A Scot to Wed (Scottish Hearts)

by Callie Hutton

  “Guid mornin’,” both men said as she joined them at the table.

  “Are ye ready for our trip to the tenants?” MacNeil asked. “I’m anxious to see that all is well before I leave for Argyll.”

  Truth be known, Katie was a bit torn about MacNeil’s departure. She wanted him gone so she could reclaim control over her traitorous body, but as much as she had wanted to take possession and control of the MacDuff lands, she was nervous about running it all herself. ’Twas hard enough when her da had succumbed to grief and left her to deal with all the problems, but this estate was much bigger and appeared much more successful.

  ’Twas what had brought her in the first place, but the challenges here would be vastly different. And it would be her job to keep it prosperous.

  She filled her plate, and they ate in silence. After a few minutes, the MacNeil and Alasdair began a debate about some issue with their own holdings. She switched her mind off their conversation and wondered whether she’d made a mistake in accepting the laird’s offer of employment.

  ’Twas one thing to be in charge of her own estate, where she handled whatever problems arose from her decisions, but to be accountable to someone with the force of Laird MacNeil caused her some anxiety.

  “I assume there will be no more goats in the castle, Mistress?” MacNeil asked, breaking into her thoughts before taking a gulp of coffee. He wiped his mouth and shoved his empty plate away.

  “Nay, Laird. Myrtle is settled in the stable. I checked with the wee one this morning. She is feeling much better and understands her pet cannot stay in the castle.”

  “Who the devil is Myrtle?” MacNeil looked confused. “I thought the wee lass was Agnes, and why would she be sleeping in the stables?”

  “Her goat, brother. Dinnae ye remember the maid told us that when she first dragged the animal out of the library? The pet’s name was Myrtle.” Alasdair winked in Katie’s direction, which seemed to annoy the laird. Perhaps he did not want friendship between her and his brother.

  “’Tis a dumb name for a goat. In fact, goats dinnae have names. They are just ‘the goat.’” MacNeil’s grumbling brought an even bigger smile to his brother’s face, which led Katie to smile back at him.

  “If ye are both finished grinning like fools at each other, do ye think we might get to work?” Yes, the MacNeil was annoyed with any signs of friendship between her and Alasdair. He stood and waved at Katie’s plate. “Once ye finish up, find me in the library. ’Tis past time for us to set out.”

  Katie watched him storm from the room. “Is yer brother always in such a foul mood?”

  “Nay. He is the easiest-going mon I ken. In fact, he always has the lasses trailing behind him, batting their eyelashes, and showing off to gain his attention.” Alasdair studied the doorway that the laird had just passed through. “I’ve never seen him so abrupt.”

  Katie shrugged. “Mayhaps I bring out the worst in him. Or he is still annoyed that I showed up with my document to prove I own MacDuff.”

  “Ye dinnae own MacDuff, lass.” Alasdair’s words cut her, even though they were spoken softly. She hadn’t given up on owning it but didn’t want to incur the MacNeil’s displeasure and be tossed out before he left. She’d have nowhere to go then, since her own home had been bad enough when she’d left, but after her absence it would have only gotten worse.

  She raised her chin, still determined to see it through. “I am not so sure ye are correct. I will write to the local magistrate to see how I can go about claiming it.”

  Alasdair shrugged. “Whatever ye feel ye need to do. But thwarting my brother will not put you in his good graces, and right now it appears ye need to be there.”

  Of course he was right. If the MacNeil grew angry with her, out the door she would go. ’Twas probably best to keep her plans to herself. She finished her breakfast and joined the laird in the library.

  “I have a list of the tenants here.” He waved a piece of paper around. “I want ye to cross off each one as we visit it. I hope to have this finished in a matter of days.”

  “Aye.” She took the paper from his hand, and a pencil, which Katie had heard of but had never seen before. She’d found it in the old laird’s desk when she’d been rummaging in there for writing supplies.

  The laird rounded the desk and led her to the entrance hall. Again she had to practically run to keep up with him. This would not do. “Laird, may I ask ye to slow down a bit? My legs are not as long as yers.”

  He came to an abrupt halt, and she plowed into his back. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  He shook his head and continued on, but this time at a slower pace. “When we visit these cottages, I want ye to talk with the mistress and find out her thoughts about the clan, her cottage, and their future. If the wife wants to abandon the land and move, chances are the husband will go along with her. Wives can be quite demanding.”

  “Is that so?” She allowed him to help her onto a horse, one of two that stood at the ready in front of the stables.

  “Aye.” With no further explanation for his words, MacNeil swung his leg over the other horse’s back and gripped the reins. Turning to her, he said, “Are ye ready?”

  She nodded and followed him as he trotted out the gates. After they’d ridden over the keep grounds, they cantered up a small hill.

  The village of MacDuff lay before them. She could see the sparkling water of Banff Bay, which faced the village of Banff across the estuary of the River Deveron. ’Twas an idyllic scene, with the green grass against the blue sky and deeper-blue water.

  The MacNeil brought his horse to a halt and gazed out over the land. “’Tis a sight to see, aye, lass?” His softly spoken words, combined with the view before them, sent chills up and down her body.

  “Aye. ’Tis beautiful. I can see why the MacDuffs worked so hard to keep their clan together.” She smiled at the sight before her. “I loved Stirlingshire, and the views to be had there also. There are hills and lochs, of course, and if one stood at Ben Lomond and looked north across Loch Lomond, ’tis a lovely sight.” She turned to him. “’Twas one of my favorite places to just sit and be at peace. I think Scotland is truly the work of God.”

  “I agree, lass. ’Tis nowhere else I want to live.” The softness in his face moved her. He could be quite nice when he wasn’t glowering at her.

  “I always thought so myself. That’s why the Sassenachs and their Clearances have angered me so much. ’Twas not all the men killed at Culloden and the bloodshed enough to satisfy them?” She didn’t realize how her voice had risen until she noticed the MacNeil looking at her with raised brows.

  “Sorry, my laird, but I feel quite passionate about it.”

  “So it appears. I cannot fault ye, lass, since I feel the same way. ’Tis no other way to feel if ye have any Scottish blood in yer veins.” MacNeil kicked his horse’s sides, and they took off once again.

  They stopped in front of the first cottage. MacNeil nodded to the paper in her hand. “’Tis Jamie MacDuff’s house. The ledgers from the old laird’s library note that besides Mr. MacDuff, there is a Mrs. MacDuff and three wee ones. Mr. MacDuff works the land and also does woodworking on the side.”

  Katie had to admit she was quite impressed with Laird Evan MacNeil. ’Twas no wonder his own clan had survived the hard times and had prospered. His confidence in hiring her to oversee the estate flattered her even more. Hopefully, she would not let him down.

  “Guid mornin’, my laird,” Mr. MacDuff greeted them as they walked up the pathway to the tidy white-washed house.

  “Guid mornin’ to ye and yer family as well.” MacNeil held out his hand. “I am Laird Evan MacNeil of Argyll. I am the new owner of the MacDuff estate and am verra glad to make yer acquaintance.”

  He turned to Katie. “This is Mistress Stirling. She will be acting as land steward in my absence.”

  Mr. MacDuff looked start
led at the two of them. “Ye will not be staying, then, laird?”

  “Nay. I must see to my own clan. I will be leaving in a few weeks, with Mistress Stirling in charge.”

  Mr. MacDuff scratched his head. “She’s a woman.”

  “Aye.” There didn’t seem to be much more for the MacNeil to say, since that fact was an obvious one.

  The man shook his head and pulled forward a woman who stood behind him. “This is my wife, Leanna.”

  The woman appeared not much older than Katie but had the worn look of someone who dealt with young children all day. Said young children spilled from the cottage. The eldest, a boy about six years, followed by a lass of about four and a wee lad of about two toddled after them.

  “These are our children.” Mr. MacDuff touched the head of each one. “Blaine, Rose, and Adam.”

  The little girl he’d introduced as Rose held a squirming kitten in her arms. She walked up to them and held the animal out to Katie. “This is for ye, my lady.”

  The sweet little thing was as black as night, with eyes so blue, they matched the sky. “Nay, thank ye anyway,” MacNeil said at the same time as Katie said, “Thank ye. I will take good care of it.”

  He glowered at her. “We have enough pets, Mistress Stirling.”

  “’Tis a gift, my laird. To me.”

  “We cannot accept it, Mistress.” They stood facing each other, her spine straight, his eye beginning to twitch.

  Wee Rose looked back and forth between them and burst into tears.

  Chapter Eight

  “In two days we’ve acquired a goat and a kitten. If this keeps up, there won’t be any room for people at the castle,” MacNeil groused as they rode away from the MacDuff cottage. He studied the kitten perched on Katie’s lap.

  “The wee lass was crying her little heart out. How could we turn her down?” Katie snuggled the tiny ball of fur against her chest, bringing Evan’s eyes right where he didn’t want them to be: her full bosoms, nicely outlined in her worn gown, where the cursed animal snuggled. He wondered how it would feel to be snuggled up against her. He quickly turned his attention to the road, dismissing that outrageous thought.

  “Who is next on our list, my laird?” Katie nodded toward the paper he held.

  “I believe, since we will be working together for quite some time, that ye may address me as Evan and I address you as Katie. All of this ‘my laird’ and ‘mistress’ is becoming cumbersome.”

  “Aye. ’Tis true.”

  Even though using their given names wasn’t the best idea, since he didn’t want to encourage any sort of closeness between them, it would make their interactions a bit simpler. That’s the only reason.

  Soon he might believe it.

  “The next cottage belongs to the Widow Fiona MacDuff. She makes tartans, stockings, and tams that she sells at the marketplace. She must do a good job, because her rents are all paid up.” He made a turn to the right, and Katie followed him over a small hill to the cottage in front of them—a small, snug, well-kept house.

  They approached the door, and Evan knocked. The wind whistled around them, reminding him that time was passing, and winter would be setting in soon. He must get this finished and be on his way. Katie tightened her shawl around her and shivered. After a minute or so, he knocked again. Still no answer.

  “Perhaps she’s gone to visit a neighbor?” Katie looked around as if to see if the woman was on her way home.

  The door slowly opened, and an older woman stood there. Her silver hair hung down around her shoulders, she was flushed, and her eyes were a dull bloodshot hue. “Are ye the new laird?” He barely heard the words that came out of her mouth, so raspy were they.

  “Aye, Mrs. MacDuff, I am Laird MacNeil.”

  She opened the door wider, and they were greeted by pungent smells and a chaotic mess. Bowls with dried food sat on the table; more were piled in a large bucket. A halfway full cauldron hung from the fireplace with rancid food.

  Katie pushed past him. “Mrs. MacDuff, I believe ye are quite ill.”

  The woman nodded and swayed on her feet.

  “Evan, carry Mrs. MacDuff into the bedroom.”

  He scooped the woman up into his arms; she weighed no more than a bairn. He carried her through the doorway to a small room with a cot and several hooks on the walls. The smell in that room was worse than in the outer room.

  “Never mind,” Katie said. She apparently was overtaken by the smell herself. “Bring her back out to the small sofa in the front. I will examine her there.”

  Within minutes Katie was ordering him about, demanding he find clean cloths and then to bring in cool water from the nearby brook. Meanwhile, the poor woman just lay there, her eyes closed, the sound of wheezing in her chest filling the room.

  “What’s wrong with her?” he asked as he returned with the cool water.

  “I believe she suffers from an ague.” She looked at Mrs. MacDuff. “Do ye live alone?”

  “Aye.” The word was a mere sigh from her mouth.

  “I will make ye comfortable, and then we’re bringing ye back to the castle. I can tend to ye properly there.” She looked up at Evan. “Look for a warm blanket we can wrap her in. Ye will have to take her on yer horse. The sooner I get her in a warm room, with my medicine bag handy, the better she will feel.”

  Evan felt as though he was on a horse racing toward a cliff. His orderly day, with cottages he’d planned to visit and make notes on, had resulted in the addition of one mewling kitten and one very ill woman to the household. He knew none of this was Katie’s direct fault, but it seemed chaos had reigned in his life ever since he’d almost run her over in the road on the way to the castle.

  “Aye,” was all he could say as he roamed the house, looking for a blanket that didn’t smell too bad. Apparently, the woman had been sick for a while and hadn’t been able to make it to the privy.

  Katie did a few things for the woman, running a cloth with cool water over her face, arms, and legs, then ordered—ordered— him to wrap Mrs. MacDuff in the somewhat clean blanket he’d found and carry her to his horse.

  She followed him, grabbed the kitten by the back of her neck—the blasted thing hadn’t run off—and climbed onto her horse. With a kick of her heels, she took off back to the castle. Since Mrs. MacDuff was so light, he had no trouble mounting his horse with her in his arms. He followed Katie as she raced across the land, her auburn curls that had fallen from her topknot flying behind her, her strong thighs gripping the horse’s sides. Her legs were completely exposed since she’d pulled the back of her gown forward and tucked it into her waist to make a sort of trews.

  She looked like a goddess, ready to avenge the illness that had gripped Mrs. MacDuff.

  And I am in trouble.

  By the time he carried the patient through the front door of the castle, Katie was already ordering other people about. Meggie scurried toward the kitchen, and Mrs. Brody hurried up the stairs in front of Katie, her chatelaine rattling as she fumbled for a key to open one of the bedchambers.

  Katie looked over her shoulder at him. “Good, just carry her upstairs. Mrs. Brody said there are a few bedchambers already prepared.”

  He took the stairs two at a time and entered one of the rooms right after Katie and Mrs. Brody.

  “Ye can place her on the bed, there, and we will take over from here. Thank ye.” Katie pulled down the covers from the bed and immediately began to shout orders at Meggie and Mrs. Brody. Since his part in the drama had come to an end, he left the women there and returned to his horse, only to find the stable master had already taken the two horses back to the stables.

  With time on his hands, since his visits to the clan members had been cut short, he wandered to the library and decided to look again at the ledgers.

  That activity kept him busy for about a half hour since he’d already gone through t
he books thoroughly before his planned visits. Something caught his eye, and he frowned as the wee kitten darted across the room to land on his lap.

  He had never been a cat fan. In fact, as a child he’d always seemed to sneeze when they were around him. Perhaps he had outgrown it, because he wasn’t sneezing now, and he was annoyed to find himself petting the thing, who in turn was purring like a woman in the throes of passion.

  Katie.

  What would she be like while being pleasured? Would her blue eyes deepen to almost black? Would the tip of her pink tongue lick her plush lips, teasing him to place his mouth there and sip from her nectar? Would she toss her head about and call his name?

  God’s toes! What the blasted hell was he doing? Katie was his employee. Nothing more. He jumped from his chair behind the desk, then sat down abruptly when the figment of his imagination entered the room in a flurry. He was certainly not in a position to stand in front of her after his lurid thoughts.

  “What?” He sounded like a gruff old man. He didn’t mean to speak quite so forcefully, but she’d caught him unaware—like a green youth ogling the dairy maid. He hated how he behaved when he was around her.

  Her eyes grew wide at his abruptness as she settled in the chair in front of the desk. “I merely wanted to tell you Mrs. MacDuff is resting comfortably. She will need continuous care for a few weeks, though. Her age makes these illnesses dangerous.”

  Evan ran his fingers through his hair. “Aye. I didn’t mean to shout at ye, lass, and I agree that Mrs. MacDuff did need ye to help her. Ye do seem to be a good healer, and that’s good, since I dinnae know who the local healer is.”

  “Hopefully, whoever it is won’t feel as though I am trying to take their place.” She scooped up the kitten that had been flung to the floor when he’d jumped up before. “I think I shall name her Midnight.”

  “Verra imaginative.” He snorted. “If all is well for now with yer patient, I would like to continue with our visits.”