Conan jumped out of his chair at the accusation. Seething anger poured out through every cell as he punched his fists on the table and leaned forward. “I was going to try and persuade you to be generous. There is nothing dishonorable in that.”
Mhàiri jumped up to her feet. She too leaned in and said, “Persuade? Is that what you call your scheme to try and swindle me out of my books?”
“And what about your scheme? What did you plan on doing? Pretending to like me, knowing my attraction to you was earnest, only to throw it back in my face in the most humiliating and public way? To lead me on, let me believe that you would share something that could make my travels infinitely better, only to dash my hopes at the last moment? To be able to carry out such a plan . . . that borders on malicious.”
“Nay. What is malicious is using a woman’s emotions for your own gain. Something I understand you have been doing for years, just this time instead of my body, you wanted my goods. How does it feel to realize that you were the one who was going to be used without a single care of the injury being inflicted?”
“At least I was never dishonest. Every woman who was ever supposedly ‘hurt’ by my actions knew that I would never return their emotions and yet they still pursued me.”
“And that justifies your intentions?” Mhàiri gritted out. “You know what that paper means to me and yet you still planned to trick me out of it.”
“I can see that whatever I say is meaningless to you. Consider your lesson well taught and your precious paper safe from my shameful hands.” Then his cold gaze swung to Laurel. “You may be Conor’s wife and you may be pregnant, but that does not give you the right to do what you did tonight.” And without waiting to hear anyone’s response or asking for his leave, Conan spun on his heel and marched out the doors of the great hall.
Mhàiri swallowed. She was shaking. She was furious, for she knew she was in the right, and yet something about how Conan had looked at her, as if he was deeply wounded, was causing her to tremble. Mhàiri felt a soft hand clasp hers, urging her to sit down.
Aileen let go of a long breath that she had been holding, and Hagatha let go a sharp hrmph.
Conor’s commander simply sighed. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing,” Finn said to Laurel disapprovingly and then turned to his wife. “Let us leave now.” Aileen gave a wary look to Laurel, but quickly said her good-byes and followed her husband and son out of the hall.
Undaunted, Laurel stood up and, with a satisfying look, said, “I think I, too, will be saying good night now that all is right again.” Conor grimaced and made to stand up and follow her when she shooed him back down. “No need. Stay and finish your meal. Come join me when you are done. I look forward to it,” she added with a wink and a quick peck on the cheek, knowing both the action and her words would perplex him enormously. A half a minute later, Laurel, too, was gone from the dinner table.
Maegan looked wide-eyed at Seamus, who had a similar expression of shock on his face. Both had expected quite a different ending to the cat-and-mouse game that Conan and Mhàiri had embarked on only yesterday. Each had privately planned to be amused by their friends’ antics for at least a few weeks before it came down to a fiery explosion. It was not as if either of them wanted Conan or Mhàiri to fight, but rather they thought the journey to that emotional conclusion would give the two time to bond, not just as friends, but as potential lovers. For anyone could see Conan and Mhàiri were perfect for each other.
A thunk from the end of the table disrupted everyone’s thoughts. Brenna’s forehead was on the table, rocking back and forth. “Because of Mama, now no one is going to win,” she lamented. And then, sitting back up, she looked at Seamus and said, “And Bonny and I wanted Uncle Conan to win.”
Conor swirled the ale in his mouth around. He wished events like tonight at his dinner table were so rare that they were unheard of, but unfortunately, while not common, they were no longer shocking. What was even less surprising was that his wife was at the center of the commotion.
Laurel had been very wrong earlier. Not everyone knew what was going on. She had more or less told him that he would receive answers to what had just happened when he came to their bedchambers, but to leave now would mean that he would only learn what Laurel decided to reveal.
Conor generally preferred being ill-informed of the emotional comings and goings of those around him—for the less he knew, the less he was involved. But Laurel was going to have to learn that there was a time and place to inform her husband and laird of certain happenings. One of which was before, not after, she launched melodramatic events like she had tonight.
“Brenna,” Conor began, trying to keep calm. “What do you mean that you wanted Conan to win? Win what, leanbh?”
Brenna looked to her father and told him what she had told her mother earlier. “Uncle Conan was pretending to court Mhàiri so that she would give him all of her paper, only Mhàiri knew because we overheard him and Seamus planning the whole thing. She was going to trick him into thinking it was working, but we told Mama so that she would help Uncle Conan. But now they will never kiss and they need to if Conan is ever going to win like you, and Uncle Cole, and Uncle Crevan.”
Bonny nodded in agreement, her gray eyes large as she stared at her plate. “Mama even helped Uncle Craig, and he seemed impossible.”
Brenna looked at her sister and shook her head as a tear began to roll down her cheek. “I don’t think Mama wants Uncle Conan to ever win somebody’s heart.”
Conor inhaled and then slowly exhaled. He was beginning to understand what his daughter was talking about. “You want your mother to help Conan fall in love?”
Brenna scrunched up her face and shook her head. “I wanted his plan to win. To get Mhàiri to like him enough to give him the books.”
Mhàiri, unable to listen any longer as people talked about her, said, “But Brenna, why would you want him to have my things? I thought you and I were friends and you would want me to . . . uh, win,” she finished, unable to think of a better word.
Brenna looked at Mhàiri with wide eyes. “We are friends!” she promised. “But if Uncle Conan wins, you’ll be happy too. Trust me. Bonny and I have seen a lot. For the girl to win, the boy always has to think they are the one winning.” She then looked at her father for confirmation.
Bonny sighed, her small shoulders slumped with disappointment. “I don’t think Uncle Conan is ever going to seduce Mhàiri now.”
Conor put his mug down on the table with more force than he had intended and caught the eye of his youngest daughter. “What do you mean . . . seduce?”
Mhàiri covered her face with her hands. That humiliating word again.
“What Mama said.” Bonny looked at Brenna, and then they both said simultaneously, “They kiss.”
A loud groan suddenly came from their brother Braeden. His arm was on the table, propping up his head as if it weighed a hundred pounds. “You are talking about kissing again? That’s all girls ever talk about.”
“It is not!” Brenna denied.
Braeden rolled his eyes. “Well, if Mama really didn’t want Uncle Conan to win, she should have just let them kiss. After that happens, no one likes him anymore.” Everyone stared at him for a moment. He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true.”
“You three!” Conor barked, getting his children’s attention. “Go prepare for bed while I go find your mother.” Hearing the sharp tone, the trio immediately jumped out of their seats and dashed out of the room. Conor then stood up, pushed his chair back with his knees, and mumbled, “I must have been insane to want to add to this brood.” As he walked by Seamus’s seat, he paused. “You better find Conan and you,” he said, pointing to Mhàiri, “be careful.” Then, realizing he had been through this four times with his other brothers, he added, “Though I probably should be warning Conan and not you.”
* * *
Conor closed the solar door with a thump behind him, comforted to see Laurel was already in his chambers a
nd nearly ready for bed. They each had a room to dress and another for private meetings, but the solar—the highest room of the Star Tower—was where the McTiernay laird had slept in the castle since it was erected. And here was where he held Laurel at night, regardless of the day’s events and fights, whenever they were home.
Laurel smiled at him but continued to brush her hair. Conor loved it when it was down, free of its plaits, pins, and ribbons. The fire caught the strawberry highlights, making the pale-gold tresses shimmer with each stroke. It was enough to make him want to forget about dinner and the discussion waiting before them, and go and claim her in a kiss that would lead to activities that needed no words. And he might have, if Laurel was not wearing her robe. That robe had become a sign from early on in their marriage that she intended for them to talk before they slept. And tonight was one of the rare times he was not going to try and persuade her to think of other, more carnal things.
“How are you feeling?” Conor asked before leaning down to give Laurel a soft but loving peck on her cheek.
“Remarkably well.” Laurel laid her brush on the table and turned to give him a more thorough kiss.
Conor obliged and claimed Laurel’s mouth, tangling his tongue with hers as he clasped the back of her head, holding her immobile. Kissing her never got old and never failed to make him instantly crave her body. And he knew Laurel felt the same as she succumbed to his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let his tongue probe the warmth of her mouth, moaning as he deepened the kiss.
They clung to each other for several minutes before Conor slowly pulled away. “I would say you do feel well.”
“I have not been sick in days, and my energy is finally returning. Hagatha thinks the worst has finally passed.”
Conor gave her a quick kiss on her nose before breaking away to undress. It was early and he was not remotely sleepy. Neither was his wife, it seemed. He barred the door to make sure they would not be interrupted and then began to free his belt, hoping to make this conversation even quicker than he had planned. “So dinner,” he prompted. “What was all that nonsense? Were Brenna and Bonny right about Conan, Mhàiri, and all that stuff about tricking the other?”
Laurel stood up and went over to her side of their bed. “As I was not there, I cannot say for certain, but we have very bright daughters, so you can probably assume what they told you was correct.”
Belt off, Conor grabbed his loose kilt and flung it so that it draped over a hearth chair. “So then tonight’s goal was to interfere with whatever might be growing between Conan and Mhàiri.”
Laurel reached for the cover to pull it down and paused. “You noticed?”
“You interfering?” He looked up and gave her a roguish grin. “Aye. I noticed.”
Laurel was tempted to throw a pillow at him, but she yanked on the belt of her robe. “I meant about Conan and Mhàiri.”
Conor came to the bed. “Men don’t talk only about weapons and war. We sometimes take time to discuss the mysteries of women,” he said with a mischievous wink as he got under the covers. He leaned back against the headboard and tapped the blanket beside him. “Finn tells me that Conan has spent many an afternoon with Mhàiri, and according to his spies, they have not fought once, that is until this morning.”
Laurel’s brows furrowed as she shimmied out of her robe to crawl into bed next to Conor. “Finn’s spies?” she asked, placing her cheek on her husband’s chest. “Seems a lot of people have been interested in those two.”
“Finn and I were less interested and more wary. Word is that Mhàiri’s father is not just a merchant, but according to Colin, a very wealthy and well-respected man in the Lowlands. He may not have an army, but it would not be good for him to arrive to a sticky situation. While I love Conan, his past relationships with women have never ended well.”
“Nay, they have not,” Laurel agreed, playing with his chest hairs.
“And yet the first woman Conan not only gets along with but respects, you don’t like.”
Laurel pushed herself up at the accusation and looked down into Conor’s smoky gray eyes. “That is not true. I like Mhàiri a lot.”
“Then why are you not doing what you always do?” he asked, gently caressing her cheek. “Meddling in their affairs and being a matchmaker, instead of the other way around.”
Laurel let go a soft hrmph and laid back down. “Right now, the last thing those two need is a matchmaker.”
“So is it that you do not think my brother is good enough for Mhàiri?”
Laurel blew out a breath. “I would not say that exactly.”
“Then what would you say—exactly?”
Laurel gave him a playful tap. “You make it sound sinister when it is just the opposite. Those two were going down a path that would lead to heartache. They needed someone to stop them from making an enduring mistake.”
“Why would it be a mistake? Mhàiri must be very smart, for I cannot see him willingly spending hours with someone who was merely pretty. And, by some miracle, they get along. With the exception of Bonny, Conan is not overly fond of your gender, my love. Even you wear on his nerves at times.”
Laurel let go a soft snort. “He wears on mine as well.”
“That’s my point. Both of them sought each other’s company time and time again. And I think Mhàiri is good for Conan. I can’t remember the last time I heard his tongue wag about the trials of being forced to deal with tedious servants, witless clanswomen, or ignorant soldiers. And there was this morning,” Conor said, tapping her arm to emphasize his point. “He actually argued back instead of walking away. And from what I heard, Mhàiri was not in the least afraid when he began to yell. She supposedly shouted back. Now you know what happens when couples fight like that, love.”
Laurel slowly began to draw circles, forgetting what that always led to. “They make up, but Conan and Mhàiri are not a couple. And what’s more, they do not see themselves as a couple, not now or in the future. And you and I might have denied saying our feelings aloud, but deep down we both wanted to be with each other almost from the moment we met.”
“I would have thought spending more time together would fix that. Not create a fight.”
“Mhàiri is young and inexperienced, and Conan has been focused for so long on only one thing—leaving.” She took a deep breath and sighed once more. “Both think they see their futures clearly, and neither have considered including the other in them. And I have no doubt that Mhàiri will get hurt if she falls for him first.”
Conor pulled back and waited until Laurel tilted her head to look at him. “First?”
Laurel nodded. “I don’t know if they are destined for each other, at least not like your brothers. But I do know that if I had not stopped their foolish plans to trick the other before it really got started, they would not have one.” She laid her head back down. “Neither of them knows what they want when it comes to love. They’ve never considered the idea of falling in love, and now that they have met someone who might indeed be their soul mate, neither seems to realize they may need to change their vision of the future, let alone being willing to do it.”
“How do you know that? Perhaps given more time together they would. It took me time to adjust, same as it did for Colin, and look at Craig. Remember, he resisted Meriel for quite a long while.”
“Now look who is trying to play the matchmaker.”
Conor did not deny it. “I worry about Conan going off alone. Not physically, but I’ve already lost Clyde, I fear. I do not want to lose Conan as well. He may be comfortable being by himself, but that doesn’t mean he does not need someone.”
“We all do,” Laurel agreed. “And if Mhàiri and Conan are right for each other, then they will find their way. Now they at least have a chance.”
“A good fight can help clear misunderstandings. I only hope it wasn’t betrayal I saw on both Conan and Mhàiri’s faces. That is not easily overcome.”
Laurel rolled over on top of Conor. Her tu
mmy was seriously starting to show, and soon she would not be able to do so. She gazed into his gray eyes. “You know that love is not the only necessary ingredient to a happy marriage. Honesty is just as important. And now Mhàiri and Conan are no longer pretending.”
“Pretending to like each other?”
“Pretending they only felt friendship—her pretending to be interested in others and him pretending not to be jealous. Those two treasure brutal honesty, and both were being dishonest, not just with each other but themselves.”
Conor gave her a quick kiss. “So tonight was about forcing them to be honest with each other. That’s a good thing.”
Laurel nodded and returned his kiss with a sweet one of her own. “And once they are, it’s possible they will fall in love,” she said, her voice low and dubious.
Conor sighed and flopped his head back on the pillows. “You are confusing me again, woman. I thought we just agreed that it would be better if Conan was not alone and, to do that, they needed to be honest and fall in love.”
“Aye, but is love going to be enough for Conan to include Mhàiri into his future?”
Conor gave her a light squeeze. “Then it will be his loss because if he knew how good it feels to have a woman who loves him in his arms every night, Father Lanaghly would be preparing for a wedding.”
Laurel splayed her fingers across Conor’s chest and lifted her face, offering him her mouth. He kissed her slowly, lingeringly, and with a deep, tender possessiveness. “He still might.” Laurel grinned.
“On second thought, I don’t think you should resume your role of matchmaker, Laurel. Especially in your condition. Conan can make even the most patient person furious at times, and you should not get riled. Besides, he is so furious with you, I don’t think he is going to listen to anything you have to say.”
“I have no intention of directly taking on that role,” she said, with a mischievous smile. “I have no need to. Conan already has a female in his life to whom he listens. He just doesn’t realize it.”
The Most Eligible Highlander in Scotland Page 18