Page 1 of Highland Renegade
Chapter One
Scotland, July 1774
“I do not understand why you are taking us into barbarian country,” Juliana Caldwell complained as their carriage hit a rut in the road and rocked precariously.
“We could very well get killed,” her sister Lorelei agreed, grabbing a side strap to keep from slipping off the seat.
Emily, Countess Woodhaven, shook her head at her younger siblings. “Scots do not go around murdering innocent women.”
“No?” Lorelei sniffed. “I heard they are lawless cattle thieves.”
“And I heard they steal women and force them to marry,” Juliana added.
Emily put her fingers to her temple and rubbed, hoping to forestay a headache that was already forming. They had been on the road from London for six days and her sisters’ admonishments had grown more stark with each passing day. At first, they had been upset about leaving London and not retreating to a country estate—not that they had a country estate any longer—but as they’d traveled north, their agitation had grown more dire. Yesterday, they had passed over the border at Gretna Green and the landscape had become rockier as they traveled toward Stirling. Looking out the windows at the increasingly barren terrain had sparked another deluge of anticipated horrors. She certainly wasn’t going to admit that she also felt a bit of trepidation.
“Would you rather have been taken into the convent?” she asked.
That quieted both of them, and she felt a bit guilty over using the threat. But it was true. They had no other place to go. Albert Prescott, the Earl of Woodhaven—her recently deceased husband—had had a penchant for gambling and opium that had left her with a mountain of debt after his death. Creditors had circled like sharks scenting blood—not to mention a mistress the old lecher had apparently had for years—all wanting money. She’d sold the house in Mayfair to pay off the debts, but not the mistress. The country estate was entailed, and a cousin who had claimed the title didn’t feel charitable about housing a widow and two young, attractive women. Or maybe it had been his wife, the new countess, who didn’t. Either way, they no longer had a home.
“We are sorry,” Lorelei said, her voice subdued. “You are doing what you think best for us.”
Juliana nodded. “We wouldtrulydie if we had to live in a convent.”
“Or take the veil.” Lorelei shuddered.
Emily had to smile at the idea of either of them retreating into silence and prayer. At seventeen, Lorelei was vivacious and a natural flirt. Juliana, a year older, was willful and opinionated. “I doubt the nuns would even consider such a thing.”
Lorelei’s expression grew wistful. “We just wanted a Season like our friends.”
Juliana gave her a sharp look. “I told you not to bring that up.”
“It’s all right,” Emily said. “If things go the way I hope they will, you can both return to London for next year’s Season.”
While Lorelei’s face brightened, Juliana shook her head. “I do not care if I have a Season or not. What is the point? To marry someone who will try to control me? I will not be forced into that.”
Like I had been.
“You should not bring up Em’s marriage, either,” Lorelei said accusingly.
“It is all right,” Emily said again. “It does not matter now.”
Initially, she’d had no choice. When their parents had been killed in a carriage accident five years ago, her father, Baron Caldwell, had very little in his bank account. Ever the hopeful entrepreneur, he’d sold his land to invest in new inventions, always telling them that the latest one was sure to be a success and they would soon have money to burn. When the Earl of Woodhaven—forty years her senior—had come calling afterward, with his proposal of marriage as well as the offer to take in her sisters, she hadn’t seen how she could refuse. She’d been only ten and nine with no idea of the man’s rotten soul.
But that was in the past. Through some miracle—or perhaps because King George had a passion for science himself and had met her father several times—he’d seen fit to petition Parliament for a special dispensation awarding her the land title to forfeited holdings in Scotland that had belonged to the outlawed Clan MacGregor. She had decided, like Juliana, that no man was ever going to control her again. She was determined to handle the land operation herself.
She had been advised that some MacGregors still occupied the land, courtesy fornothaving fought at the Battle of Prestonpans nearly thirty years ago. She suspected King George also allowed them to stay partially because his mother’s confidant was Lord Bute, a Scotsman whose estates were near Glen Strae.
However, she had also been told after receiving the land deed that she was within her rights to have the clan vacate the land. From the records she’d seen, the holdings didn’t seem to be doing well. The profit wasn’t much, but Emily was determined that would change. Since she would need someone’s help in learning everything about successfully managing the land, she’d decided she would simply explain that she intended to be accommodating and allow the clan to stay. The situation would be beneficial to all of them.
Emily smiled at her sisters and leaned back against the squab. “Everything is going to be fine. You will see.”
…
Ian MacGregor watched incredulously from the battlements of Strae Castle as a carriage followed by three…no, four…wait…fivewagons made their way up the perilously steep, winding road that led to his home. The carriage must belong to the Countess of Woodhaven, but by the devil’s own horns! How long did the old dowager plan to stay?
He knew his lands—MacGregorlands—had been annexed by the Crown and sequentially leased to an earl years ago, simply because his father had refused to change his surname. He had refused to do the same when his father died. MacGregors were the purest branch of Gaels in Scotland, descended directly from Albiones! Their motto wasn’tMy Race is Royalfor nothing. That their name, and the clan itself, was still considered banished by the English government made no sense. The grievances that had impelled Queen Mary to issue the edict were long past. Hopefully, Lord Mount Stuart would be able to persuade the present monarch to restore their rightful name and place in history. And soon. Ian wanted to start the process of gaining back the legal right to his lands.MacGregorlands.
Meanwhile, there was this… He squinted at the caravan plodding its way closer. He’d received notice a fortnight ago from the local magistrate that the widow of the Earl of Woodhaven had decided to visit. The earl had been in his mid-sixties and Ian had no idea why his wife, who had to be close in age, would make the trip all the way from London. He’d been careful in the reports he had to make to the earl’s estate to undervalue both the crops and livestock so the Englishman wouldn’t come snooping up here.
