Page 13 of Highland Renegade
“Doona be blamin’ our brothers,” Devon said. “I’ve eyes in my head. Trunks and personal effects from five wagons being carried into the castle and then seeing three—three—Sassenachs supervising the unloading made me a wee bit curious.”
So that’s how Emily and her sisters had spent the day. He supposed he’d find out soon enough what rooms they had decided to claim with their belongings. But one calamity at a time.
“Curious? Ye were bellowing like a mad bull out in the bailey.”
“Curiosity turned to anger when I learned the truth.” Devon adjusted his stance. “We need to fight this, nae let those women move in.”
Ian sighed. Devon was itching for a fight, and it would take all four of them to hold him down if he lost control now. He’d become violent after their father had married an Englishwoman, but he’d been a lad of twelve then and easy to subdue. He hadn’t had a violent outburst in years, but this could certainly kindle the embers of the fire that stayed inside him.
“Carr had our solicitor check the deed. ’Tis legitimate.”
“The damn king has nae right!” Devon leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk. “Old King George promised our grandfather he would only leasehold these lands—MacGregorlands—in return for our nae backing Bonnie Prince Charlie.”
“’Twas George II who made that promise, nae his grandson.”
“A mhic an Diabhail!” Devon straightened and began to pace. “That son of the devil should return to hell for nae honoring his grandfather’s oath.”
“Ye expect the English to understand honor?” Rory asked.
“Nae.” Devon paused to look at him, then turned back to Ian. “Those women are going to be nothing but trouble.”
“Ye have the right of that,” Rory said. “The redheaded one has a tongue like a viper.”
Alasdair chuckled in spite of the tension in the room. “Ye say that because she didna succumb to yer charms.”
Rory snorted. “I didna eventryto charm the hellion.”
“Be that as it may,” Ian intervened before another argument ensued. “Now that our clansmen have heard the news, we must find a way to calm them.”
“Calm them?” Devon asked, eyes blazing again. “If the Sassenachs were men, we’d send one of their heads back to London on a pike.”
“Which would guarantee that the MacGregor name will never be cleared,” Ian answered.
Devon glowered. “The old earl never stuck his nose in our business. Why did his widow decide to venture up here?”
“’Tis a good question.” Ian was still trying to make sense of it himself. Aside from the rarity of a woman being able to own land in her own right, why would someone bred for the parlor rooms of Society want to come to Scotland? Londoners thought they were barbarians.
“We are hoping they willna want to stay,” Carr said.
Devon narrowed his eyes. “They were moving their belongings in!”
“There will be nae lack of help to get them packed back up again.”
“And how do ye propose to get them to agree?”
“The plan is to show the countess what a good steward I can be,” Ian said. “Once she’s assured of money continuing to come in, there will be nae reason for her nae to return to London and leave us in peace.”
This time Rory spoke. “And we also plan to let them find out just how harsh life can be here.”
“By letting them move into the new part of the castle?” Devon gave him a skeptical look and crossed his arms again.
“That was Ian’s idea.”
Ian shrugged. “I figured they would be more cooperative if they had better accommodations.”
“Oh, aye,” Devon said. “And have our clanswomen act as their servants, too.”
Ian ignored the sarcastic tone. “I will make clear that the people who work in our castle are treated as equals. And we can make sure they ken Scots are independent and fend for themselves.”
