Someday Her Duke Will Come

by Ellie St. Clair

  As the cold wind blew through the tent, allowing the deep singing voices of the clan to penetrate its thin walls, Dougal held onto his future with both arms, determined to take a stand .

  3

  Emilia

  E milia found the sun shining through the window both annoying and exciting. She was exhausted and jet lagged but didn’t want to waste even one day while she was here. Dean Talbot had sat her down and told her to make sure she relaxed on this vacation, knowing full well that she would pack her holiday so full of exploration and education that she would need time once she returned home to recover .

  As much as lounging around and sleeping half the day sounded enticing, she had specifically chosen this location over a typical beach trip knowing she wouldn’t be spending her time relaxing in the sun, pondering her life. Even the weather was cooperating for a day exploring the Scottish landscapes .

  Emilia pulled herself out of bed and jumped in the shower. The water was only lukewarm but she embraced it as it woke her up, helping her get a jump on the day. She pulled her long red hair back into a ponytail and dressed in comfortable walking clothes. Stonehaven wasn’t a particularly large place but visiting without a car meant she would be doing a lot of walking in order to save some money. Taxis were pretty expensive out here and Emilia wanted to try to limit her time in them to the commute to the Stonehaven ports and back home at the end of the day. It would allow her more time to take in the outdoors, and enjoy the scenery the Highlands had to offer. Emilia reviewed the itinerary she had created for the day and her blood started pumping in excitement .

  She headed down to the kitchen and set the pot of coffee to brew while she sat down with a bowl of yogurt and fresh berries. She went over the day’s schedule once again, then folded it up and stuck it in her pocket. She had already packed her bag for the day, and added fruit and bread for an afternoon snack. Her plan was to spend the entire day in museums and libraries, leaving the castle tours and exploration for the next day .

  The castles were what Emilia was really looking forward to, but she wanted to take her time in the library first, soaking up as much information about the area’s history as she could through resources that may not have been available at home. Every place had those few little secrets that no one but the locals knew, and those were the stories Emilia wanted to hear .

  She was drawn from her thoughts by the sound of the taxi honking out front. She tossed her dishes in the sink and ran out with her backpack in tow. It was the same man who had driven her to the cottage, and he smiled at her when she relayed her destination. Emilia had grown up the token nerd, and she remained the studious sort. People who met her the first time took in her slim build, wavy hair, and perfect skin and made assumptions. It wasn’t until she started talking that they realized she wasn’t what they seemed. This taxi driver seemed a little surprised that she, as an American tourist, wanted to spend the day at the library, but she didn’t care much about the opinions of others .

  Why not visit the library as a local tourist site? Emilia just couldn’t understand how someone could live in a place and not know everything about its history. She supposed it was similar to the way she currently lived in New York City and had never taken a boat tour around the Statue of Liberty. Nothing is as exciting when you live somewhere .

  Through the day, Emilia found herself having to keep track of the time since she was losing herself in the history, the books, and the relics that she was finding. Every place she visited had its own story, its own legends, and its own brutal battles through history. The largest of the libraries was so amazing she vowed to return another time while on this vacation to have the opportunity to see even more .

  She pulled a huge stack of books from the shelves and sat at the table, skimming through them, discovering the secrets hidden in the Gaelic. There weren’t very many people that actually spoke fluent Gaelic anymore, but once she had determined the nature of her studies, she found it pertinent to learn the language to better understand the older texts. She was amazed — both shocked and saddened — at how much historians had missed when translating the information .

  As she was growing up, Emilia’s father had been extremely excited about the family’s Scottish heritage, especially since Emilia’s great-grandparents immigrated to America before her grandparents were born. Her family had taken a lot of time to make sure that heritage was preserved. Guthrie was a pretty common surname throughout Scotland, but Emilia’s family knew exactly where her great-grandparents had come from, so they had been able to track the family’s place in history. They knew that Emilia's ancestors had been lairds to their clan for many decades. Emilia’s mother’s heritage was primarily Irish, the combination of ancestries seen in Emilia’s fiery red hair. The freckles dotting her nose and hazel eyes were pure Scottish .

  When Emilia had finished skimming through the last book in her stack, she realized it was nearly lunch. Her stomach was grumbling and though she had brought food, she was craving some traditional Scottish cuisine. As Emilia was in the port city, there were more than enough choices for her to mull over. As the sign requested, she left the books in a stack on the table and headed out of the library and into the small city. She took her time casually wandering the streets, looking down at the old cobblestone walkways and imagining what it was like to walk these same stones ages ago .

  Finally, her stomach led her to a small restaurant in the middle of the town, and Emilia chose a table near the window. She could see the ocean’s waves hitting the docks below, and the fishermen moving throughout the town, bringing in their morning catches. Emilia could have sat there all day watching the people, but all the other historical museums were calling her name so she picked up the menu and began perusing .

  It was the traditional Scottish food, the menu looking a lot different than any café in the United States. She mulled the list over for several minutes before deciding on mince, tatties, a glass of water, and some whiskey. It was crazy to her how everywhere she went they sold whiskey. She half expected to see some for sale in the library, but sadly they didn’t sell any food or drink .

  She was now pleased her rumbling stomach had extracted her from the aisles and aisles of historical writings. She could have stayed there for days. Emilia pulled out her piece of paper and looked at her plan of action for the rest of the day. She was so absorbed in her list and her daydreams of what was to come that she didn’t notice the person walking towards her until it was too late and she practically jumped with fright .

  “Anyone sitting here?” The red-haired woman from the plane plopped herself down across from Emilia. Her hair was just as wild as before but this time she was wearing a plaid sweater with pictures of cats on the front .

  “Hello,” Emilia said, surprised. “I was beginning to think I imagined you. What happened to you on the airplane ?”

  “That happens more than you know,” the woman giggled, evading Emilia’s question. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Fiona. Now tell me, what did you think of the Stonehaven Library ?”

  “It was so amazing,” Emilia replied, smiling at the waitress as she set food down in front of her. “I literally could have stayed there all day. My name is Emilia. How did you know I was at the library ?”

  “Did you know that right where that library sits used to be several blacksmith shops ?”

  “Huh,” Emilia replied, looking at her papers. “I didn’t know that. I thought I had researched everything about this area .”

  “It was called Blacksmith Row and merchants would go there and have the blacksmiths bid on the services they needed,” she said looking down at Emilia’s mince and tatties. “You could get some really great work done for very little .”

  “That’s so strange that there isn’t any mention about that in anything I read,” Emilia said, shaking her head .

  “In the 1500s this area went through a bit of scuffle,” Fiona went on. “The church and state wanted to control the ports but because of the drought, the clans
constantly butted heads with them .”

  “Drought? I wasn’t aware of a drought,” Emilia replied, intoxicated with her information .

  “It’s not in any of your books,” she smiled. “But I have a way to see the past .”

  “It seems you do,” Emilia laughed, not sure if this woman was having her on right now or if she truly did have access to information not publicly available. “I’d love a time machine right about now .”

  Fiona struck Emilia as so strange, yet she knew aspects of history that Emilia could neither confirm or deny. It was really odd, and Fiona was obviously a bit off her rocker, but Emilia didn’t care. She enjoyed talking to her, and was used to people who were a bit different than the usual .

  Fiona went on and on about the unknown history of the area, pointing Emilia to different venues that she could check out, with directions to them. None of the sites had been on Emilia’s list, but they sounded so intriguing that she couldn’t help but add them .

  “Have you been to Dunnottar Castle yet ?”

  “Mm,” Emilia said, swallowing her food. “Not yet. I have it on my list for tomorrow .”

  “Tomorrow would be a perfect day to tour the remains,” she said, wide eyed. “I would suggest going first thing when the sun rises. It’s really a spectacular view and you never know who you’ll meet along the path .”

  “Really? I’ll do that then,” Emilia said, putting a note next to the schedule. “I definitely want to see everything. I think tomorrow is actually the anniversary of the final MacGavin/Buchanan battle recorded. I was never satisfied with my research on their plight but now, with the information and background you’ve given me, I think I am starting to understand it a bit more .”

  “It’s a fascinating story,” Fiona said, leaning in. “The MacGavins just wanted to rule their lands, while the Buchanans wanted to take over. They thought they were sly enough to make it about the sheep trade but the son of the MacGavin Laird saw right through it .”

  “You really know your history of the area,” Emilia said, cursing that she was unable to wait any longer. She asked Fiona, “One moment, would you mind waiting here while I run to the ladies’ room ?”

  “Of course,” Fiona chirped .

  Emilia ran off to the bathrooms, thinking about the battle and what Fiona had said about being there at first light. While Emilia had been looking forward to as much sleep as she could take, she would wake up early for the sunrise. There was something about this woman that led Emilia to trust her advice — about history, at least. Emilia washed her hands and walked back out to the table, looking down at an empty seat across from hers. As abruptly as she had arrived, Fiona had disappeared again, leaving Emilia wondering again if she was starting to lose it .

  “Excuse me,” she said quietly to the waitress. “Did you see where the red-haired woman went ?”

  “Sorry,” the waitress replied. “I didn’t even see her .”

  That was odd, thought Emilia. How did she not see her? Fiona had been sitting here the entire time, including when the waitress had brought the food. Emilia thanked her and paid for her meal before gathering her things and heading off to the Port Museum near the docks. Emilia knew that there was so much for her to discover, but she couldn’t shake the whole experience with Fiona from her mind, from the history she provided her to her strange disappearances .

  Emilia walked along the streets, watching the traffic move quickly in and out of the port. The clouds blew over the sky above her, and the wind whipped wildly through her hair. There was something so off about Fiona and yet Emilia couldn’t put her finger on it .

  To top it all off, whenever Emilia thought of the next day, her stomach churned and she felt as if something earth shattering was lurking around the next corner. She pushed away the feeling and enjoyed the rest of her time in the port perusing the relics in the museums and gawking at the historical texts that the unique bookstores had on display .

  At the end of the day, Emilia returned to the cottage and grabbed a blanket, covering herself as she watched shooting stars jet across the night sky. Everything seemed so different here, as if she were in another world. Her mind drifted to her conversation with Fiona and her visit to the remains of the castle tomorrow. She felt pulled to it, like there was more there for her than stone ruins. She supposed she would have to wait and find out what that was come the morning .

  4

  Dougal

  T he sky was beginning to lighten outside the tent as Dougal pulled his kilt back on and laced his boots. There had been no sign of the Buchanans just yet, but he knew they were coming. Their beauty rest must have been slowing them down. Dougal chuckled at his own joke, realizing there was no one else there to laugh with him .

  He dressed in the rest of his gear and picked up his shield, holding it tightly in his hand and throwing his shoulders back, getting used to its weight. He stretched his legs and arms, loosening up for the impending battle. As he leaned over to touch his toes, giving his back a good solid stretch, a young clan member stuck his head inside the tent .

  “Sorry to bother ya,” he said. “But the elders are requesting a word with you. They are out in the fields .”

  “Thank you,” Dougal nodded, standing back up and cracking his neck .

  What would the elders want at this junction? They weren’t here to fight, and instead would stay at the campsite, tending to the injured, and readying themselves for a quick departure. They would know he was preparing, mentally and physically, for the Buchanans’ arrival. It made for a strange time to be requesting his presence. Dougal straightened his gear and stepped out of the tent, looking over at the rest of the men who had begun to rise. They were ready to transform from clan members to stealthy warriors, ready to protect their freedoms at all costs .

  As Dougal stared out at the warriors, Ivor stepped out of the tent beside his. He fixed his twisted clothing and sheathed his sword, flexing his large chest and breathing deeply. He looked over at Dougal’s lost gaze and hit him hard on the shoulder .

  “Do ye not love that smell ?”

  “What smell?” Dougal didn’t know what he was talking about .

  “The smell of cinders burning in the fire pits, the smell of porridge cooking, and most of all, the smell of battle looming in the distance,” he explained. Ivor lived for these days, always preparing for battle, even when there wasn’t one to be had. He worked with lumber and his build was gigantic. He stood at least four inches above Dougal, who was a tall man himself. Ivor’s chest being the size of two men’s, his muscles were bigger than most people’s entire muscle mass. But he didn’t let people be fooled — he was fast and ruthless when it came to battle. He was willing to do anything to protect the MacGavin clan, and Dougal was pretty sure he enjoyed severing a few heads now and then .

  “Aye,” Dougal laughed. “Well, I shall be over here. The elders want a word. Make sure they sound the horns when the Buchanans arrive .”

  “The elders? On the mornin’ of a battle ?”

  “Aye,” Dougal grimaced. “I either did something very right or very wrong .”

  “Good luck, lad,” Ivor said, shaking Dougal’s hand. “And try to keep that temper for the battlefield .”

  Dougal nodded and watched as Ivor clomped out toward the chow. Dougal never ate on the morning of a battle, knowing that stopping because of a cramp or stomach ache was sure to get him killed. He turned toward the field and watched as the four elders stood talking amongst themselves. They were dressed in their sashes and ribbons, pins depicting battles won in the past. Dougal suddenly became aware of his own presentation as he smoothed his dark hair down and repeated Ivor’s words in his head. He needed to keep his temper at bay, especially during a time like this .

  “Maidin,” Dougal said in Gaelic as he approached. “Dúradh liom go raibh tú ag labhairt liomsa .”

  “Aye,” the oldest responded, stepping forward. “It is true, we do wish to have a word with you .”

  “I hope you unders
tand, with all due respect, it’s moments before the battle begins,” Dougal said, bowing his head .

  “We willna keep you too long,” Leonis, the oldest of the clan, replied. “We want you to know that we have been talking and we believe that when you win this battle, you will be ready to replace your uncle and take your rightful place as Laird of the MacGavin Clan .”

  “I had been hoping to hear that from ye soon,” Dougal said, trying not to show too much excitement. “I would be honored to move forward as Laird .”

  “Good,” Leonis said nodding his head .

  “Well, if that will be all,” Dougal replied, turning back toward the camp .

  “Not quite,” Leonis continued. “We need you to start looking for a wife. The Clan needs a lady next to their laird. Had you chosen one we would have made you Laird sooner, but ye have yet to find one and it’s high time you took on this role .”

  “Ach,” Dougal scoffed, trying not to be disrespectful but wondering how they were expecting him to take care of finding a wife while on the battlefields .

  “We are serious,” Leonis responded. “You need to be capable of producing an heir to the clan. We understand these battles are important but without an heir, all the fighting in the world willna mean a thing if there is no one to take over when you are gone .”

  Dougal looked up in the air as the trumpeter began to sound the alarm. The five of them turned and looked out over the field. Marching from the mist were the warriors of the Buchanans, their shields newly forged and strong, their swords sparkling in the rising sun. Dougal turned back to the elders and bowed to take his leave .