A Scot to Wed (Scottish Hearts)

by Callie Hutton

  “And what?”

  Evan was amazed that she looked genuinely surprised at his questions. “What does that have to do with this paper and yer claim to own the MacDuff castle?” He dinnae ken whether to laugh or merely dismiss the lass and be on his way.

  She was not giving up, however. “Years ago, the MacDuff clan should have passed down the title of Laird to one of my female ancestors. Instead, they bypassed her in favor of a male cousin.”

  Evan shrugged. “That happens.”

  Mistress Stirling shook her head vigorously. “No. Scotland allows for a woman to inherit if there is no direct male progeny.”

  Ah, ’twas time for a history lesson. No wonder the lass was confused. “Not always. Some titles were created to only pass down to males. This might be one of them.”

  She waved her finger at the document. “This is not one of them. And if that was so, ye would not be standing here now since ye said yer name is MacNeil, not MacDuff.”

  He tried very hard to hide his smile at her insistence. She was so wee, and he was so large, yet she stood up to him like a warrior, gaining his admiration. She reminded him of one of the kittens from the barn, hissing at the dogs. “How do ye know this paper proves anything?”

  She pointed to the paper. “Because it says so right there.”

  Evan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “’Tis not possible to read what’s on the paper, lass.”

  “I was told from the time I was a bairn that the MacDuff lands belonged to my mum—that they should have been passed down to her. The reason it dinnae was because a cousin a few generations back stole it.”

  “Evan.”

  He turned as Alasdair called to him. “Can we not all travel to the castle and speak about this there? It looks to me like a storm is building.” Alasdair pointed to the gathering clouds. “We’re about to be drenched.”

  “Aye.” Evan pointed to the cart. “Get yer cart moving, and we will settle this at the castle.” With that, he turned on his heel, grabbed his horse’s saddle, and swung himself up on his horse. “I suggest you dinnae try to ride in that cart.”

  “Evan, ye can’t ask the lasses to walk to the castle.”

  Why the bloody hell was Alasdair so worried about these usurpers? The blasted woman claimed to own land that wasn’t hers, and now he was stuck with them all arriving at the castle at the same time.

  “They can ride with their mon.” He waved at the two lackwits who’d been sitting on their horses as Evan had fixed their cart.

  “We cannot ride with Angus and Colum. Their horses are already overburdened with my brother and the supplies that dinnae fit in the cart.” Mistress Stirling glared at him. “Meggie and I shall walk.”

  “Oh, miss!” the young girl whom Evan had not even noticed until that very moment wailed.

  “’Tis no trouble, Meggie. We can do it.” The snappish lass pulled her shawl tighter against her and began the trek to the castle.

  Alasdair glared at Evan. “We cannot let the lasses walk while four men ride on horses! Mum would be disgraced.”

  Evan growled and trotted his horse next to Mistress Stirling, scooped her up from the ground, and placed her, none too gently, on his lap.

  “What do ye think yer doing, ye big oaf?” She elbowed him in his middle, catching him by surprise.

  “My brother seems to think my mum will curse me for all eternity if I let ye walk to the castle.”

  With a loud chuckle, Alasdair rode toward the one Mistress Stirling had called Meggie, and scooped her up as well. That woman did not protest, and in fact, batted her eyelashes at his brother, which brought a shout of laughter from Evan. “Serves ye right,” he bellowed as he kicked the sides of his horse and headed to the castle.

  They’d barely gone about a quarter mile when Evan groused, “Quit moving around, or ye’ll end up tossing yerself to the ground.” He placed his hand on the lass’s shoulder to still her. Her lovely bottom was pressed up against his cock, and if she kept moving like she’d done since they left the others behind, it would be impossible for him to walk from the horse with any dignity.

  “I’m not comfortable.” She tried to move, but he clamped his hand on her shoulder again.

  “No matter. We will be at the castle—my castle—in a matter of minutes.”

  The castle was a mere mile or so away when the skies opened up and rain poured down on them in torrents. No mild rainfall, but a deluge. Since they were so close, there was no reason for him to untie his tartan and cover them with it. They would just have to brave it out.

  With the rain coming right at them, Mistress Stirling turned her face and rested her forehead against his chest. ’Twas better than her shifting around, but now the lovely scent of her hair was right below his nose.

  They reached the stables, and Evan rode directly into the structure. An older man stepped out from behind one of the stalls. “Good day to ye, sir. Are ye Laird MacNeil?”

  “Aye. I take it you received my message?”

  The man bowed. “Yes. We were finally happy to hear from the new owner. I believe Mrs. Brody has the castle ready for ye and yer brother.” Douglas MacDuff had been the stable master for years at the MacDuff estate, Evan had been told by Mr. Manning, the old MacDuff’s solicitor. Manning had passed along that information, along with the copy of the will. He noted that a few of the servants had remained with the castle after Bridget MacDuff had departed.

  Mrs. Brody had continued on as housekeeper, MacDuff the stable master, and two or three chambermaids, as well as the cook, had stayed. At least it would be comfortable for them in what he hoped would be a short visit. His plan had been to survey the land, castle, tenants, and holdings, solve any outstanding issues, then hire a competent land steward and leave the running of the place to him, with monthly reports.

  With the Clearances wreaking havoc on the Highlands, many clans had not survived. Clansmen were leaving Scotland and relocating to Canada, the United States, and Australia. After the devastating defeat at Culloden, a couple of generations had struggled, but the MacNeil clan had survived.

  Evan’s father and grandfather had managed to keep his clan together. Some of the land was now used for sheep farming, but there were still plenty of crofters and farmers who tended to the land and worked their craft.

  With winter arriving in several weeks, it had been his intention to get the matter settled at MacDuff castle and be home to Argyll before it was too late to travel the roads. He had no intention of spending the winter in Fife. His clan needed him at home.

  Evan thanked the stable master and turned his horse over to the man. He strode to the front of the castle with the annoying lass nipping at his heels like a puppy. “’Tis verra large, is it not?”

  “Aye. Verra large.” He had to dodge her footsteps.

  “My people will be happy here.” The lass was having a hard time catching her breath, trying to keep up with him.

  He came to an abrupt stop. “Yer people?”

  “Yes. My clan.”

  He snorted and continued on. “Ye call the five of ye yer clan?”

  “No. The five of us came first to ready the place. I had a report from the men I sent here last month, but I wanted time to prepare. I told the rest of them to leave about a sennight after we did.”

  He came to another abrupt stop, and she slammed into his back. “The rest of them?”

  “Aye. My wee brother Gavin’s nanny, my household servants, and whichever tenants wanted to join us. With that many traveling, they should arrive in about a fortnight.”

  Chapter Three

  Laird Evan MacNeil’s expression was more surprise than anger, for which Katie was grateful. Perhaps if he could remain calm, she could explain her situation to him and convince him that MacDuff castle belonged to her through her mum’s family, and MacNeil and his brother would return to their home in Ar
gyll and leave them in peace.

  And perhaps pigs might fly.

  She sighed at the problem Evan presented, considering ’twas something for which she had not been prepared. The most important reason she’d made this move would remain her secret. There was no cause to involve this stranger in her troubles. She’d done what she needed to do and was bringing everyone here. And here is where they would all stay.

  They strode up to the house, Katie having a devil of a time keeping up with his pace. The man’s legs were so long, it was hard to breathe and walk at the same time. She studied him as much as she could, his wild curly hair blowing in the breeze. His determined step was matched by the look on his face. She was certain he was not used to being thwarted.

  The ground was rocky, and a few times she stumbled, but being a gentleman, apparently, he grabbed her arm and kept her from falling to the ground. Of course, had he been a real gentleman, he would not be forcing her to race him to the front door.

  “Lass, you cannot just up and leave yer ancestral home and march across the Lowlands and take up another home. ’Tis not the way it is done.” He glanced at her sideways as he continued his march.

  “Nay. Not now, mayhaps.” Pant, pant. “But ’twasn’t too many years ago that keeps were often attacked and taken over.” Pant, pant. “Consider this a peaceful siege—a surrender. On yer part, that is.” Her words barely made it out of her mouth, so out of breath she was.

  Thank goodness he came to a stop right after they passed through the dilapidated iron gates surrounding the castle.

  “Aye. A peaceful surrender for you.” He placed his hands on his hips.

  “Nay, for you.” She mimicked his stance, although compared to his size, ’twas almost comical. In fact, so comical that he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

  Then he grew serious and placed his large hands on her shoulders. The warmth from his hands and the closeness of him, with the woodsy scent of leather and man, drifted between them and teased her nose. Her heart once again sped up. She did not wish to be attracted to this man. He was her adversary, and she would fight him for this land as much as their ancestors had fought for their lands. Maybe not with crossbows and boiling oil over the ramparts, but nevertheless, this was war.

  “Lass, the place does not belong to ye. ’Twas a possession of Laird Brendan MacDuff, who stated in his will that the property goes to the next male in line, which is Laird Evan MacNeil.” He poked his chest with his thumb. “Me.”

  “But ye are not a MacDuff.” She hoped her voice did not sound pathetic. She must show strength and determination so this man did not run all over her. She could not return to her home.

  ’Twas impossible.

  “Neither are ye a MacDuff.” His smirk annoyed her more than his rough words thus far. He was treating her like a bairn who had lost her way and needed his help to find her house.

  “My mum was Aileen MacDuff Stirling.” She fumbled in her pocket and withdrew the paper once again. “And I have proof that the land was stolen from my family many years ago.”

  Evan ran his fingers through his hair. “If that is the case, then you should have appealed to the courts, or the magistrate, or whoever deals with such a thing.” He waved his hand around.

  “Who would that be?”

  “I dinnae ken who deals with land squabbles.” He pointed his finger at her. “Ken this, lass. Ye have no documented claim to this land, castle, or tenants. ’Tis been in the MacDuff clan for centuries. ’Tis always been that way, and ’tis that way now.”

  Katie crossed her arms over her chest, spread her feet apart, and glared at him. “Ye are not a MacDuff, and I am a MacDuff. I am not leaving.”

  “Ye are not a MacDuff, and ye are not staying.”

  “Ach, are you two at it again?” Alasdair sauntered into the keep, with the cart, two horses, and the lass’s traveling companions with him. “Do ye think ye can stop yer squabbling long enough for us to see if there is food to be had in the kitchen? My poor stomach thinks my throat’s been slit.”

  Evan pointed at Katie. “’Tis not over.”

  Katie swatted his hand away and flounced off, heading to the castle. She passed through the keep, noting how well tended everything seemed to be. No doubt the villagers, crofters, and farmers brought their goods to the keep to sell. ’Twould be a pleasure to see to a castle that was not ready to collapse because most of its tenants had fled their beloved lands.

  The minute she passed through the large wooden door to the castle, the aroma of fresh baking bread and some sort of roasting meat greeted her, reminding her how very hungry she was.

  “Oh, something smells wonderful.” She hurried down the corridor and came to a halt when she arrived at a sizeable room that must have been the Great Hall. Slowly, she walked into the space. A good portion of the west wall was taken up with a fireplace that was large enough for several men to stand in.

  Massive tapestries lined the walls, depicting battles and scenes of the hills and lochs of Scotland. The detail was incredible and even though many years old, they were absolutely beautiful. Her own hands twitched as she imagined how many hours and sore fingers it had taken to create them.

  She walked closer and studied the detail.

  “’Tis beautiful, is it not?” Evan’s soft, deep voice startled her. She hadn’t realized he’d followed her into the room.

  “Aye. I’m thinking of how hard the women must have worked to make these.” She waved her hand around and moved in a circle. ”Months and months, I am sure.”

  Evan nodded and moved away from her to examine a tapestry on another wall. Katie followed him and they stood side by side, admiring the work of countless women from years gone by. She had little patience for sewing herself, and only did what she had to do to keep her clothes repaired. Meggie did most of it, but Katie oftentimes had to help her out, since Meggie also did the sewing for the entire household.

  “We have some fine tapestries in our castle, as well,” Evan offered. “Many of them were done by my ancestors, hundreds of years ago.”

  “How old is the MacNeil clan?” Since they seemed to have settled into a peaceful conversation, ’twas a good time to gather information on her foe. See what she could use against him.

  “The clan gets its name from someone named Niall who lived in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. He belonged to the family of Cowaland and Knapdale. They were ancestors of the Lamonts, MacEwens of Otter, and a couple others.”

  “You’ve been around for quite some time.” She turned to look at him as he continued to study the tapestry. “It sounds as though that is something you were told to memorize in the nursery.”

  “Aye. My da was verra proud of our clan. ’Twas sorrowful after the heavy loss at Culloden, and so many restrictions were placed on us by the English.” Evan shook his head. “They tried so verra hard to crush us. But our clan refused to bow under.”

  “Where is that wonderful food I smell?” Rubbing his hands together, Alasdair—followed by Meggie, Gavin, Colum, and Angus—entered the room.

  “Aye. I am quite hungry myself.” Katie moved away from the wall. “I shall go to the kitchen and ask for food to be served.”

  She expected Evan to follow her there as well, to maintain his ownership in greeting the cook, but Alasdair engaged him in conversation.

  With the wonderful smells floating in the air, it did not take much effort to find the kitchen. As she walked into the room, a woman with a very large apron wrapped around her sizeable middle was stirring something over the fire. She turned and offered a bright smile. “Good afternoon, mum. I am Mrs. MacDuff. I am pleased to meet ye. Are ye the new laird’s wife?”

  Katie felt the heat rising from her middle to her face. “Nay. I am Mistress Katie Stirling.”

  The cook’s bright smile dimmed a bit. “Oh, are ye a guest of Himself?”

  How to ex
plain the situation when she wasn’t quite sure herself what it was? After the report back from the men she’d sent to investigate, she’d felt comfortable that no one was going to claim the castle. After all, MacDuff had died more than a year ago. Now with Evan claiming ownership and it not likely that he’d allow her to stay, the situation was indeed awkward. She decided to take the easy road for now.

  “Aye. I am a guest of Laird Evan MacNeil.”

  The cook put down the spoon she’d been stirring the pot with and turned to her, wiping her hands on her apron. “Lovely. It’s been some time since I’ve had guests to cook for. Tell the laird I will have luncheon on the table in fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh, by the way, Mrs. MacDuff, there are six of us.” When the woman raised her brows, Katie added, “All guests of Laird MacNeil. Well, except for Alasdair MacNeil, who is his brother.”

  The cook nodded. “I will be happy to serve all of you. I will have Brenda set up the table in the Great Hall.”

  “Thank you.” Katie turned to leave and ran smack into Evan’s chest. “Oh, for goodness sake, you scared me to death.”

  “I thought I would visit with my cook, in my kitchen, to see how luncheon was coming along.” He offered that grin again that made her want to smack the look off his face.

  “Good afternoon, my laird. ’Tis such a pleasure to meet ye.” Mrs. MacDuff curtsied and glowed with happiness. “I must tell you how happy we are to have ye with us. I hope ye find everything to yer satisfaction.”

  “I am sure we will, Mrs. MacDuff, is it?”

  “Yes, my laird. I have been the cook here at MacDuff castle since I was a girl.” She winked and nudged him in the middle. “And that was many a year ago.”

  Evan smiled back at her while Katie watched the two of them as if they were two youths anticipating courtship. She shook her head and continued down the corridor to the Great Hall. A young girl placed dishes and silverware on the table near the front of the room. Although there was a dais against one wall, it apparently was not being used as in the old days—when the family and guests of great stature would sit there for meals.