His past experiences with lasses had not boded well. Betrothed to Isla MacNeil since he was a lad of ten years—and she still in the nursery—should have made marriage and the requisite producing of heirs an easy matter. However, Isla had decided when she was no more than fifteen years that she wanted to marry the local blacksmith’s boy, and when her parents attempted to thwart her, she ran off, never to be seen or heard from again.
A year later, he’d courted Sophia MacNeil, a woman closer to his own age. His signature had barely dried on the marriage contracts when she’d been thrown from her horse and broke her neck. She’d been a strong-willed lass and had refused to obey his wishes not to ride the racehorses bred in her father’s stables.
The following year, against his better judgement, he’d accepted an offer from Laird MacAdams to wed his eldest daughter. Lorna, the daughter in question, had refused the betrothal unless Evan took her name, since she was to inherit her clan upon the MacAdams’s death. He still shook his head at that one.
His recent thoughts about marriage had been to let Alasdair do it so his brother could produce the necessary heir.
Could he dare once more to secure a wife? Was it something he really wanted to do? Needed to do? There were plenty of lasses willing to warm his bed, but of late something had been missing. He knew that would not be the case with Mistress Katie Stirling. The eagerness he felt in her, despite it being of an innocent nature, told him there was a lot of passion in the spirited lass.
’Twas not something he wanted to dwell on. He needed her here, working for him, not traipsing off to Argyll with him. Besides which, he was still confident the lass was hiding something. For as clever as she was, she was not telling the real reason she’d brought her entire clan to Fife.
Before he dwelled any further on the lass and what a joining with her would mean, he intended to find out her secret.
Evan, Katie, and Alasdair were at breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning when Gavin, practically being dragged by Meggie, entered the room. Once they’d reached the castle a few days before, Gavin had taken one look at Evan and had hidden behind Meggie’s skirts. He had never joined them for meals again, and with all the other bairns running around the place, Evan had even forgotten about the lad.
“Gavin!” Katie’s shout of joy reached their ears. “I’m so glad ye have decided to join us.” Her chatter continued as she took his hand from Meggie and walked the young boy toward the table. He was a fine-looking lad, with the features of his sister but more masculine in nature.
He settled next to his sister, his eyes downcast.
“There’s yer brother!” Alasdair said as Katie added food to the lad’s plate. “I remember him from when we first arrived, but I haven’t seen him since. Where have ye been hiding yerself, lad?”
Gavin looked up at his sister, and she said, “Gavin, ye remember Laird MacNeil and his brother, Mr. Alasdair MacNeil.”
The boy ducked his head, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. He was of a slight build and no doubt would fill out as he grew, but now he looked as though a strong wind would knock him over.
“’Tis a pleasure to see ye, finally.” Alasdair stuck his hand out to the lad.
Gavin looked up at Katie, who nodded at her brother. “Go on, Gavin, take Mr. MacNeil’s hand.”
The boy gingerly reached out and took Alasdair’s hand but quickly pulled it back.
Evan and Alasdair exchanged glances. The boy apparently had had no guidance from a mon who would never have allowed such meekness. The lad’s father had fallen down on this job as well as managing the lands.
Evan placed his finger under the lad’s chin and raised his head so he could see into his eyes. “Gavin, ye need to learn to meet new people.”
Katie pulled the boy back. “’Tis all right. He will be fine. Just give him a little time.”
Once again Evan turned to his brother. Being raised by his sister had not given Gavin the toughness he needed as a mon. True, he was only ten years, but by the time Evan had reached that age, he could hold his own with his broadsword, hunt and kill wild game for the dinner table, and take on lads twice his size in a tussle.
His da had demanded it of him and Alasdair. No namby-pamby under my roof, he would bellow. Yer a Scot, not a Sassanach. And dinnae ever forget it.
The steeliness in the lad’s sister’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. Katie was the strong one, and had protected the lad from life. Even though Evan didn’t intend to be in Fife much longer, while he was here, mayhaps he could teach the lad a thing or two.
Evan rose and regarded Katie. “We must be off, lass. There are many places to visit today and many tenants to speak with.”
She looked distressed. “Since Gavin has finally joined us for a meal, cannot I stay while he eats his breakfast?”
Evan rose to his full height and glared at her. “Nay. Ye are coming with me.” God’s toes, was this how she raised the lad? Did she feed him by her hand, also? With the way she treated him, it was like the lad was still in leading strings.
“The lad will be fine.” Evan turned and walked from the room, expecting Katie to be right behind him. Instead, he turned and there she was on her knees in front of the boy, hugging him.
Evan growled and bellowed. “God’s toes! On yer feet, Mistress. ’Tis time to say goodbye and leave the lad.” With those words
