Page 7 of A Scot to Wed

“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.

Her own home had been half the size of this one, and Da had suffered so after the death of Mum that he’d lost all interest in the place. If it hadn’t been for Katie, they would have starved. She’d made sure the larders were full, the servants’ wages paid, and the tenants’ concerns dealt with.

But eventually it had reached the point where no matter how many problems she fixed, another would pop up. When her scouts had returned and told her how well maintained the MacDuff castle and lands were, she knew the move was the best idea.

Da had spent a great deal of time and money in Edinburgh—drinking and gambling, Katie suspected. When he had returned home, he’d no interest in the problems she’d tried to discuss with him.

Then, as if to convince her of the folly of continuing to do it all by herself, a fire had broken out in the stables, which had soon spread to part of the house. ’Twas then she decided to pull out the old document her father had talked about incessantly and move her family and whatever tenants wanted to follow them to Fife. ’Twas far away from Stirlingshire and its problems.

And hopefully far enough away from the threat—the main reason she’d left—that hung over her head.

Chapter Four

“Ye cannot send the lass and her group back to Stirlingshire.” Alasdair tossed the words out to Evan as they enjoyed one of the fine brandies from MacDuff’s cellar. They’d raided the wine room earlier and found several bottles of brandy, smuggled in from France. The MacDuff had known how to live.

It was nearing midnight, and the two brothers sat alone in the Great Hall. Mistress Stirling and her small group had retired for the night. The two men who had arrived with the lasses had joined Douglas MacDuff in rooms in the stables for the night. ’Twas quite a stable, at that. Evan had made a quick survey and had found dozens of fine horseflesh that would bring a nice coin if he decided to sell them.

Mistress Stirling, her brother, and the maid had secured one of the chambers the housekeeper, Mrs. Brody, had prepared for the arrival of Evan and his brother. They had all seemed quite weary, and as tired as Evan was, he was unable to sleep with the problem of the unwanted guests to deal with. And the stubborn lass who led them.

Evan swirled the liquid around and studied it as if it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. “She dinnae own the place, brother. I cannot just walk away from my responsibilities to the MacDuff clan. Trust was placed in me, and I cannot abandon the estate. ’Tis my duty, like it or not.”

“The maid, Meggie, told me the rest of Mistress Stirling’s household, including whatever tenant farmers and crofters decide to join them, should be here in a fortnight. She says it might be well more than fifty and maybe even as many as a hundred people.” Alasdair leaned forward, his forearms braced on his thighs, his glass of brandy dangling from his fingers. “Women, bairns, and old folks, Evan. All of them making the long journey, only to be told to return to whence they’d come.”

Evan swallowed the last of his drink. “What would ye have me do, then? We cannot stay here and see to their well-being. I have my own clan to run. Think of all the hard work that Da and his da before him did to save the place when others were stripped of their lands and their rights. Ye ken that lands were sold out from under many Clans and the Sassenachs tossed the farmers and crofters out of their homes. I must be there to reassure them all that they are being seen to and it won’t happen to us. If I remain here to see to these people, what happens to our people?”

Alasdair studied his older brother. “So ye will sacrifice the well-being of another clan, who may be following a foolish lass’s decision, even though they are not to blame?”

Alasdair placed his empty glass on the table, eyed the bottle of brandy, and pushed the glass farther away. “Another thing to consider, Evan. By the time the rest of them arrive, even if we give them a few days to recover from their journey before setting them back out again, they will be on the road to Stirlingshire as winter hits. I guarantee many will die.”

“Ach.” Evan stood and strode to the small fire in the large fireplace and held his hands out to warm them. “And if we stay any longer than we planned, the same will happen to us. Winter is not a pleasant time to travel.”

“Not only unpleasant but deadly.”

“Aye, I agree. Perhaps Mistress Stirling planned it that way, knowing if someone had been here, they couldn’t force them to return.” Evan returned to his seat and stretched his long legs out, crossing his feet at his ankles.

“I don’t think the lass is that devious. I think she was desperate for a place to call home that wasn’t crumbling around her ears,” Alasdair allowed.

“Devious, nay, but smart, aye. I feel there is more to the lass’s story than she’s told us. She’s a clever one, and moving her entire clan based on an old, faded piece of paper seems too reckless. And if that is the case, keep in mind, our ancestors had to fight to gain other holds. ’Twas lots of blood, death, and injuries to take over another clan’s lands. No one waved a decrepit paper and claimed ownership.”

Alasdair had the nerve to laugh. “I cannot imagine the wee lass, her brother, and her three companions sieging a castle. What would they beat them with? The broken wheel from that sorry cart? ’Tis only good for fuel.”

“With the spirit the lass shows, I would not put it past her to march up to a castle and demand entrance.” Evan shook his head, hating that he admired her. He had to give her credit for uprooting her entire clan and moving them to a strange place. Showed desperation, for sure.

“’Tis another consideration,” Alasdair added. “They would never make it back to Stirlingshire with that cart.”

“I could offer them horses. We have plenty.”

Alasdair stood and slapped Even on the back. “Time to retire. This is not something that will be solved tonight. We are both tired from our own journey. Tomorrow will look much brighter.”

…

The next day dawned dark and full of thunderstorms. Evan rolled over in his bed and stared out the window with the rain pelting against it. Nothing would be done this day. The necessary visits to the tenant farmers and crofters would have to wait. Instead, he would be forced to remain in the castle—with his unwanted guests—and interview the household staff to see what needed to be done inside and if any staff members needed to be added.

After seeing the place, he wasn’t so sure his original plan would work. It would be difficult to imagine leaving the castle empty of residents. He hated that the thought of hiring Mistress Stirling to oversee the castle kept presenting itself as the best solution for that dilemma.

Katie.