A Scot to Wed (Scottish Hearts)

by Callie Hutton

  “’Tis yer job to see to those kind of things.” He swirled his brandy before taking a large swallow.

  “Aye.” She was grateful he didn’t naysay her on this. “Ella is about fourteen years and would do well working in the kitchen. She’s a sweet lass, and the extra coin she would bring to her family would help. Charlie has seen sixteen summers, and he would be a fine assistant to MacDuff in the stables.”

  Evan nodded. “Good idea. I say tomorrow we move the lot of them into that empty cottage.”

  “Ye do understand that there are many more who will be arriving? I had no idea so many tenants had remained here in Fife. I knew the MacDuff held prosperous lands, and apparently the number of tenants who stayed and didn’t take off for Australia or Canada helped keep things profitable.”

  Evan studied her as he continued to swirl and sip his brandy. Suddenly, she was aware of the quietness of the house, the darkness of the room they sat in, with one small lamp burning, and the sound of her own heart pounding in her chest. Why did he study her that way?

  She licked her lips. “Shall we make more visits tomorrow? It would probably be a good idea to find more empty cottages.”

  “Aye.” Nothing more, just the continued swirling and sipping of brandy…and studying of her.

  Katie drank the last of her sherry and placed the glass on the small wooden table next to her chair. “I find I am quite peaked. I believe I shall retire.” She stood and moved to go past him when a large, warm hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist.

  “Nay, stay a while, lass.” He tugged, and she landed on the old, worn settee alongside him.

  “Oh.”

  “Aye.”

  After a few moments of them staring at each other, Evan reached out and cupped her face in his large hand. She shivered at his touch, and surely he heard her heart beating. His skin was dry, warm, and calloused.

  “What?” Her word was barely a whisper.

  “Something I’ve wanted to do.” Slowly, as if giving her permission to jump and run from the room, he lowered his head until his lips brushed over hers. Softly, tenderly. When she didn’t do anything but stare wide-eyed at him, he chuckled and pulled her close, against his chest, his fingers linked behind her back. “Have ye never been kissed, lass?” His warm breath, smelling of mint and brandy, wafted over her, and she closed her eyes.

  “That’s better,” he murmured. Again his lips claimed hers, but this time there was no doubt that he was kissing her. No light brushing of his lips. He covered her mouth hungrily, nipping, sucking, nudging her sealed lips with his tongue until she opened.

  He swept in, and ’twas a good thing she was now clinging to his massive shoulders because otherwise she might have slid to the floor. He pulled her closer yet, until her breasts were crushed against his chest. His very warm, very muscular chest.

  He scattered tiny kisses over her closed eyelids, her nose, cheeks, jawline. “Aye, lass. ’Tis not a good thing how ye make me think too much about ye.”

  He thought about her? If she were to guess, she would say he’d like to throttle her. But his current actions certainly did not run along those lines.

  Once again he took her mouth. Anxious to fully participate, she moved her tongue into his mouth, but the groan that came from him made her pull back.

  “Nay, lass. Dinnae stop.” His hands were everywhere. Across her back, up and down her arms. His fingers laced into her hair, and he turned her head, taking the kiss much deeper.

  Her head was swimming with new and unfamiliar feelings. Her heart pounded, her lungs could not access enough air, and her stomach played host to butterflies doing a Scottish reel. With her clothes suddenly feeling quite restrictive, she had the urge to remove them, as well as Evan’s, in order to feel his warm body against hers.

  Just as she was settling in for a long kissing session, Evan pulled back and held her at arm’s length, his hands anchored on her shoulders. “This is not right, Katie. We cannot do this.”

  It took her a few moments to gather her thoughts, which resulted in anger. “It appears we are already doing it, my laird.”

  Evan stood and ran his fingers through his hair. “Aye. That is the problem. We cannot do this again since ’tis not proper. Ye are a gently bred woman, and I have no right to seduce ye.”

  Her eyes grew wide, and her heart started up again. “Ye were trying to seduce me?” Her voice rose on the last few words.

  He stared at her, his green eyes dancing with mirth in the light from the low burning lamp. “What did ye think we were doing?”

  “Are ye laughing at me?” Katie adjusted her gown and smoothed out her skirts, not meeting his eyes, since she felt like a bairn.

  “Nay. Well, maybe. Aye.” He grinned.

  In truth, ’twas not her first kiss, but the few busses she’d received from the lads at Stirlingshire didn’t compare to what this man had done to her. Certainly she’d never felt the way she did now.

  Those had been youthful kisses. Evan’s kisses were from a man who knew what he was about. That was certainly true, since she had been so addlepated, she didn’t ken he was trying to seduce her.

  “Of course I ken what ye were doing. That is, what we were doing…” She hopped up and raised her chin. “Ye are correct. ’Tis not a good thing, and ’twill never happen again. Now, if ye will excuse me, I shall retire.”

  With that staunch announcement, she turned on her heel, and with her head held high, strode across the room, barely missing a table, and swept the door open. She passed through with all the dignity and elegance of her upbringing, then closed it with a solid click.

  Only to discover her skirts were caught.

  …

  Evan smiled as Katie tugged at her skirts, then finally opened the door to release them. If nothing else, the lass made him smile more than he’d smiled in a long, long time.

  She also made him burn as he’d never done before. ’Twas not just her comely form or her golden-red tresses that never seemed to stay where she wanted them to. Her deep-blue eyes enchanted him, and her smile raised his spirits, but aside from all that, the lass had a sense of bravado about her rarely seen in a young woman.

  Bringing her clansmen across the country with no more than a faded piece of paper in her hand placed her into either the crazy-as-a-loon category or brave-as-a-warrior. He tended to lean more toward the warrior. Most times.

  His past experiences with lasses had not boded well. Betrothed to Isla MacNeil since he was a lad of ten years—and she still in the nursery—should have made marriage and the requisite producing of heirs an easy matter. However, Isla had decided when she was no more than fifteen years that she wanted to marry the local blacksmith’s boy, and when her parents attempted to thwart her, she ran off, never to be seen or heard from again.

  A year later, he’d courted Sophia MacNeil, a woman closer to his own age. His signature had barely dried on the marriage contracts when she’d been thrown from her horse and broke her neck. She’d been a strong-willed lass and had refused to obey his wishes not to ride the racehorses bred in her father’s stables.

  The following year, against his better judgement, he’d accepted an offer from Laird MacAdams to wed his eldest daughter. Lorna, the daughter in question, had refused the betrothal unless Evan took her name, since she was to inherit her clan upon the MacAdams’s death. He still shook his head at that one.

  His recent thoughts about marriage had been to let Alasdair do it so his brother could produce the necessary heir.

  Could he dare once more to secure a wife? Was it something he really wanted to do? Needed to do? There were plenty of lasses willing to warm his bed, but of late something had been missing. He knew that would not be the case with Mistress Katie Stirling. The eagerness he felt in her, despite it being of an innocent nature, told him there was a lot of passion in the spirited lass.

  ’Twas not s
omething he wanted to dwell on. He needed her here, working for him, not traipsing off to Argyll with him. Besides which, he was still confident the lass was hiding something. For as clever as she was, she was not telling the real reason she’d brought her entire clan to Fife.

  Before he dwelled any further on the lass and what a joining with her would mean, he intended to find out her secret.

  Evan, Katie, and Alasdair were at breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning when Gavin, practically being dragged by Meggie, entered the room. Once they’d reached the castle a few days before, Gavin had taken one look at Evan and had hidden behind Meggie’s skirts. He had never joined them for meals again, and with all the other bairns running around the place, Evan had even forgotten about the lad.

  “Gavin!” Katie’s shout of joy reached their ears. “I’m so glad ye have decided to join us.” Her chatter continued as she took his hand from Meggie and walked the young boy toward the table. He was a fine-looking lad, with the features of his sister but more masculine in nature.

  He settled next to his sister, his eyes downcast.

  “There’s yer brother!” Alasdair said as Katie added food to the lad’s plate. “I remember him from when we first arrived, but I haven’t seen him since. Where have ye been hiding yerself, lad?”

  Gavin looked up at his sister, and she said, “Gavin, ye remember Laird MacNeil and his brother, Mr. Alasdair MacNeil.”

  The boy ducked his head, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. He was of a slight build and no doubt would fill out as he grew, but now he looked as though a strong wind would knock him over.

  “’Tis a pleasure to see ye, finally.” Alasdair stuck his hand out to the lad.

  Gavin looked up at Katie, who nodded at her brother. “Go on, Gavin, take Mr. MacNeil’s hand.”

  The boy gingerly reached out and took Alasdair’s hand but quickly pulled it back.

  Evan and Alasdair exchanged glances. The boy apparently had had no guidance from a mon who would never have allowed such meekness. The lad’s father had fallen down on this job as well as managing the lands.

  Evan placed his finger under the lad’s chin and raised his head so he could see into his eyes. “Gavin, ye need to learn to meet new people.”

  Katie pulled the boy back. “’Tis all right. He will be fine. Just give him a little time.”

  Once again Evan turned to his brother. Being raised by his sister had not given Gavin the toughness he needed as a mon. True, he was only ten years, but by the time Evan had reached that age, he could hold his own with his broadsword, hunt and kill wild game for the dinner table, and take on lads twice his size in a tussle.

  His da had demanded it of him and Alasdair. No namby-pamby under my roof, he would bellow. Yer a Scot, not a Sassanach. And dinnae ever forget it.

  The steeliness in the lad’s sister’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. Katie was the strong one, and had protected the lad from life. Even though Evan didn’t intend to be in Fife much longer, while he was here, mayhaps he could teach the lad a thing or two.

  Evan rose and regarded Katie. “We must be off, lass. There are many places to visit today and many tenants to speak with.”

  She looked distressed. “Since Gavin has finally joined us for a meal, cannot I stay while he eats his breakfast?”

  Evan rose to his full height and glared at her. “Nay. Ye are coming with me.” God’s toes, was this how she raised the lad? Did she feed him by her hand, also? With the way she treated him, it was like the lad was still in leading strings.

  “The lad will be fine.” Evan turned and walked from the room, expecting Katie to be right behind him. Instead, he turned and there she was on her knees in front of the boy, hugging him.

  Evan growled and bellowed. “God’s toes! On yer feet, Mistress. ’Tis time to say goodbye and leave the lad.” With those words echoing off the walls, he marched through the front door and to the stables, grumbling all the way.

  Chapter Eleven

  Katie scowled at Evan as they mounted their horses to continue with their tenant visits. Didn’t he realize it would take some time for Gavin to feel secure? It was the first time he’d even felt comfortable enough to join them for a meal. He’d been taking his meals in the bedchamber they were sharing. The man had no heart. That was the only explanation. He’d probably been born at this age—had never been a lad himself.

  “Ye could have given me a wee bit of time with my brother.”

  He turned to her. “Ye coddle the lad. He’ll never be a mon with such soft treatment.”

  How dare the man judge her! He knew nothing about her or her brother. She was the only mother Gavin had ever known, and they shared a special bond. Da hadn’t spent time with the boy, saying it pained him too much to gaze upon Gavin because the boy had cost him his beloved wife.

  It had been up to her to give Gavin all the love he wasn’t getting from his da. For as many times as she’d admonished her da over that, he had never taken an interest in being a parent. As little interest as he’d taken in being a laird. He’d merely shaken his head, sighed, and poured another brandy.

  “I dinnae coddle him. He needs special attention because my da dinnae take an interest in him.”

  Evan snorted. “And it shows too.”

  She drew herself up. “What does that mean?”

  He rode for a few minutes, ignoring her question. Just as she thought she’d need to repeat it because his hearing must have disappeared right along with his heart, he said, “The lad needs to learn to be a mon. Refusing to shake hands with my brother and gazing at his lap like some wee lass at his age is disgraceful. Ye should be ashamed of yerself for allowing it.”

  All the motherly instincts in her rose up to strike the person attacking her brother. Had they been riding at a slower pace, she would have jumped from her horse onto his and pummeled him. Instead, she counted to ten—if she did indeed wreak havoc on her laird, she could very well find herself and her clan homeless.

  She swallowed several times and ordered her heart to cease pounding and her stomach muscles to unclench. After taking a deep breath, she said in her most reasonable voice, “And what do ye ken of raising a lad? Do ye have several of yer own that ye can hold up as examples?”

  “I dinnae need to have examples to hold up to ye except for myself and my brother. My da raised us to be men. If one of us had acted so meek when meeting a new person or cried when someone left us for a few hours, he would have thrashed us and then ordered us to muck out the stables for a spell.”

  Katie sniffed and raised her chin. “He sounds like a dreadful man. A brute and a bully.”

  Evan shook his head. “Nay. He was a mon, a real mon.”

  Oh, how she hated his superior attitude! He had no idea how hard things had been for Gavin with Da ignoring him all the time. Perchance she did mother him a bit, but trying to be both mum and da to the lad had been a challenge.

  Evan glanced in her direction. “If ye dinnae change some of the things the lad does, I guarantee he will be bullied by the other lads. In fact, I’m sure he is already.”

  Katie shook her head. “Nay. He dinnae like playing with the other lads. He prefers to stay in his room and read his books.”

  Evan smacked himself on his forehead. “Lass, dinnae ye see what yer doing to the lad? He prefers to stay in his room because the other lads make fun of him.”

  That took all the wind out of her. Not just his words but the niggling thought at the back of her mind that he might be right about her beloved brother. She hated how this gruff man made those fears rush back at her. “Ye dinnae ken what yer talking about.”

  He shrugged as they made their way up a lengthy path to another tenant cottage. This one was set back from the main road. Herbs of every type grew in the entire front area of the house. Katie recognized many of them as being medicinal herbs, along with plants used in cooking
. The woman who lived here must be a healer.

  Calling an unspoken truce while they made their visit, she and Evan stepped up to the front door and knocked. Within moments the door opened to an older woman with a bright smile on her aged face. Long white hair streamed over her shoulders and down her back. But the blue eyes were youthful, sharp. “I saw ye coming from my window. I heard ye are the new laird and are making visits to all the tenants.” She stepped back. “Please come in. I have tea and fresh-made scones for ye.”

  The house was small, probably smaller than any other they’d visited. It was clean and uncluttered. Wonderful smells came from the table set in the center of the room. Since she and Evan had not notified the tenants of their schedule, Katie was certain this woman had set her table when Evan had first arrived, just waiting for him to visit.

  “I am Mary MacCabe.” She turned and offered a smile to Katie. Crooked teeth, several missing, but a pleasant smile nonetheless. “Not a MacDuff. I fled from my clan many years ago, and the MacDuff took me in because of my healing skills.”

  Since it was not their place to question Mistress MacCabe as to why she’d fled her clan, and Katie was especially uneasy with the subject, they both just smiled and nodded. “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Mistress MacCabe. I am Mistress Katie Stirling, and this is Laird Evan MacNeil.”

  “Aye, I ken yer were making yer visits.” She waved to the table. “I will be honored if ye will take a bit of tea with me.”

  “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, as well, Mistress MacCabe.” Evan followed her the few steps to the table, where they both sat. Mistress MacCabe took a pot of boiling water from the fireplace and poured it into a very pretty blue-and-white flowered teapot. The aroma that immediately wafted from the teapot filled the entire space. Lovely. Katie sniffed. Most likely tea combined with lavender and a touch of chamomile.