Taming the Scot by Eliza Knight

1

July 1817

Drum Castle

Captain Euan Irvine of the Royal Regiment of Scotland, and to his knowledge, the newly titled the Baron of Drum and Chief of the Irvine clan, stared in disbelief at the parchment in his hands. It’d been delivered by his grandfather’s solicitor, and the message still caused him to see red.

Betrayal had never tasted so bitter.

He closed his eyes a minute, shutting out the study that had once belonged to his father. Letting the wood-paneled walls, the shelves of books, the windows with their heavy tartan drapes, all of it disappear.

His faithful dog, Owen, let out a low noise that was half-whimper, half-growl. The elderly hound, who was now more a house pet than a hunter, was attuned to his master’s emotions and often checked in on Euan, perhaps still worried he’d disappear again as he had when sent off to France to fight in the Peninsular War.

“This is horse shite,” he growled to the ceiling, willing his grandfather back from the grave to answer for his deceit.

Euan pounded a fist into his desk, and Owen leapt from his cozy spot with more agility than usual and barked as if he agreed.

The desire to ball up the parchment and toss it into the banked fire of his hearth, watching as the tiny embers ignited and burned the anger away was strong. “That bloody bastard.”

A tentative knock sounded on his study door, and the eldest of his six sisters, Maggie, poked her head around. Owen trotted toward her, nudging her hand with his nose. When they’d been younger, Maggie had exhibited some of their mother, Lady Clara’s, looks and as they’d aged, she’d turned into the spitting image of her. Long golden locks that she kept in a plait down her back most of the time, and eyes as blue as his own. There was a faint dusting of freckles over her nose from walks in the sun sans bonnet, much to her former governess’s chagrin. Euan sported the same sprinkle, as did all their siblings.

Maggie’s presence usually calmed him, but knowing what the letter contained, he felt nowhere near calm then.

“What’s happened?” Maggie’s frequently upturned mouth was cast down, and she gazed at him with worry in her eyes.

Euan had restrained himself from tossing the grizzled solicitor from their castle as the man had apologized for being the bearer of such bad news. As they’d marched to the large front entrance, he’d seen his sisters poking their heads out from the upstairs landing. He’d not wanted to shock them with any violence, but also, he was a strict believer in the old adage: no harm to the messenger.

Maggie shut the door and approached his desk with Owen on her heels. Being the closest in age and left to fend for themselves when Euan was only fourteen, he and Maggie had often worked together with the running of the household and lands. They’d endured a nightmare with their Uncle Will, who had overstepped his bounds and tried to steal from the estate, a move that landed him in prison. After that, Euan had declared he was man enough to take on the duties inherited by his father and the care of his six sisters.

“Grandda has left us one more beautiful legacy.” His tone was filled with sarcasm, and Maggie knew it. He was seething, and his teeth were clamped so tightly he was likely to chip a tooth.

Maggie grimaced and let out a groan. Owen let out his own groan, commiserating with them both. Sometimes, Euan swore, that hound was a human.

There was a noise outside the door, and they both focused on it. Euan was certain if he were to look through the keyhole, he’d see the blue of one of his sister’s eyes.

“They are all going to listen in, are they no’?” he asked, knowing the answer.

Maggie grinned. “If they did no’, I’d send for the doctor, for only an ailment would keep them from nosing about where they do no’ belong.”

That fact belonged to the two of them as well. Having to rely so heavily on each other since they were adolescents, there were little, if any, secrets between them.

Maggie marched straight for his desk and sat down on the side of it, lifting the parchment from where he’d slammed it down. She scanned it, her eyes widening as she read. He could pick out each part by the wider her eyes grew. From the grave, their grandfather was stipulating a drastic change to the inheritance of the barony and the lands he’d been promised his entire life. Barons in Scotland were not peerage titles, and not subject to primogeniture as they were in England. Blast his grandfather for taking advantage of that fact. The man had been legally within his rights to decide who inherited his titles and properties.

Until this moment, he’d thought himself the Baron of Drum, the Chief of the entire Irvine clan that spanned holdings across Scotland, for it had been his to inherit when their grandfather passed. But now, the written words of a man already dead were rescinding that.

For now, he retained his position of Laird of Drum, but even that was in jeopardy.

“This has to be false. A forgery of some kind. Made by Uncle Will to get back at us.”

Said Uncle Will—their father’s twin brother—was a criminal, and Euan wouldn’t put it past him to be involved in this scheme, especially given the recipient, should Euan fail, was their cousin, Will’s son Hector. There had always been a lot of animosity between the brothers, a relationship opposite to what Euan had with his six sisters.

Euan let out a growl, matched by his hound, and stomped to the window to stare out at the landscape he’d been gazing at since he was old enough to notice it was there. Owen trotted along beside him, putting his paws up on the windowsill to stare out.

Drum Castle had been Euan’s childhood home, his inheritance. He knew the people of this land as well as he knew his sisters. Since he was fourteen, he’d been their laird. Toiled with them, supported them. And they, likewise, had supported him. He couldn’t imagine not being there for them. But if what his grandfather suggested came to fruition, then Euan would be cast aside.

The lands belonging to the Chief of Clan Irvine had been split between their father and Uncle Will—being born twins. So when their da had passed on unexpectedly, Drum Castle went to Euan, and Bonshaw Tower was to go to their cousin Hector, who was Will’s son. And the vilest of human beings as far as Euan was concerned. He was known to associate with the worst of Edinburgh’s criminal underbelly, which was why Euan chose not to have anything to do with Hector.

But now…

It is here upon my deathbed that I decree with soundness of mind that the title of Chief of Irvine, Baron of Drum and Baron of Bonshaw, and all the lands and properties therein shall go to the grandson who first produces a legitimate heir within the bounds of a loving marriage.

“I am sure Uncle Will had something do with it, but I assure ye that it is no forgery, even if it has all the manner of one.” Euan ran his hands through his hair when he really wanted to drive his fist through the wall. “The solicitor was present and several witnesses, none of which were our immoral uncle.”

Maggie let out a long sigh, saying so much in that one exhale of breath. She set the parchment down and approached Euan at the window, kissing Owen on the head. “Well, we’d best get ye a bride.”

Euan scoffed. This was impossible. “Did ye no’ read the last part? ‘Within the bounds of a loving marriage.’ I’ve no’ been in love a day in my life, and a piece of paper forcing me to do so is no’ going to change that.”

Maggie patted him on the shoulder in the exact manner he’d just watched her pat the dog. “Ye’ve plenty of lasses who love ye.”

“They love my co—” He stopped himself just shy of being vulgar, remembering who he was talking to. “They love my coffers,” he corrected, which was also probably true. He’d a long line of lovers eager to leap into his bed and be gifted with his generous…talents, along with a bauble or two.

Maggie smirked. “I’m certain they do. But ye’re handsome, and ye’re verra charming. Ye used to charm the bread out of the baker’s hand with a smile.”

Euan grinned, remembering that. When they’d been unsure how to keep the estate going, at times they’d had to resort to some trickery to keep their bellies full. Because of their sacrifices, they’d rebuilt the clan from the bottom up, and everyone was thriving.

But marriage had never been an institution he wanted to enter. Heir-producing was best left to the gentleman of society. He had six sisters to care for, and he expected that his lands and title would pass to one of their sons. Besides, if he were busy trying to impregnate his “bride,” how could he go about all of the duties that everyone depended on him for?

Impossible. He couldn’t risk his sisters’ safety and that of the clan to follow through on this maniacal scheme. Then again, if he didn’t, he’d lose everything anyway.

“This is no’ a race I want to enter.” Euan leaned his forehead against the glass, the coolness of it only slightly reassuring.

How the hell was he supposed to get a lass to fall in love with him? That was a jest. Euan was not distinguished, and he was far from proper. He was recognized as a rough-and-tumble warrior, a landlord who would leap into the middle of a mud pit and haul out a wailing outlaw who’d stolen a pig. Often times when the sun went down, he would still brood over the horrors of war and the men he’d lost, even after a few years had passed.

And those years that he’d been forced away to war in France, Maggie had done a fine job taking care of things at home, but he’d made a vow he’d never leave those duties in her hands again. It wasn’t her responsibility, and it wasn’t fair to heap it on her. And this season, he’d promised to find her a husband. It was time she went off on her own and didn’t have to help care for their five younger sisters. She deserved some happiness in her life.

“Euan, I know more than anyone else that ye do no’ want to do this, and I hate to say it, but ye have to.” All the sarcasm and teasing had left Maggie’s face now, and in her eyes was a hint of pleading. “We need ye to.”

The door to his study burst open, and his five other sisters barged in. Amabel, Lillie, Skye, Esme and Raine. All beautiful and all mischievous.

“Ye canna let Hector take this place. What will happen to us?” the youngest, Raine, asked, while tugging on her chocolate-colored locks and blinking her wide blue eyes up at him. She was only thirteen and it would be years until she would begin searching for a husband. If he didn’t do this, her prospects for a happy and fulfilling union would be null.

“Why would ye let that arsehole win?” Skye, always the rebel, asked. She crossed her arms over her chest. The first wrinkles she was likely to gain would be between her brows, which seemed forever furrowed above her blue glower.

“Language,” Maggie drawled out at the same time Lillie tugged on Skye’s long blonde braid.

Euan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Skye was the sister who would join in him his boxing ring for rounds of frustration-alleviating exercise. He always went easy on her, but she never held back any of her punches, and he currently had a bruise the size of her fist on his ribs to prove it.

“But she’s right,” Esme interjected, the voice of reason even at sixteen. “Ye canna let Hector win. That’s all he’s wanted his whole life—to see ye knocked down.”

They had a point. It was the same between Will and their father. Their uncle had been more gleeful at the funeral as the siblings said their goodbyes to their father. Had even tried to take them in hand.

“Ye’re better than Hector,” his sister Amabel added. “Everyone who knows ye would agree.”

Amabel, who was born the year after Maggie, was the quietest of them all. She was an observer and offered her opinion only when it was dragged out of her, but that didn’t make her any less fierce than the loudest of them. Euan would argue she was likely the fiercest of his sisters and God save the man who deigned to get into a knife fight with her.

But they had a point. As much as he didn’t want to marry, how could he let their care fall into the hands of their vile cousin, who was an even worse schemer than his father? They were notorious for being involved in shady deals. Last year, Hector had tried to scam Euan out of a small fortune by claiming he had a connection to a wool supplier and would negotiate the trade—if only Euan would give him the wool to bring to Edinburgh. More unsuspecting victims might have fallen for his scam, but Euan always knew better. Hector couldn’t be trusted. In fact, Euan often suspected his cousin of being involved in far more nefarious activities than anyone knew about.

“Ye’re right. I can no’ allow him to win. But how am I supposed to find a bride, let alone have her birth an heir? And before Hector?”

Maggie cocked her head to the side. “I do no’ see any woman falling in love with Hector.” She gave an exaggerated shudder.

“Aye,” Amabel said seriously. “No lass in her right mind could love Hector.”

“And I think ye’ll have an easy enough time with the heir part,” Maggie continued.

Skye and Lillie snorted at that, and he pinned them with a “ye should have no idea what she’s talking about” look, which only made them laugh harder behind their hands.

“Who is going to judge if they are in love?” Lillie asked, posing a question Euan had yet to consider.

“The solicitors, I’m assuming,” Euan said with a frown. He leaned against the windowsill, his back to the outside, arms crossed and Owen pressing against his side.

“That is unwise,” Raine piped in. “Anyone can imitate love.” To show this, she turned to Esme and said in a singsong voice, “Oh, Esme. Your hair shines as the bottom of a churning loch, and your eyes… Does the light deceive me, or are they the verra image of a blue sky?”

“The bottom of a churning loch?” Esme frowned, tugging a tendril of her hair toward her face. “My hair does no’ look like muddy water.”

“The entire thing is ludicrous,” Euan interjected, heading off an argument before it could come to blows. “And I suppose this means the lot of ye are going to have to come to Edinburgh with me as I bumble through the upcoming season in search of the perfect bride to fall in love with.”

“Ye are no’ prepared for a season,” Esme said with a worried grimace.

“No’ in the least,” Skye agreed.

Euan nodded slowly, in complete agreement. It wasn’t that he was unused to going to balls and fetes and house parties. He did so often, but only as a chaperone or to be with his friends, not to woo a lass. His best talents at a ball were finding the gentleman’s smoking room and pouring himself a dram. Dancing was left to those who knew how to step and twirl. And engaging in polite conversation? Never.

He’d rather charm the venom from a snake.

Owen let out a long sigh as if the hound could read his thoughts and then sank to the floor at Euan’s feet, as tuckered out from the conversation as Euan was.

“Ye need a governess to teach ye better manners and the ways of behaving in society in order to gain the attention of a worthy lass who will fall deeply in love with ye,” Maggie said through a smile that was more of a half-laugh.

But she wasn’t wrong. In fact, Euan thought she was brilliant. His arms uncrossed, and he straightened to his full height of six and a half feet.

“Ye’re right. I do need a governess.”

“I was jesting.” The smile fell from Maggie’s face, and she gave him her “this is a bad idea” look.

“A governess worked for the lot of ye wild things,” he prodded back. “Why can it no’ work for me too?”

His sisters all burst out laughing at the same time. But when they noticed he’d not joined in their laughter, suddenly, they stopped.

“Ye’re no’ joking,” Maggie stated.

“No’ at all. I will hire a governess to help me prepare for procuring a bride.”

“And what about Hector? What if the governess can no’ take ye in hand quick enough and he finds a wife first?” Maggie still gaped at him as if he’d told them all he planned to marry the Queen of England.

“As ye said, he’ll have a hard time finding someone to fall in love with him, which provides me a slight leg up. In the meantime, I’ll give the governess, what? A week? Two weeks?”

“I think two at the least,” Maggie said, that grimace back. “And recall what Skye said—

anyone can lie and pretend they are in love.”

“I’m certain the solicitors will be on the lookout for such a scheme,” Euan said. “Ye have to stop making that face.”

“This one?” She did it again, only this time much more exaggerated.

“Precisely. The look that says, ‘Euan is going to fail spectacularly.’”

“Among other things,” she said with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes. Whatever man was lucky enough to win his sister over had better have a large pair of ballocks.

“All right.” Euan walked toward his desk, his faithful hound leaping up to follow him and settling in the dark alcove underneath. “The lot of ye put your minds together and figure out exactly what it is that a governess will need to teach me. And how do we find out when the society events start in Edinburgh?”

“Well, the papers for one,” Lillie remarked. “The season shall be starting on the twelfth of August, as it does every year. That’s when all of society comes up from London. Some are already here. I read this morning in Lady Edinburgh that there were enough carriages outside Holyrood Palace to create a snarl-up that delayed the opening of the market square. All of the milliner’s shops are backed up until the opening of the season from the ladies putting in hundreds of orders.”

“So I will no’ be able to get a new hat?” Raine pouted.

“Where did ye get a copy of Lady Edinburgh?” Euan frowned.

That society gossip rag had caused more issues than not in his castle. Lillie enjoyed gossip more than lessons, enough that their governess had banished her from reading it. And when said governess had departed after Lillie had reached a certain age, and Maggie had taken over the duties for her sisters, Euan had enforced the rule, albeit half-heartedly. He secretly enjoyed listening to her retelling of the gossip, if only because it made her whole face light up.

Lillie’s eyes widened as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t supposed to have it. Then she gave a delicate shrug. “It was no’ mine. A friend’s.”

“Uh-huh.” Euan crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a stern, but not too serious, look.

“Now, about the timing,” Lillie said, attempting to change the subject. “Ye’ve only got a month before the season starts. And…if I may be so bold, an advert in Lady Edinburgh would likely get ye a governess quickly.”

Euan let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, help me write it up then, and I’m guessing ye know how to get the advert in the paper?”

Lillie again shrugged. “I can find out.” Which meant, “Aye, brother, I know exactly how.”

Euan sat at his desk with his six sisters surrounding him, as they wrote up one advert after another until the perfect one had been created. As he passed the written note to Lillie, he felt as if he was placing his life in her hands, when all this time he’d been the one to care for her. The truth was, he was going to need all the help he could get to win this ridiculous decree.

That was not a feeling he was accustomed to. He was the man of the castle, the older brother, the protector. The only other time he’d had to rely on his sisters was when he went away to war and had left them to care for each other. Every day he’d woken in his makeshift tent feeling guilt-ridden.

“I promise ye this, my sisters, I will protect ye and care for ye, for all the days I have left to live. No scheme of Grandda’s or Will’s or Hector’s will change that. Come what may, ye need no’ worry for your future.”

“Ye are the best of brothers,” Maggie said. “No one else could compare.”

There was a singsong of agreement, and then his younger sisters all piled around him, hugging him and teasing him about needing a governess.

As they left his study, they were still laughing about the lessons the governess would have to teach him.

He laughed with them but as soon as the door click closed, his jovial attitude vanished, and he was left only with acrimonious angriness regarding the situation and the betrayal of his grandfather, whom he’d been nothing but loyal to for the entirety of his life.

Euan was nearing thirty and he’d spent more than half of his life taking care of his sisters, the Drum lands and the people. And with the stroke of the signature of a dying man, all of his hard work could be swiped away and given to someone else.

There had to be some sort of legal loophole. Why had his grandfather changed his mind about not only bequeathing the title to Euan—but what was rightfully his already? What madness had come over him? All Euan could think of was that his Uncle Will had whispered something into the old man’s ear that left him desiring to issue the order.

Euan’s grandfather and grandmother had never been able to figure out which of the twin lads had been born first. During the birth, there was so much happening and moving around of the bairns that they lost track of who was who, and so Will and Daniel had their inheritances split down the middle. That had seemed right and fair. Why now would their grandfather have wanted to piece the legacy back together? Why force Euan or Hector to marry?

Unless someone told him it was better for the clan to be ruled by one person, even though they spanned holdings from east to west, it didn’t make sense.

Euan leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling of his study. Marrying and producing put his sisters at risk, but not marrying and letting Hector win was by far a worse fate for them all. If something were to happen to Euan, they’d be at Hector’s mercy.

Another good reason why he should start his search for a husband for Maggie.

She was twenty-six this past May, and he knew she hoped to be thought of as put on the shelf. At twelve, she’d become the mother figure of their younger sisters, and it had been that way these past fourteen years.

Maggie felt as much responsibility to their younger siblings as he did. A fact she’d made very clear in their last argument when he’d told her it was time that she find a husband. But it was true; she must.

For if he were to lose this race to the first marriage and heir, then her fate would be in Hector’s hands. But if he found her a good husband, then she would be well cared for no matter what happened with the decree—and hopefully, their sisters too.

Bloody hell, he hoped this plan worked. Euan had plenty of lovers. He was, after all, what Maggie had said—a charmer. He could charm the peel off an orange, as well as the skirts off a willing lady. But sensuality and pleasure were a far cry from love and commitment.

Those were two words he’d not had in his vocabulary. But after a little brushing up with the governess, he was fairly certain he would be one of the most eligible bachelors of the season. Though he’d said he wasn’t sure he could make a woman fall in love with him, the worry he harbored the most was that he’d be the one not falling in love. Love was a sentiment foreign to him when it came to the women he’d been involved with. He’d not felt even an inkling.

And he wasn’t ignorant as to what love looked like. His closest friends Lorne, the Duke of Sutherland, and Alec, the Earl of Errol, were madly in love with their wives. But Euan doubted there was a woman such as Jaime or Giselle out in the world for him. He’d seen plenty of society misses, slept with plenty society matrons and widows, to know that those two were diamonds in the rough—rare gems to be cherished. When they were forced to make a public appearance, he and his friend Malcolm Gordon often commiserated on Lorne and Alec’s being leg-shackled.

Quite frankly, Euan didn’t have the time to make a long expedition and dig. He needed a wife now—yesterday. This absurd race to see who could win the right to his lands and title was not going to be resolved anytime soon. Finding a wife and making sure she birthed an heir was a year out.

Euan marched over to his sideboard and poured himself a double of whisky. He was going to need all the fortifications he could get.