“You know how I feel about public displays. Why must you parade me in front of your new clan?”
“It’s not that.” She crossed to Innes. “I’m to meet Bryce’s brother tonight. I need you to stand by me.”
For an instant Innes lost track of their conversation. Her mind slipped back to her meeting with the earl, to the sharp words they’d exchanged.
Ailein was still talking. “I’m not surprised that you look dazed. Aye, the earl of Caithness. I’m to be presented to him.” She started pacing the room. “The mad brother. But I understand there’s some question about whether he’s entirely out of his head. Except that he keeps a wolf with him. And the beast somehow got loose in the kitchens today. Who keeps a wolf as a pet?”
The wolf must have gotten into the kitchens after Innes left. “The wolf’s name is Thunder. He’s completely tame.”
Ailein paused. “You’ve seen him?”
“Aye. Strangely, Thunder has taken a fancy to me.” Innes realized that Jinny was already undressing her and pushing her toward the tub.
“And the earl?” her sister asked. “Have you met him, too?”
Jinny was listening to every word. Innes didn’t think this was the time to go into detail about any of this.
“I have. Briefly.”
“Is he as mad as they say?”
“I don’t know how such rumors begin. The man seems to be completely sane. Intelligent. Well-spoken. A wee bit arrogant, but that’s to be expected, I suppose.”
And he is terribly protective of his brother, she thought, so you and Bryce better mend your differences or his wrath will be upon you.
“They say he was a fierce warrior and that the Regent trusted him like a brother,” said Ailein.
“I remember hearing that.”
“One of the serving women told me he’s scarred horribly from battle.”
Innes lowered herself into the tub. The water was warm on her skin. Scarred and horrible did not belong together in any sentence describing Conall Sinclair. He was a bit unkempt and wild looking, but that only added to his appeal.
“He bears a few scars, but they hardly disfigure him,” she said. “He’s lost one hand.”
Ailein considered that. “Not a good thing for a warrior.”
“I shouldn’t think so.”
“Is he short?” the younger sister pressed.
“Tall. Taller than Bryce.”
Jinny motioned to a washcloth and Ailein held one out. Innes took it, her hand brushing against her sister’s.
A kiss. Her gaze snapped up to Ailein. The younger woman moved to the bed, arranging the dress she wanted Innes to wear tonight. A kiss. In the brief brush of their hands, Innes saw her sister being kissed—and kissed passionately—by Bryce.
“And his build?” Ailein asked.
That kiss must have happened today or Innes would have seen it before. How funny, she thought. The newlyweds had apparently mended their differences while she and Conall bickered about them.
“Is he as muscular as Bryce?” Ailein repeated.
“From my perspective, the man is a giant.”
“And, uh . . . is he as handsome as his brother?”
Innes paid closer attention to her sister. She didn’t need to use her gift to see the truth. Ailein’s face was flushed. She was lively, talkative.
“Well, is he?” the younger woman asked again.
Innes waited until Jinny had emptied a pitcher of water over her head. She was delighted for her sister. At the same time, she could play this game, too. If Ailein was choosing to hold back the news that she and Bryce had made up, then Innes could keep her own counsel, as well.
“It’s difficult to tell. His hair is long and he has a thick beard.”
“Is there anything pleasing about his looks? His person? The way he conducts himself?” Ailein asked. “Are there any positive qualities that I can comment on when I meet him?”
He saved Innes on the stairs. He came to her rescue again when his wolf decided to use her as a playmate. She was on his mind and he’d watched her in the gallery. This morning, he’d complimented her on her sketches and stared at her lips. Her lips. When had she ever been so near a man and experienced such internal tumult? Never.
“None. I can’t think of any.”
“Devil take me if I spend another moment with the woman.”
Bryce stared at him. Conall knew this was quite different from the way he’d spoken about Innes the night before. But their time together this morning had taught him a lesson. Innes was unbending and blunt and stubborn. She could go off like a cannon blast when provoked. But she was also striking and enchanting and he could easily get lost in those gray eyes. More than once he’d wondered about the taste of her lips.
He couldn’t be near her and remain detached.
“Innes is a guest at Girnigoe. She’s accompanying Ailein to the Great Hall for dinner tonight,” Bryce repeated. “It doesn’t matter if she’s there or not. It’s time for you to meet my wife.”
“The same wife who keeps you locked out of her bedroom?”
“Don’t listen to rumors. There’s no truth in them.”
“Then tell me, what is this quarrel between you?”
“It’s nothing,” Bryce said. “You know I can be somewhat commanding, and Ailein is a proud woman. We’re steadily and quietly finding our way.”
Conall sat back from the chessboard and studied Bryce in silence. He seemed much more at ease now than he’d looked last night. Still, he decided to speak his mind. “In a clan such as ours, there is no such thing as quietly. This morning, the second sentence out of every Sinclair’s mouth pertains to some worry about you and your bride.”
Bryce sat back and smiled. “I’m relieved that you’re finally seeing the truth in what I’ve been telling you for the past six months. Everyone talks to you.”
Conall knew where his brother was going with this. It was the same argument Bryce used to keep him at Girnigoe. He was connected to their people. He might no longer be laird, but the clan still reached out to him, spoke to him, respected him, and sought his advice.
“You are talking nonsense,” he said.
“Conall, you’re their warrior lord. I’m at peace with that. Our people come to you when they are troubled.”
“Keep pushing me and I’ll ride out again today.”
“I won’t push.” Bryce put both hands up in resignation. “But just remember, for the thousandth time, I need you at my side to protect and rebuild the clan.”
He would stay, Conall thought, for the time being. He turned his attention back to the chessboard.
“We still need to talk about your marriage.”
“Very well.” Bryce shook his head. “What is your advice in dealing with Ailein?”
“You’re asking me? Blast me if I know.”
“You wouldn’t bring it up unless you’ve thought about it.”
Conall moved a chess piece and looked up. “Blowing on a fire only fans the flames. But a great gust of wind can blow out the fire completely.”
“Oh my Lord.” Bryce laughed. “That’s your advice? Did you go to the hunting lodge or to that drunken old gypsy fortune teller down the coast?”
“It’s good advice,” Conall growled.
Bryce took his brother’s knight and became serious. “Are you saying I should be that great gust to her fire?”
“Something like that.”
“Very well. Then help me.”
“How can I help? This is your fire.”
“I’ll tell you how you can help. Ailein is fond of her sister. More than just fond. Her mood seems to depend on how the sister is feeling. I told you that when I was courting her, if I wanted to win Ailein’s hand, I needed to gain Innes’s approval.”
Conall stared at the board. He’d have Bryce in checkmate in six to eight moves. “So you’re married now. Send the bloody sister back home, and your problems go with her.”
“Ailein won’t allow her to go
until we’re settled into our marriage.”
“Seems to me you have three ropes tied together in a knot. And that’s one too many.”
“This is where you can be a great help to me.”
“I don’t like where this is going.” Conall moved the bishop across the board.
“Until we work through our difficulties, be nice to Innes. At least, be civil.”
He’d like to be much more than civil, Conall thought. “You ask far more than you know. The sister is small, but she’s a force. She’s short-tempered. Rude. I believe the woman could be a real terror if she set her mind to it.”
“Then can I offer you some advice?”
Conall started a path of bloody destruction to his brother’s king. “Advice?”
“Take a different approach with her.”
“And what does that mean?”
“You spoke of fanning flames before. There’s also a saying that when two raging fires meet, they often consume the thing that kindled them.”
“At least my advice wasn’t a riddle.”
“Don’t be the raging fire,” Bryce said. “If she rants, tell her that she sings as sweetly as a nightingale. If she flushes with anger, say her complexion looks like roses newly washed with morning dew. If she’s silent, praise her piercing eloquence. If she orders you to leave her—”
“I’ll strap her to the back of a mule and point the beast toward Folais Castle.” Conall slapped his piece on the board, putting Bryce’s king in checkmate. “Bloody hell. All right. I’ll give it a go.”
“Just be nice to her.”
He’d be nice, all right. He’d be civil and nice, blast him. Just to help his brother. “Very well, by the devil. I know what I have to do.”
Chapter 8
“After a long reign of peace and prosperity, the High King Lugh died and was laid to rest. He left his powerful Wheel to the priests to safeguard for generations of future High Kings. But when the new religion of Christ Jhesu came to those shores, great battles raged across the land for the souls of the people, and the Wheel fell into the hands of a missionary. Knowing its power, he smashed it and hid the four pieces away from the eyes of men . . .”
From the Chronicle of Lugh
Sinclairs crowded the Great Hall, and Innes knew the reason. Conall.
Whatever the expectation of the clan, however, the earl of Caithness stood handsome and aloof in a corner, deep in conversation with a swarthy, battered warrior, paying no attention at all to the hopeful glances of others who sought his company.
In the role of laird, his brother Bryce played his part well. After opening the gathering from his great chair and receiving the greetings of his people, he moved from table to table, addressing people by name, asking questions and listening to the answers, laughing at jokes, drinking to their toasts. He was the perfect host.
But Innes’s gaze never strayed too far away from the earl. His reaction to this event matched what she expected of him. He was injured—not just in body, but in soul.
“You’ll notice that they’ve moved our table from the dais,” Ailein said. “We’ll be eating there.”
She pointed to a table to the side beneath a tapestry. Innes didn’t have to ask why. That was certainly the work of the earl. He stood near it, close to the door through which he could escape to his lair at any time.
As she was looking at him, he glanced over and, embarrassed to have been caught, she looked up at the tapestry. It was a highly imaginative and colorful work, depicting two monstrous, bearded, club-wielding creatures holding between them a shield with the Sinclair coat of arms. This was a much newer piece than the ones she’d seen in the gallery. Displays of gleaming weaponry flanked the tapestry.
Bryce crossed the Great Hall and joined his brother and the warrior. The two men exchanged a few words, and Conall’s gaze swept across the packed hall. He shook his head.
“You were correct. He’s taller than Bryce,” Ailein whispered in her ear. “And broader in the shoulders.”
Innes felt the small nudge, pushing her toward the men. Before coming down, she’d warned Ailein that her stay at the dinner would be brief. Now she wished she hadn’t come at all. A skittish feeling deep in her stomach unsettled her. She was nervous, excited, out of her element. Would he remember every word they’d said to each other on the strand or would he only recall her sharpness? She dug in her heels, refusing to be moved toward them.
“He has beautiful eyes,” Ailein whispered. “Very intense.”
Innes wholeheartedly agreed, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “And how would you know? You haven’t even been introduced to him.”
“Look at the women standing by those tables near them. Look at the way they try to get his attention.”
Innes didn’t care for the unexpected stab of jealousy that went through her like a hot blade. She glanced at the nearest door but before she could move in that direction, her sister grabbed the back of her dress, steering her toward the three men.
“I think I like his beard and that wild mane of hair,” Ailein added. He hadn’t tied it back for the occasion. “It definitely gives him an air of danger and mystery.”
Innes looked from Bryce’s clean-shaven face to Conall’s. Beauty and the Beast. Still, she agreed with her sister. And, though she’d never let on to Ailein, she preferred the Beast.
Bryce said something, and a rare smile appeared on the older brother’s face. He had perfect, straight teeth. But as quickly as the smile surfaced, it disappeared.
They were near enough now that Innes had an uninterrupted view of the men.
Ailein took hold of her arm, stopping her. “Let’s wait here for a moment, shall we?”
Innes nodded, turning to her sister and trying to look at anything but Conall.
Wynda, the matriarch of the clan, was circulating in the hall as Bryce had been doing. The steward Lachlan limped about on the periphery, ordering the servants. The only other Munro in the hall was Jinny, who appeared to be happily settled at Girnigoe. Innes watched her laughing with a group of women at something one of them was saying. The priest Fingal sat nearby, drinking steadily as he lectured men sitting at the far end of the table. None of them appeared to be paying the least attention to him.
Innes’s gaze uncontrollably returned to Conall. Tonight he wore a white shirt under his tartan. She admired the fit of it on his chest. Her gaze moved downward. He had one foot up on a stool, exposing a knee and the muscles of a powerful calf. She stared at his leg, unable to understand her fascination with this man’s body. Twenty-seven years of age. She thought she was immune to such a reaction to a man. Why now? Why him?
“He’s staring at you.”
Innes glanced up into his face, realizing she’d been caught again. She turned to her sister. “Can I go now?”
“You are not going.” Ailein grabbed her by the elbow. “You’re here for me, remember?”
The third man walked away, and Bryce and Conall approached them. Introductions and formalities were exchanged between Ailein and the earl. Innes thought about their conversation this morning. She stayed behind her sister and listened.
“I want to apologize, m’lady, that this is our first meeting and for missing the opportunity of meeting your father at the wedding.”
Though his face was stern, neither his words nor his tone revealed any hint of accusation. She relaxed slightly.
Her sister was at her gracious best. “We’re brother and sister now, so please, no more formalities. I am just Ailein. And I’m certain you and our father will have many other occasions to meet.”
“I hope so,” Conall said with a slight bow.
At that moment, their aunt Wynda called to Bryce. He excused himself before crossing the room to her.
Ailein moved to Conall’s side and gestured toward Innes. “I understand that you’ve already met my sister.”
His gaze traveled from the hair that Jinny had insisted on braiding, down the length of her black dress to the tips of her sh
oes, and then back up. When he reached Innes’s face, he lingered over every flaw.
“Indeed. I’ve had the pleasure.”
Innes let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding.
“Very good. Then I can leave her in your hands. Watch her. You’ll find she’s a slippery sort, and I know she’ll try to escape the hall before dinner is served.”
Innes sent her sister a baleful glare, but she had no chance to respond before Ailein ran off to join Bryce and Wynda. Conall stepped over beside her.
“She’s not what I expected,” he said in a low voice. “She’s quite pleasant.”
Innes had a hundred and one complaints about her sister right now, but she held her tongue. This was Ailein’s new home. She needed to be accepted, and the Sinclairs only needed to see her virtues.
“Aye, she is pleasant,” she agreed. “And Bryce is clearly a patient man. That will be a blessing for both of them.”
“She’s also beautiful. They’re well suited.”
“The two of them make a striking pair.”
“And they need to settle whatever this quarrel is between them.”
Her resolve this morning that she didn’t want to get involved evaporated, considering what she knew. “I believe their relationship is already mending.”
“How do you know?”
For a lengthy moment, Innes struggled trying to come up with a logical answer.
“Did your sister say something?” he pressed.
Innes shook her head. “I can tell from the way she talks about Bryce. She is definitely smitten.”
“Good. Because I believe he is, too.”
Their gazes were drawn to Bryce escorting his wife to their table. The newlyweds smiled and talked to a group as they passed, but there wasn’t a word spoken between them. There were no smiles. No touches. No displays of affection.
“They still need more fixing,” he said close to her ear. “Are they always this formal?”
“I believe so,” she admitted, her skin tingling from the brush of his breath. “Although I am rarely here to witness it.”
“But you made an exception tonight.” He looked at her.
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