There was a ringing in my ears until I realized it was only Ophelia letting out piercing shrieks of fright. “Is she dead? Is she dead?” she repeated over and over.

A pair of strong arms caught me up and lifted me onto the top of my traitorous boulder. I glanced up into Fin’s pale face. “Easy there. Don’t try to move,” he commanded me.

“Believe me, that isn’t on my to-do list,” I grunted.

He looked me over. “Where are you hurt?”

“In my arms and legs, and my pride,” I replied.

Fin pulled up my pants and swept his hands over my legs. Though his fingers were gentle I still winced when he brushed over the aspiring bruises on the back of my legs. “Nothing broken. Can you walk?”

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Fin led the way across the lawn to the pair. They for their part went out of their way to walk to the end of the gravel to meet us, a total of five yards distance. When we reached them I maneuvered myself to be partially hidden behind Fin. I wasn’t shy, but I wanted to assess their personalities before they took much notice of me.

The man smiled beneath his clean-cut mustache and held out his hand to Fin. “Laird Dubhan, a pleasure to see you again,” Mr. Ferguson greeted him.

Fin took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “A pleasure, as always, Mr. Ferguson,” Fin returned.

“Good morning, Fin,” the girl spoke up. She had a sweet smile on her lips and a less-than-sweet look in her eyes as she admired Fin for more than just his brains and manners.

“Good morning, Miss Ferguson, how are you getting on abouts?” Fin asked her.

The daughter laughed. It was like beautiful wind chimes blowing in a soft breeze. I hated it. “Have you forgotten you’re to call me Ophelia?” she scolded him.

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