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I did, moving into the much, much colder air. It was arctic up here compared to being on the ground, which made sense, of course. Not that it helped me—I was surely going to freeze to death by the time we made it back down, and William would have to carry me inside Glenroch Castle and pop me in front of a fire somewhere until I thawed out.
I shivered, pressing myself against the wall. “Oh. That’s cold.”
“Sit down,” he said, smiling as he did just that.
Begrudgingly, I lowered myself to the cold stone. The wall did provide a bit of a windbreak, thankfully, and I was still able to see over the top of it.
And thank God I was.
The view was even more stunning from here.
The mountains in the distance were topped with snow, and thick clouds swarmed them as if threatening more. It was a beautiful, eerie addition to the landscape, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever see something quite as beautiful as this ever again in my life.
“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’tthata 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.”
