Love and the Clans Read online

  ‘He is in just the same difficulty as I am,’ she told herself firmly. ‘So he understands.’

  All the same she was only too well aware of how doubly furious her father would be when he found out that, after refusing to marry Sir Ewen, she had chosen to marry the enemy and bogeyman of her childhood – the Duke of Barenlock.

  ‘I am sure the very idea,’ she thought, ‘will make him angrier than he has ever been.’

  She looked back and remembered the times he had raged at her because she had done something wrong and punished her in what her mother had thought was a cruel fashion.

  These punishments had usually ended in her mother being the heroine. She had brought her food secretly if her father had said she was to have nothing to eat for twenty-four hours.

  And at other times her mother had prevented him from actually striking Sheinna.

  But now her mother was dead

  And Sheinna wondered if anyone would be able to prevent him from punishing her now in some horrible way because she was defying him.

  ‘If only Grandmama had not died, I would still be happy in London,’ she murmured to herself.

  Then, almost as if a voice was prompting her, she knew she had to be brave.

  She was a MacFallin and her ancestors had won a great number of battles through their bravery.

  She walked over to the window to gaze out at the mountains on the other side of the river and told herself that the Scots would never accept defeat and if nothing else she was a Scot.

  However brave she was pretending to be, the hours passed very slowly.

  Until she reckoned that the carriage to collect her would soon be waiting outside.

  She changed into one of her smart gowns she had bought in Paris and on her head she placed the pretty hat that had been sold to go with it.

  As she walked slowly downstairs, she thought the Duke would think she looked very different.

  He had so far only seen her wearing a warm jumper over a tartan skirt and because she had come out fishing there had been no hat on her curly hair.

  Her hair had been much admired in England and in France and was almost a speciality of Scotland because although it was fair there was a distinct touch of red in it.

  It fell in natural cascading curls over her cheeks and her father had often complained it was not red enough.

  But the young men who danced with her in London had congratulated her. She looked, they said, so beautiful that they found it hard to express their feelings in words.

  Sheinna had laughed at all they said and had not taken them seriously, but she thought they had been very amusing in their own way.

  They made all their compliments sound completely sincere and the Scots, she mused, would not be able to compete in that field.

  This had been proved true since she had returned to Scotland. Her young relations who had come to meet her at her father’s request were all rather gauche and also, she considered, poorly educated.

  Half a century ago it had become a fashion for the older sons of the Chieftain of the Clan to be educated either in Edinburgh or in England and this policy had produced new and different young Scottish gentlemen.

  They were smart, they were intelligent and they had travelled.

  The owners of the castles and the big estates began to invite their English friends in August to stay with them for the grouse shooting and at the beginning of the summer they came for the salmon fishing.

  It made the Scots, as the wits put it, ‘pull up their socks’ and it certainly made the young more entertaining and hospitable than they had been in the past.

  What was more, instead of marrying the girls of another Clan, quite a number of Scots married English girls and such marriages were often most successful.

  The English had been the enemy for many years, but as Scotland was now part of the United Kingdom, the English were accepted by the Scottish aristocracy, though they were still regarded with a healthy suspicion by the ordinary Clansmen.

  Sheinna went downstairs to wait for the carriage the Duke had promised to send for her.

  She was thinking as she did so that perhaps at the Castle she would meet some charming and sophisticated Englishman she could feel more at home with than with a Scot.

  ‘If I could only fall in love with one,’ she thought, ‘and he with me, we could slip away to the South and live there happily for ever. And very very much more happily than I could ever live with someone like Sir Ewen.’

  There was no one of the household downstairs.

  So dressed as if she was going to a smart party in Mayfair, Sheinna regarded herself in the mirror.

  She wondered what the Duke would think of her now and then she thought that his relations, if they were Scottish, would definitely think she was overdressed.

  She felt that she must run back upstairs and change, but it was now too late.

  As she hesitated, she heard a carriage drawing up outside.

  It would be a mistake for anyone to find out where she was going and she was sure the butler and the other staff would be out or resting at this time, as they knew that her father would not be back until five o’clock when tea would be served.

  She ran across the hall and opened the front door.

  There was a smart closed carriage waiting outside drawn by two horses and the footman on the box realised who she was.

  Without speaking he then opened the door of the carriage and Sheinna stepped into it.

  As the footman climbed back onto the box of the carriage, the horses started off.

  As far as she could tell, no one had seen her leave.

  She sat back in the carriage, thinking it was very comfortable and indeed far more luxurious than the one her father used.

  The horses too were very fast and although they could not hurry along the narrow road that ran more or less parallel with the river, Sheinna found herself wondering if the other horses the Duke had in the stables at his Castle were as fine as these.

  Her father had always bought local roughly bred horses that were not in any way outstanding and yet they were tough and strong enough to cope with the roads when they were under snow and the moors when he went out to shoot.

  Sheinna had ridden in Rotten Row.

  Her grandmother’s horses were all chosen for her by one of her relations and were all thoroughbreds, superb even amongst aristocratic owners.

  Thinking it over as they travelled on, Sheinna was aware that her father was content with Scotland as it had always been.

  But the Duke had lived to all intents and purposes in an entirely different world.

  She had heard that he had been educated in England and had travelled extensively abroad and her father had always sneered at the young Scots who had done so.

  “They should be content with their own country,” he had thundered. “What could be better than the moors of Bonny Scotland with the glorious history of our fight for our independence?”

  Sheinna had tried to understand his rather narrow patriotism and she had in fact respected him because he was so proud of his possessions and his family heritage.

  Yet she had lived in England for years and she therefore found that the Scots, as she saw them now, were in many ways uncivilised.

  They were clearly completely out of touch with the outside world which was developing fast and turning into an entirely new generation of people, producing new ships, new trains, machinery of every sort in what the Americans called ‘a new age.’

  To Sheinna it was all very exciting.

  She read the newspapers avidly to find out about the new products that had just been invented and which countries were challenging one another in technology and innovation.

  ‘That is a brave new world I will never make Papa understand,’ she surmised as the carriage moved a little more quickly.

  Then, when she thought of the grey hair and the faltering steps of Sir Ewen, she felt herself shiver.

  The fear was back in her heart.

  Th
e carriage was now moving even more quickly because the road was smoother and, as they drove along the coast for a short while, she could see the sea.

  Then she had a glimpse, when she was still half-a-mile away, of the Castle.

  She had thought ever since she was a child it was the most romantic Castle she had ever seen.

  Now with the sun shining on its high turrets and glittering on the sea beneath it, it looked almost unreal – as if the scene had stepped out of Fairyland.

  As the road turned inland they passed through a small village and now she could only see the high purple moors that loomed above the Castle.

  Then they reached the great gates.

  Just for a moment Sheinna felt scared, fearing she had made a mistake in listening to the Duke and supposing she was making herself a laughing-stock not only to her own people but to his.

  Then she realised that the alternative was so much more terrifying than the reality.

  If she turned back now, she would be accepting her father’s command to marry the dreaded Sir Ewen.

  Anything, however terrifying, will surely be better than that.

  The carriage slowed down.

  As it turned in at the huge gates with a lodge on either side of them, it came to a standstill.

  For a moment Sheinna wondered why.

  Then the door of the carriage opened and the Duke himself stepped in.

  He was smiling and she thought how handsome he looked as he pulled off his Highland bonnet and shook her hand.

  “You are punctual,” he declared, “which is what I expected. Let me tell you, Sheinna, you look marvellous.”

  “I was worried you might think I am overdressed,” Sheinna replied in a small voice.

  “This is an exciting adventure and I was half afraid you would not come at the last moment.”

  “How could I when I had given you my word?”

  The Duke smiled.

  “Very easily, where most women are concerned! Is it not a woman’s privilege to say ‘yes’ when she means ‘no’ – and ‘no’ when she means ‘yes’?”

  Sheinna laughed.

  “You must have met some very strange women. They cannot have belonged to the right Clan!”

  “That is exactly what I thought, but now that we are going into battle together who could possibly defeat us?”

  Sheinna gave a little shiver.

  “You are so brave,” she said, “but I am frightened. I know Papa will be absolutely furious. He has gone this morning to see the Minister of the Kirk.”

  “About your wedding?” the Duke asked her. “He is certainly wasting no time.”

  “Suppose you cannot save me, Your Grace?”

  “Now don’t you be afraid, Sheinna, I promised you that I would save you and that is what I will do, as well as saving myself. Just pick up your chin and tell yourself that we are invincible and no one can beat us!”

  “I do hope you are right,” she sighed anxiously.

  The carriage was now moving more slowly and she realised that the horses were wheeling around so that they could alight at the porticoed front door.

  The Castle soared high above them and Sheinna could now see that it was even more beautiful than she had thought it was when she had seen it years ago.

  A footman opened the door and she stepped out of the carriage followed by the Duke.

  He took her arm and helped her up the steps and in through the front door.

  As he did so he exclaimed,

  “Welcome to Barenlock Castle, Sheinna, and I will enjoy showing you my ancestral home!”

  “It is something I have always wanted to see.”

  “Now, please don’t call me ‘Your Grace’ anymore. It is far too formal especially as we are to be engaged – my name is Alpin.”

  “Yes, Your – I mean Alpin.”

  They were in the hall and she thought the butler and footmen were regarding her curiously.

  The Duke held out his hand.

  “Let me help you up the stairs,” he offered. “My mother will be in the drawing room and with her will be my cousin, the Countess of Dunkeld.

  “Oh, I have heard about her. She is very smart and is always written about in the newspapers.”

  The Duke smiled.

  “That sounds exactly like my cousin Moira. Don’t be frightened of her. She is one of those people who are determined I should be married. Not of course to someone of my choice – but of hers!”

  He spoke rather bitterly and Sheinna looked at him in surprise.

  They had now reached the landing.

  A footman in attendance there opened the door into the drawing room.

  Sheinna drew in her breath sharply and so did the Duke although she did not notice it.

  As they walked in, the Duke’s mother, the Dowager Duchess, who was sitting by the window, looked round.

  So did the Countess who was sitting beside her.

  “Mama,” the Duke began, “I have brought you a big surprise and someone I particularly want you to meet.”

  The Dowager Duchess was looking questioningly at Sheinna.

  “Of course, dearest,” she replied. “Any friend of yours is always very welcome.”

  “I really hoped you would say that, Mama, because Sheinna MacFallin has just paid me the great honour of promising to be my wife.”

  For a moment there was complete silence.

  Then as the Dowager Duchess gasped, the Countess cried,

  “MacFallin! You surely cannot be a member of the MacFallin Clan which marches beside us.”

  The Dowager Duchess with great difficulty forced herself to say,

  “This is a great surprise – Alpin, dear.”

  “I knew it would be, Mama, but Sheinna and I have known each other for some time. And we have decided to announce our engagement, even though we do not intend to be married for quite a while.”

  His mother, who had shaken Sheinna by the hand was apparently, for the moment, tongue-tied.

  The Duke turned towards his cousin.

  And this,” he added, “is my cousin, the Countess of Dunkeld.”

  Sheinna put out her hand.

  The Countess took it and at the same time she said,

  “I did not realise, Alpin, that you knew any of the MacFallin Clan. Perhaps she is not a near relation of our neighbour who behaves so badly and who we have always disliked.”

  “I am afraid,” Sheinna now piped up, “that is my father.”

  “Your father!” the Countess exclaimed. “Then of course it is impossible for you and Alpin to be married.”

  “I think, Cousin Moira, that is for me to say,” the Duke came in firmly. “I would be very sorry if you tried to pick a quarrel with someone who will be my wife.”

  For a moment the Countess could not think of a sharp reply.

  The Dowager Duchess said quickly,

  “Suppose you sit down, dearest Alpin, and tell me why you have kept this a secret until now. I had no idea, absolutely none, that you ever had any contact with the MacFallins.”

  Before the Duke could answer her, she turned to Sheinna,

  “You must forgive me, my dear, if your appearance and my son’s introduction have taken our breath away. We were talking only yesterday about him getting married, and he told us quite firmly he had no intention of marrying anyone.”

  “Then, naturally, you must be delighted that I am doing exactly what you have asked me to do,” the Duke countered. “Sheinna and I are quite certain we will make an admirable bride and bridegroom.”

  “And what does your father say about all this?” the Countess asked Sheinna rather sharply.

  The Duke thought it might be a somewhat difficult question for Sheinna to answer.

  But very tactfully she replied,

  “I think you must ask him that question yourself.”

  The Duke, who had not sat down when Sheinna did, put out his hand.

  “Come and see the Castle,” he invited her, “before you are asked any more que
stions. I find they are always a great bore.”

  “I would love to see the Castle,” said Sheinna. “I have always admired it from the outside and thought it looked as if it had stepped straight out of a fairytale.”

  “That is exactly what it has done!”

  He was leading her across the room as he spoke.

  Only as the door shut behind them did the Dowager Duchess gasp,

  “I don’t believe it! However, she is pretty and very smartly dressed.”

  “Just how can he possibly marry a MacFallin?” the Countess asked angrily. “You know as well as I do that we have been at war with them for centuries. Her father, the Earl, is a horrible man. I have met him once or twice at parties and always thought he was someone I had no wish to meet again.”

  “I suppose Alpin must have known her for a long time,” the Dowager Duchess added a little faintly.

  “If that is so, he has been very wise to keep it to himself. Otherwise I would have had a lot to say on the matter,” the Countess snapped.

  “Oh, please don’t be unkind to Alpin. You have bullied him into getting married, and now he is doing what you wanted, you will have to accept it even if the girl is a MacFallin.”

  “It is impossible, completely impossible for him to marry her,” the Countess asserted. “You can imagine what all of our Clansmen will think. The Earl has always been abominably offensive and rude. He accused your husband of poaching his salmon and his game, and he is now doing the same to Alpin. How can you even speak to the man, let alone accept his daughter as Alpin’s wife?”

  “If he really loves her and wants to marry her,” the Dowager Duchess said quietly, “then I will do my best for Alpin’s sake to be fond of her and to help her.”

  She paused for a moment before continuing,

  “I cannot help thinking it will be very difficult for her at home. If we McBarens are not ready to embrace the MacFallins, who loathe us with a deadly hatred, they will undoubtedly make trouble when they find out that Alpin is taking away the most precious member of their Clan after the Earl.”

  “It is something that just cannot happen,” declared the Countess aggressively. “How can Alpin be so stupid as to choose her of all people? What has she to offer him except that small piece of land which should really belong to us?”