Discover the Scottish legend.

Excerpt - Legend 4

The evening was winding down, and for the first time that fall, it was a warm, clear night. The sky was a dusty purple and orange as the sun set out beyond the green humps of the outer isles.

Instead of enjoying it with Rowan, the castle was in a tizzy. Mama Baker was on her way. Her texts since landing were sparse, which was concerning, like a plan was hatching without me. Tee had messaged me that she was just tired. And then I became more worried. TJ didn’t reassure me unless he’d been talking with her and something was up.

When we had her flight information, she gave us strict orders not to meet her at the airport or send a driver to get her. I stood in front of the mirror finishing the last touches of color to my cheeks and a swipe of mascara to my lashes. Deep inside, the southern girl was sighing at the volume of my hair, but I twisted it up and wrapped a plaid scarf around the bulk, making a cute ‘40s version of myself.

In my nicest jeans and cleanest shirt, I headed up to the castle. She was arriving soon, and I still didn’t know what was keeping Rowan.

Where are you? I reached out to him.

There was agitation along my skin, and in response: the library.

I opened my arms, letting the onshore breeze blow through my loose button-down as I made my way along the cliff-edge trail up to the rear bowling green lawn and in through the back door. Rowan’s invite had been answered. The castle was packed, clanspeople stood on the stairs, and Peabody stood among them, his cheeks pink at something Marion said to him. Our resident paranormal scientist had gotten a large advance for his current book and thought it pertinent that he stay on to write it; being in the cradle of ‘paranormal activity,’ as he said, was paramount. Rowan had hired back the castle staff and now had guest rooms to offer our guests, and Peabody - enthused at the opportunity - took the first one. My mother would be the second and would be in a suite at the end of the upper hall, adjacent to Peabody’s.

At the top of the stairs, I paused at the reception desk on the main floor, where Flora caught me, “He’s up there. The gents are having a right go of it.”

“Got it.” Up the MacLaoch-plaid carpeted stairs, I met the giggles and smiles of the clan’s people, and then I heard it.

Rowan’s cursing echoed through the cathedral ceiling of the entryway. From the library were throaty guffaws of older men. Then giggles percolated through the people gathered. At the top of the stairs, I recognized Holly and was relieved.

Holly explained, “Yer lordship is in a pickle.”

I hugged her. In a low voice, she said, “Best you have a look, it’s a moment ye’ll not want tae forget. And all of us out here can only imagine what’s happening.”

“What is happening? He was supposed to get dressed for my mother’s arrival, then he disappeared.”

“Oh, he’ll have to explain, but I will tell ye, his dress tartan wasnae put away proper like and when he took it out…it was a bit like swiss cheese…moth-eaten holes in it. He’s had to go and borrow the one he’s got, and it wasn’t prepped, so it’s a bit of a rush job. But as ye’ll see. Ye can’t rush it.”

Rush, what? I didn’t know.

Just then, the door to the library opened, and Double-A looked out. At Holly, he was about to ask a question, then seeing me, switched gears. “Och! There ye are. Come, the laird needs ye.”

At the door, I said, “He needs me? He needs to be getting dressed—”

Double-A shut the door behind me, and there on the ground was Rowan and something like a million yards of MacLaoch dress tartan laid out under him. The crimson was shot through with green for the forests, royal blue for the sea, and yellow for the gold of a wealthy clan. He had his crisply pressed white dress shirt on, the tails of which barely covered his crotch, already in his dress shoes and socks with sgian-dubh strapped to his calf.

The material had been meticulously pleated, but some of the pleats had come undone, and the Whisky Boys surrounded Rowan. Some stood and observed, and two others with the MacDunah brothers, held needle and thread, were repleating where the fabric had come undone.

“If ye’ll just hold still, this will be over in a moment!”

“If I had a moment, I’d bleeding well give it to ye! But I havenae, have I?” The Scots was thick in the room, and I strained to understand the mix of Gaelic and Scots.

The MacDunah brothers' exhausted gaze settled on me, then nodded to Rowan, who was trying to roll himself up into the kilt while they worked on it.

Angus spoke up, “Fair maiden, if ye please. Deal with this lout.”

Rowan shot him a glare as Simon and Charles openly laughed. The sight of their clan chief and laird prone with his dick in the wind, trying to accomplish a task he could do since he was a ‘wee bairn’, was giving them the utmost joy.

Rowan saw me, and his gaze was like that of a cornered stallion in a stable. He was primed to bolt.

I knelt next to him and put my hand on his thigh. I wanted to give him some of my calm.

His eyes went wild, “Git yer hand off me!”

“Rowan, if you’ll—” I saw what he meant in a second. But unfortunately, so did the room.

“Oh, aye. He’s a proud one.”

The men snickered at Rowan’s half-stiffy that had begun to lift the fabric of his shirt hem, and it was the distraction the MacDunah brothers needed. Rowan lay back defeated.

“Oh, aye, have a laugh! At least I can still get it up, unlike you lot.”

Double-A hit Charles on the shoulder, “He probably pisses straight too, unlike you.”

Bernie got Rowan rolling again as Charles, not amused by Double-A’s quip, said, “He was talking about ye too, you know!”

Rowan was up and fastening the heavy material around his waist before donning his kilt jacket, then tossing the end of the tartan over his shoulder. Bernie and Angus hurried to attach the clan brooch to his chest, the pewter clan crest that also signified he was chief.

There was a knock at the door, and Holly poked her head in, “I hope your ass is covered, chief.” To me, “There’s a car coming up the drive.”

I cursed and pointed to the older men, “Get out.”

They filed out in fits of laughter and bickering.

To Rowan, I held his hands. “Ready?”

He took a deep, calming breath and held it for a moment before exhaling. “Now I am. This thing is as auld as fuck, and the pleat stitching snapped halfway through the first go.”

Rowan was a sight. To my untrained eye, I would never have known there were stitches hidden in all the fabric or that some had snapped. It draped and flowed as a single pleated unit; the black of his kilt jacket matched his hair, and with a quick hand through it, I stepped back.

“You’re going to give her a heart attack, you’re so damn handsome.”

He didn’t hear me and just shook out his arms and adjusted his cuffs. “Her room has been opened and aired out. Fresh sheets and towels for the bath.”

“I know, good thing we planned ahead and got the plumbing sorted out on this level just for this visit. Peabody is quite thankful.”

“We’ll have tea, then supper later in the formal dining—”

Outside, the first bagpipe began to croon. That was our signal to get to the stairs. Rowan had the entire arrival planned like a professional event planner. That binder had clan people assigned tasks for that very reason.

Holly threw open the doors. “She’s in the drive.”

I hadn’t thought of my mother's arrival as a historical event, especially since on my first visit, I’d bossed my way through the back door, then had an epic, claustrophobic attack in the room where the fairy hole started. My mother, on the other hand, was going to either love or critique the entire affair.

At the top of the stairs, I took Rowan’s arm and thought I should have worn a dress or something fancier to match him.

Along the stairs, the Glentree pipe band took up each step, bagpipes, fiddle, skin drum, and at the foot of the stairs, at the entry, was a stand-up bass. At Rowan’s first step, they started.

The cathedral ceiling, I realized then, was there for more than just impression. The music filled the arching space with the strings and croons in surround sound. The bass and skin drum echoed through my chest, and it set my skin to goosebumps as if some ancient call that all humans knew in their heart of hearts was in that beat.

The main double doors opened just as the car pulled into the roundabout. At the literal red carpet that had been rolled out, I swallowed a laugh.

To Rowan, I mumured, “Whatever happens here, my mother will never forget it. You went all out, sir.”

Rowan confessed, “I’ve never done this before, met my love’s mother. All I keep thinking is that my Uncle instilled in me the importance of this seat and that some need to know of its importance, and others need to be reminded of its value and traditions. This is a tradition I must keep.”

Holly was waiting at the base of the stairs. She grinned at me, then did a deep curtsey to Rowan.

To me, she asked, “Handsome devil, is he not? How is Ms. Baker Senior’s heart? Shall I get the medic on the way?”

“Yes, would you? My mother is going to take one look at Rowan and have an attack of the vapors.” As the car came to a stop, I could see a rough silhouette of more than one person in the back seat. But it was fading light, and the outside lights were softly lit, and I couldn’t be sure.

“Is that luggage in the back with my mother?”

The car driver leaped out. He waved to Rowan, and Rowan nodded. The driver seemed to know what was happening and was thrilled to have a part of the full highland show, MacLaoch-style.

“Is the driver part of this, too?”

He gave me a quizzical glance, “Nae, never met tha man.”

“Right,” I said, smiling and waving like an uncultured American at my mom in the back seat.

The driver opened the rear door, and my mother's perfectly quaffed bottle-blonde hair emerged. The driver held out his hand, and with my mother’s hand in his, she arrived. She was in a powder-blue top and sensible stretch slacks with hot-pink sneakers. She took in the castle, the bagpipes that were now lined up behind us, the clan's people who had gathered in their finest MacLaoch plaid kilts, skirts, vests, and wool sport coats. There was a kind of unity the plaid brought, like we all looked different, but we were all MacLaochs.

Her mouth went slack, and I heard Holly whisper, “Is this the vapors?”

Rowan patted my hand before he let me go to receive my mother. The pipes gave one last sigh before going quiet.

LeeAnne Baker was a spry older woman who looked as if she’d flown for 24 hours, yet still kept her lip gloss tight. She was just as I remembered: good cheekbones and “lovely” soft brown eyes that made my Daddy give her anything she wanted. Those soft eyes raked over the group and found me. She smiled, a kind of relief, then startled as it went to the man who approached her.

Her first reaction to Rowan was surprise; she blinked twice, as if her brain were short-circuiting, before her gaze settled properly on him. She took him in from head to toe, then back up again.

He stood a full head height taller. He held out his hand for hers. “Madam Baker, it is good to receive you. I, Rowan James Douglas MacLaoch, Clan chief of the MacLaochs, bid you welcome.”

Her hand floated to his, and Rowan put her knuckles to his lips and gave them a soft peck.

I came to stand next to him to hug her, but she held onto his hand and stared into his steely blue eyes with a gaze I’d only seen on her once. Farming in the summer is hard work, and when fields need to be hayed, those without the fancy farm equipment call in favors with the farm hands in the county. After a day of haying, we returned to the farm yard where the young men had shucked their shirts, revealing their glistening brawn. And, in a need to get clean and cool off, they turned on the ag water and stood in the geyser of it. The scene was a picturesque landscape of masculine form, equal to a Victorian orgy. Mother’s eyes had been just like that, then too.

“Mother?”

“Don’t interrupt, Nicole. I’ve only just met your beau, and I haven’t finished my hello.” To Rowan, “What a pleasure it is to have…to be received by you and yours.” My mother gestured a hand to encompass the clan on the stairs behind us. “You and your castle are a sight to behold. I am in awe and awed by its and your magnificence.”

My mother’s debutant training was turned up to 11.

“Thank ye. Now, the reason for your visit,” Rowan passed her to me, “Your daughter, Madam Baker.”

My mother then grabbed me with a strength that startled me, proof that her aerobics classes were working. She hugged me with a kind of sigh, “Darling, there you are. Finally, in my arms.”

She hugged me tight, then peppered my face with kisses. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Mother.” I thought of all the little squabbles she’d had with me over the video chats about me having “given up my family,” but now stood before me a full convert to my cause.

She hugged me tight again and whispered, “Rowan is a sight for sore eyes. I see why you couldn’t leave.” She held me at arm’s length, “Now, for my surprise.”

From the car, I heard a grumble, “All this racket woke me. We’re there then?” And out from the rear emerged my dad.

The driver had gotten swept up in the spectacle and belatedly said, “Oh! Let me help.” He got to the door as my dad got out. Ransome Bridges Baker wore his nicest farm jeans and a sunproof, lightweight, long-sleeved, collared shirt that my mother had started buying after he had a spot of skin cancer removed from his forearm. He gave the driver a sour look, then turned his tanned face to the people gathered.

I watched as Rowan took in the surprise of my father being there and my father taking in the ‘racket.’

Rowan’s face blanched. He was prepared for my mother and had succeeded in winning her over in just a few seconds of meeting her. My father? He was not prepared. And the panic was visible.

For me, I loved my mother and Rowan, but my father was my person.

“Daddy!” I shouted and dropped my mother like a hot potato and hopped over the hood of the car and ran into his open arms.

He was just as I remembered him, barrel-chested, strong, and smelling of a spicy aftershave. He squeezed me tight.

“There’s my girl. You having yourself a good adventure, Monster?”

I laughed at my nickname, it was like home had hopped on a plane and come directly to me. It was joy and acceptance all in one bear hug.

I leaned back, and my father put his calloused hands on my shoulders and squeezed.

I said, “I sure am. I’m surprised you came! I thought you couldn’t get away until later.”

His gray-green eyes twinkled in the low light of the evening, “Did I say that? Hmm, must have been all part of the surprise.”

“It’s a whopper of a surprise.” I grinned back at him. I hugged him again, and he patted my back with the kind of surefire thumps that reset your heartbeat.

“Now, introduce me to your friends.”

I took in his tanned face and salt-and-pepper hair, which made my mother’s friends joke during their card nights, cocktails in hand, on which famous Hollywood actor he looked like. Something I thought was gross until our first trip into Charlottesville, and the hotel clerk gasped and called him Mr. Gere.

“You mean, ‘let me meet the man of your dreams, your husband and soulmate’ and the clans people who are now my extended family?”

He tsked, and made a sour face, “Monster, don’t go getting hot-headed. Rowan’s your friend, ain’t he?”

“Sir.” Came from behind him. Rowan had come around the car and held out his hand to my father. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And it’s a welcome surprise, thank you for coming.”

My father shook his hand. Rowan’s face wore a pleasant but serious smile, and my father’s gaze was unsmiling; the deadlocked eyes and firm handshake suggested they were communicating via hand squeezing and eye contact.

Rowan’s voice was low, “Why do you call her Monster?”

“She would terrorize her brother and cousins with snakes and frogs from the pond on our farm. Why’d you marry her without my permission?”

“She’s no’ your property and I apologize for not upholding your traditions along with my own.”

“I guess that’s it.”

Rowan was keen, “Is it?”

“Your protective nature over my daughter means more to me than all that pomp and circumstance you have behind you.”

“Ransome!”

“Dad—”

My mother and I said at once to my Father.

My mother intervened, “We are so thankful for the grand welcome. It’s been a long two days. Our departure time got bumped twice, and the flight that was supposed to be non-stop from New York turned into a nightmare web of flights to finally get us to Glasgow. Luckily, our luggage made it. Then we had problems at customs…and we haven’t slept a wink.”

Rowan held out his arm for my mother to take it, “Then let us show you to your rooms.”

The driver piped up, “I can bring up the luggage if ye wish?”

“Aye. Will ye be needing a bed for tonight?”

“Och, nae. My sister lives just twenty minutes south of here.”

We got my parents settled. My father hit the hay but my mother got her second wind and was working the people who stayed to have supper with us. I held onto her, switching out her wine for water to help her jetlag she’d no doubt get hit with the next day, and in every pause, she’d ask, “Where’s Rowan?”

I smiled to myself. “He’s over there with Bernie and Angus.”

“Let’s see what they’re talking about then, shall we?”

The room was full of kilts, and it was making my mother’s cheeks go pink and her eyes glaze with romance. I left her with the gentleman to fill her water cup when Holly caught me.

“So, mum is in love with the laird.”

“Yup, one parent down…”

“Yer da was just tired. He’ll be right as rain tomorrow, ye’ll see.”

“I hope so.”

“I wasn’t sure who was going to break whose hand in tha’ handshake earlier.”

“I know. I’ve never seen my father do that. And the peppered questions they both fired at each other.”

“My favorite was the ‘marrying her without my permission’ part.”

“Yeah, he’s old school. I’m personally not a big fan of the property implication there.”

“I thought you were going to bring the Viking out.”

“My dad would shit a brick.”

Holly was thoughtful, “Or, I dunno, since I’ve only just met him, but I think he might shrug and say, ‘makes sense.’”

With the ice water in my hand, I grinned at Holly.

“He does call ye Monster. Likely, he’s known his whole life tha’ ye got a Viking deep inside you.” Holly poured a dram for her and me of the Glentree Gold whisky, “And ask yer old boyfriends about yer da. He probably threatened them all.”

“Probably. Luckily, I found the one who knew the riddle to my dad’s questions.”

“Who would have known it wasn’t a riddle but a reaction he was looking for—Shit.”

“What? Oh.”

Double-A, Holly’s dad, who was deep in his cups, pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “Excuse me while I take care of this ejit who somehow woo’d me mum to get close enough tae get her pregnant.” To her father, “Oye! Not in here.”

In the rear corner, the whisky boys, with cups in hand, attempted a highland jig to music that they started singing, surprising me by staying on tempo.

I heard my mother giggle just as Rowan’s voice smoked over my skin, This one might need her bed.

My mother was tapping in time to the Whisky boy’s song that was turning out to be a bawdy tale of a loose maiden with a large rack. My mother had an arm in Rowan’s and her head leaning against his shoulder.

“Awe,” I whispered and went to them. I took my mother’s other arm. “All right, mother. Time for bed.”

“Oh, but this is so much fun and I’m not quite tired. It must be morning in South Carolina and I’m not done talking with my new son.”

Oh, it’s son now. I said to Rowan.

He grinned like a fox in the hen house. Never underestimate a well-laid plan. I just wish I’d known Ransome was coming too.

Don’t worry. You have time. I’m sure he’ll leave here a fan.

I wish I shared your confidence.

***

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Book 4 of the Clan MacLaoch Curse Series is currently being written. In the meantime, stay updated with release news and giveaways on social media and the monthly Author Becky Banks newsletter.