There had been many letters between the two old men—and much arguing. This was explained to Duncan that morning as he ignored the breakfast Cook set before him, and asked for a dram of whisky instead, ignoring, too, the stern look the old girl gave him for imbibing so early of a morn. The arguing had not been over whether Duncan would go to England, but over who would lay claim to his firstborn son.

“The one that’ll be taking o’er here,” Archie explained. “Nae one expects ye tae divide yerself, Duncan lad. We’ve tae many businesses here, and there’ll be tae many duties there in England for ye tae assume. That’d be tae much for any mon, and tae long a journey for ye tae be making constantly back and forth.”

They both wanted him wed posthaste so that he’d have a bairn by next year that would be farmed out—just as he was being. They didn’t care what he thought of their arranging his life for him. They’d already agreed between the two of them that with Neville getting him, it was only fair that Archie get his firstborn.

He had a good mind to board a ship to some far-off place and to hell with both of them. But he loved Archie. He was furious with him at the moment, but he still loved him and could never break his heart that way.

Yet he felt like his life had never been his to live. They’d decided long ago that he would do as he was told to do, and that was that. Perhaps if he’d been raised differently, it might not have bothered him at all, to be so controlled. But Scotsmen were a fiercely independent lot, and Highlanders even more so. Which was why he still couldn’t believe that Archie had ever had any intention of honoring that damned promise. Agree to it, aye, to keep the peace and get Donald his bride, but in the end, he should have ignored it.

Yet he found out why Archie was resigned to honor the promise when he’d asked him directly, “And what if I refuse tae go?”

Archie sighed and said forlornly, “I loved yer muther like a daughter. I didna think I would, her being English, but she was the sweetest lass, and she grew on me verra quickly. I realized long ago, afore she died, that I couldna dishonor her by breaking her promise. Even after she died, and the choice was truly mine, I still couldna dishonor her memory.”

“The choice is mine, Archie, no’ yours tae be making for me.”

“Nae, ye dinna hae any more choice than I did, because ye loved yer muther, tae, and wouldna put such a stain on her memory, would ye now?”

Duncan didn’t answer that. What he wanted to say stuck in his craw. Of course he couldn’t dishonor his mother. But he was hating her at the moment, for putting him in this despicable position, and that put another knot in his throat that was nigh choking him.

His silence, however, prompted Archie to add, “Yer no’ seeing the benefits yet, that I gained for ye by delaying yer going. Had auld Neville got ye when he wanted ye, three years ago, ye’d hae been at his complete mercy. Now he’ll find that he mun be careful in what he asks o’ ye, tha’ he could as easily get a nay from ye as a yea. For yer muther’s sake, ye’ll be taking over the duties she was sae happy tae dump on ye, but ye can accomplish wha’ needs doing in yer own way, no’ as Neville would hae it.”

As appeasements went, that one didn’t hit the mark for Duncan, when what he wanted was to kick Henry Myron on his way back to England—without him. That thought was so appealing, he almost left the kitchen to do just that. None of them, not his mother nor either grandfather, had taken his own preferences into account. He’d lived all his life in the Highlands. How could any of them think he could possibly want to live anywhere else? Title or not, great wealth or not, he did not want to live in England.

But if there was an easy way to manipulate Neville Thackeray as Archie had apparently done, he wanted to know it. So he picked up his chair and sat again, asking Archie, “And just how did you manage putting this off?”

Archie smiled then, proud of his accomplishment and how he’d gone about it. “First I pointed oout tha’ yer my heir as well, and since I already had ye, he’d hae a bluidy hard time getting ye away from me.”

“When you already planned tae sacrifice me?” Duncan said bitterly.

“Och, laddie, I wish ye werena sae upset by this. ‘Twas a bluff, aye, wha’ I told him, but he didna know tha’. Nigh six months o’ some serious threats passed atween us, then anither nine months o’ arguing when I told him I’d settle for yer firstborn, that he didna want tae relinquish. I ken he was thinking tha’ if ye didna settle in proper like, he’d hae yer bairn tae mold tae take yer place. The mon wasna thinking clearly, though, if he thought he’d live long enough tae do any molding.”

“And you will?”

Archie chuckled. “Yer no’ thinking clearly yerself, Duncan lad. As my heir, as well as his, ye’ll be glad o’ a son or tae or three, tae pass on all we’re leaving ye. Tae send yer firstborn here early will only be tae his benefit. But aye, I’ll be outliving that auld bastard by many a year, and he knows it.”

“You mentioned only fifteen months,” Duncan mumbled. “What put him off till now?”

“Well now, the talk o’ bairns naturally led tae talk o’ brides. He was insisting ye marry an English lass. He wouldna budge on that, though anither five months passed while we . . er, ‘discussed’ it. Then I insisted the lassie be the most bonny tae be found, and it took him a good long while tae find her.”

“An English lady, I suppose?”

Archie chuckled. “Aye, tha’s wha’ took sae long. Titled and the most bonny was no’ easy tae come by.”

“Yet a pure waste o’ time,” Duncan replied, adding, “I may go tae England, but I’ll no’ be marrying some handpicked lass that I’ve ne’er set eyes on.”

“Dinna fash yerself on tha’ account, laddie. ‘Twas only anither delay on my part, insisting he find ye a bride. If ye dinna want tae marry the prettiest lass in all o’ England oout o’ stubbornness, nae one is going tae insist on it—well, Neville might, but as I said, yer auld enough tae be telling him nay and meaning it.”

“‘Tis nothing tae do wi’ stubbornness,” Duncan said, his tone rising in annoyance.

“O’ course it isna.”

That condescending tone got Archie a glare. “I’ll be picking my own bride, is all, nae more’n any mon expects tae do, yourself included.”

“And glad I am tae hear it. But why burn the bridge afore ye cross it? Hae a look at the wench Neville found for ye first afore ye decline her. Ye may like her well enough. But if ye dinna, at least make an effort tae find anither.”

Duncan snorted. “I’ve nothing again’ marriage, Archie, but I’m a bit young tae be thinking o’ it yet.”

“And I’m a bit tae auld for ye no’ tae be. I may outlive Neville, and I’ll find someone tae help me here in the meantime, but I willna feel comfortable retiring completely again till yer son is auld enough tae take o’er.”

Which meant that Archie was in complete agreement with Neville, that Duncan marry immediately. One of the major undertakings of his life, and they both wanted him to rush into it.

Duncan left the kitchen in disgust. He’d go to England. But he wondered if his grandfather Neville would be glad of his coming.