Mary Jo Putney

Dearly Beloved

by

Mary Jo Putney

New York Times Bestselling Author

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 1990, 2013 by Mary Jo Putney. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Thank You.

Praise for

Mary Jo Putney

and her novels

Dearly Beloved

NJRW Golden Leaf Winner

"Marvelous characters and excellent plotting... charming and wonderfully romantic."

—Affaire de Coeur

"Wonderfully crafted... articulate and perceptive... sets a new standard of excellence for historical romances."

—Romantic Times

To my fishy friend John,

who was the first one to notice that I could tell stories

Prologue

Isle of Mull, Scotland, 1799

The young man in the corner of the smoky taproom drank alone. It was not just that he was solitary: a nearly palpable wall separated him from the islanders. It had been over fifty years since Bonnie Prince Charlie had led the clans to destruction on Culloden Moor, but Scots have long memories. Though their hospitality was legendary, none felt compelled to seek out a man who was obviously rich and English, particularly not a man whose cool gray-eyed glance conveyed no welcome.

Being alone bothered the Honorable Gervase Brandelin not at all; he preferred it. He swallowed the last of his raw Scotch whiskey, feeling it burn even though it followed numerous earlier drafts. There was nothing subtle about either the spirit or the effect it produced, but after a month in the Highlands and Islands he'd begun to develop a taste for it.

The tavern was replete with the signature scents of farmers and fishermen and the acrid, eye-stinging bite of burning peat. Glancing across the low-ceilinged taproom, Gervase caught the eye of the barmaid and signaled for another whiskey. He was drinking too much, but after a day of riding through Mull's relentless rain he was in the mood for warmth and comfort. This inn was an unexpected find, its English owners having created an un-Scottish air of conviviality.