Someday Her Duke Will Come

by Ellie St. Clair

  Emilia moved her belongings out the next day and was couching it at a friend’s place until she could find a decent apartment close to work. Finding an apartment in New York was like finding a needle in a haystack, and so she decided that it was probably a good time to take the trip she had been planning. Emilia talked to the Dean, and he agreed to let her off for a couple weeks before starting her position. Emilia still cared for Bryan as a friend, but she knew she he wasn’t the love of her life, which was more than evident in her lack of tears and a broken heart .

  Now here she was, sitting in a crowded airport waiting to catch her ten-hour flight to Aberdeenshire, Scotland, where Emilia would hop off the plane and take a taxi to Stonehaven. She had wanted to visit Stonehaven for many years and had used to stare at the pictures online, wishing her life had been centered in that port city instead of the streaming metropolis around her. She couldn’t wait to stand among the remains of old castles looking out over the ocean on the famous cliffs of Scotland. It was definitely better than scouring the real estate offices and trying to ignore Bryan and his constant nagging about moving out the rest of her things .

  She just couldn’t deal with real life right now, and the only thing she felt like doing at the moment was leaving it all behind to visit the place where some of her ancestors had roamed, see the battlefields of the warring clans, and disappear from life for a bit into the world of her studies .

  “Flight 6780 to Aberdeen, Scotland will be boarding in five minutes. Please have your tickets ready and your carry-ons tagged appropriately,” the voice cracked over the speaker .

  Emilia gathered her things and stood, walking over and waiting for them to call her. She had already been through two security checks so she knew her bag was approved. All she really wanted to do was get into her seat, have a glass of whiskey, and relax. Boarding went quickly since the flight wasn’t all that full, and Emilia strapped herself into her window seat, shoving her purse under the seat in front of her and taking a deep breath .

  “Well hello,” a nasal voice said from the aisle seat across the empty middle seat .

  “Hi,” Emilia replied, smiling at the very loudly dressed woman sitting down next to her .

  She was strange in a way Emilia couldn’t quite put her finger on. Her hair was as red as Emilia’s, but frizzy and wild, partially pulled back in a bun. She was wearing black-rimmed glasses, a bright multi-colored sweater, and didn’t seem to be carrying anything, not even a purse. She smiled kindly as she sat and buckled up, leaning her head back against the seat with a nervous look in her eye. As the plane took off she clasped the handles of her seat and Emilia turned toward the window, trying not to stare .

  She could remember the first time she had ever flown. It was with her grandmother and they were, oddly enough, visiting Scotland. For over a month, she and Emilia traveled all across the country. That’s when Emilia really started becoming interested in history, specifically Scottish history. Little did she know the trip was all a means to distract her eleven-year-old self from her parent’s pending divorce. When she returned home, she dove into history, collecting all the books she could get her hands on, ignoring the drama going on around her .

  As soon as the flight was in the air, Emilia ordered a double whiskey, threw in her headphones to avoid having any awkward conversations, and zoned out. She watched as the plane traveled high over the ocean, everything looking so tiny and insignificant below. She listened to a couple of songs on her playlist and then pulled out her laptop, deciding between a few old movies that she usually enjoyed. She finally chose Grease , her guilty pleasure. Emilia had finished another glass of whiskey and now she was fighting sleep. When the lights dimmed in the cabin and the sun set out of her window, it was game over. Emilia had been up for days, too worried and anxious about life to really sleep. But now, when relaxing was her only option, her body took over and into the dream world she went .

  Her dreams were wild and oddly the frazzled red-headed woman beside her was in all of them. Emilia was traveling through some kind of portal and everything was black. She couldn’t see or hear anything except the woman’s voice, which kept repeating over and over again, “Listen to your heart.” After what seemed like hours, Emilia could see a light approaching on the other end of the tunnel and as her feet touched down on the soft grass, she found herself in a very familiar Scotland, one she had studied for decades. Before she could look around or ask any questions, she was jolted awake by the landing of the plane .

  Emilia squinted her eyes, trying to see around her, but the sun was shining brightly through the window. She took a deep breath and looked beside her, but the seat was empty. She furrowed her brow and looked up and down the aisle, but the woman with red hair seemed to have just vanished. She thought about asking the flight attendant, but by the time any of them were out of their seats, they were pulling up to the gate. Emilia shrugged her shoulders and pulled her carry-on out of the overhead before walking slowly out of the plane. While she waited for her luggage, she looked around her for the woman, but she was still nowhere to be seen. Strange .

  Emilia collected her bags and headed out to grab a car to take her to Stonehaven. Luckily there were several taxis waiting out front, so she hopped in one and gave the address to the cottage she had rented by the ports. As the cab pulled out, she glanced over, startled to find her eyes lock with the mysterious woman from the plane. She was the only figure standing still amongst the moving crowd, smiling at Emilia as she passed in the taxi. Emilia shook her head, figuring she must be going crazy, and decided it was better to focus on getting settled then wondering if she had finally reached a mental breakdown .

  The drive was beautiful and she completely forgot all about her worries as she passed through the beautiful rolling hills of Stonehaven. Off in the distance to her right were peaked mountains, and to her left was the beautiful ocean. She felt at peace. This definitely had everything she would need to get herself back on track .

  When Emilia arrived at the cottage, she was almost giddy and she dragged her bags inside and left them in the entryway. She was too excited to worry about unpacking at the moment and immediately grabbed her notepad and set up her laptop .

  Emilia was a planner, and she wanted to schedule every single moment of her trip to make sure she was able to really see everything she yearned to explore. There were more castles, remains, historical sites, and libraries than she could contain on one page .

  She had two weeks but she didn’t even think that would be enough time to really take in everything and still get a good sleep every night. She was like a kid on Christmas, taking in all she could read about the area .

  Emilia lit the fireplace to kill the chill of the Scottish evenings and went through the cupboards to see what the real estate company had stocked the kitchen with. She was pleased to find everything she had given them on her list, plus a ton of traditional Scottish dishes. One thing was certain, she definitely wouldn’t go hungry while she was here. After making a warm cup of tea, she sat down at her laptop, staring at the pictures of Dunnottar Castle on the cliffs of Stonehaven. That was going to be her first castle visit and she couldn’t wait to see what this place’s history had to reveal .

  2

  Dougal

  “O h, roe, soon shall I see them, oh ,

  Hee-roe, see them, oh see them .

  Oh, roe, soon shall I see them ,

  the mist covered mountains of home !

  There shall I visit the place of my birth .

  They'll give me a welcome the warmest on earth .

  So loving and kind, full of music and mirth ,

  the sweet sounding language of home …”

  T he men were in good spirits, singing their songs and eating their supper, waiting for the first morning light to creep over the horizon. The mist laid low in the darkness of the night and though Dougal wanted to join in with the lads, he knew that he was better maintaining a solemn silence. They had arrived right before dusk to the fields be
yond Dunnottar Castle on the cliffs .

  When the sun began to rise, they would meet their warring clan, the Buchanans, in an effort to keep them from trying to steal their lands and marry their women. The Buchanans were an angry clan, and wealthy, thinking that coin could buy them the best beasts for battle. Dougal knew better than anyone, however, that it was the heart that fought these battles, not the amount spent on swords. Heart was definitely something of which the MacGavin clan had plenty .

  “Brother,” Ivor said, greeting Dougal and setting his plate down on the ground as he dislodged his sword and sat down next to him. “Yer awful quiet over here by yerself .”

  “Just doing some thinking,” Dougal replied. “There is a lot to be mulling over tonight .”

  “It’s not like you, to be so caught up in affairs outside the coming battle,” Ivor said, looking over at him. “Can I help ye any ?”

  “Since my father died, years ago, I knew my place would be as Laird when I came of age,” Dougal said, pushing around the potatoes on his plate. “When they made my uncle the Master of the House to watch over the clan until I reached that point, I didna realize it would eventually become a struggle for power. It’s nigh time I took my place as leader of this clan .”

  “The elders want ye there, though, do they not ?”

  “I suppose,” Dougal said shrugging. “They must be aware just how dedicated I am to the clan, and how I am ready to take my rightful place .”

  “I am sure they already know that,” Ivor said, patting Dougal on the shoulder. “But we are glad to be having ye out here. The Buchanans need to be shown just where they fit into this world .”

  “You mean under my boot heel?” They laughed hard, then sat quietly listening as the men continued to sing their songs of war and life. Dougal had been in this very spot so many times as a child that he knew exactly what was around him, even if the moon was clouded over and the night was darker than usual .

  The castle was held by a friendly clan, the Keiths, who had agreed to allow the MacGavins to pass through their land to the nearby empty fields as they waited for the Buchanans .

  The lights from the far off castle glimmered in the distance. Dougal and Ivor were, however, more focused on the mountains, over which the Buchanans would be coming. They were across the empty flowing fields and deep in the mist, where no one had yet to build or farm. The land’s ownership was up for debate. The MacGavins had heard of the Buchanans’ plans to raid their lands, and decided to head them off before they reached their own holdings .

  Dougal finished his food and nodded at Ivor, glad to have his closest friend there with him. The men were all well known, but he had spent so much time taking care of the lands and the family that he hadn’t forged the type of bond with these men that he had wanted .

  Still, they looked to Dougal in times of battle, as his uncle was now too old to involve himself in these affairs. Dougal was only ten years of age when his father battled against this same Buchanan clan, losing his life with a swift blow to the gut. He was brought back to his home and tended to, with Dougal by his side, until he took his last breath. Dougal would never forget that day when they laid him to rest in the fields beyond their land. His father had been a strong warrior and believed in the days of old when the laird protected the people, and the other clans stayed quietly in their own lands .

  However, as the days had progressed, famine and drought had come down hard on their soil and they were left trading sheep and farming what was left of the dry land. Dougal’s mother had died of fever, or as some believed a broken heart, soon after his father, and his uncle had been named Master of the MacGavins until Dougal was ready to take over. His uncle had not been prepared to rule the clan and had left many of the decisions to the elders .

  As Dougal grew older, he started to take more of a leading role, and now he was determined to show the elders he was ready to take his rightful place. He had heard a whisper of it in the winds recently and knew that this battle would be the moment in which he could prove to them he was ready .

  Dougal stood up from the ground and stretched before pulling on his sword and taking his plate to the boys doing the cooking. Ivor nodded at him as he walked away toward the fires, pulling his bear skin cloak over his shoulders for warmth. They took his plate and stood in reverence as he passed, having seen him fight in battles before .

  Dougal had spent many years training and readying himself for skirmishes like this, and his skills had proven to bring a great bit of confidence to the men of his clan. He may not be a mighty speaker, but he could yield a sword better than most, something highly sought after and respected in a perspective laird .

  Dougal walked past the broods of warriors and towards the tents set up for sleeping. He looked up at the starry sky and watched as several clouds passed over, dimming the moon’s light. He didn’t quite know why he felt it, but there was definitely something in the air that was bothering him. Everything seemed just a little off and it didn’t make him feel confident in the battle ahead of him .

  Still, he looked over at his trained men and knew that the other clan stood little chance in the end. Dougal wasn’t ready to lose men in war, but it was always inevitable. He hoped his own last days were still a long ways off, as his sister would be left without anyone to care for her, and the clan would be left without an heir .

  Dougal walked straight past his tent and out into the field, pulling out his sword and beginning to thrust it through the cool night air. His muscles were tense, and he could feel the anxiety building in his stomach. The world seemed to be changing and Scotland had found themselves being ruled by their first queen without a king by her side .

  The 1500s had definitely become an era of change for Dougal’s country, and not all that change was good. Clans were beginning to become bolder, looking to take what wasn’t theirs, and there was no help from the others in the territory. Many wanted the same as the MacGavins, to be left alone to raise their young, farm their fields, and make it through this troubled time .

  Queen Mary was too busy worrying about England to consider the smaller folk in the ports, who felt they had been left to fend for themselves. At one time, they had made good coin running the ports, but the government and church had taken over, and the Highlanders were pushed back to their lands for survival .

  Survival didn’t just mean finding food and keeping their lands safe from predators. It also meant keeping order in places not deemed important enough to be policed by anyone but the clans. The MacGavins didn’t mind that, though it was times like these when they had to put other clans in their place that they dreaded the losses they would incur. Every man was sacred, but not just under the eyes of God. They all had their own talents, their own ways of giving back to the clan and allowing it to move forward and grow. They also each had their own families, and Dougal hated returning home to tell a wife or mother she had lost a husband or son .

  At the moment Dougal felt like his clan was at a standstill, something he knew the elders were hoping he could fix once he became the official leader. The situation was sensitive but grave, and all Dougal wanted was to win this battle and move forward as true leader of his clan. The Buchanans had been a thorn in the MacGavins’ side for far too long. Dougal had a personal vendetta against the Buchanan man who had killed his father, making this day even more important to him .

  Dougal swung his sword until sweat beaded up on his forehead. The cold wind from the ocean hit those drops and sent shivers down his spine. Dougal put his sword back into its sheath and headed toward his tent, knowing that he wouldn’t get much sleep this night but wanting to lie down and rest for a time. His body needed to be strong, energized, and ready when the battle began. Right now all he was feeling was tired of the worry and anxiety that weighed on him .

  Dougal pulled back the flap covering his tent door and stepped inside, finding the pile made up for him on the ground, covered in furs and pillows. The men knew Dougal liked to sleep on the ground like the rest
of them, but continued to do as they had for his uncle, making it as comfortable as possible inside his tent. Dougal did welcome the sign of respect, and truth be told he would not argue with a bit of comfort every once in awhile, especially the night before an important battle .

  The Buchanans had picked a fight over the grazing territory for sheep. Dougal had met with the clan’s leader, but Laird Alastair Buchanan had not seemed interested in hearing out a compromise. Dougal had been deeply scrutinized by the elders of his clan, and he knew this was about more than sheep for him .

  This battle would decide their leadership. Dougal was strong minded and brave, feared by their enemies. He itched to destroy all the Buchanans, leaving more than ample space to triple his own sheep yield each season. He knew, however, his father would not have approved of the elimination of any Highland clan, friend or foe. Dougal would settle for a swift end to this battle, sending a loud and clear message that they were not going to bow down to the Buchanan clan ever again .

  Dougal collapsed onto the pillows, folding his arms behind his head as he thought about the battle tomorrow and his future. He still was feeling the knot in his stomach, telling him that something out of the ordinary was about to happen, but like before, he could not pinpoint exactly what it was. He must simply be anxious about the clash ahead, though he had been in such a situation many a time before .

  He and his advisors knew the number of men the warring clan had was slightly more than their own, although not as well trained. They knew the Buchanans had newly forged armor to shield them when fighting. All of this knowledge was from a Buchanan that brought them details, having had enough of Alastair’s ways .

  It was normal for a man to want all the power for his family, but in reality, it was dangerous when one clan had too much control. So, the MacGavins tried to reinforce what they had always stood for, which was individual clans working their systems however they wished. None should have the ability to say what could be done on the land of another. Besides, they had a royal family for that type of dictation .