Chapter Five

Ian glared at each of his brothers, all of whom had sat as far away from his desk as possible with the exception of Devon, who stood directly in front of it, arms folded across his chest, legs splayed.

“I am still waitin’ on an explanation,” he said.

Ian gestured toward the others. “Which of these eejits told ye?”

“I was the one who explained the situation,” Carr said.

Carr was by far the most diplomatic of all of them. If anyone could have explained the situation tactfully, or at least created a buffer from the harsh truth, it would have been Carr. That Devon was livid meant he’d failed.

“And did ye two”—Ian looked at Rory and Alasdair—“offer your opinions as well?”

Both of them shrugged a little too nonchalantly.

“Doona be blamin’ our brothers,” Devon said. “I’ve eyes in my head. Trunks and personal effects from five wagons being carried into the castle and then seeing three—three—Sassenachs supervising the unloading made me a wee bit curious.”

So that’s how Emily and her sisters had spent the day. He supposed he’d find out soon enough what rooms they had decided to claim with their belongings. But one calamity at a time.

“Curious? Ye were bellowing like a mad bull out in the bailey.”

“Curiosity turned to anger when I learned the truth.” Devon adjusted his stance. “We need to fight this, nae let those women move in.”

Ian sighed. Devon was itching for a fight, and it would take all four of them to hold him down if he lost control now. He’d become violent after their father had married an Englishwoman, but he’d been a lad of twelve then and easy to subdue. He hadn’t had a violent outburst in years, but this could certainly kindle the embers of the fire that stayed inside him.

“Carr had our solicitor check the deed. ’Tis legitimate.”

“The damn king has nae right!” Devon leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk. “Old King George promised our grandfather he would only leasehold these lands—MacGregor lands—in return for our nae backing Bonnie Prince Charlie.”

“’Twas George II who made that promise, nae his grandson.”

“A mhic an Diabhail!” Devon straightened and began to pace. “That son of the devil should return to hell for nae honoring his grandfather’s oath.”

“Ye expect the English to understand honor?” Rory asked.

“Nae.” Devon paused to look at him, then turned back to Ian. “Those women are going to be nothing but trouble.”

“Ye have the right of that,” Rory said. “The redheaded one has a tongue like a viper.”

Alasdair chuckled in spite of the tension in the room. “Ye say that because she didna succumb to yer charms.”

Rory snorted. “I didna even try to charm the hellion.”

“Be that as it may,” Ian intervened before another argument ensued. “Now that our clansmen have heard the news, we must find a way to calm them.”

“Calm them?” Devon asked, eyes blazing again. “If the Sassenachs were men, we’d send one of their heads back to London on a pike.”

“Which would guarantee that the MacGregor name will never be cleared,” Ian answered.

Devon glowered. “The old earl never stuck his nose in our business. Why did his widow decide to venture up here?”

“’Tis a good question.” Ian was still trying to make sense of it himself. Aside from the rarity of a woman being able to own land in her own right, why would someone bred for the parlor rooms of Society want to come to Scotland? Londoners thought they were barbarians.

“We are hoping they willna want to stay,” Carr said.

Devon narrowed his eyes. “They were moving their belongings in!”

“There will be nae lack of help to get them packed back up again.”

“And how do ye propose to get them to agree?”

“The plan is to show the countess what a good steward I can be,” Ian said. “Once she’s assured of money continuing to come in, there will be nae reason for her nae to return to London and leave us in peace.”

This time Rory spoke. “And we also plan to let them find out just how harsh life can be here.”

“By letting them move into the new part of the castle?” Devon gave him a skeptical look and crossed his arms again.

“That was Ian’s idea.”

Ian shrugged. “I figured they would be more cooperative if they had better accommodations.”

“Oh, aye,” Devon said. “And have our clanswomen act as their servants, too.”

Ian ignored the sarcastic tone. “I will make clear that the people who work in our castle are treated as equals. And we can make sure they ken Scots are independent and fend for themselves.”

“For sure, we doona intend to make things easy for them,” Rory said.

“Ye can count me in for that,” Devon replied.

“I ken ye doona want them here.” Ian looked at each of them. “But until—or if—the Earl of Bute can get our names cleared, we canna fight for our lands.”

Carr nodded. “Meanwhile, we must take care nae to anger the countess too much lest she sets us out on the road and we must needs disappear into the mists again.”

Ian raised a hand before Devon could protest. “Ye need to have a care for what ye do. ’Tis a fine line we walk.”

He had the odd feeling he was already teetering on it.

…

“Who is the new man on the dais?” Lorelei asked that evening as they’d gathered in the Great Hall for the meal.

Juliana rolled her eyes. “Is it not plain as day that is another brother? They all look alike.”

Lorelei tilted her head and considered. “There is something that is different about this one.”

Emily looked at the dais and then to her sister. “Besides the fact that he has been scowling at us since we came in?”

“All of them have been scowling, ever since we had the wagons unpacked.” Juliana glanced sideways at the raised table. “But I agree that his staring is somewhat unsettling.”

“He looks really angry,” Lorelei replied.

“He was not here when we arrived,” Emily said. “Finding out about us was probably a shock.”

Lorelei shook her head. “Everyone else was shocked, too, when they heard the news, but mostly they are just ignoring us.”

That was true, although where they were seated at the small square table to the side of the dais it was easy enough for no one to pay attention to them. Emily wasn’t sure if Ian had meant it as an insult to tuck them away practically out of sight, but she considered it a kindness, whether intentional or not. It would have been very uncomfortable to try to mingle with the clan seated on the benches of the long tables—at least until they had a chance to get to know them—and she certainly didn’t wish to be a spectacle on the dais. The more unassuming she could be right now, the better.

“It will take time for them to accept us,” Emily answered.

After the conversation with Ian yesterday, she was under the impression that they would not announce her actual ownership until the clan, at least most of them, had gotten used to the idea of her sisters and herself living at the castle. That had all changed with the brother’s outburst this afternoon. She’d heard several servants talking in low tones as she descended the spiral staircase from the old part of the castle earlier, and they’d quickly gone silent when they’d seen her. She thought they were probably speculating on why three women had brought five wagons worth of items that, somewhat grudgingly, Carr and Alasdair had been pressed into service to unload and take to the rooms that Lorelei and Juliana had chosen to use. Little did anyone know that those wagons contained all their worldly possessions.

“We may have to wait a long time for that to happen,” Juliana said. “I could not get more than a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ out of any of the servants, and that was before everyone found out about the deed.”

Emily had had similar experiences herself. When she’d introduced herself to Hamish, the castellan, he’d looked at her with an attitude that would have done justice to any Mayfair butler. She’d been able to get only short, terse answers from Maggie about the household schedule and, when she’d gone to the kitchens, the cook made it clear whose domain that area was. She’d heard shouting in the bailey earlier but she hadn’t thought much of it, since there was always noise outside.

“I thought you were not going to tell the clanspeople about the deed yet,” Lorelei said.

“Yes. That is what Mr. MacGregor and I agreed to.”

“Then what happened?” Juliana asked.

“I do not know.” She’d taken some cheese and bread off the morning sideboard so the three of them could work through the midday meal. It wasn’t until she was returning to her bedchamber to change her dusty dress for supper that she’d overheard two maids talking about the announcement that had been made. If it could be called that. It seemed that the lately arrived brother was fit to be tied. She sighed.

“It seems I will have to corner Mr. MacGregor again and get some answers.”

…

“You are not planning to disappear again this morning, are you?”

Ian paused in saddling Paden and stared at the wall over the horse’s withers for a moment before he slowly turned to face his nemesis.

Emily stood in the open doorway of the stable, the rising sun silhouetting her in a reddish glow as if she had stepped through a circle of fire. Or, as Devon or Rory would probably put it, stepped from the gates of hell. But demons didn’t have golden hair or eyes the color of a mountain loch. Should they? He briefly wondered if either Jezebel or Delilah, the great seducers of biblical times, had been blond. He gave himself a mental shake. He doubted very much that the countess had her mind on seduction, given her no-nonsense expression. It was his own head—albeit probably not the one on his shoulders—that fancied that notion. Mayhap he needed to pay a call to a tavern wench in Dalmally to rid himself of this untoward lust he felt. He forced himself to gather his thoughts.

“I have crofters to see. Best to get an early start.”

One delicate brow arched. “I believe that I asked for a tour of the lands. Since I am already dressed for riding, I will accompany you.”

That was the last thing he needed. His plan had been to ride to all the crofters he’d contacted yesterday and revise the version of the story he’d given them. News from the castle spread more quickly than the River Awe overflowing its banks after a hard rain. And this news was tantamount to Loch Awe itself rising.

“I really have business to attend to today,” he said. “Ye can plan on tomorrow, though.”

She stepped inside. “As I said, I am dressed for riding.”

Now that she was out of the sunlight, he could see that she was in a riding habit of dark-blue velvet with a long, divided skirt, a short, fitted jacket with braid, and a white shirt with high-necked ruffles. Her hair was secured in a tight bun at her nape and in her hand, she held a bonnet with enough ribbon to wrap around a sheep. She looked every inch an English countess…and completely, totally, inappropriately dressed to go visiting crofters.

If he wanted his clansmen to instantly dislike her, he should take her up on her offer. MacGregors, even more so than most Scots, had no tolerance for English aristocracy. Seeing her in her finery would make the women who toiled alongside their husbands equally shun her. His mission would be half accomplished if he took her with him dressed as she was. He sighed.

“Ye canna go dressed like that.”

A slight frown creased her forehead as she looked down. “Why not? It is what I wore in London.”

“Aye. Which makes it wrong for here.”

She contemplated him for a moment. “Do your people hate the English that much?”

He shrugged, for some reason not wanting to be too blunt. “Ye canna blame them.”

“Well, I will have to change their minds then.”

He nearly laughed at the idea but managed to quell the thought. “Ye will nae be changing any minds dressed fancy like that.”

“Fine.” She folded her arms. “Then what do you suggest I wear?”

“Breeches.” The word was scarcely out of his mouth when a vision filled his mind of how she would look in them. “With a long tunic and coat.”

Both brows went up this time. “Your women wear men’s breeches?”

“Ye are in the Highlands, lass. ’Tis practical clothing.”

“And where would I find something like that?”

“Fiona can find something that will fit.” The image in his brain sharpened at thinking how well breeches would fit. He refocused. “I doona think she is awake yet, though.” His sister was an early riser, but, since she and Emily were in different parts of the castle, she probably didn’t know.

“She is not only awake, but up and about. I saw her as I was coming out here.”

So much for that hope. He smiled wanly. “It will take her a bit to find something and have it altered for ye.”

“Nonsense.” Emily gave him an angelic smile. “She and I are about the same size. It should not take me more than ten minutes to get changed.” She turned toward the door. “Meanwhile, would you have a horse saddled? I am an experienced rider, so I prefer a mount with a bit of spirit.”

If she rode like she drank whisky… He put that thought out of his mind. “I will think on that.”

“All right. Ten minutes then.”

Ian watched as she hurried across the bailey and then he led Paden to the back door of the stable. In another moment, he was mounted and galloping away.

He would face Lady Woodhaven’s wrath tomorrow. For today, he needed to still the waters that would be churning among his people.

…

Unfortunately, when Emily returned to the house, it took her several minutes to locate Fiona who, she soon found out from a maid, liked to go up on the battlements to watch the sun rise.

The staircases leading up to them were located in the side towers of the old part of the castle. As she passed the Great Hall, she saw Ian’s brothers inside. Not having time to stop and speak, even though it was quite rude, she hurried past as they neared the door. She felt eyes penetrating her back, but she didn’t turn around.

Once inside the tower, the stairs spiraled upward, much like the staircase to her bedchamber, but these were more uneven. Luckily, they were built against the right wall although there was no railing. This, too, was a form of defense when the medieval castle had actually been used as such. An enemy trying to make his way up the stairs would not have his sword arm free to attack while defenders coming down from the battlements would be able to wield their swords easily. She wondered what other protections were in place. When she had time, she was going to fully explore. For now, though, she needed to find Fiona.

By the time she reached the door that led into the battlements, she was feeling a bit dizzy from circling four flights. Catching her breath, she stepped outside, nearly blinded by the sunlight after the darkness of the tower.

Sunlight. The sun had clearly risen. How much time had she wasted? She’d said ten minutes. How long would Ian wait?

At least Fiona was not far away. She had walked about halfway across the front of the castle, hands lightly on a merlon, her face lifted, her eyes closed as she breathed in the fresh morning air. Emily hesitated to disturb her, but she needed those breeches.

“Good morning.”

Fiona’s eyes popped open and she turned her head, then she smiled. “Emily. Do ye enjoy sunrises, too?” She gestured. “Come and look.”

Emily did enjoy getting up early, although seeing a sunrise in London was near to impossible, but it afforded her a quiet time of day. Even though there were no social calls until near noon and Albert had never stirred until well past that time, the duties of running a household—actually, the whole estate, since her husband had rarely been fit to do so—had made her appreciate those few quiet moments shortly after dawn.

Carefully, she made her way along the ledge. Although it was wide enough for a man to pass by, the stone was slippery with dew. She stopped a few feet from Fiona to take in the sight and gasped.

The hills near the castle were blanketed in lush green, the mountains beyond steeped in the darker brown shades of dormant heather. Far to her right, she could make out a winding silver strip of river as the sun glistened on it. To her left, below the craggy top on which the castle sat, was a small village. And the expanse of fields in front of her were dotted with sheep and crofters’ huts.

“It is beautiful! I can see why you come up here.”

“Aye. And a bit of silence before I have to deal with my brothers.”

“Speaking of your brothers…or, at least, Ian… I have come to ask you to lend me a pair of breeches,” Emily said. “Ian told me my London riding habit would not be accepted well by your clan.”

“Aye, it wouldna, but I do like it.” Fiona gave her a wistful look. “I would like to go to London. Can ye tell me about it?”

“Yes, of course. Later.” Time was of the essence right now. “I would really like to change into the breeches, since Ian is waiting for me.”

Fiona frowned slightly. “He is nae waiting.”

A sense of wariness rose. “Why do you say that?”

“I saw him ride out just as the sun rose.”

“You saw…” Emily didn’t finish the sentence. The sun had just risen as she’d returned to the castle. That meant Ian hadn’t waited ten minutes. He hadn’t even planned to. As soon as she’d turned her back, he must have left through the the other side of the barn.

She quickly squelched the hurt—no, the anger—that tried to surface. She’d learned long ago neither of those emotions did her any good. Only cool, calm logic had worked when dealing with Albert.

Cool, calm logic would work with Ian MacGregor, too. He had just declared war, even if he didn’t know it.