Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“I believe I was promised history,” I said after a second of tracing the ups and downs of the view with my gaze.
William chuckled. “We descend from the Clan MacIntyre,” he started, looking out at the view. “I haven’t read the exact ins and outs for a long time, so my memory is a little vague.”
I tutted. “You tease a girl with history and lead with vagueness. What a let-down.”
He glanced at me. “Do you want what I’ve got or not?”
Boy. Wasn’t that a loaded question?
“Sorry. Carry on.”
“Thank you.” He drew his attention back in front of us, and I did the same. “The clan dates back to before Scotland even existed as a state. Back then territory was the most important thing, and this area of the Highlands was in high demand. Unlike a lot of the region, there’s fertile land here—or there was back then before modern day society took over.”
I nodded in agreement.
“It meant a lot of bloodshed as other clans fought for the land. I think we lost it once to the Clan McNair in the first Battle of Glenroch and our chief was killed. In the year that followed, his son—the new chief—rallied the clan and raided smaller ones in the area, enveloping the survivors and the willing into our clan with promises of rich land if they helped. He doubled the size of the clan in just a year.”
“Wow. That’s pretty impressive.”
“And largely did it without too much bloodshed,” William said. “It was impressive, considering how different society was back then. Clan McNair were lax in their defences, assuming they’d completely overpowered the MacIntyres, and we began the Second Battle of Glenroch to take back what belonged to us.”
“The MacIntyres obviously won.”
“The McNairs surrendered in the end. They realised they couldn’t win it, and a pact was made between the two clans to never go to battle again, and the MacIntyres would spare their chief.”
“Did they keep their word?”
He nodded. “The McNairs settled just outside MacIntyre land, but they essentially became a part of the clan until they left for Ireland. They surrendered their clan land to my ancestors.”
“Wow. Were there anymore battles after that?”
“Not big ones like there had been,” he replied. “My ancestors had been caught unaware the first time, so they built these watchtowers at various places on their land. It was both a warning system and a good vantage point for archers to pick off wannabe armies. Those who tried to take the land failed—both established clans and ones looking to create their own. Because of their power, my family became hugely influential in the political arena. They had a big sway in who people supported to take the throne in Scotland. I believe one of the chiefs even served as Lord Chancellor to the King at some point, but you’d have to ask my grandfather about that.”
“Wow. So your family had real power?”
“Back when it mattered, yes. They backed the King during one attempted English invasion sometime in the fourteen-hundreds, and with the MacIntyres came a huge army. The King at the time was so grateful for the support that he made the chief of Clan MacIntyre the Duke of Glenroch, and the rest is history.”
“That’s incredible. What about the other titles you hold?”
“I’m a little fuzzier on those. Grandpa is also the Marquis of Braenig, the Earl of Dunbarn, and Viscount Kinkirk.”
“Marquis? Oh, of course. That’s the Scottish version of marquess.”
He smirked. “I thought I had you there.”
“Don’t be daft. It’s just the cold slowing my brain down.” I laughed. “Is your dad the marquis, then?”
“No. My great-great-great,” he paused, using his fingers to count for a moment. “Great-uncle was quite the character, and he had a bit of a proclivity for hiring… uh, prostitutes.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“When it was decidedly illegal,” William added. “Everyone knew who he was, and he did his wife no favours. Humiliated her, actually.”
“I should think so.”
“They were never able to have children,” he explained. “But he fathered no less than eleven illegitimate sons and daughters with his mistresses and… um, paid company, which put the blame squarely at his wife’s feet.”
My lips twitched at his ways of describing them. “Is that how the title ended up in the main line?”
“It is indeed. He died without a legitimate heir, so the title went to his nephew as the nearest male relative. That nephew was the Duke of Glenroch. At the time, the duke’s son was known as the Earl of Dunbarn, and they didn’t want to change it even though the marquis ranks higher.”
“I suppose there was also the issue of his antics.”
“Well, yes. He’d somewhat sullied the title with his scandals, and nobody particularly wanted to be associated with it or him. That’s carried down through the generations to this day.”
“So your dad uses the Earl of Dunbarn title, and you the Viscount Kinkirk one. You’ll use the earldom when he’s the duke?”