“Ye dinnae own MacDuff, lass.” Alasdair’s words cut her, even though they were spoken softly. She hadn’t given up on owning it but didn’t want to incur the MacNeil’s displeasure and be tossed out before he left. She’d have nowhere to go then, since her own home had been bad enough when she’d left, but after her absence it would have only gotten worse.
She raised her chin, still determined to see it through. “I am not so sure ye are correct. I will write to the local magistrate to see how I can go about claiming it.”
Alasdair shrugged. “Whatever ye feel ye need to do. But thwarting my brother will not put you in his good graces, and right now it appears ye need to be there.”
Of course he was right. If the MacNeil grew angry with her, out the door she would go. ’Twas probably best to keep her plans to herself. She finished her breakfast and joined the laird in the library.
“I have a list of the tenants here.” He waved a piece of paper around. “I want ye to cross off each one as we visit it. I hope to have this finished in a matter of days.”
“Aye.” She took the paper from his hand, and a pencil, which Katie had heard of but had never seen before. She’d found it in the old laird’s desk when she’d been rummaging in there for writing supplies.
The laird rounded the desk and led her to the entrance hall. Again she had to practically run to keep up with him. This would not do. “Laird, may I ask ye to slow down a bit? My legs are not as long as yers.”
He came to an abrupt halt, and she plowed into his back. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
He shook his head and continued on, but this time at a slower pace. “When we visit these cottages, I want ye to talk with the mistress and find out her thoughts about the clan, her cottage, and their future. If the wife wants to abandon the land and move, chances are the husband will go along with her. Wives can be quite demanding.”
“Is that so?” She allowed him to help her onto a horse, one of two that stood at the ready in front of the stables.
“Aye.” With no further explanation for his words, MacNeil swung his leg over the other horse’s back and gripped the reins. Turning to her, he said, “Are ye ready?”
She nodded and followed him as he trotted out the gates. After they’d ridden over the keep grounds, they cantered up a small hill.
The village of MacDuff lay before them. She could see the sparkling water of Banff Bay, which faced the village of Banff across the estuary of the River Deveron. ’Twas an idyllic scene, with the green grass against the blue sky and deeper-blue water.
The MacNeil brought his horse to a halt and gazed out over the land. “’Tis a sight to see, aye, lass?” His softly spoken words, combined with the view before them, sent chills up and down her body.
“Aye. ’Tis beautiful. I can see why the MacDuffs worked so hard to keep their clan together.” She smiled at the sight before her. “I loved Stirlingshire, and the views to be had there also. There are hills and lochs, of course, and if one stood at Ben Lomond and looked north across Loch Lomond, ’tis a lovely sight.” She turned to him. “’Twas one of my favorite places to just sit and be at peace. I think Scotland is truly the work of God.”
“I agree, lass. ’Tis nowhere else I want to live.” The softness in his face moved her. He could be quite nice when he wasn’t glowering at her.
“I always thought so myself. That’s why the Sassenachs and their Clearances have angered me so much. ’Twas not all the men killed at Culloden and the bloodshed enough to satisfy them?” She didn’t realize how her voice had risen until she noticed the MacNeil looking at her with raised brows.
“Sorry, my laird, but I feel quite passionate about it.”
“So it appears. I cannot fault ye, lass, since I feel the same way. ’Tis no other way to feel if ye have any Scottish blood in yer veins.” MacNeil kicked his horse’s sides, and they took off once again.
They stopped in front of the first cottage. MacNeil nodded to the paper in her hand. “’Tis Jamie MacDuff’s house. The ledgers from the old laird’s library note that besides Mr. MacDuff, there is a Mrs. MacDuff and three wee ones. Mr. MacDuff works the land and also does woodworking on the side.”
Katie had to admit she was quite impressed with Laird Evan MacNeil. ’Twas no wonder his own clan had survived the hard times and had prospered. His confidence in hiring her to oversee the estate flattered her even more. Hopefully, she would not let him down.
“Guid mornin’, my laird,” Mr. MacDuff greeted them as they walked up the pathway to the tidy white-washed house.
“Guid mornin’ to ye and yer family as well.” MacNeil held out his hand. “I am Laird Evan MacNeil of Argyll. I am the new owner of the MacDuff estate and am verra glad to make yer acquaintance.”
He turned to Katie. “This is Mistress Stirling. She will be acting as land steward in my absence.”
Mr. MacDuff looked startled at the two of them. “Ye will not be staying, then, laird?”
“Nay. I must see to my own clan. I will be leaving in a few weeks, with Mistress Stirling in charge.”
Mr. MacDuff scratched his head. “She’s a woman.”
“Aye.” There didn’t seem to be much more for the MacNeil to say, since that fact was an obvious one.
The man shook his head and pulled forward a woman who stood behind him. “This is my wife, Leanna.”
The woman appeared not much older than Katie but had the worn look of someone who dealt
