The hum of people starting to move about their day had returned quickly, but just a few minutes ago the courtyard had been filled with a swirl of strong emotions. The anger, passion, and chemistry between Conan and Mhàiri were unmistakable.
Laurel was not surprised.
She had watched them over dinner over the past few weeks. Both had been excessively friendly, which Laurel knew was a sign that more was going on between them than it seemed. Then, there were the afternoon outings. Suspicious, Laurel had sent spies to watch them for the first week to see if she should intervene and protect the young woman. But they had come back each time assuring her that Mhàiri and Conan appeared to be just friends. She was teaching him how to draw, and nothing untoward was happening between them.
When Laurel had heard Loman had asked Mhàiri on a picnic, she wondered if she might have been wrong to assume Mhàiri and Conan were drawn toward each other. But watching Conan and Mhàiri now, Laurel knew her initial assessment had been right. Their feelings went way beyond that of friendship.
“I already have one Laurel in my life. I don’t need two.” Conan’s angry declaration was heard by all.
“I’m sure he meant that as a compliment,” Aileen said, biting back a smile.
Laurel dismissed the insult, for even Conor did not want two of her, and her husband loved her more than anyone. “What I am more interested in is what came before.”
Hagatha nodded. “Aye. All that nonsense about kissing. Just friends my arse.”
Laurel watched as Conan made a final comment, pivoted, and headed to his rooms in the North Tower. Immediately, Aileen’s son, Gideon, and Laurel’s son, Braeden, started jumping up and down, whooping and hollering with glee.
“I told you,” Gideon shouted with a triumphant grin as he pushed his dark hair out of the way. “They were sure to fight today after Mhàiri went out with Loman.”
Seeing the gleam in her son’s hazel eyes, Aileen asked, “Just what are you so happy about?”
“We just won the bet,” Braeden answered for his friend. “And Gilroy better not think he doesn’t owe us. We won it fair and he lost.”
Gideon waved his hand. “Come on. We better go find him before he suddenly forgets our deal.”
Brenna grabbed Bonny. “We should go too!”
Laurel reached out and placed a tight grip on the shoulders of both her daughters. “First, why don’t you tell me what all that was about?”
Bonny shrugged. “I don’t know what their bet was with Gilroy,” she said innocently, pretending not to know what her mother meant.
“Brenna?”
The ten-year-old sighed, for she knew trying to keep a secret from her mother was pointless. “Seamus told Conan to try and charm Mhàiri into liking him so he can take her hemp paper. He’s pretending not to know about the paper, but he doesn’t know that Mhàiri caught him looking at it. So she is pretending to let him try and charm her so that she can trick him into thinking what he’s doing is working. Then she and Maegan are going to teach him and Seamus an embarrassing lesson, but they don’t know what it is yet.”
Aileen shifted her gaze from Brenna to Laurel. “Did you follow any of that?”
Laurel gave a small shake to her head. “Not nearly enough.” Then, to Bonny and Brenna, she said, “Both of you. Back in the hall. I think you need to tell me everything that has been going on.”
* * *
Aileen stared in awe as Brenna explained all that she knew about Conan and Mhàiri. Once again, it was staggering just how much the child knew. Aileen leaned over and whispered to Hagatha, “I wonder if Brenna knows details on everyone, including Finn.”
Brenna stopped her explanation of Conan and Mhàiri midsentence. “Commander Finn is boring. He does the same thing every day.”
Aileen smiled, relieved—but only for a second, because Brenna kept talking. “He really hates it when people are late and at least one person has been late to morning training every day this week. So, when Donnan was late again yesterday, Commander Finn yelled at them for a long time. I know when he is yelling because his voice actually gets softer, not louder. And he never smiles. It’s kind of scary. Loman must have thought so too, because he said to Seamus that the commander had forgotten how to smile a long time ago and if he wasn’t careful, Seamus was going to become just like him.” Brenna paused and grinned at Aileen. “A while ago, I heard Commander Finn tell Papa about it, saying that the only thing that made him ever want to smile was you and since you were never on the training fields, the men were going to have to just deal with his expression the way it was.”
Aileen sat there, feeling her mouth slowly drop. Her husband was not one to vocalize his feelings for her. She knew Finn loved her, but he showed it more through his actions than his words. What Brenna had just told her touched her soul. She couldn’t wait until Finn got home that night, for the man was going to get very lucky.
“But other than that, Commander Finn doesn’t talk much. Even the stuff he tells Papa is boring.”
Laurel clucked her tongue. “I thought you promised your father that you would stop listening to his conversations.”
“I have!” Brenna said vehemently, sitting up straight in her chair to emphasize her assertion. “I can’t help it if I’m already there listening to other people when he comes in!”
Laurel bit her tongue. She could not lecture her daughter on the evils of eavesdropping right as she was asking Brenna to reveal all that she knew from that very act. “And so is that all you know about Conan and Mhàiri?”
Brenna shook her head and then picked up from where she had left off with Mhàiri, her, and Maegan listening as Conan and Seamus put in the shelves. “And so,” Brenna said with a long sigh, indicating she was almost done, “even though it might sound like a bad thing that they are trying to trick each other, it isn’t. For the more time Mhàiri and Conan spend together, the better chance they have at falling in love.”
Laurel was not surprised that her daughter’s romantic heart and mind hoped for such a thing. Tapping her finger on the small table by her hearth chair, she asked Bonny, “And what do you think?”
Her youngest was only seven and was still very naïve to the ways of women and men, and yet sometimes that allowed her keen mind to see things in a clearer way than most adults. To think that Bonny did not understand people and situations because of her youth was a mistake many made. But Laurel was not among them.
Bonny squirmed in the big chair. They had elected not to sit at the table, but in the semi-circle of chairs placed around the main large hearth. “I guess I hope that Uncle Conan wins,” she finally said. “It’s his turn to be happy. All my other uncles have found someone so he should get to find someone, too. And I think Mhàiri would make him happy. I’m just afraid that won’t happen if he finds out that she has been tricking him, even though he started it.”
Brenna lightly kicked Bonny’s leg with her own. “What about Uncle Clyde?”
Bonny kicked her back. “He has Maegan. Uncle Conan doesn’t have anyone.”
Laurel snapped her fingers to get their attention. “I think that is enough gossip for a long while. You understand me, Brenna?” The blonde bobbed her head way too readily. “Bonny?” Her youngest was at least more honest and reluctantly gave her a nod. “Then out with you.”
Bonny turned to follow Brenna, who was almost at the hall doors, but then she stopped and asked, “Mama, are you going to help Conan find happiness?”
Laurel pointed her finger to the door. “Now, Bonny.” She waited until the door was completely closed again before turning to her friends. “It scares me how much Brenna learns and retains.”
Hagatha nodded and took a large gulp of ale. “I fear her little habit is going to get her into great trouble someday.”
“Undoubtedly,” Laurel agreed, clearly unhappy at the prospect. “I’ve warned her, tried to stop her, but it does no good. And today, though I hate to admit it, what she told us revealed a lot.”
Hagatha put down her mug. “Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea not to interfere with those two. Now they’re fighting and ye know what that leads to.”
“I have no idea,” Laurel said, with an impish grin.
“Aye, ye do or ye wouldn’t fight with yer man like ye do.”
“So what are you going to do?” Aileen asked. “You did not respond to Bonny’s question, but Hagatha and I know the answer. It’s obvious Conan and Mhàiri are perfect for each other, so how do you propose we help get those two together?”
Laurel drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. Aileen was right in that Conan and Mhàiri could be right for each other, but they could also be very wrong. Based on what had happened in the courtyard, it was not help getting together the couple needed. That was the path they were already on, for it was clear they both had emotions for the other that ran very deep. But that same path could also end in a way that would only bring them both misery.
Laurel glanced at Hagatha and then at Aileen as a wide, mischievous smile took over her face. “I don’t think we do. Nay. I’m thinking sabotage is what is needed.” Both her friends looked surprised, but at the same time, eager. “And not just Conan’s plans. We need to sabotage Mhàiri’s as well.”
* * *
Mhàiri sat at the dinner table, thankful that tonight was a family dinner. Eating in the lower hall with all the soldiers was usually entertaining, but it was also loud and nearly impossible to carry on a conversation. Here, in the great hall, when it was only close friends and family, talking was possible. Unfortunately, conversations could also be heard by all.
Their small group sat in the same order they always did, with Conor at the head, then Laurel, Hagatha, Conan, and Seamus on his right and Finn, Aileen, Mhàiri, and Maegan on his left. After that, the seating fluctuated, depending on who from the elite guard was not on duty and near the castle and whether Aileen and Laurel’s children ate in their rooms or with the family. Tonight, only the children were added to the ensemble, sitting next to Maegan, who put forth no more than half-hearted efforts to keep them quiet in order to talk to Seamus. Maegan would never admit it, but she enjoyed talking with him at dinner as much as Seamus enjoyed talking with her.
Normally, Mhàiri was similarly engaged with Conan, matching wits, launching harmless barbs, or sharing stories about their childhood. Tonight, however, was reminiscent of her first days at the castle when both had refused to look, let alone speak, to the other. And as difficult as she was going to find it, she needed to engage with the man, which started with an apology. It was the only way to convince him to pursue her once more.
It was Maegan who had pointed out her folly. She had sympathized with Mhàiri, stating that pretending to like someone she was angry with would be difficult for anyone, but that Mhàiri and Conan’s fight was probably going to result in him ending his plans to trick Mhàiri out of her hemp paper. And that meant Mhàiri would lose her chance to teach him a humiliating lesson. Realizing her friend was probably right, Mhàiri decided to make amends. She needed Conan to re-embrace his lunatic idea that he could beguile her into giving up her most precious possession.
“You said today that you would never lie to me.”
Conan’s head whipped around at the lilting sound of Mhàiri’s voice. She had hardly spoken all night, and he had not really blamed her. He had been serious about yelling being more of his brothers’ habits than his. Then Finn had mentioned during their training that Conor had not been prone to hollering, nor had Cole or Colin or any of his brothers, until they had met their wives. That all McTiernay men had that trait and it just took the right woman to bring it out of them.
The implication that Mhàiri was the right woman and that he would follow in the same path as his brothers had been unmistakable. But it would take a lot more than one public fight to make Conan accept Mhàiri could be anything other than an enjoyable diversion.
Conan’s blue eyes bored into Mhàiri’s for several seconds. “And I never will,” he finally answered.
How Mhàiri wanted to believe him. Her heart said he was telling the truth. And if she had not heard for herself that he was intending to be duplicitous, she would not have thought it possible. Conan argued any point when he thought she was wrong, but had consistently conceded when she had adequately debated her opinion. He was a man who enjoyed being right and flaunted it when he won an argument, but he did not need to be right. He had never twisted facts to suit his case, and when his logic failed—which was rare—he accepted it. In all the weeks she had gotten to know Conan, he had not lied.
But that did not mean he would not play her for the fool. Mhàiri decided his promise of honesty would also be her weapon against him.
Mhàiri licked her lips and mentally braced herself. “About our earlier conversation,” she began.
“You mean our heated conversation,” Conan corrected, then sat back and crossed his arms. “You were angry long before that conversation started. I just don’t know why.”
Mhàiri swallowed. Conan had a point, but she was not about to explain why she had been angry. However, she was also determined not to lie to him either. When the truth was eventually revealed, he was not going to be able to say that she was no better. “I was angry. I had not known you were even working on the shelves. I was surprised and, well, I don’t like the kind of surprises I got that day.”
Conan narrowed his gaze. “Don’t worry. It will not happen again.”
Mhàiri took in a deep breath and rallied her courage. “I should have said thank you. They are beautiful.”
“You should thank him as well,” Conan replied snidely, gesturing with his thumb toward Seamus. “He helped.”
“Thank you, Seamus,” Mhàiri said, hoping she sounded sincere. But she had not forgotten his role in suggesting the farce. “I appreciate all that you did, but I am sure it was Conan who designed them. For everything about them is perfect.”
Conan twisted his lips. “So you really do like them.”
“Aye, and I was wondering if you could help me organize them. I liked the way you did yours, and I was hoping that you would help me do something similar.”
Mhàiri watched as Seamus nudged Conan with his elbow and gave him a wink of encouragement. She almost sighed aloud with relief. Her apology was working.
“I could probably help if you want,” Conan murmured, not yet totally convinced.
“I would like that.”
“But wouldn’t Loman mind?”
“Why would he?” she asked with mock innocence. “Books, manuscripts, and drawings don’t interest him. And in return there is something I want to show you. Something very special.”
Conan leaned forward, forming a steeple with his fingers. “Helping you would give me a chance to make up for this morning.”
Mhàiri blushed. This time, it was in earnest, but before she could say another word, Laurel muttered, “This is about to get embarrassing and it needs to be stopped.”
Mhàiri did not know what Laurel meant, but assumed it was about something at their end of the table. Mhàiri was about to ask Conan once more to clarify his feelings of guilt when Laurel coughed loudly into her hand. It was not the kind to clear one’s throat, but to gain everyone’s attention.
When Mhàiri looked in her direction, Laurel spoke, this time clearly and without any ambiguity. “Stop feigning interest where you have none, Mhàiri. Conan may act like a fool, but that doesn’t make him one. He would have seen through your act long before you had the chance to teach him your lesson.”
Conan looked puzzled.
Mhàiri looked horrified.
Laurel knew then that she was not incorrect and all that Brenna had told them had been true. “Mhàiri knows, Conan,” she stated with exasperation.“Ó dhìol, everyone is aware that Mhàiri knows of your ill-gotten plans to seduce her for her paper . . . well, except Seamus,” Laurel said, waving her hand at the suddenly stupefied soldier. “You may be incredibly smart, brother, but you are also incredibly s
imple-minded when it comes to women.”
Mhàiri’s jaw went slack. Seduce? Conan had actually planned to go that far to get her books? And how had Laurel learned of everything? It had only happened yesterday. Mhàiri glanced back down the table to where Brenna was seated, staring at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
Conan’s gaze followed Mhàiri’s, and he realized whom she was looking at. McTiernay Castle’s infamous little eavesdropper. Suddenly, everything made sense. Why Mhàiri had not shown up for dinner the previous night, her anger this morning, her lack of appreciation for the shelves that he had known, with her knowledge of libraries, she would absolutely love.
He should have put it all together this morning, but the mental image of Loman kissing her had sent him spiraling. They had eaten in the lower hall the previous night and the entire elite guard had been chattering about Loman and his outing, making plans to be the next in line. The idea of all those men pursuing Mhàiri had infuriated Conan. He knew none of them deserved her or would understand her the way he did. He had been so focused on keeping his own swirling emotions in check that he had not even thought to wonder why Mhàiri had been missing.
His two blue eyes bore holes into the green ones across from him. “You knew?” Conan said in a quiet voice, so full of fury that several sucked in their breaths. “You knew I had discovered the hemp?” he asked again.
Mhàiri glared back at Conan, feeling no remorse. “Aye. I also learned that its value meant more to you than your honor.”
Conan’s mind was racing, putting things together, including her sudden change in attitude from this morning to tonight. “So tonight’s gratitude for the shelves . . . that was a lie.”
“I did not lie. I do appreciate the shelves. I just did not enjoy learning that someone I trusted and respected was using me to attain what he wanted.”
The Most Eligible Highlander in Scotland Page 17