"It's getting late, don't you think, Reverend?" Charlisse stood by the window of the cottage, peering out into the murky shadows. Grabbing a wayward curl, she twisted it around her finger. She had spent the past three hours sitting by the warm stove, drinking tea and listening to Reverend Buchan talk about his adventures in the American British Colonies.

His stories fascinated her, and the more he spoke, the fonder she grew of him. Inner joy radiated from his eyes and the ...