Free Wings of Morning by Kathleen Morgan Page A

about yer visit with the wee lass and be done with it.”
    “Och, aye. My visit with Regan.” He exhaled deeply. “Well, she seemed quite sweet, and of course verra concerned over her lost memory. I offered to help her search out her people.”
    “And how do ye propose to do that?”
    “Well, this verra day I wrote letters to the chiefs of clans Murray, Menzies, Moncreiffe, Stewart, and Robertson, asking them to inform me if any of their clansmen come to them asking about a missing woman. Those clans seem the most likely lands from which she may be, after all.”
    His mother frowned. “It might take a time to see what comes of yer letters. What with waiting on the clan chiefs to get back to us, and all.”
    “Aye, but once Regan’s in better health, I also agreed to send her out with an escort to see if aught looks familiar to her. And if that takes riding until they come to other clan borders and past, so be it.”
    “Good.” Mathilda returned her attention to her plate and began to cut her meat. “That’s how it should be. I was beginning to worry that ye were avoiding the lass. But now I know my fears were groundless.”
    One of her cousins, visiting from the south, chose that moment to ask a question. Iain’s mother turned away from him. The two women were soon deep in conversation, which suited Iain well.
    His mother had hit closer to the mark than she may have imagined. Though he had finally brought himself to pay their guest the requisite laird’s visit, his feelings about Regan hadn’t changed. On the contrary, and against all reason, now that he’d had the opportunity to talk with her, Iain only felt the more unsettled.
    There was an aura of sadness and vulnerability about her that plucked at his heart. Indeed, he hadn’t long been in the room with her before a strong urge to take her in his arms and comfort her filled him. To whisper words of hope and encouragement. To vow always to protect and defend her.
    Even as he admitted to the ludicrous feelings, Iain wondered at his strange response. He had never felt this way about a woman before, not even about Anne. But then, he added with a wry grin, Anne was hardly sad or vulnerable. And she certainly wasn’t helpless.
    Not that Regan actually seemed helpless. But a few days since her nearly fatal accident, she was already struggling mightily to regain her memory and had even formulated a plan on how to go about it. Nay, it wasn’t aught specific that gave rise to his strange feelings. If the truth be told, the feelings almost appeared to come from outside himself.
    Och, Lord, Iain thought. Surely this isn’t the woman Ye mean for me to take as wife? I know naught about her, and might not ever know, if her memory’s permanently gone. She could be a member of some clan who’s the sworn enemy of the Campbells. She could even be another man’s wife and a mother to his children. Or mayhap she’s a murderess who was fleeing capture that night she was injured. In the Highlands, far stranger things have happened.
    Almost as soon as he finished the last thought, Iain nearly laughed out loud. He knew the Lord likely wished for him to wed and father children. It was the way of most men, and he certainly had never felt called to holy orders at any rate. But to interpret his uneasiness about being around some poor, if mysterious, woman as a sign from God that she was his soul mate was worst than ridiculous. It was daft!
    The real explanation for his uncharacteristic response was far simpler. Her horrific condition, when they had first brought her to Balloch, had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. No person—and certainly no woman—should have to endure what Regan had endured. His naturally protective nature when it came to women and children had somehow reacted far out of proportion to anything he had ever felt before. And, as she healed and regained her memory, he’d regain his own emotional balance as well.
    In the meanwhile, he had been wise in