The Most Eligible Highlander in Scotland

by Michele Sinclair

  “She didn’t yell at me today, and if she hasn’t already, I doubt she will.”

  Seamus peeked around, and when he caught Conan’s eye, he grinned largely. “I was talking about the bet on Loman being the first to successfully ask Mhàiri out.”

  Conan scowled at the hint.

  “There will be others.”

  “What if there are?” Conan grumbled, frustrated with both the board he was fighting and the revelations Seamus was sharing.

  “Why haven’t you tried your charms with Mhàiri? I know it’s been a while since you’ve actually pursued a woman, but I have never seen anyone get a female as quickly as you when you are of the mind to have one.”

  “Right now I have more important things to think about. And it’s been a while because I’ve learned that women are the definition of trouble.” Conan heard the popping sound of the second shelf sliding into place. He slapped his hands together. Curiosity forced him to ask, “So which way did you bet?”

  “Who says I did?”

  “I do.”

  Seamus scoffed. “Believe it or not, I bet on you.”

  “Bad bet, my friend,” Conan replied, picking up the third and final shelf. Unfortunately, they had two more bookcases to put together.

  “Why? Of all the women you have ever encountered—or are likely to encounter—Mhàiri is by far the best suited for someone with your temperament. Her wit, for example. You both have a strange sense of humor, although hers is one others tend to enjoy.” This time it was Conan who peeked around to give Seamus an annoyed look. “What? People laugh when they’re around her. Even you on occasion. She likes pictures just like you do and she also wants to see the world.” Hearing no response from Conan, Seamus added, “And there is the fact that Mhàiri is unquestionably beautiful. I don’t see how even you can resist that combination.”

  “You’re resisting it.”

  “That’s because my heart has already been claimed and so will Mhàiri’s be if you do not stop pretending you are not interested in her.”

  Conan did not like hearing that other men thought Mhàiri beautiful, but to hear Seamus say it really rankled. And Conan had not realized others thought she was so funny. He put the board in place and gave it a forceful shove. “She’d be happier with someone else.”

  “Not in the long run. The woman is really smart. She is a female version of yourself,” Seamus continued, waving his hand at all the books and manuscripts scattered around the room. “I’ve seen her challenge you a few times. And want to know what I saw? You liked it.”

  “Are you going to talk nonsense the whole afternoon?” Conan asked as he went to start putting together the second bookcase.

  Seamus ignored him. “And what is really crazy is that Mhàiri, after spending hours in your company, doesn’t seem to be repelled by you. Hell, I bet if you try, you could convince her to fall in love with you.”

  The pit that had been in Conan’s stomach since he and Mhàiri kissed turned over. Love was not a notion he wanted to entertain. And what they had shared yesterday had been more than simple desire.

  Kissing women was an act of lust driven by a basic, primal need to mate. But kissing Mhàiri had been different. Once their lips met, Conan had craved her in a way that he could not explain. Such physical desires wane once parted, but with Mhàiri, he did not just want her in his bed, he wanted to be around her. He actually enjoyed her company. Wanting her physically and emotionally—that was a dangerous combination.

  “Your five older brothers seem happy to have found someone and be married. Maybe it’s your turn.”

  Conan paused to look at Seamus to see if he was serious. “What are you really asking? Because it sounds like you are sizing me up for another bet. If that’s true, I’ll save everyone some money. It is not going to happen. Trust me when I say that Mhàiri is just as much against the idea of being tied down as I am.”

  Seamus shrugged disbelievingly and took the side panel Conan handed him. “I’ll remind you that all your brothers said the same thing until Lady McTiernay got involved.”

  “Well, then lucky for me my sister-in-law has sworn never to help a woman ruin her life by attaching herself to me. Laurel discourages them from even talking to me, let alone falling in love and all that other nonsense.”

  “Then you really don’t mind that a lot of other men are looking at Mhàiri? Wanting to know if she is available?”

  Conan kept his focus on the panel in front of him. The first shelf was the hardest, for it secured the vertical panels. Once he was sure his expression was under control, Conan looked at Seamus. The damn man was smiling again. Seamus never smiled, but all afternoon he had had one plastered on his face. His grin was really becoming irritating.

  “Listen closely,” Conan said through gritted teeth. “I might like to hear Mhàiri laugh as much as the next man. And I won’t deny I enjoy looking at her, but nothing is going to keep me from leaving in the spring. Alone.”

  Conan almost added that if other men wanted her, they were welcome to chase her, but he could not compel himself to say the words. He knew without doubt that come spring, just like him, Mhàiri would be leaving the Highlands happily unwed. Her reasons were as deeply rooted as his. And if she wanted to enjoy herself while she was here, he was not going to act like a lovesick puppy and stop it.

  * * *

  Loman’s hand brushed Mhàiri’s cheek, and her breath hitched in her throat knowing what was about to happen. Loman tipped her chin up, and his kind eyes stared down at her before narrowing on her lips. Then he leaned forward, cradled her face in his strong hands, and brushed his lips against hers.

  Soft and gentle, it was nothing like Conan’s demanding kiss from yesterday. Loman was sweet, smooth, and tender. So different from Conan. Loman’s lips may not be passion-filled, but they were soft and warm and while molded to hers, they were surprisingly pleasant. The long, gradual kiss was not meant to create intense waves of need, but instead was a sweet mixture of patience and hope—quite different from the scorching, primal embrace she had shared with Conan. Today, she was not being branded or seduced. She was being asked.

  After Conan had left, it had taken Mhàiri hours to calm her racing heart enough to recall what he had said. His parting words had practically been a dare, and Mhàiri had wondered if it would be possible to enjoy another man’s kiss. Now she knew.

  She did like it.

  She was kissing Loman and not cringing at his touch, but enjoying the feeling of being desirable. However, Mhàiri knew there was only one mouth she would ever crave. One man who could make her lose all thought and control. And while Loman’s lips were soft, warm, and sweet, they lacked the aggressive passion that made her feel alive and fully as a woman.

  Loman pulled away slowly from her lips and smiled. “That was nice.”

  Mhàiri stroked his cheek and then leaned back. “It was nice. But I don’t think we should do it again.”

  Loman reached out to caress her chin with his thumb. “Why not if we both enjoyed it?”

  Mhàiri pulled back further. She licked her lips and held his gaze so that he knew she was not playing games. “Because, Loman, I think if we continued kissing you would eventually believe it would lead to other things.” She swallowed. “And I’m not wanting those . . . things.”

  “You could, if you let yourself,” Loman encouraged.

  Mhàiri shook her head. “Another kiss is not going to change my mind.”

  “What about Conan?” he asked. “Is that why you are with him so much? Because he makes no demands?”

  Mhàiri rolled her eyes, hoping to hide any feelings she might have for Conan. “He has nothing to do with what I want. My sister and I made plans to travel throughout Scotland long before I came here, and now I am planning to do so with my father.”

  “But plans change,” Loman countered, his lips curled in a boyish smile. “Yours did. They could again.” His tone was light, good-humoredly hopeful, despite knowing that they were not meant to be.


  Mhàiri bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Fine, persistent one. Let’s say we kissed again.”

  “And again,” Loman added with a cheeky smile that was aimed to wear her down.

  “And even again,” Mhàiri capitulated. “Then what is going to happen this spring when my father comes? Because no matter how much I was in love, there is one thing that will never change. I could never live in one place for the rest of my life. The idea of a small home to care for is beyond unappealing.” She shuddered. “Cooking and cleaning every day would make me miserable and then I would make you miserable.” Seeing she had his attention, she did not stop. “And knowing this, are you saying that you would agree to leave with my father and me? Live a merchant’s way of life? Travel on the road all the time, meeting new people? The daily challenge would not be wielding a sword but outthinking the buyer, trying to convince him to give up some of his hard-earned coin for some quality goods.”

  Loman swallowed and straightened his shoulders, his smile gone. Though he did not say anything, but Mhàiri knew his answer. “You and I both know you would never be happy as a merchant.”

  “No,” Loman agreed. “I have no desire to be anything like a merchant. I don’t mind periodically visiting other places, but I have a home here. And the idea of coming home to a welcoming family is what I want. I just haven’t found anyone who wants to have it with me.”

  Mhàiri found that hard to believe, but then Loman was not simply looking for a wife. He wanted a woman to love and who would love him in return. “She will come. Give her time,” she encouraged.

  Loman took a deep breath and exhaled. “Still friends?”

  Mhàiri laughed. “Of course we are! One little kiss doesn’t have the power to end a friendship.” But she knew that was a lie. One little kiss just might have done that very thing with her and Conan, and their bond had been much stronger, far more compelling. Yet the power of a single kiss might have snapped it.

  Mhàiri shifted and began to look around at the remnants of the lovely meal they had enjoyed. “Shall I start to pack up?”

  Loman laid back and crossed his feet at the ankles. He hooked his hands behind his head and said, “Why? Finn gave me the whole afternoon to do what I please, and what pleases me most right now is spending time with you. Mostly because I know that every moment you and I are out here together is another moment I’m making Conan squirm.”

  Mhàiri looked to the heavens and shook her head. “You are awful,” she said, chuckling, hoping that Loman was right. “Well, until the wind grows too cold.”

  Loman let go a loud laugh and slapped his thighs. “It’s settled then. We let Conan squirm for as long as we can.”

  * * *

  “Say that again,” Maegan demanded.

  “I kissed Loman,” Mhàiri repeated, lying on Maegan’s bed, staring at the ceiling. “Well, I guess he kissed me, but I let him.”

  Maegan got up and went to the large window that looked outside the castle walls. Below was a large ravine, but beyond that were rolling hills. It was still a couple of hours before sunset, but dark clouds were coming in, making it seem later than it was. It did not help that her bedroom was on the first floor of the Star Tower and did not allow for some of the great views on the upper floors. McTiernay Castle was large, but there were several that were bigger in Scotland. What made it notable was its great hall and the Star Tower. Seven stories tall, it was one of the biggest in the country.

  The tower was where the laird and his family lived. Maegan knew she was fortunate that Conor and Laurel felt she was part of theirs. They considered her family and she considered them hers.

  “Did you want to kiss Loman?”

  Mhàiri shrugged noncommittedly. “I was curious to know if it would be different from Conan’s.”

  “You did what?” Maegan screeched in shock as she spun around from her bedroom window.

  “You heard me.”

  “You actually kissed Conan.”

  Mhàiri sighed. “I did not want to kiss him, and I’m not sure he wanted to kiss me either. He and I were arguing and then suddenly we were grasping onto each other as if some force were preventing us from letting go. That was why I kissed Loman.”

  Maegan shook her head. “I am not following.”

  “To see if it would be different. Until yesterday I had never kissed anyone before. I was not sure if they were all the same. But they aren’t.”

  “They aren’t?”

  Realizing what Maegan was implying, Mhàiri got up on her elbows. “Are you saying that in your twenty years, you’ve never kissed anyone?”

  “You’re twenty too!”

  “But I lived in a priory,” Mhàiri protested. “Even then I had opportunities. What about Clyde?”

  “I was not really old enough for kissing before he left,” Maegan whispered, somewhat embarrassed by the admission. It was easy to say that you loved someone and that they loved you. She had repeated it enough that everyone believed her, but if she let it be known that she and Clyde had never even kissed, her assertions of love would not be taken as seriously.

  “You know you can kiss a man without being in love with them. I’ve done it twice this week.”

  “I know, but . . .”

  “But what?” Mhàiri pressed. “What about Seamus? The man is completely besotted. Don’t you find him good looking?”

  Maegan flopped down on the bed beside Mhàiri and sighed. “Seamus is more than good looking. I watch him train with the men for hours and never get bored looking at him. But looking is one thing. Kissing? I couldn’t do that to Clyde.”

  Mhàiri studied the rafters on the ceiling of the room. She had not had very many female friends in her life, living on the road and then in a priory. She treasured her friendship with Maegan and did not want to say anything that might jeopardize theirs, which meant she couldn’t tell her what she thought about Clyde.

  Mhàiri knew Maegan earnestly believed she was in love with the youngest McTiernay brother, but she also used that belief as a way to protect herself. Mhàiri suspected that on some level Maegan knew it as well. She was scared of love just like everyone else. Maegan had found a way of shielding her heart from pain, and Mhàiri was not going to strip it from her. But that did not mean she wouldn’t from time to time try to nudge it a little.

  “So are you going to kiss him again?” Maegan asked.

  “Loman? No. He knows that I am not the one for him.”

  “I was talking about Conan,” Maegan said with an exasperated sigh.

  Mhàiri bit the inside of her cheek. She had asked herself that very question multiple times. “I don’t think so.”

  “Do you want to kiss anyone else?”

  Mhàiri scrunched up her nose at the idea. “I don’t know. Why?”

  Maegan rolled over and looked at Mhàiri. “Because Christmastide is almost here and there will be a lot of opportunities. Laurel has already invited the Schelldens so Callum will be coming, and though I still think Seamus is better looking, Callum does come close.”

  Mhàiri pursed her lips at the idea. “Maybe I don’t want to kiss anyone else,” she admitted.

  Maegan looked at Mhàiri and began to shake her head. She sat up and crossed her arms. “Do not fall for Conan.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mhàiri said and went to roll off the bed and look out the window.

  “I’m not. I know love. I’m an expert on it, and it starts just this way.”

  Mhàiri’s back stiffened. “I am—”

  The sudden opening of the bedchamber door stopped her from finishing her thought. “Brenna! I thought you were with your mother.”

  “I was. The baby was moving, but only Bonny got to feel it. It must be a boy. Boys never do what I want them to,” Brenna grumbled.

  “Where’s Bonny? She still with your mother?”

  Brenna shook her head. “She left to go check on Seamus and Uncle Conan. They are in Mhàiri’s room putting together her shelves.”


  Mhàiri turned around abruptly. She had gone straight to see Maegan when she had returned. She’d had no idea that Conan had been installing her shelves.

  Maegan gleefully clapped her hands together. “Are they still there?”

  Brenna bobbed her shoulders. “I think so. Why?”

  “Because I’m curious to know what they are doing and saying.”

  Brenna twirled around in a circle, a smile erupting on her face. “I know the best way to learn what people are thinking. Follow me!”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mhàiri was scrunched down, sitting on a cold floor next to Maegan and Brenna. The back passageway was narrow, and she could only see a little through the slits in the stone to the activities taking place in her room, but she could hear everything that was said perfectly.

  * * *

  “That’s it. The last shelf is in,” Conan said, glad he was almost done.

  Seamus wiped his brow. The air had turned humid, foretelling that storms were on the way. Though it was not hot, it still made indoor physical labor uncomfortable. “Great. Time for some ale.”

  Conan snorted and then pointed to all the manuscripts. “Laurel told me that we must also unpack everything.”

  “We?” Seamus challenged.

  “Aye, we,” Conan replied. In fact, Laurel had included Seamus in the request, but only after Conan had twisted things to ensure she did so.

  Seamus studied Conan, who just returned his stare with an arched brow. “Fine. I’ll help,” Seamus groused, “but I don’t know where to put anything.”

  “Anywhere it won’t roll or fall off. Mhàiri can figure out how she wants things arranged later when we are gone.” Conan moved to the first of the three large chests. “I’ll unpack these. Once we are done, ale it is.”

  Seamus picked up the medical book that Mhàiri had taken away from Brenna. “I may not know how to read, but I can look at pictures just fine. And these”—he opened the book to show Conan pictures of the male anatomy—“are not what I would expect to see in a young woman’s library. I now see why you find abbeys so interesting.”