Angus McTern is respected by the men of his clan and adored by the women. He takes his duties as laird seriously and has everything he wants in life—until Edilean Talbot shows up. Breathtakingly beautiful and born of privilege, Edilean needs Angus’s help to reclaim the gold she inherited from her father. The treasure is bound for America, but when Angus tries to seize it, he’s accused of kidnapping and theft and has to leave behind all that he knows to escape with Edilean to the new country. There they discover almost insurmountable obstacles, and a love as wild and free as the land itself. The second book in the multi-generational Edilean series that began with the contemporary novel Lavender Morning , Days of Gold is filled with humor, passion, and adventure. Stirring and masterfully rendered, this is Jude Deveraux at her best. Jude Deveraux is the author of more than forty New York Times bestsellers, including Moonlight in the Morning , The Scent of Jasmine , Scarlet Nights , Days of Gold , Lavender Morning , Return to Summerhouse , and Secrets. To date, there are more than sixty million copies of her books in print worldwide. To learn more, visit JudeDeveraux.com. Days of Gold By Jude Deveraux Atria Copyright © 2010 Jude Deveraux All right reserved. ISBN: 9781451627749 1 HAVE YOU SEEN her yet?” “Nay, I have not,” Angus McTern said for what seemed like the hundredth time. He had just come in from the hills, and he was wet, tired, hungry, and cold, but all anyone could talk about was Neville Lawler’s fancy English niece, come to the old castle to look down her nose at the poor Scots. “You should see her,” young Tam said as he tried to keep pace with his cousin’s long stride. Angus was usually glad to see Tam, but not if all he could talk about was Lawler’s niece. “She has hair like gold,” the boy said, his voice cracking. He was just coming into manhood, and what the girls said, did, and looked like was everything to him. “She has eyes as blue as a loch, and her clothes! Never did I see such clothes as she has. They’re spun by the angels and trimmed by honeybees. She—” “But then you’ve never been anywhere to see much to compare her to, now have you, lad?” Angus said—and everyone stopped to look at him in astonishment. They were in the big stone courtyard that had once belonged to the McTern family. Angus and Tam’s grandfather had been the laird, but he was a lazy old reprobate who’d gambled and lost everything to a young Englishman, Neville Lawler. Angus had been just nine at the time, living with his widowed mother, and it had been Angus who the clan turned to. In the sixteen years since, he’d done his best to look out for the few remaining McTerns. But sometimes, like today, it seemed like a losing battle to try to make people remember that they were part of the once-great McTerns. For the last weeks, all they’d wanted to talk about was the Englishwoman. Her hair, her clothes, each word she spoke, the way she said it. “‘Fraid she won’t like you?” old Duncan asked as he looked up at Angus from the scythe he was sharpening. “‘Fraid that great, hairy face of yours will scare her?” The tension that had been caused by Angus snapping at his young cousin was broken and he gave the boy a rough shove on his shoulder to apologize. It wasn’t Tam’s fault that he’d never been anywhere or done anything. All he knew were the hills of Scotland, the sheep and the cattle, and the raids where he sometimes had to fight for his life. “A fancy lady like her would be scared to death of a real Scotsman,” Angus said, then raised his hands like claws and made a face at his young cousin. Everyone in the courtyard relaxed and returned to his or her work. What Angus thought was important to them. He strode past the old stone keep that had once been his family home and went to the stables. Since Neville Lawler thought more of his horses than he did of humans, they were clean, well kept, and the building was warmer than the house. Without asking, Angus’s uncle, Malcolm McTern, handed Angus a round of rough, thick bread and a mug of ale. “Did we lose many, lad?” he asked as he went back to brushing down one of Lawler’s hunting horses. “Three,” Angus said as he sat down on a stool that was against the wall. “I followed them but I couldn’t catch them.” Saving the sheep and the cattle from the raids took most of Angus’s time. As he ate, he leaned back against the stone wall of the stables and for a moment closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept in two days and all he wanted to do was wrap his plaid about him and sleep until the sun came up. When one of the horses kicked the wall, Angus had his dirk out before his eyes were open. Malcolm gave a snort of laughter. “Never safe, are you, boy?” “Nor are any of us,” he said good-humoredly. As he ate, the warmth crept into him. He was the only one of the clan who still wore the plaid in the old way. It was two long pieces of handwoven cloth, draped a