Chapter Two

Evan stared at the woman who claimed to own the property he’d just been forced to accept. He barely remembered old Brendan MacDuff, the man whose estate Evan had inherited. He was eternally grateful he did not inherit the old man’s daughter, Bridget MacDuff, who was a firebrand with quite a reputation among the clans.

Tales of her escapades, strong will, and stubborn ways had kept many a man from claiming her as his bride. Old MacDuff had certainly tried but failed. The last Evan heard, some poor English chap had ended up leg-shackled to her. ’Twas the only time in his life he’d felt sympathy for a Sassenach.

However, through some intricate web of family ties, Evan was the next male member of the MacDuff family. The lands and castle had come to him, whether he wanted them or not.

He did not.

But now that this lass stood here, her sweet little chin in the air, claiming the castle, something inside him rebelled. Whether he wanted the place or not, it was his—by inheritance and law—and she could not sweep in and claim ownership.

Mistress Katie Stirling was a bonnie wee thing. Light-auburn hair with curls falling over her shoulders from a topknot that had begun to unravel. Light freckles dotted her nose, right above the sweetest lips he’d encountered in a long time.

She had no problem filling out the frock she wore, even though it looked as though she hadn’t changed it in a sennight. But then, if she’d been traveling over these rough roads in the sorry-looking cart that had the cracked wheel, he’d give her credit for still standing on her feet.

“And why is it, lass, that ye think ye own MacDuff castle?” He caught the rope Alasdair tossed him from his horse and set to work fixing the cart wheel.

She bent over, watching him. “Because it belongs to my family.”

Another clump of her hair fell, this time right into his eyes. Despite her sorry state from traveling, the flowery smell from her hair teased his nose. Almost distracting him from the wheel. He shoved the lock away. “Dinnae ye just say yer name was Mistress Katie Stirling from Stirlingshire?” He grunted as he tied the rope around the wheel.

She nodded. More hair fell. “Aye.”

Evan wrapped the rope twice more around the wheel as he pondered the situation. “We are speaking of the MacDuff castle, aye?” The wheel and the entire cart were in such a sorry state, they would be lucky if they even made it to the castle.

“That is correct.”

Giving the rope one more tug to be sure it was tight enough to hold together, he bolted from the ground and loomed over her. The smart lass moved back several steps, licking her lips as she looked up at him. The top of her head hardly reached his chin. “What proof do ye have that yer family owns the MacDuff castle?”

The lass fumbled in the pocket of her worn dress and pulled out a piece of paper that looked as though it had been a new document shortly after the Great Flood. She carefully unfolded it and held it out to him. “This.”

He studied her as he took it from her hand, then looked at a faded-brown document with barely visible writing on it. “What’s this?”

She gestured toward the paper with her head. “Proof.”

“Of what?” He studied the paper, finding it hard to believe this was what had made the lass and her companions make the trip from Stirlingshire to Fife. ’Twas quite a distance with the hard winter weather upon them in a few fortnights. A foolish decision at best.

She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. A bold lass, to be sure. “That I own the MacDuff lands and castle.”

He ran his palm down his face. “Lass, the writing on this is so faded, it can’t be read. This proves nothing.”

She leaned forward, her face flushed. “My mum was Aileen MacDuff Stirling.” She nodded her head as if that confirmed her claim. More hair fell to her shoulders. He had the urge to grasp the locks, rub the soft silky strands between his fingers, and sniff.

What the devil was wrong with him? They had a serious matter to discuss. He cleared his throat and returned to the matter at hand. “And?”

“And what?”

Evan was amazed that she looked genuinely surprised at his questions. “What does that have to do with this paper and yer claim to own the MacDuff castle?” He dinnae ken whether to laugh or merely dismiss the lass and be on his way.

She was not giving up, however. “Years ago, the MacDuff clan should have passed down the title of Laird to one of my female ancestors. Instead, they bypassed her in favor of a male cousin.”

Evan shrugged. “That happens.”

Mistress Stirling shook her head vigorously. “No. Scotland allows for a woman to inherit if there is no direct male progeny.”

Ah, ’twas time for a history lesson. No wonder the lass was confused. “Not always. Some titles were created to only pass down to males. This might be one of them.”

She waved her finger at the document. “This is not one of them. And if that was so, ye would not be standing here now since ye said yer name is MacNeil, not MacDuff.”

He tried very hard to hide his smile at her insistence. She was so wee, and he was so large, yet she stood up to him like a warrior, gaining his admiration. She reminded him of one of the kittens from the barn, hissing at the dogs. “How do ye know this paper proves anything?”

She pointed to the paper. “Because it says so right there.”

Evan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “’Tis not possible to read what’s on the paper, lass.”

“I was told from the time I was a bairn that the MacDuff lands belonged to my mum—that they should have been passed down to her. The reason it dinnae was because a cousin a few generations back stole it.”

“Evan.”

He turned as Alasdair called to him. “Can we not all travel to the castle and speak about this there? It looks to me like a storm is building.” Alasdair pointed to the gathering clouds. “We’re about to be drenched.”

“Aye.” Evan pointed to the cart. “Get yer cart moving, and we will settle this at the castle.” With that, he turned on his heel, grabbed his horse’s saddle, and swung himself up on his horse. “I suggest you dinnae try to ride in that cart.”

“Evan, ye can’t ask the lasses to walk to the castle.”

Why the bloody hell was Alasdair so worried about these usurpers? The blasted woman claimed to own land that wasn’t hers, and now he was stuck with them all arriving at the castle at the same time.

“They can ride with their mon.” He waved at the two lackwits who’d been sitting on their horses as Evan had fixed their cart.

“We cannot ride with Angus and Colum. Their horses are already overburdened with my brother and the supplies that dinnae fit in the cart.” Mistress Stirling glared at him. “Meggie and I shall walk.”

“Oh, miss!” the young girl whom Evan had not even noticed until that very moment wailed.

“’Tis no trouble, Meggie. We can do it.” The snappish lass pulled her shawl tighter against her and began the trek to the castle.

Alasdair glared at Evan. “We cannot let the lasses walk while four men ride on horses! Mum would be disgraced.”

Evan growled and trotted his horse next to Mistress Stirling, scooped her up from the ground, and placed her, none too gently, on his lap.

“What do ye think yer doing, ye big oaf?” She elbowed him in his middle, catching him by surprise.

“My brother seems to think my mum will curse me for all eternity if I let ye walk to the castle.”

With a loud chuckle, Alasdair rode toward the one Mistress Stirling had called Meggie, and scooped her up as well. That woman did not protest, and in fact, batted her eyelashes at his brother, which brought a shout of laughter from Evan. “Serves ye right,” he bellowed as he kicked the sides of his horse and headed to the castle.

They’d barely gone about a quarter mile when Evan groused, “Quit moving around, or ye’ll end up tossing yerself to the ground.” He placed his hand on the lass’s shoulder to still her. Her lovely bottom was pressed up against his cock, and if she kept moving like she’d done since they left the others behind, it would be impossible for him to walk from the horse with any dignity.

“I’m not comfortable.” She tried to move, but he clamped his hand on her shoulder again.

“No matter. We will be at the castle—my castle—in a matter of minutes.”

The castle was a mere mile or so away when the skies opened up and rain poured down on them in torrents. No mild rainfall, but a deluge. Since they were so close, there was no reason for him to untie his tartan and cover them with it. They would just have to brave it out.

With the rain coming right at them, Mistress Stirling turned her face and rested her forehead against his chest. ’Twas better than her shifting around, but now the lovely scent of her hair was right below his nose.

They reached the stables, and Evan rode directly into the structure. An older man stepped out from behind one of the stalls. “Good day to ye, sir. Are ye Laird MacNeil?”

“Aye. I take it you received my message?”

The man bowed. “Yes. We were finally happy to hear from the new owner. I believe Mrs. Brody has the castle ready for ye and yer brother.” Douglas MacDuff had been the stable master for years at the MacDuff estate, Evan had been told by Mr. Manning, the old MacDuff’s solicitor. Manning had passed along that information, along with the copy of the will. He noted that a few of the servants had remained with the castle after Bridget MacDuff had departed.

Mrs. Brody had continued on as housekeeper, MacDuff the stable master, and two or three chambermaids, as well as the cook, had stayed. At least it would be comfortable for them in what he hoped would be a short visit. His plan had been to survey the land, castle, tenants, and holdings, solve any outstanding issues, then hire a competent land steward and leave the running of the place to him, with monthly reports.

With the Clearances wreaking havoc on the Highlands, many clans had not survived. Clansmen were leaving Scotland and relocating to Canada, the United States, and Australia. After the devastating defeat at Culloden, a couple of generations had struggled, but the MacNeil clan had survived.

Evan’s father and grandfather had managed to keep his clan together. Some of the land was now used for sheep farming, but there were still plenty of crofters and farmers who tended to the land and worked their craft.

With winter arriving in several weeks, it had been his intention to get the matter settled at MacDuff castle and be home to Argyll before it was too late to travel the roads. He had no intention of spending the winter in Fife. His clan needed him at home.

Evan thanked the stable master and turned his horse over to the man. He strode to the front of the castle with the annoying lass nipping at his heels like a puppy. “’Tis verra large, is it not?”

“Aye. Verra large.” He had to dodge her footsteps.

“My people will be happy here.” The lass was having a hard time catching her breath, trying to keep up with him.

He came to an abrupt stop. “Yer people?”

“Yes. My clan.”

He snorted and continued on. “Ye call the five of ye yer clan?”

“No. The five of us came first to ready the place. I had a report from the men I sent here last month, but I wanted time to prepare. I told the rest of them to leave about a sennight after we did.”

He came to another abrupt stop, and she slammed into his back. “The rest of them?”

“Aye. My wee brother Gavin’s nanny, my household servants, and whichever tenants wanted to join us. With that many traveling, they should arrive in about a fortnight.”