding of where Strathmore Castle is situated, I realize there are a number of significant historical sites around here. Bannockburn, where Robert the Bruce defeated the
