Maegan uncoupled her and Mhàiri’s arms. “Guess that is over! Glad this one ended on a happy note. They usually do, but you can never tell.” Maegan’s eyes grew wide as saucers as she realized how shocking everything must be to someone who had been living in a priory. “Oich is oich! I hope that that didn’t alarm you any. I can only imagine how a laird and lady publicly fighting might come across to someone with the church.”
Mhàiri sighed with a smile. “My sister was with the Culdees, not I. I stayed in a cottage next to the priory and helped them where and when I could.” Mhàiri used her chin to point at the spot where the argument had taken place. “As for the laird and lady fighting, I was surprised at first, but truthfully, they reminded me of my own parents. They, too, shared an intense passion for each other. It is something to be envied, not shunned. That is what love was supposed to be. Passionate, intense, and honest. Nothing held in reserve. If I ever fell in love, that is how I would want it to be.”
Maegan chuckled. “You will get along fine here then, but you’re wrong about the love part. Love doesn’t need to be intense. What I have with Clyde is just as strong but thankfully without all the volatile sparks.”
“Clyde? Isn’t he Conan’s younger brother?”
Maegan nodded and got a dreamy look in her eye. “He’s my true love, and we are getting married the moment he returns.”
“If you two are going to stand around and gab, then I’m leaving. I have other things to do,” Seamus grumbled.
Conan snorted. “The sooner you learn to ignore women and their constant nattering about every little thing, the happier you will become.”
Mhàiri ignored him.
Maegan whispered, “Conan is not, um, comfortable with people.”
“I don’t know,” Mhàiri countered with a sly smile. “Maybe everyone else is not comfortable with Conan.”
Maegan pulled her chin back and looked at Mhàiri strangely. Then after a few seconds, she shrugged her shoulders. “You’re both smart and into books. Guess it makes sense that you would like him too. All women do . . . at least for a while.”
“Conan and I have discussed his appeal, and he knows that I’ve become immune to his charms,” Mhàiri said, glancing over her shoulder to see both Seamus and Conan shamelessly listening to their conversation. “Unfortunately for him, he is not yet immune to mine.”
Conan guffawed. “See? Nattering. Even when you think maybe by chance it just might be something worth listening to—” Conan cut his hand through the air. “It turns out to be nothing.”
Maegan closed her eyes and sighed. “The only female who can put up with that one is Bonny.”
Fallon clapped his hands and the steward successfully got everyone’s attention. “I want these carts out of the courtyard before the sun sets.”
Seamus crossed his arms and leveled a steady stare at Fallon. “I’m not carrying a damn thing. It’s Conan’s responsibility to get all this up to her room.” He gestured to Conan with his thumb. “Not mine. I was just supposed to make sure it all arrived there. And while Conan is many, many irritating things, he is not a liar or a thief. So my job is done.”
Conan looked at Mhàiri and gave her a wicked grin.
Mhàiri took a step closer to him and, jabbing a finger at the large chests in the cart, said, “Every scrap that is in these carts will be moved into my chambers.” Then she looked at Seamus. “And if it isn’t, you’ll be the one responsible.”
Seamus cocked his head to the side and smiled. “Don’t worry. Conan won’t dare defy Lady McTiernay.”
“I just might, knowing you would join me in my misery,” Conan warned, hinting that it might be worth the price to see Seamus squirm. “Now help me with these chests.”
Seamus clearly thought the threat an empty one. “You hate to wear itchy clothing too much.”
“I’ve got the horses, but I refuse to deal with the carts.” Mhàiri searched for the face that went with the gruff voice. A second later, she could see an old, thin man with little hair and a hump on his back yanking on one of the harnesses.
Before Fallon could respond to the old man, Hagatha, the wild-haired friend of Laurel’s, approached and said, “Ye heard Lady McTiernay, ye old man. Those two are taking care of it.” She waved to Conan and Seamus. “Just unhitch the animals, Neal, and the lads will take care of the cart when they’re done. Won’t ye, lads?”
Both made a “humph” sound but did not argue as they finally started to lift things out of the cart. “Which room, Fallon?” Conan grunted.
“Main room on the second floor.”
Mhàiri had been to several castles when she had been young, but only briefly and mostly on market days when merchants were selling their goods. She used to envision what it would be like to live in such a grand place, and the McTiernay Castle was definitely one of the grander ones she had seen.
Just passing through the gates would make a person nervous if unsure they had a right to be there. The long and broad entry was guarded by a single well-sized barbican tower fortifying the guard gate. Six round towers and the curtain wall formed a D that housed a substantially large courtyard. Most were three stories, one was four, but the massive tower on the northwest wall had to be seven stories at least.
Only a rich laird of a very large and powerful clan could afford a castle of this size. And with such wealth, Mhàiri would have thought that all the staff would act meek and in fear of those they serve. But that was not the case at McTiernay Castle. Throughout Conor and Laurel’s fight, the courtyard had remained busy, giving them no privacy. Even those who had a place to go to like Maegan, Conan, and Laurel’s friends Aileen and Hagatha had just stood around and waited until it was over. In Mhàiri’s experience, stable masters did not declare what they would and would not do, and midwives did not remind a laird’s brother and elite guard what their duties were. It was starting to be too much.
“I can tell you need to sit down and have something to drink,” offered the pretty tawny-haired woman named Aileen. “We can probably persuade Fiona into giving us some scraps of food. She seemed to be in a good mood during the midday meal.”
Mhàiri furrowed her brow, remembering Conan’s alarming comments about the McTiernay cook. She was not sure she wanted to raise the woman’s ire.
Hagatha nodded. “Aye, ale sounds good.” Then she turned and headed toward two large doors that led to what had to be the castle’s great hall. She was the strangest midwife Mhàiri had ever seen. She was large and visually abrasive with wild red hair, but despite that, Mhàiri found the woman comforting. She suspected Hagatha, when riled, could cause the exact opposite feeling, but right now she was offering friendship and Mhàiri was eager to have as many friends as possible during her hopefully short stay at McTiernay Castle.
Aileen called out to the children to behave, avoid the Star Tower until the evening meal, and stay out of trouble lest they suffer her wrath. Mhàiri could not envision Aileen mad, but all four of the children obviously could and immediately nodded their heads. She then rushed to follow Hagatha into the great hall.
Maegan grabbed Mhàiri’s arm, forcing her to come along. “Don’t worry. Seamus will make sure all your things get to your room.” Then she looked back at the cart and murmured, “A shaoghail! You do have a lot of things.”
Mhàiri quickly fell into step. “I . . . uh . . . really don’t,” she said, feeling awkward for the first time about the substantial load she had insisted come with her. Of course, they probably thought the majority of it was dresses and clothes, although that would have weighed a lot less and wouldn’t have been as difficult to transport. Mhàiri was not even sure how her father was going to manage adding the chests to his things when he came for her. He did own a very large wagon that was incredibly sturdy, but just the three large chests were a lot. “I don’t really have a lot of personal items, such as clothes and things. Only the small chest has my other dress and undergarments.”
They were inside the hall and her words echoed in the empty cham
ber. The massive hall was a large, open room, and grandly decorated, but it had a warm, inviting feel as well. The ceiling was covered by a high stone vault, and against the east far wall was a canopied fireplace. Behind her, another fireplace was situated to allow for heating on both sides of the room when partitioned. At the far end of the room sat the high table, which was lit by a large window set in the north wall. All sounds were amplified because the floor was made of timber instead of ground earth.
Aileen waved them to come join her near the fire. After everyone was seated, she made introductions. “This is Hagatha, which you probably gathered from Conor’s comments outside. She is our midwife and healer. She’s crusty and outspoken, but we love her.” Hagatha was about to interject, but Aileen cut her off. “I’m Aileen and consider Laurel my closest friend. My husband is Finn, who is the commander of Conor’s guard. You cannot miss him. He has a constant scowl on his face that he thinks makes him look fierce. And it looks like you and Maegan are already on the way to becoming friends.”
“Did I hear you say you have only one spare dress?” Maegan asked, clearly saddened at the concept.
Hagatha huffed and gestured for some food and drink to a servant who was hovering near the timber partition that screened the hall from the service area. “An arisaid and a spare is enough for me and most everyone else. To hear Maegan now, you would never know that she grew up running around this place acting more like a boy than a lass, but no one could make that mistake now. Our Maegan believes no woman can have enough gowns and shoes to go with them. And Laurel indulges such whimsy.”
Aileen smiled. “You know that Maegan more than earns those gowns, Hagatha, helping out with Laurel’s three children. Even Braeden listens to her, and with the baby coming, Laurel will need Maegan’s help even more.”
Maegan gave Mhàiri a grin and then shrugged. “I do like clothes. They are the secret to happiness.”
“I thought Clyde was your secret to happiness,” Aileen teased.
“What about baths? Yesterday, a hot bath was your secret to happiness,” Hagatha added as she turned to help the servant put the drinks and food on the table.
“And . . .”
“Enough! You will make Mhàiri think that I am hopelessly spoiled and ungrateful. Besides, I intend to give some of my gowns to Mhàiri just like her ladyship did for me.” She leaned over to Mhàiri and explained, “When my grandmother passed away, Lady Laurel took me in and now I live at the castle. I was here practically all the time anyway, with Clyde and his friend Kam. That was before he left to help King Robert fight the Irish. And since we are getting married when he returns, it only makes sense that I stay here and help with the children.”
Aileen laid a soft hand on Mhàiri’s arm. “Do you know who Clyde is?”
Mhàiri nodded, pulling off a piece of bread. The delicious smell made her realize she was famished. “Conan told me all about his brothers.”
Hagatha spurted out her ale. “Conan talked to you? As in you had an actual conversation during your journey here.”
Mhàiri swallowed and then grinned. “Aye. I get the feeling he doesn’t get the chance to talk to many people because, once we started, we rarely stopped.”
Hagatha put her mug down on the table with a thump. “You’re saying you talked with Conan and he did not insult you, or make you angry?”
“Of course Conan insulted me,” Mhàiri replied with a wave of her hand. “But that only made it more fun to point out when he was in the wrong.” She chuckled seeing the three sets of shocked, unblinking eyes staring back at her. “It’s been a long time since I had the chance to really debate with someone who could adequately argue his point. Plus, Conan didn’t mind when I yelled back and insulted him. It was rather fun,” she concluded with a shrug. She did not add that it was only the last day did they get to such a point.
Hagatha, Aileen, and Maegan all shifted their stares from her to one another. “It cannot be that shocking,” Mhàiri finally stated.
Maegan looked at her and bobbed her head. “Oh, but it is.”
“How? I saw everyone’s reaction while Laird and Lady McTiernay argued. No one was worried or cared, so why is it so surprising that Conan and I verbally sparred a little as well?”
Aileen’s eyes grew even larger. She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Well, uh . . .”
Maegan licked her lips. “It’s only that no one likes talking to Conan, and I am certain that he does not like talking to us either. And when I say us, I mean us women.”
“It’s more than that,” Hagatha said with her mouth full and jabbed the piece of bread she was holding at Mhàiri. “She enjoyed it. Just wait until Laurel hears that!”
Aileen bit her bottom lip. “Aye, but you know what Laurel said last summer. She swore that she would never assist Conan in matters of the heart. She doesn’t want to be responsible for the resulting heartache she is certain would eventually come.”
Mhàiri wrinkled her nose. “Conan warned me that Laurel was a matchmaker and to be careful of her. That she had sworn off helping him, which meant I was going to be her next target.”
Again, all three heads looked at her in astonishment. Mhàiri grimaced. “I told you. We talked.”
Aileen shook her head in disbelief. “After Laurel meets you, she just might change her mind about Conan.”
Hagatha jogged her head in agreement.
Seeing their eyes grow large with excitement, Mhàiri quickly spoke to halt the speedy direction of their thoughts. “Laurel can change her mind right back then because I have no intentions of getting married. Laird McTiernay promised that he would send runners south to get word to my father of my situation and where I am. As soon as he arrives, I am leaving. I can imagine nothing worse than marrying a man and taking care of him, his home, and his children all my life.”
Aileen blinked. Mhàiri had just described her life, which she loved. “If you don’t want marriage, then what do you plan to do?”
“My father is a successful merchant and goes everywhere, seeing new sights and meeting interesting people. I cannot wait to travel with him once again. The priory was a safe environment and the Culdees are a wonderful group of people, but there has been no adventure in my life. Nothing exciting to look forward to. The past few years have made me realize I could never settle down, no matter how wonderful the place or the man. And believe it or not, Conan is the first man I have met who understood and supported my desire to remain unmarried.”
Aileen was about to say something when the doors swung open and a young girl with pale curly locks and gray eyes who was about the age of ten came running in. “Miss Aileen! It’s Gideon! I told him and Braeden not to throw rocks at each other, but they never listen. And now he’s bleeding everywhere!”
Aileen took a deep breath and slowly let it go. Mhàiri guessed this was a common occurrence from her lack of concern. “Go tell him I’m coming, and make sure Braeden knows that I want to speak with him as well.” She looked at Hagatha, who was already rising to her feet. “If he’s bleeding, then I might need your help. And, Maegan, don’t worry about the children tonight. I’ll keep them with me and if Finn doesn’t like it, he can sleep with the soldiers. It’s unlikely we will see Conor or Laurel until the morning.”
Hagatha huffed. “Unlikely? It might be noon tomorrow before they emerge based on the look Conor had in his eye when he swept Laurel into his arms.”
“So, Maegan, would you help Mhàiri and ensure she is settled? Best tell Fiona about the situation as well. It would not be good if she were surprised.”
The doors opened again. This time it was Bonny. “Brenna told me to tell you to hurry. But you don’t really have to. He and Braeden are arguing over whose cut is the worst so it can’t be that bad.”
“Braeden is also injured?” Aileen asked crisply, more than a little perturbed.
Bonny nodded. “But it’s his arm, not like Gideon’s head, so it isn’t bleeding as much.”
“Good Lord,” Aileen muttered a
nd followed the young girl out the door along with Hagatha, leaving Mhàiri and Maegan alone in the huge room.
“Thank goodness the boys got hurt,” Maegan murmured and then, realizing what she had said, rushed to explain. “It’s just if Aileen and Hagatha were here much longer, there would have been no stopping them. Now that they have decided that you and Conan like each other, those two are about to conspire and take over your lives.”
“But . . . but I don’t like Conan!”
“Aye, you do,” Maegan stated flatly. “But it’s understandable. He’s good looking, and I’ve seen him charm many a woman.”
“Trust me when I say that Conan was not charming.”
“I believe you, but you can’t argue that he couldn’t take his eyes off you outside and you yourself stated that he was enjoyable to talk to.”
Mhàiri opened and closed her mouth several times before opting for closed. Denying the truth was senseless, just as much as denying that Maegan was one of those few people you met in life that you knew right away that you liked and could trust.
“I don’t like him, at least not in the way you are implying. Seriously, I don’t,” Mhàiri reiterated. Then she leaned in close and, in a whisper, added, “But I will admit to wondering what it would be like to kiss him.”
Maegan opened her mouth, then closed it into a thin line. Her eyes narrowed and then, without saying a word, she stood up slowly and then ran to the servants’ entrance. A second later, she reemerged, holding the arms of two little girls. “Meet Brenna and Bonny. Lady McTiernay’s daughters and our clan’s most pervasive eavesdroppers.”
Brenna squirmed, but Maegan held fast. “We didn’t hear anything, did we, Bonny?” she grumbled.
Bonny shook her head. “Only the part about Mhàiri wanting to kiss Uncle Conan.”
Brenna finally wriggled free and rushed to sit right beside Mhàiri. “We want to help. We like Uncle Conan, and it’s his turn to fall in love. Mama won’t help him so that leaves us,” she said proudly, pointing to herself and then her sister.
Mhàiri looked at Brenna and then Bonny, who had come to stand by her older sister. Their wide, innocent eyes looked at her with so much hope and unsuppressed excitement. Mhàiri let her head flop onto her arms that were crossed on the table. She closed her eyes.
The Most Eligible Highlander in Scotland Page 9