take ownership of it now. Here was her inheritance, then. How Mama would have delighted in the irony of it all—and how she wished she could laugh with her now. Alastair slid a hand to hold the paper steady as a breeze toyed with its corner. Looking from the paper to the cabin, a low laugh rolled from within him. “Yes,” he said. “I could see this old place seeming castle-like to a ten-year-old. Can’t you?” Savannah scanned the chinked wood lengths, could almost hear them groaning with time. “Especially