Chapter Eight

Emily could hear shouting as she made her way down the winding staircase the next morning. It seemed to be coming from the Great Hall, which was unusual, since the clanspeople broke their fasts early to go about their daily tasks and chores. Most of the time she and her sisters had the huge room to themselves.

As she entered, she saw Juliana and Lorelei seated at their table, although neither of them were eating. They were too enthralled with whatever was taking place.

She turned her attention to the group near the dais. Ian, his brothers, and his uncles had circled around a man who she assumed was cursing in Gaelic, while a younger lad wildly waved his arms in what looked like an attempt to explain something.

“Ye say two dozen sheep are missing?” Ian asked when the man stopped for breath.

“Aye. Damn reivers!” He gestured to the boy. “Neither of us saw or heard anything.”

“And we spent the night in the shepherd’s croft,” the boy piped up.

“This morning when I was ready to move the flock, it seemed smaller,” the man continued. “Then I did the count.”

“Could be Camerons,” Alasdair said. “They ken how to be stealthy.”

“Their holdings are a hard day’s ride from here,” Carr said. “Why would they bother coming this far south to take sheep?”

“Colquhouns then? Or Buchanans? They’re both close.”

Ian shook his head. “The Colquhouns would nae have stopped at two dozen. They’d have tried to take the whole flock. And we’ve nae quarrel with Buchanans.”

“Campbells, then,” Rory growled. “The whole bloody lot would like to make sure we doona get our name restored.”

“Excuse me.” Emily stepped up to the men. “What does having your name restored—which is a matter for Parliament—have to do with someone stealing our sheep?”

There was a moment’s total silence as her use of our sheep sank in. The shepherd and the boy she assumed to be his son turned wide eyes at her.

“Ye are the English countess, aren’t ye?” the boy asked.

His father swatted the side of his head. “’Tis obvious, nae?”

The lad rubbed his ear and stepped out of his father’s range. “A Sassenach will blame us for the theft.” He turned to Emily. “Please, your ladyship. Doona turn us out.”

“Nobody is going to be turned out,” she replied. “But please explain to me how the two matters relate?”

“Yes, please do,” Juliana said as she and Lorelei joined the group. “None of this makes sense.”

Rory shrugged. “Because ye are nae a Scot.”

“Are you—”

“Hush,” Emily hissed at her. “Not now.” She smiled at Ian. “Please continue.”

“The feuding is nigh five hundred years old,” he said.

Emily felt her own eyes widen. “Five hundred years? Is that not a bit long to sustain an argument?”

Devon glowered at her. “Scots have long memories.”

“Och, well,” Ian said. “We have nae been fighting the entire time.”

“True,” Alasdair added. “Some MacGregors even took the Campbell surname.”

“Traitors,” Devon muttered.

Carr gave him a reproving look. “And there have been intermarriages amongst us as well. Nae all of them are enemies.”

“I am confused.” Emily turned to Ian. “I still do not understand how the two matters relate.”

“If everyone will be quiet…” Ian gave each of his brothers a warning glance. “After Bannockburn—in the fourteenth century—Robert the Bruce awarded the Campbells Kilchurn Castle and the lands around it.”

“Which had been MacGregors?”

“Most of it,” Ian answered, “but land titles and legal documents were just beginning to be used.”

“So the land was in dispute?”

“Nae!” Devon glared at her. “’Twas ours!”

Ian ignored him. “The Campbells grew more powerful over time—”

“Because they sided with the bloody English when it benefited them,” Devon said.

Carr put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Let Ian finish.”

“Devon is right to some extent. They have amassed great swaths of land to the west and north of us. Presently, we are nae threat to them, but if the Earl of Bute and Lord Mount Stuart are successful in Parliament, we could reclaim some of those—our— lands.”

Emily drew her brows together. “I still do not see the connection.”

“’Tis simple.” Donovan spoke up. “They will expect us to retaliate and not only steal back our sheep but some of theirs as well, or possibly some coos.”

“And that will make us look like thieves, since the English doona see reiving as a time-honored tradition,” Broderick said.

“But if the Campbells—or whoever—started it, why would you be blamed?”

“Because, as Devon said, the Campbells have sided with the Crown enough to have the king’s ear in such a matter. King George also made the Duke of Argyll commander in chief for Scotland, so ye can see who will be believed,” Alasdair explained. “The Campbells will simply claim we were the ones who stole their livestock.”

“But that is not right.” Emily looked at Ian again. “What can we do?”

“First, we canna just put the blame on the Campbells, since we have nae proof.” Ian turned to Rory. “Ye are our best tracker. If anyone can find the trail, ’tis ye.”

Rory gave Juliana a smug look before he nodded. “I’ll leave right away.”

“And if he finds out you are right?” Emily asked as he left. “What will you do?”

“Since the duke’s duties keep him away most of the time, he will nae have had a hand in this, but his cousin Henry oversees things, so we can ask him to come speak to us,” Alasdair said. “I canna see him ordering something so petty as this, but he may well ken who wants to create mischief.”

Lorelei smiled at him. “How clever of you to suggest that.”

He grinned back. “I am the smart one of the bunch.”

“That is in dispute,” Carr said. “Do ye not remember me thrashing ye in chess?”

“Be that as it may.” Ian gestured to Alasdair. “Ye do have a good idea.”

“And it wouldna hurt to find out which way the wind blows with the Campbells,” Carr added. “Mayhap if the duke hears the Countess of Woodhaven—an Englishwoman—has taken up residence with us, he might be inclined to support Bute and Mount Stuart…or at least, not oppose the petition to regain our name.”

Ian gave him a thoughtful look. “I had nae thought of that. Campbells do favor the English. Mayhap having the lady as our guest will benefit us after all.”

Emily looked down so her emotions wouldn’t show. She was a pawn in the MacGregors’ game of parodied chess. She’d also noticed the phrase “taken up residence” instead of “ownership.” And “guest.” Guest. Ian thought of her as such. That she was planning only to visit and not stay.

She understood that the concept of her having the deed to the holdings was difficult for them, but would they ever accept her?

…

“Can you imagine someone wanting to steal smelly old sheep?” Lorelei asked when they’d retreated to the solar after the furor in the Great Hall earlier.

Emily didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing a chair near the easterly window where the late morning sun poured in. It was her favorite room in the castle. She’d discovered it while exploring on the second day she’d been here. It had been empty, since it was in the old part of the castle and another solar had been built, but she’d had most of her personal belongings, as well as the few pieces of furniture from the wagons, brought in here, and she’d made a nest of sorts. The hearth was empty this morning, since it was late summer, but she envisioned a roaring fire come winter, with sunshine streaming in the window and herself curled in this very chair with a good book. But for now, she had to address stolen sheep.

“Those sheep are income,” Emily replied. “At least, their wool is. I am not sure how losing more than a score of them will affect our profits.”

“What did those boring financial reports you keep looking at say?”

“They did not show a large income, which is why I think we cannot afford such a loss.”

“There are a lot of sheep in other fields around here,” Juliana said. “Do those not belong to Strae Castle as well?”

“I think they do.”

“Maybe you should take a look at the ledgers and find out exactly what you own.”

“I intend to, but first I wanted to see the lands and fields for myself,” Emily answered. “Once I do that it will be easier to understand the amounts shown in the accounts.”

“The sooner the better, then,” Juliana said.

“I want to be able to have a thorough understanding of the situation here first, then I plan to take my time going over each separate entry.”

Lorelei sighed. “That sounds terribly dull and tedious to me.”

“It may be dull and tedious, but if you want to return to London and enjoy a Season, I have to know how our finances stand.”

Her sister cast her eyes down. “I had not thought of it like that.”

“It is a sorry state we are in.” Juliana stood. “The earl should have provided for us. Or, at least, for you—”

“If only we could have kept the house in Mayfair.” Lorelei sighed again. “I did like that house.”

Emily had not been particularly attached to it, probably because it held no good memories. “You know why we had to sell it.”

“We know. The bloody earl gambled his fortune away.” Juliana began to pace. “And filled his damn head with opium smoke most days.”

Emily didn’t chide her for cursing, although she probably should have. But there was no defense she could offer. Not that she wanted to. “It is in the past.”

Lorelei sniffed. “That nasty cousin could have at least offered you a dower cottage.”

“I had no right to demand that since I got the Mayfair house.”

“Which you had to sell.”

“You might remember that neither Albert’s cousin nor his wife wanted us there.”

Juliana stopped pacing and turned. “And the MacGregors do not want us here, either!”

Lorelei nodded. “Not even Glenda, who will not speak to us. She just stares like she hates Emily.”

“Hate is a strong word.” Emily paused, thinking how to continue. “I did not expect to be welcomed, given the circumstances, but most of them have been…cordial.”

“Cordial?” Juliana resumed pacing, then stopped again. “Devon continually glares at us and Rory is just plain rude. The man has the audacity to call me names—”

“You do seem to bring out the worst in him,” Lorelei said.

“Me? Bring out the worst in him? How—”

“Why is that?” Emily asked before Juliana could work herself into full-fledged indignation. “The two of you do seem to be at each other’s throats.”

“You will have to ask him that.”

“Maybe he likes you?” Lorelei offered.

Juliana scoffed. “If that is the Scottish way of showing it—”

“I wonder…” Lorelei went on without letting her sister finish. “Remember when we were girls and that horrible Floyd Bentley used to pull my braids and threaten to throw frogs at me? A year later, when he went to Eton, he sent me flowers and candy for my birthday.”

Juliana leveled a look at her. “I doubt very much that Rory MacGregor has flowers and candy on his mind.”

“Still. It would not hurt you to be polite to him.” Emily turned to Lorelei. “As for you, it would be wise not to practice your flirtation skills with Alasdair.”

Her eyes widened innocently. “All I did was tell him he was clever.”

“Your tone and expression caused him to respond.”

“It meant nothing.”

“Perhaps not to you,” Emily replied, “but these are Scottish Highlanders, not accustomed to the art of London parlor flirting.”

Lorelei thrust out her lower lip. “How am I going to be successful next Season if I do not practice?”

“For heaven’s sake!” Juliana shook her head. “Why do you need to practice flirting? Those silly young lords will wax poetic, even if you do not say a word. Just wave your fan or something.”

“My fan. Goodness gracious, you are right! I need to practice that, too. How one holds a fan signifies—”

“You will not be doing any fan waving around here.” Emily frowned at her. “I do not want you to encourage Alasdair when you have no intentions of allowing him suit.”

Juliana nodded. “I agree. It is not honorable to let him think you like him when you do not.”

“I did not say I did not like him,” Lorelei protested.

“Even so, there is no reason for you to toy with him and possibly cause hurt feelings.” Emily turned her gaze on Juliana. “And that goes for you as well. Stop provoking Rory.”

“I do not—”

“You do.” Emily looked from one sister to the other. “It behooves all of us to behave properly and remember why we are here. Are we in agreement?”

They both stared at her for a long moment before reluctantly nodding, but somehow Emily didn’t think she’d won the battle.

…

A brisk knock on the library door the next morning made Ian look up from the numerous papers he had scattered over the desk.

“May I come in?” Emily asked.

The English had a rather odd sense of protocol, he thought as he stood and gestured for her to have a seat. She owned the castle—at least for now—and yet, she knocked. The door was open, yet she asked to enter. He doubted it was out of deference for him, the rightful laird of Clan MacGregor, as it was because she didn’t want to escalate the tension and resentment that hung heavy in the air. Which made her a savvy woman.

And also a pretty one, although he pushed those thoughts away. She was dressed in a light-blue gown, modestly cut, but fitting well enough to outline her narrow waist and the flare of her hips. The library had no windows—to preserve the book bindings from damage by sunlight—but the light from the oil lamp on his desk cast her face in a warm glow and made her golden hair seem like a halo. Pity the woman was a Sassenach and, by holding the damn deed, a foe.

“Rory hasnae returned, if that is what ye are wondering.”

She smiled slightly and took the chair beside the desk instead of the one in front of it. “I assumed as much when I did not hear voices raised in the Great Hall.”

“I’ve nae time to take ye on a tour of the land today,” he said as he sat down. “I’ve business matters to see to.”

“Precisely.” She edged her chair closer to the desk. “I want to know what the business matters are.”

For a moment, the scent of rose water wafting from her hair distracted him. Why was she deliberately sitting so close to him? Then he realized it was because she wanted to see what was spread on the desk. Eejit.

“What did ye want to ken?”

She blinked at him. “Everything. Expenses, invoices, receipts, inventory… You do have ledgers for all the accounts?”

He felt like Paden had kicked him in the stomach with a well-shod hoof. He had hoped to placate her with copies of the reports he’d sent to the earl’s estate, but damn it, the lady sounded like she knew what to ask for.

“It will take days, if nae weeks, to sort all that out for ye.”

She smiled again. “I have time.”

Time. Perhaps he should rethink his strategy and gather the information—at least, the minimal—she asked for quickly and convince her all was being handled. His brothers, and most likely his uncles, wanted her and her sisters back in London before the first snow fell, and in Glen Strae that could be as early as October.

“I will get ye the reports ye need.”

“I have already read the reports you sent last spring,” she said. “What I am interested in is the actual accounting books.”

He frowned. “Ye have knowledge of accounting?”

“When the earl became…ill…I took it upon myself to learn.”

An odd expression that he couldn’t decipher had crossed her face when she mentioned her deceased husband. “I didna ken he had been ill.” Another strange expression flitted briefly before she dipped her head slightly.

“It was a lingering illness.”

Which could be any number of things, given the man’s age. Women were used to managing household expenses, but he wondered how diligently she’d applied herself to other financials. Cautiously, he asked, “Did ye find the reports I sent satisfactory?”

“As far as they went.” She leveled a look on him. “You do seem to have more sheep than I expected, given the yield of wool listed.”

He nearly groaned aloud. Emily had been applying herself. She might not know exactly how much each coat was worth, but he suspected it wouldn’t be long until she discovered the numbers he’d given were low.

“We’ve been trying to increase the flocks.” That much was true, albeit they’d been increasing them ever since the king had given his grandfather permission to reside at Strae Castle.

She frowned. “How much is losing two dozen sheep going to affect profit?”

“It will nae be overly significant,” he answered. “Reivers are nae interested in starting a clan war.”

The frown deepened. “Does this happen often?”

He drew his own brows together. “Nae recently.”

“So you think the Campbells are behind this?”

“I doona ken…” He stopped as he heard voices along with boots tramping down the hall toward them. “We may soon find out. It sounds like Rory has returned.”

In another minute, all his brothers stomped into the room. From the look on Rory’s face, the news was not good.

“Ye didna find the sheep?”

His brother shook his head. “I picked up the tracks right enough, but about a mile down the road, the varmints had two carts waiting. I followed the tracks until they blended with others near Crianlarich. It was market day so the town was packed. No sign of our sheep, though.”

Devon cursed while Carr and Alasdair exchanged looks. Ian caught their meaning.

“Crianlarich lies next to Campbell lands.” He clenched his jaw. “Send for the duke’s cousin Henry.”

…

Emily led her sisters to the library the next afternoon, since the Duke of Argyll’s cousin Henry was supposed to meet with Ian to discuss the stolen sheep. She hadn’t even had to insist she be allowed to attend, since she was English and Ian intended to use her as a pawn to win favor with the Campbells. She just hoped his brothers—particularly Devon and Rory—would maintain decorum. And—she glanced at her sisters just before they entered—that they would as well.

“Remember what I said. Best behavior. Both of you.”

Juliana looked heavenward as Lorelei started to nod, but then her eyes went round and she made a cooing sound.

“That is the cousin? I thought he would be old.”

“Hush!” Emily looked around to see who had attracted her sister’s attention. Ian’s brothers and uncles milled about, and she spotted Ian standing next to his desk. Then there was movement to his right and she saw what had caused Lorelei’s reaction.

Or, rather, who. A man, nearly as tall and broad-of-shoulder as Ian, stepped forward. He appeared to be about the same age. His chestnut hair, sun-streaked to burnished gold, set him apart from the black-haired MacGregors like a phoenix among falcons. His eyes were the blue-green of a summer sea and his teeth white and even when he smiled at Emily and her sisters.

“I daresay civilization has arrived.” He made a short bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. Gavin Campbell, at your service.”

Lorelei started to extend her hand, but thankfully Juliana took a firm grip on her arm and turned her in the direction of one of the stuffed chairs by the hearth. Emily glanced at Ian and then back to Gavin.

“I thought we were expecting a Henry Campbell?”

“That would be my father. Alas, he left for Inveraray day before last. The duke, of course, is in London.” Gavin grinned. “So, when the gauntlet was thrown for a Campbell to come to Strae Castle, I picked up the glove.”

“It was nae a gauntlet,” Ian muttered, having come up behind him.

Gavin shrugged. “A summons then.”

Ian frowned. “A request.”

Before the meeting would break into a complete melee, she intervened. “An invitation. I suggested it, since I seem to be missing some sheep.” She kept her attention focused on Gavin, although she could see Ian behind him studying her like a hawk might its prey.

“Your sheep?” Gavin asked, a quizzical look on his face.

Ian moved beside him. “Allow me to introduce the dowager Countess of Woodhaven.”

“You are the dowager countess? I had heard you would be paying a visit, but…” Amusement lit Gavin’s eyes. “I doubt you were what MacGregor was expecting.”

“Considering my husband was forty years older than me, I am sure I was not,” Emily answered before Ian could. “And, to clarify, I am not visiting. I intend to live here.”

A corner of Gavin’s mouth quirked up. “That should make life interesting.”

Ian made a sound, suspiciously like a growl. “Shall we all have a seat?”

“Of course.” Instead of joining her sisters by the fireplace, Emily moved toward the desk and took the same chair she’d sat in yesterday. If she was going to be recognized as the owner here, she needed to establish some authority. She’d also spent enough time in London Society—not to mention with her own husband—to understand that usurping a man directly never worked. Ian could have his chair behind the desk. She smoothed her skirts and smiled.

Ian shot her a look as he slid into his seat. She suspected they might be having words later about her actions and she found herself oddly looking forward to standing her ground with him. Over the past two weeks, she’d had time to observe him. He dealt with his quarrelsome brothers without a show of temper. As strong as he was, she had no fear that he would hit her if she spoke her mind. Unlike the earl. She gave him a sideways glance. He narrowed his eyes, but it was more a speculative look than anything. She managed to keep from grinning as she turned away.

“Well…” He refocused his attention to Gavin. “I asked ye to come here because two dozen of our sheep were stolen night before last.”

“And?” Gavin asked.

“Did ye ken about it?”

Gavin flicked an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve. “Do I look like a bloo…a reiver?”

“I doona suspect ye had a direct hand in it,” Ian replied. “The question I asked was if ye kenned about it?”

“I do not. In case you’ve not noticed, we have plenty of sheep roaming our hills. We do not need to be stealing MacGregor sheep.”

“Actually, they are my sheep, too.” Emily ignored the look Ian was giving her. “King George—Parliament actually—deeded the Strae holdings to me. That includes the livestock.”

Gavin studied her as though she were some strange species he’d never seen. And perhaps she was. It was rare for a woman to own property in her own right, but it was a subject she didn’t want to discuss. “As I said earlier, I intend to make my home here. However, I have no intentions of putting the MacGregors out, so I see this…thievery…as an insult to me as well.”

“I see.” His expression changed slightly. “In that case, my lady, I will do some investigating.”

“Thank you, Mr. Campbell. I shall look forward to a report in the near future.”

“Perhaps sooner than you think,” he answered. “I do not get to London as often as I would like, so it has been a long time since I have had the pleasure of visiting with a lady of Society. May I have leave to call on you?”

“That would be lovely.”

Ian made that strange sound again, but Emily ignored it. What was he growling about? He’d wanted to use her Englishness for his benefit with the Campbells, didn’t he? She was only complying.

She smiled and rose, causing both men to leap up. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I will leave you to the rest of your discussion.” Gesturing to her sisters, she made her way to the door.

A good general knew when to retreat. And this was war, after all.