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.

A thorn in his side, to be sure. But mayhaps she could also be a solution to his problem with the castle. As he’d noted to his brother, she certainly seemed clever enough. The only problem was he would have to remain here until the rest of her clan arrived. Although she seemed to be somewhat competent, she’d still made a foolish decision to uproot everyone and bring them to a place for which she had an elusive claim.

Before he could return to Argyll, he would need to see all the new arrivals settled. ’Twas his responsibility to make sure everyone was settled before he left. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too far in the future, or he would be stuck here all winter.

With Mistress Stirling.

Later, when he went down, wonderful smells again emanated from the Great Hall. Looking better than the last time he’d seen her, Mistress Stirling wore a fresh gown and had obviously enjoyed a much-needed bath. Her hair had been pulled up into some sort of knot at the top of her head, but ringlets were already escaping around her face and forehead.

She was a bonny lass, no doubt about that. Why she remained unmarried was a question that plagued him. Most young lasses would have had their da set up an arrangement for them long before they reached the age Mistress Stirling appeared to be. He thought she might be about five and twenty years.

She had that younger brother, so perhaps she’d been involved in raising him. In fact, Evan knew very little about the lass except for the nebulous document she’d waved at him to show proof of her ownership. Why had she left her home, for starters, and why did she have no spouse looking after her and her brother? All questions to which he needed answers.

The lass chatted easily with Alasdair, waving her fork around as she spoke. The maid was nowhere in sight, nor were the two men or her little brother.

“Good morning, lad, Mistress Sterling, brother.” Evan nodded in their direction before taking a seat at the long table. He reached for the platter of eggs, ham, and sausage. He then loaded his plate with tatties, scones, buttered toast, and baked beans.

“Not hungry this morning, Evan?” Alasdair grinned at him over his tea cup.

“Aye. Always hungry, brother.” He nodded at Alasdair’s empty plate. “It looks as though ye had yer own fill of breakfast.” He smiled his thanks at the young lass who poured coffee into the cup in front of him. As much as he liked his tea, coffee was his choice of brew in the morning.

Mistress Stirling viewed their exchange as she continued to eat. He noticed her plate had almost as much food on it as his. He liked a lass who enjoyed her food. It generally meant she enjoyed other pleasures as well. Ach! I’d better get my mind far away from that idea.

“When yer finished with yer breakfast, Mistress, I would like a word with ye.”

Both Alasdair and Katie stopped eating and turned to him.

“Evan, can I speak with ye first?” Apparently concerned that over the night Evan had decided to force the Stirlings to move out, Alasdair watched him under furrowed brows.

“No need, brother. My mind is made up.”

Mistress Stirling’s face paled, and Evan should have sympathized with her concern, but she was in this difficulty because of her own actions. Let her stew a bit before he presented his plan to her. She could stay, but under his command. She would do everything a land steward would do, plus take care of the castle. She would report to him, and there would be no more talk of her owning MacDuff lands and castle.

Apparently more disturbed than Evan realized, Katie put her fork down alongside her plate. “I am ready whenever you are, Laird.”

“Nay.” He waved his fork at her. “Finish yer breakfast. I dinnae believe ye will be too unhappy with my decision.”

Color returned to her face, but her appetite seemed to dwindle. Alasdair continued to sip on his coffee but cast glances every so often at his brother. Finally, Evan put his fork down, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood. “Have ye been to the library yet, lass?”

“Aye. I spent some time there last night.”

Evan nodded. “Good. We can meet there.” He turned and strode from the table. He entered the corridor and passed through the doorway to the library. Katie was right behind him and stood with her arms across her chest. Apparently, she was not anticipating good news.

Evan waved to the settee alongside the south wall. “Please, have a seat. This won’t take long.”

She settled on the chair and smoothed her frock out. “I am not leaving.”

Even rested his arm on the fireplace mantel. “Are ye putting words in my mouth now, lass?”

“No. I just ken what ye are about to say, and I want ye to ken my mind is also made up, and I am not leaving.”

“Suppose ye let me say my piece before ye start telling me what ye will and will not do. Ye might be pleased to ken that I am not putting you and yer clan members back on the road.”

Katie’s eyes grew wide. “So ye had a change of heart? Ye admit that MacDuff belongs to me?”

Evan raised his hand. “I dinnae say that. I said I won’t be putting you on the road back home. However, there is no question now, nor will there ever be, about who owns the MacDuff castle, lands, and everything associated with it. ’Twas passed to me by virtue of primogeniture and reinforced in the old Laird MacDuff’s will. I am the laird of the MacDuff clan and will always remain the owner.”

Katie frowned. “I disagree, but where do I fit in with this plan of yers?”

Evan pushed away from the mantel, his hands behind his back. “It has come to my attention that a land steward—whom I was planning on leaving in charge here when I returned to Argyll—will not be sufficient to see to everything, especially the castle itself.”

She tilted her head to one side. “What does that mean?”

“It means I would like to hire you to oversee the castle.”