It was a small cottage sitting deep in a hope, a tiny closed valley. Above and all around was the heather moor, and there was not even the smoke of a human habitation for miles.
“You want me to live there?”
I was shocked. I was a gentlewoman born and bred, used to servants and soft living. Possibly more importantly, I was not used to being alone. In Badenoch, there was always my brothers and sisters and as many servants as anybody would need. Even in Edinburgh, I had Louise in the same room and my aunt and her household within call. Here, deep in the swell of the Pentlands, I had nobody, except maybe Willie Kemp.
And the cottage was tiny. Hardly larger than Mr. Kemp"s hut, it had drystone unmortared walls two rooms and a stone necessary built outside the walls. The roof was of heather t
