Chapter Three

Laird Evan MacNeil’s expression was more surprise than anger, for which Katie was grateful. Perhaps if he could remain calm, she could explain her situation to him and convince him that MacDuff castle belonged to her through her mum’s family, and MacNeil and his brother would return to their home in Argyll and leave them in peace.

And perhaps pigs might fly.

She sighed at the problem Evan presented, considering ’twas something for which she had not been prepared. The most important reason she’d made this move would remain her secret. There was no cause to involve this stranger in her troubles. She’d done what she needed to do and was bringing everyone here. And here is where they would all stay.

They strode up to the house, Katie having a devil of a time keeping up with his pace. The man’s legs were so long, it was hard to breathe and walk at the same time. She studied him as much as she could, his wild curly hair blowing in the breeze. His determined step was matched by the look on his face. She was certain he was not used to being thwarted.

The ground was rocky, and a few times she stumbled, but being a gentleman, apparently, he grabbed her arm and kept her from falling to the ground. Of course, had he been a real gentleman, he would not be forcing her to race him to the front door.

“Lass, you cannot just up and leave yer ancestral home and march across the Lowlands and take up another home. ’Tis not the way it is done.” He glanced at her sideways as he continued his march.

“Nay. Not now, mayhaps.” Pant, pant. “But ’twasn’t too many years ago that keeps were often attacked and taken over.” Pant, pant. “Consider this a peaceful siege—a surrender. On yer part, that is.” Her words barely made it out of her mouth, so out of breath she was.

Thank goodness he came to a stop right after they passed through the dilapidated iron gates surrounding the castle.

“Aye. A peaceful surrender for you.” He placed his hands on his hips.

“Nay, for you.” She mimicked his stance, although compared to his size, ’twas almost comical. In fact, so comical that he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Then he grew serious and placed his large hands on her shoulders. The warmth from his hands and the closeness of him, with the woodsy scent of leather and man, drifted between them and teased her nose. Her heart once again sped up. She did not wish to be attracted to this man. He was her adversary, and she would fight him for this land as much as their ancestors had fought for their lands. Maybe not with crossbows and boiling oil over the ramparts, but nevertheless, this was war.

“Lass, the place does not belong to ye. ’Twas a possession of Laird Brendan MacDuff, who stated in his will that the property goes to the next male in line, which is Laird Evan MacNeil.” He poked his chest with his thumb. “Me.”

“But ye are not a MacDuff.” She hoped her voice did not sound pathetic. She must show strength and determination so this man did not run all over her. She could not return to her home.

’Twas impossible.

“Neither are ye a MacDuff.” His smirk annoyed her more than his rough words thus far. He was treating her like a bairn who had lost her way and needed his help to find her house.

“My mum was Aileen MacDuff Stirling.” She fumbled in her pocket and withdrew the paper once again. “And I have proof that the land was stolen from my family many years ago.”

Evan ran his fingers through his hair. “If that is the case, then you should have appealed to the courts, or the magistrate, or whoever deals with such a thing.” He waved his hand around.

“Who would that be?”

“I dinnae ken who deals with land squabbles.” He pointed his finger at her. “Ken this, lass. Ye have no documented claim to this land, castle, or tenants. ’Tis been in the MacDuff clan for centuries. ’Tis always been that way, and ’tis that way now.”

Katie crossed her arms over her chest, spread her feet apart, and glared at him. “Ye are not a MacDuff, and I am a MacDuff. I am not leaving.”

“Ye are not a MacDuff, and ye are not staying.”

“Ach, are you two at it again?” Alasdair sauntered into the keep, with the cart, two horses, and the lass’s traveling companions with him. “Do ye think ye can stop yer squabbling long enough for us to see if there is food to be had in the kitchen? My poor stomach thinks my throat’s been slit.”

Evan pointed at Katie. “’Tis not over.”

Katie swatted his hand away and flounced off, heading to the castle. She passed through the keep, noting how well tended everything seemed to be. No doubt the villagers, crofters, and farmers brought their goods to the keep to sell. ’Twould be a pleasure to see to a castle that was not ready to collapse because most of its tenants had fled their beloved lands.

The minute she passed through the large wooden door to the castle, the aroma of fresh baking bread and some sort of roasting meat greeted her, reminding her how very hungry she was.

“Oh, something smells wonderful.” She hurried down the corridor and came to a halt when she arrived at a sizeable room that must have been the Great Hall. Slowly, she walked into the space. A good portion of the west wall was taken up with a fireplace that was large enough for several men to stand in.

Massive tapestries lined the walls, depicting battles and scenes of the hills and lochs of Scotland. The detail was incredible and even though many years old, they were absolutely beautiful. Her own hands twitched as she imagined how many hours and sore fingers it had taken to create them.

She walked closer and studied the detail.

“’Tis beautiful, is it not?” Evan’s soft, deep voice startled her. She hadn’t realized he’d followed her into the room.

“Aye. I’m thinking of how hard the women must have worked to make these.” She waved her hand around and moved in a circle. ”Months and months, I am sure.”

Evan nodded and moved away from her to examine a tapestry on another wall. Katie followed him and they stood side by side, admiring the work of countless women from years gone by. She had little patience for sewing herself, and only did what she had to do to keep her clothes repaired. Meggie did most of it, but Katie oftentimes had to help her out, since Meggie also did the sewing for the entire household.

“We have some fine tapestries in our castle, as well,” Evan offered. “Many of them were done by my ancestors, hundreds of years ago.”

“How old is the MacNeil clan?” Since they seemed to have settled into a peaceful conversation, ’twas a good time to gather information on her foe. See what she could use against him.

“The clan gets its name from someone named Niall who lived in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. He belonged to the family of Cowaland and Knapdale. They were ancestors of the Lamonts, MacEwens of Otter, and a couple others.”

“You’ve been around for quite some time.” She turned to look at him as he continued to study the tapestry. “It sounds as though that is something you were told to memorize in the nursery.”

“Aye. My da was verra proud of our clan. ’Twas sorrowful after the heavy loss at Culloden, and so many restrictions were placed on us by the English.” Evan shook his head. “They tried so verra hard to crush us. But our clan refused to bow under.”

“Where is that wonderful food I smell?” Rubbing his hands together, Alasdair—followed by Meggie, Gavin, Colum, and Angus—entered the room.

“Aye. I am quite hungry myself.” Katie moved away from the wall. “I shall go to the kitchen and ask for food to be served.”

She expected Evan to follow her there as well, to maintain his ownership in greeting the cook, but Alasdair engaged him in conversation.

With the wonderful smells floating in the air, it did not take much effort to find the kitchen. As she walked into the room, a woman with a very large apron wrapped around her sizeable middle was stirring something over the fire. She turned and offered a bright smile. “Good afternoon, mum. I am Mrs. MacDuff. I am pleased to meet ye. Are ye the new laird’s wife?”

Katie felt the heat rising from her middle to her face. “Nay. I am Mistress Katie Stirling.”

The cook’s bright smile dimmed a bit. “Oh, are ye a guest of Himself?”

How to explain the situation when she wasn’t quite sure herself what it was? After the report back from the men she’d sent to investigate, she’d felt comfortable that no one was going to claim the castle. After all, MacDuff had died more than a year ago. Now with Evan claiming ownership and it not likely that he’d allow her to stay, the situation was indeed awkward. She decided to take the easy road for now.

“Aye. I am a guest of Laird Evan MacNeil.”

The cook put down the spoon she’d been stirring the pot with and turned to her, wiping her hands on her apron. “Lovely. It’s been some time since I’ve had guests to cook for. Tell the laird I will have luncheon on the table in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, by the way, Mrs. MacDuff, there are six of us.” When the woman raised her brows, Katie added, “All guests of Laird MacNeil. Well, except for Alasdair MacNeil, who is his brother.”

The cook nodded. “I will be happy to serve all of you. I will have Brenda set up the table in the Great Hall.”

“Thank you.” Katie turned to leave and ran smack into Evan’s chest. “Oh, for goodness sake, you scared me to death.”

“I thought I would visit with my cook, in my kitchen, to see how luncheon was coming along.” He offered that grin again that made her want to smack the look off his face.

“Good afternoon, my laird. ’Tis such a pleasure to meet ye.” Mrs. MacDuff curtsied and glowed with happiness. “I must tell you how happy we are to have ye with us. I hope ye find everything to yer satisfaction.”

“I am sure we will, Mrs. MacDuff, is it?”

“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.