“I’ll tie the rope several times around the wheel to keep it from falling apart. If ye travel slowly, it will get ye to the next village. ’Tis only about a mile past the castle. There ye can get a replacement and soon be on yer way.”
Katie sighed with relief. “Oh, that’s wonderful because we’re only going as far as the castle.”
Evan rested one knee on the soft ground, shifted to place his wrist on his bent knee, and looked at her. “The MacDuff castle?”
“Aye.”
He glanced up at his companion, who shrugged. “And what business do ye have there?”
Although ’twas no concern of his, she decided to continue with her amicable mood to get the wagon wheel fixed and this blasted journey over with. “’Tis mine. I am the owner.”
Evan frowned. “What is yours?”
She sighed. “The castle.”
He raised his brows. “The MacDuff castle?”
Bloody hell, the man was as dense as a forest. She hated cursing, even to herself, but this conversation was becoming tiresome. “Aye. The MacDuff castle.”
Evan looked over at the other man again, who leaned forward on his horse, a puzzled expression on his face. “Who are ye, lass, that you say the MacDuff castle is yers?”
A sense of uneasiness trickled through her. She had been certain the MacDuff castle had been abandoned. She’d sent a few of her people to investigate after she’d heard the last MacDuff had died, and his daughter had left the country to marry an English nobleman.
They had reported back to her that the place was empty except for a few servants, and when he’d spoken with them, they hadn’t received any word on who the new owner was. With her proof of ownership—she was determined that it was proof—she’d decided to move her household and what was left of her clan to Fife.
Surely no one would have inherited the place. MacDuff was not known for his hospitality, and as far as she knew, there was no family, except his daughter.
Her own home had been crumbling around her ears for years, with her father taking no interest in the place since her mother had died, and the Clearances making it hard to grow enough food to feed a family on land that was slowly being taken over for sheep farming.
Despite the fluttering in her stomach, she drew herself up. “I am Mistress Katie Stirling of Stirlingshire.”
He continued to study her. “And ye claim to own MacDuff castle?”
Her unease grew, but she forged ahead. “Aye. I dinnae ken how many times I need to say it to ye. Are ye daft?”
Evan’s eyes narrowed. “Nay, mistress. Not daft, just confused.”
Katie’s mouth dried up, and her breathing increased. “Confused how?” The words barely made it past her lips.
“Confused, lass, because I am the owner of MacDuff castle.”
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.