Meriel shrugged. She had never once helped with the soap-making and had no idea what was involved. Raelynd crossed her arms and looked smugly down and listed the items. “Ash, tallow, lime, and some oil.”
Brenna shook her head this time, letting her curls bounce all around her face. “What do you use to make it smell good?”
Raelynd blinked. The idea of putting something else into the soap had never occurred to her. “Nothing.”
Brenna curled up into a ball on the bed and started giggling. “You use boy’s soap.”
Meriel smelled the gray mound. “It’s lavender, Raelynd. It is wonderful.”
Just then they heard Laurel’s voice call out. “Brenna? Are you in there?”
The little girl bounced off the bed and went to the door. “Yes, Mama.”
“Sweetheart, you need to leave our guests alone. You will have time to meet with them later, I promise.”
“She’s fine,” Raelynd said, enjoying the little girl’s company. With her sister being a twin, she always had a playmate growing up, but not a little sister whom she could teach things.
Laurel frowned, but finally acquiesced. “Just remember that dinner is at sundown, which is in only a couple of hours. It will be served in the Lower Hall with the soldiers to give Craig and Crevan a chance to introduce you both to all their friends and family.”
Raelynd stepped forward, not realizing there was an alarmed expression on her face. “We have never eaten with the men. Our father never liked us talking with them, especially at mealtime.”
“Well, I assure you that after being married for a few months, it will seem quite natural to be eating and talking with a bunch of rowdy soldiers. I have much to do, so I will see you at dinner.”
As soon as the door closed, Meriel moaned and Raelynd issued her a look to remain silent for Brenna was in the room. “We made a promise.”
Meriel nodded and finished undressing to bathe.
“What promise?” little Brenna prompted.
Raelynd grabbed her around the waist and swung her around. “Why, a promise to look our very best and make every McTiernay clansman and soldier wish he was the one betrothed to us.”
Brenna squealed with delight. “Can I help?”
Raelynd, getting dizzy, put her gently onto the floor. “Absolutely.”
Laurel smiled to herself and quietly exited the tower. As expected, trying to get Conor to admit there was no wedding had been a waste of time. The man had obviously made a promise to his friend and ally Laird Schellden, and short of it causing harm to someone in his family, Conor would not break it. In the end, the talk with her husband had accomplished only one thing. He had her convinced that she needed to at least act as if there was going to be a wedding, even though it was clear to her that not one of the four truly wanted or desired the event. She suggested as much to Conor and he had ordered her to do nothing more. She was to leave things alone. To Laurel that meant use more devious means.
Intentionally talking within her eldest daughter’s hearing, she mentioned they had two guests staying in Crevan’s and Craig’s old rooms, knowing Brenna would not be able to stop herself from running over there and meeting them. Of course Laurel had followed, keeping out of sight, and while she felt that it slightly involved subterfuge, it was worth it. In those few short minutes, Laurel had discovered more than she had bickering with Conor for nearly an hour.
Tonight, she would confirm her guess.
Meriel grabbed her knees and rocked back, laughing heartily as Brenna attempted another strange coil with Raelynd’s hair, pinning it in a less than appealing fashion. After they had both taken their baths, Meriel had been first to receive the delightful result of Brenna’s care and attention. The resulting hairstyle was quite uneven, messy, and overall very amusing.
Now it was Raelynd’s turn to have parts of her hair twisted into crazy knots they both knew would be a nightmare to brush out. But they didn’t care. Without a younger sibling, they had missed out on such pastimes. It was pleasant to have some fun with the little girl as they waited for a maid to come help them prepare for dinner.
Two strong knocks were heard on the door. Raelynd stopped Brenna with a mock sad face. “Go open the door and tell them we are ready.”
Brenna’s shoulders visibly slumped, for she too was having fun, and she went to the door as she was told. Opening it and seeing Laurel, she cheered up and said with pride, “Mama, they are ready!”
Laurel stepped inside, looking beautiful. Dressed in a kirtle made of a brilliant shade of deep blue, she had draped the McTiernay plaid so that it loosely crossed her bodice and was pinned to her shoulder. Everything about her was perfect, except for her stunned expression. She had suspected that neither Raelynd nor Meriel would be ready after agreeing to let Brenna stay with them, but she had not expected them to be so not ready. Raelynd at least had her bliaut on, but Meriel was still only in her shift.
“You, Brenna, go downstairs. Bonny and Braeden are waiting for you to go eat dinner with Gideon tonight.”
Brenna moaned. “Why can’t I eat with Papa in the Hall? Tonight is going to be fun with Lyndee and Meriel.”
Laurel shushed her and gave Brenna a little nudge. Her best friend, Aileen, had agreed to watch her own two children and Laurel’s three during the dinner. But Laurel had to make a promise in return. That not only did she have to chronicle the night’s events in detail, but also let her be part of whatever scheme Laurel concocted to deal with the two spoiled guests. Laurel had sworn she had no plan, but Aileen was not fooled. Her friend might not have had a defined plot in mind, but she would. Laurel was unable to help herself from getting involved if she thought her input was needed and, based on how Laurel described the Schellden twins, they definitely required help.
“Well, there is nothing to be done, I guess,” Laurel said, and went to the bed. She picked up the pale blue bliaut laid out on the coverlet and tossed it to Meriel. “Dress as you walk and come with me.”
Meriel knew she must have heard wrong and stuck the garment out in front of her. “But it is wrinkled and still needs to be prepared.”
Laurel nodded in agreement. “It is regrettable to introduce you both like you are, but fortunately both Crevan and Craig have seen you perfected. Hopefully in the future you will manage your time better when you prepare yourselves for dinner.”
Meriel stared at Raelynd, who was looking more and more uneasy by the second. At home, they had two maids to help them dress and do their hair. Though Laurel had never mentioned it, they had just assumed the same conveniences would be available to them at the McTiernay Castle. But it was becoming very evident that Laurel was not going to cater to their accustomed lifestyles. When their hostess had said dinner at sundown—she had meant it.
Raelynd swallowed. “Tell them we are sorry for not being prepared on time and will be down as soon as we are ready.”
“I will make no such apologies,” Laurel said simply.
Raelynd gasped, widening her eyes to saucer size for she had fully expected Laurel to comply with such an offer. After all, she had apologized. “Why can you not make our excuses while we prepare ourselves?”
“Because, while I could make excuses or even delay dinner, it would be rude,” Laurel started to explain. Her voice was patient, but held no possibility of yielding. “I cannot expect to receive respect if I do not give it. Now come with me.”
Meriel, busy cinching up the sides to her crumpled bliaut, said, “But what about our slippers?”
Laurel looked down and shrugged. “Be thankful it is warm enough to go without.”
Minutes later, Laurel entered the Lower Hall with Raelynd and Meriel shuffling in behind her. The large room was completely full of men, all soldiers who were looking very anxious to eat. But instead of eating they were standing, and Raelynd realized it was because they were waiting for Laurel.
Feeling the unhidden looks of amusement, Raelynd pulled her shoulders back and stiffened her spine at the humiliation
she was being forced to endure. With half her hair up and half of it down, she heard more than one chuckle directed at her comical state.
Meriel only wanted to hide. Her frightful dark gold locks were not quite as humorous as Raelynd’s after Brenna’s handiwork, but wearing only an extremely wrinkled bliaut with a shift underneath—no belt, no tartan, and no shoes—she not only felt half dressed, she looked it.
Laurel, giving no pity to their self-made situation, stopped every few feet to introduce them to a different group of soldiers. Each time Raelynd heard “these are Laird Schellden’s daughters, who are betrothed to Craig and Crevan” she stole a glance across the room to where their supposed future husbands stood waiting. Both were staring inscrutably at them. Raelynd felt awful, and though she knew it was Craig she should be feeling embarrassed for, her focus kept shifting back to Crevan. Nothing, not even the looks of shame her father had infrequently given her when she sniped at a servant, hurt as much as his blank expression.
At last, they arrived at their seats and the very moment Laurel sank down onto her chair next to an already sitting Conor, the soldiers sat down and commenced eating. Raelynd gulped and took a quick look around the room. Not one soldier was upset at being forced to wait to eat. Many of them were stealing glances at Lady McTiernay and nodding their heads. They had waited to eat not just as a gesture of respect for their laird; it had been something they had actually wanted to do for their lady. These men really did honor Laurel.
Feeling the sleeve of her arm being pulled, Raelynd turned toward her sister. Meriel had inched closer and was now practically pasted against her side. She was cowering, causing several of the men—most notably the obnoxious Conan—to openly stare at her. Raelynd couldn’t blame them as understanding dawned on her. The reason why people oftentimes did not treat either of them like an adult was because neither she nor Meriel acted like one.
Taking her elbow, she compelled Meriel to sit up. Never again, Raelynd promised herself. Next time I enter this room or any other I will be given respect, not because Lady McTiernay demanded it, but because I earned it. Leaning over, she whispered in Meriel’s ear, “Sit with pride. We are Laird Schellden’s daughters despite what we look like or what they think.”
Hearing those words, Meriel immediately sat straight up in her chair and both women started to eat as if nothing were out of the ordinary. They pasted on smiles and met blatant stares with lovely expressions, pretending they had not a care in the world. When Crevan finally looked at Raelynd, she only nodded regally to acknowledge his attention. Meriel mouthed the words “I’m sorry” to Craig.
He gave her a semihidden half smile and with a sigh, said, “Well, at least you two aren’t boring.”
Seeing their sudden change in disposition, Conan, who had been sitting catty-cornered from them, issued a loud hoot, getting the room’s attention. Crevan, sitting on Conan’s left, swiftly punched his younger brother in the arm as a warning.
Conor, at the head of the table, leaned over to his wife and whispered with obvious sarcasm, “Is this your revenge for me remaining silent?”
Laurel smiled coyly and swallowed some of her drink before answering. “Why, Conor my love, you know that I don’t believe in revenge. But I would continue to watch. I am sure there will be more to come.”
Almost as if on cue, Conan started to wave a finger at both Raelynd and Meriel. Then with an exaggerated wink aimed at his brothers, he declared, “Gorgeous women you have found there. I now see how they captured your attention. They certainly have gotten mine.”
Crevan dropped the leg bone he had been eating. “Conan, I’ll w-w-warn you only o-once, do not speak to them or about them in such a manner again.”
Coupled with a demeaning shrug, Conan grinned, leaving no doubt that was not the last word he was going to utter on the subject.
Minutes rolled by and people continued to eat as the tension in the air increased. All those near or about the main table waited for the explosion, for no one was wondering if Conan was going to ignore his brother’s warning, just when.
Intentionally tapping a spoon on his plate, Conan pondered out loud, “I have been sitting here wondering, as I am sure many others have been, just what it was that made my two devoted bachelor brothers suddenly want to propose and give up their freedom.” Dropping the utensil so that it clattered to get even more attention, Conan continued, mockingly. “I guess it is their undying beauty.”
Raelynd could not remember even seeing Crevan rise, and neither had Conan, for he was still in midsentence when Crevan’s fist cracked his jaw. Conan went flying, falling into the men sitting to his right. Ale spilled everywhere and the affected soldiers began to pummel whoever had caused them to spill their beverages all over themselves. As more food and drink continued to be disturbed, others joined the commotion. Trestles and benches were now in danger of being damaged.
“Enough!” Conor boomed. Instantly, the entire room quieted in compliance.
Except Conan.
Pulling himself off the floor, he brushed some of the food off his leine and then pointed at Meriel. “Of course, whichever one of you marries her is the luckiest. Won’t be hard to convince her to undress at night.”
Craig moved to stand right in front of his brother, his fist flexing. Raelynd could see, however, that Conan was unfazed. Her green and gold eyes flashed around the room. Conan was the one speaking, but he was not uttering a single word the men weren’t thinking. Craig and Crevan could beat their brother and every other man present, but it would not deter their remarks. And it certainly would not change their opinions.
Slowly, with her back straight and with the regal air of someone who was important and esteemed by all, Raelynd rose to her feet and looked at Laurel. “I want to apologize to you, Lady McTiernay, and you as well, Laird, for my and my sister’s appearance. I assure you that we will not be unprepared for dinner again.” Pausing, Raelynd turned toward Conan and issued him a fierce look that even those across the room could not miss. The soldiers went silent, and all eyes flickered between her and Conan. Unconcerned, Conan simply crossed his arms and smirked.
Never once wavering from Conan’s gaze, Raelynd expressed to the room at large, “I regret for having to leave early due to a headache. I rarely get them unless in the presence of small-minded people. And to those who think I am being overly judgmental of my betrothed’s brother when it is obvious he is still very young and immature, I ask your forgiveness.” Then, curving her lips into a malicious smile, Raelynd leaned over the table and in a much lower voice so only those close could hear, said, “I would like to remind you, Conan, that we are going to be related very soon. You are certainly a nice-looking boy but you have a long way to go before becoming a man. I can change my looks in an hour. To change you into a presentable, desirable person would take a lifetime.”
Their eyes remained locked, but no longer was a mocking, arrogant humor flickering in Conan’s blue depths. Too late, he realized that all eyes were no longer glued to her, but him. Irate that she had not only requited herself, but did so memorably, he broke their stare, pivoted, and stomped across the Hall to exit in the back via the kitchens.
Once Conan had left, Crevan calmly stood up and moved over to Raelynd’s side. Feeling his hand on her back, she forced herself to walk proudly toward the exit and into the cool night air.
Meriel had been just as stunned as the rest of the group, but she quickly recovered and rose to her feet. “I, too, would like to say good night to everyone present. I look forward to meeting everyone under more pleasant circumstances. Craig, would you escort me back to the North Tower?”
Craig practically leaped over the table and offered Meriel his arm. Giving him a genuine smile, she took it and sashayed by the rows of men who had once thought to ridicule her.
Once all four were no longer in sight, Laurel relaxed into the back of her chair and popped a piece of lamb into her mouth, with a look of immense satisfaction. Tonight’s events could not have gone any
better.
Conor, seeing her smug expression, muttered just loud enough so she could hear, “I cannot believe you actually wanted that fight.”
“But look how informative it was. Besides, was it not exactly what you had asked me to do?” Laurel asked innocently. Conor’s jaw went rock hard and Laurel did not fight the urge to lean over and kiss him. “Before tonight, no one would have believed Craig or Crevan was going to be married, especially to Laird Schellden’s daughters. Both women needed something to shatter people’s impressions of them and allow their true character to be revealed for all to see.”
Grimacing, Conor shoved his plate with food away from him. Grabbing his mug of ale, he told her, “Next time find another way. I was hungry until I was forced to watch Conan act like an ass and have my younger brothers’ honor be saved by two silly girls.”
Laurel shrugged, still very satisfied. Raelynd and Meriel had looked foolish but in the end it had only worked in their favor. She would not have changed a single thing, including how they came to Craig and Crevan’s rescue, and Laurel’s demeanor clearly said so.
Conor huffed, wondering at the nightmare he had created. He had told Laurel to help plan a wedding—not work on people’s characters! Worse, he knew his wife had only just begun! Damn you, Rae Schellden, he silently cursed. I didn’t want to be involved, and yet here I am, getting tangled in this mess just as you knew I would be.
Conor looked down at his very happy wife. “Stop. I mean it. Stop every plan you have and leave everything and everyone alone. You’re right,” he whispered, “there is no wedding. There never was.”
Laurel waved her hand to shoo him away. “This afternoon I just might have agreed. Now, I am not so sure.”
Conor slunk down into his chair, intertwined his fingers and stared at the ceiling. Most people had calm marriages with only bouts of excitement. With six brothers and an enterprising wife, peace bestowed itself rarely. He had no idea what was in store in the coming month, but he knew it was too late to stop it. Unfortunately, Laurel enjoyed developing and implementing a good strategy as much as he did.
Tempting the Highlander Page 13