How to Marry a Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  “As he should have been because I was in earnest.”

  “He knew that. I think that is what rattled him so. But I told Kara that while I love Fearan, he had not been acting in the best interest of himself or the clan. Of course, she claimed he had been.”

  “And what did you say?” Dugan asked, warmed that even when they were not speaking, Adanel had been defending his position and decisions.

  Adanel blinked. “That Fearan was acting as he had always done. He was treating you as if you were like my father or my grandfather before him, and that was a mistake. While hard to admit because I am related to them, both were cowards. It’s why they liked to use fear as a weapon and shrank when someone stood up to them. Fearan’s whole approach was based on the assumption that you would react the same way they did. And it was a mistake.”

  “I’m just glad Fearan realized I was not bluffing because I would have hated to lose him. He really does know what he is doing and is full of new ideas. Some fairly radical, but I am going to let him try many of them.”

  Adanel giggled. “I know. Kara says Fearan is so happy that it is like living with a little boy during Christmastide.” She reached up on her toes and kissed him on his cheek. “Thank you. Because as partial as Kara is to me, she loves Fearan more and I fear that our relationship might have been in jeopardy if the man was still brooding.”

  “Well, anything I can do to save the friendship of my wife and her best friend.” Dugan laughed and gave her a light squeeze. “And you have yet to explain what you meant about the pay.”

  “Nothing really,” Adanel said with a shrug. “When I sent everyone away and started bringing them back individually to talk about what they did, what they wanted to do, their frustrations working under my father, one of the most illuminating answers I received was to the one Tybalt asked: Why did you work for Laird Mackbaythe when he was so cruel and changeable?”

  “What was the answer?”

  “Money,” Adanel answered simply, with a shake of her head. “It seemed my father paid them well and they believed that with the port down and the MacLeods blocking ships coming in and out of the upper loch, you would not have the funds to pay hardly anyone, especially those who directly served my father.”

  Dugan bobbed his head, seeing why they might have thought that. “Most lairds probably would not have the funds to continue paying staff until coin started regularly coming in.”

  Adanel turned back to look out the window. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I had never before considered the idea of pay and money. So when it first came up during our interviews, I was uncomfortably worried. I could not promise them what they wanted or needed to hear. And without that promise, I knew that staffing the castle at all would be impossible, let alone with those who would be willing to do the hard work to make this place what it could be. But Tybalt said not to concern myself with payment. You had enough to cover whatever was agreed.”

  “I do and it was worth it.” Dugan rubbed her arms encouragingly. “The change has been remarkable.”

  “But how?” Adanel asked. “When Tybalt said, quite convincingly, that there were plenty of funds and that all who deserved to be paid would be, I was sure he was just stalling for time. But I’ve seen him meet with the staff and pay them. Where did he get all that coin?”

  Dugan studied her expression and knew that simple platitudes and evasiveness were not going to work. Her eyes swirled with curiosity. Adanel was going to prod until she discovered the answer. “I have money, Adanel,” he finally stated. “Quite a bit for I was not always a commander. Remember, I was almost named laird of the Torridon region instead of Cole McTiernay.”

  “You were almost a McTiernay laird?” she asked incredulously.

  He shook his head. “I was born a Conanach. I’m not a Highlander by birth; I just spent the majority of my adult years in this region. I knew the language, and with my size and skill with the blade, people in the north assumed that I was one of them. But I grew up on the mouth of the River Clyde working the docks.”

  Adanel’s jaw dropped in shock. How could she not know this about him?

  He grinned. “I suspect there is a great deal we don’t know about each other, love. We will learn all our secrets in time,” he said, and tugged her hand toward the table.

  Adanel blinked, realizing she had spoken her question aloud, and then followed him, plopping down on his lap when he pulled her toward him.

  “So”—he paused to pull off a piece of bread and give it to her—“if I had been named laird, the clan would have probably become Conanach. But, it was a good thing I was not named laird.”

  “Why?” Adanel asked, covering her mouth as she chewed.

  “Lots of reasons. Mostly I would not have made a good one at the time. I had led a small group of men, but that is not the same as a clan. Working for Cole, I not only got leadership experience, but I also learned what it took to be a good laird.”

  “And the money?”

  “Well, as I said, I led a small group of men—one of whom was Garrett—” Adanel’s eyes popped open and then she rolled them as if she should have realized their relationship was anchored in his past. “—and if you were good at fighting, something we all were, it could be very lucrative at times. Some of the men liked to spend their money on women and drink; I saved mine.”

  “What were you saving it for?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not really sure, actually. I guess I just didn’t want the lack of coin to keep me from going after an opportunity I wanted to pursue.”

  “Then is Tybalt paying the staff using your savings?” she whispered. “Faireachdainn.”

  “That would have been the case, but my savings are still ours to use as we want,” he said, pulling off a piece of meat and eating it. He moaned with pleasure. “This is very good. I was told Kara refused the position of the head cook in the kitchens.”

  “She did,” Adanel affirmed, and opened her mouth to take the piece of meat Dugan was offering. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the succulent flavor. “You’re right. This is good. Kara did not cook it, but she is the one who helped me find the ones who did. Most had never worked in a large kitchen, they were just women she had known for years in the village. She also taught them some of her tricks to bring out the flavor.”

  “She did a good job, but I am surprised Kara was able to get so many.”

  “We would not have if not for the coin Tybalt is paying them . . . which you just implied is not yours?”

  “Oh, it is mine,” he reassured her. “It just did not come from my savings. Seems your father had quite a large stash of gold he had kept hidden away. Based on the little I could glean from the corrupt dockmaster before I banished him, your father had quite the scheme going. Through lies and manipulation, he got both sellers and buyers to agree to only minimal markups, while telling the other something quite different.”

  “Goods going through our docks were marked up twice?”

  Dugan nodded. “And your father reaped the benefits for years. That is the coin I found and that is what I am using to make all the repairs and support Fearan in his expansion endeavors. Without it, we would have been doing the minimum until the port was running again.”

  Adanel stared at the food on the table, flummoxed by what Dugan had just told her. “I cannot believe they did not know it was happening.”

  “They would have if MacCoinnich and MacLeod ever spoke to each other. But they don’t and your father took advantage. Still, they had to have suspected something, though not the degree to which it was happening. It was probably the reason MacCoinnich agreed to your father’s marriage idea. I am also sure that the deception is partly behind MacLeod’s reason to blockade the port.”

  “I thought that was because my grandfather believed he should have Bàgh Fìon because I am half MacLeod.”

  “Speaking of which, what did you think of my gift?”

  Adanel looked away, knowing a sheepish look had overtaken her expression. Until n
ow, she had not felt the slightest bit of guilt in refusing to open the box he had sent. “I haven’t looked at it.”

  Dugan ran his tongue along his teeth. “It was not a bribe. Faden and I found it with your father’s stash and he said it belonged to your mother. That makes it yours.”

  Adanel’s mouth dropped. “I did not know.”

  “Where is it?” he asked, grabbing her waist and lifting her to her feet so he could stand.

  “It’s next to my chest on the floor,” she mumbled, feeling very foolish as she watched him leave the room and go to her chambers. Less than two minutes later he had returned, box in hand.

  “I could not find the key.”

  Adanel swallowed. “I did not want to be tempted so I put it in here, on that table over there.” Dugan gave her a look. Adanel shrugged. “I did not want the servants to find it.”

  Dugan got the key and handed it to her. “Open it. I think you will be both surprised and pleased.”

  Nudging the tray out of the way, Adanel took the box and placed it on the table. She then pushed in the key and opened the lid. Inside was a velvet bag with the MacLeod crest embroidered on it. She glanced up at Dugan, who nodded encouragingly for her to continue. Carefully, she stretched the bag’s opening and slid out the contents. Adanel knew immediately what she was looking at.

  The MacLeod jewels. Necklaces, brooches, bracelets, hair clips—all items purchased from abroad and coveted by the Highland clans. Only the queen had jewels to rival those that were shining before her.

  Adanel fingered a large emerald on one of the necklaces and then looked up. Her face blanched. “And you said that Faden saw these? He knew what was in this bag? Are you certain?”

  Dugan’s brow furrowed seeing her grave countenance. It reminded him of the look he saw Faden had upon seeing them. “Aye,” he answered.

  “A thighearna!” she murmured, so softly he barely heard her. Adanel slunk down into a chair. “These,” she said, pointing at the fortune, “are the famous MacLeod jewels. I have never seen them, but my mother told me about them several times when I was little.”

  “Well, I don’t have to ask why your father did not give them to you, but you seem surprised that they even exist.”

  Adanel grimaced. “I was not sure they did, or um . . . that they were here. You see, my grandmother gave them to my mother in order to convince her to marry my father. She was about to back out, afraid that she was going to make a mistake she would have to live with for the rest of her life. These jewels were to ensure that she would be respected, but if necessary, they were also the means for my mother to escape. She foolishly left them out one night and my father took them. Of course, she sent word to my grandmother of what happened, who had then told my grandfather. From what I was told, he was furious. He had no idea of what my grandmother had done.”

  “Laird MacLeod wants the jewels back.” Dugan sat down next to her.

  Adanel nodded. “It was the real reason my grandfather sent all his sons down here to guard the ‘interests of the MacLeod’ because it was certainly not me or my mother. Faden is the youngest of my uncles and it was shortly after he arrived when rumors started to fly that my grandfather was going to stop MacLeod ships from coming to Bàgh Fìon. It was said that my father made a threat and it worked for MacLeod ships returned to our port. I don’t remember much. I was only twelve at the time.”

  “You remember enough,” Dugan said, leaning forward with his elbows upon his knees.

  “But what is so surprising is that this is what Faden has been looking for all these years. These jewels are his way back home.”

  “He told you this?”

  She nodded. “It was right after Daniel”—she paused and looked at Dugan, relieved to see no animosity that she had almost married someone before him—“was killed,” she finished. “It was horrible and Faden sent word to my grandfather asking to return home and provide refuge for me. Faden was told that he knew the price to come home and until he could pay it, he—nor I—would be welcomed. Angry, Faden told me everything. By that time, he had been searching for years. I, of course, joined the hunt and we looked everywhere, Dugan—stairwells, passageways, even the docks themselves.”

  “They were well hidden. It was by accident I came upon them. If I had not literally stumbled, it is possible that they—and all your father’s gold—would never have been found.”

  The blood drained out of Adanel’s face. “Faden will be leaving us now that we have found these.”

  “He was the one who told me to give them to you.” Dugan slid the bag in her direction, somewhat in awe of what he was looking at. He had only glanced at the jewels before. If he had known exactly what they were, he would have done something more to keep them safe. For if anyone had known what was in that box on her floor, the locked box would have been destroyed and the MacLeod jewels would be missing again. “I don’t think he plans on using them.”

  Her face lit up and Adanel shoved the bag and the jewels in his direction. “But you could. You could do just what my father did and coerce my grandfather into ending the blockade and restarting trade with us. These jewels could be the key, Dugan, to everything. You already have won over the docks and the soldiers.” She waved her hand to the revelry taking place outside. “The rest of the clan will soon be just as supportive, and with the port active, no one could argue your claim to being laird here.”

  “They are your jewels, Adanel. They belonged to your mother and now you.”

  Adanel looked down and picked up a hair clip. Small amethysts lined its border, each surrounded tiny diamonds. Above them lay three rows of pearls with amethysts finishing the look in a simple swirl design of gold. “I want this one,” she said softly, and put it aside.

  She then gathered the rest of the jewels and put them back into the velvet bag. Once more she slid it toward Dugan. Picking up the hairpin, she said, “I am part MacLeod and our children will be as well. I want our daughter and our daughter’s daughter to have something that leaves her heritage in no doubt. The MacLeods are powerful, and having this hairpin as proof of our lineage could be helpful to our great-grandchildren one day. Besides I, well, like it,” she said with a smile. “But use the rest. They are the MacLeod jewels. I am a McTiernay. And after all that my uncle did for me over the years, I want to give Faden a chance to go home.”

  Dugan was almost positive that Faden would go home, but only to visit. The man’s family, his friends, the ones he trusted, were all here. And now that he had a position that was both challenging and rewarding, Dugan could not see Faden giving it all up to once again be the youngest of five brothers. “If you are certain about not keeping them,” Dugan murmured, still slightly amazed that Adanel could so easily push them away.

  “I am.”

  “Then I think first, we will put these, including this”—he picked up the clip and put it back in the box alongside the bag—“in a safe place until I can send word to MacLeod to come and get them.”

  Adanel looked puzzled. “You are just going to give the jewels back to my grandfather?”

  “It’s like you said. They are the MacLeod jewels. They were given to your mother but they should remain with the MacLeod clan. They should be worn and enjoyed by your grandmother, not collecting dust.”

  “But what about the blockade?”

  Dugan reached over, tenderly gripped her chin to tilt her head toward him, and gave her a light kiss on her lips. “Remember what you told your friend Kara? I am not your father and only a fool would have done as he did.”

  “You are not a fool,” Adanel said with a smile, gliding off her chair, leaving the blanket behind. “You are chieftain of the McTiernays of Gerloch, my husband, and most importantly, the keeper of my heart.”

  “Aye, I am definitely that,” he said, and scorched her to his soul with a kiss.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Laird MacLeod continued to study the brash new McTiernay laird who had summoned him to Bàgh Fìon. MacLeod was an old man. Hi
s once flaming red hair was nearly all gray. His stomach protruded far more than he liked and his energy waned in the afternoons. But what had not lessened with time was his ability to read men, negotiate, and strike a spark of fear in a man’s eye upon will.

  His cold stare normally made men quiver with fear. Coupled with the drumming of his fingers on the table for long minutes without stopping, he never failed to make even the most arrogant of men begin to have doubts. But this McTiernay laird—this Dugan—was an enigma. He was calm, powerful, and had a quiet strength that could be just as inflexible as his own.

  Dugan was brown-haired, blue-eyed, and muscular; MacLeod could see why his granddaughter had fallen for the new laird. When Adanel had come to the dock to welcome him as he got off his ship, MacLeod had been shocked to see just how much she looked like her mother. Faia had been the eldest of his two daughters and had captured his heart the day she was born. Her red hair had curled around her face and bounced whenever she smiled. It had never occurred to him that he had been giving her over to a madman or that Faia’s wedding would be the last time he would ever see her. He had never dreamed a lot of things that had happened. But seeing Adanel was like looking into the past with a chance to make up for past mistakes.

  Something he was willing to do, but not at any price. Somewhere around this port were jewels that could practically buy all of Scotland. The sparkly baubles themselves meant little to him, but they did represent power. Their loss had made him look weak and that was something he despised.

  He had made the MacLeod name into something powerful and it was not by giving in to emotional whims. And yet, the McTiernay had surprised him with presenting a business plan that might prove to be very profitable.

  The trade over the years from the small port was of little consequence to him, his captains, or his clan, but with what Dugan was proposing, that could change. Bàgh Fìon could grow to be a central area of commerce. However, the young laird needed ships—he did not have . . . but MacLeod did. Unfortunately for the McTiernay, he did not do business with those he did not trust. He had done it once, at this very port, and after his daughter had paid the price, he vowed never to do it again.