CHAPTER SEVEN
Caitlin sat in her large room in Dunvegan in Castle at a writing desk, looking out the window at the sunset sky. She examined the torn page McCleod had given her, holding it up to the light. She slowly ran her fingertips along the embossed, Latin letters. They looked and felt ancient. The entire page was so beautifully and intricately designed, and she marveled at the intricate colors along the paper’s edges. Back then, she realized, books were made to be works of art in and of themselves.
Caleb lay on their bed, while Scarlet and Ruth were sprawled out on a pile of furs before the fireplace on the far side of the room. This room was so sprawling, that even with all of them in it, Caitlin still felt alone with her thoughts. In the adjacent room, she knew, were Sam and Polly
