CHAPTER ONE
1850Leona felt the wind whistling through every crack and corner of the carriage even though it was strongly and expensively made.
In fact the gale blowing across the moors was so strong that the horses could only move at a snail’s pace.
It was disappointing, she thought, because the previous day had been bright with sunshine and she had sat staring out onto the purple moorlands.
She had been entranced by the high peaks silhouetted against the sky and had felt a childlike excitement when she saw silver cascades pouring down into the burns.
‘It is even more beautiful than Mama described it,’ she told herself and knew that nothing could be more thrilling than to be in Scotland.
Ever since she was a baby Leona had listened to the stories of Scottish bravery, of the feuds of
