Then Laurel kissed him thoroughly, ending any possibility of continuing the conversation.
* * *
Brenna and Bonny raced into their room right after their father ordered them to leave the great hall. He had told them to prepare for bed, but it was still early and it would be at least an hour or two before Maegan or a servant came to ensure they were settled for the night.
Bonny went to sit by the hearth and looked for one of the Latin books that Conor had given her to practice. She expected Brenna to undress and put on a robe per her normal routine, but her sister was instead quickly running a brush through her blond hair.
Bonny stood up, put the book down, and went over to where Brenna was splashing water on her face. “What are you planning?” she asked, crossing her arms, imitating what Conan did when he suspected her sister of something.
Brenna dabbed a cloth on her face to dry it and said, “I’m leaving.” She gave the towel to Bonny and pointed to the bowl. “And so are you.”
Bonny took the towel and said, “But Papa said—”
“Papa only said to come to the room and prepare for bed. I’ve brushed my hair and washed my face. I did what he said. Now it is your turn.”
Bonny began to splash water on her face. “I don’t think he meant for us to leave again,” she mumbled, as she began to dry her face off.
“Then stay,” Brenna replied in superior tone, “but I’m going to find out what is happening with Mhàiri and Uncle Conan.” She then headed for the secret door in their room. Their castle was full of them. Her great-grandfather had insisted that there be multiple ways to escape any room in case McTiernay Castle was ever attacked. Brenna had never known anyone to need the passageways for safety reasons, but she thought them marvelous things for discovering bits and pieces of information. And the best conversations were the ones everyone thought her too young to know.
Bonny narrowed her eyes. Most knew about Brenna and her continual propensity to eavesdrop, but it was not as well-known just how often Bonny went with her. If Brenna was about to take the risk and sneak back out, it was not very hard to figure out who her sister wanted to spy on. Besides, Brenna was right. Things were happening, and it was certain that Conan and Mhàiri were not going to tell them anything. Bonny had discovered a few years ago that while she did not share her older sister’s passion for the thrill of not being caught, she did learn a lot more about people by eavesdropping than she did by asking grownups questions.
“I’m coming,” Bonny announced.
Brenna stopped and turned around. “Fine, but hurry. Braeden is going to get bored and come here any minute.”
Bonny ran two quick swipes of a brush through her hair and rushed after her older sister into the dark corridor. Minutes later, they emerged from the stairwell into the storage room on the bottom floor of the tower. After years of practice, both were adept at hearing approaching footsteps and knowing where to duck out of sight until they passed.
Bonny whispered, “Where are we going first? Mhàiri’s or Conan’s?”
Brenna bit her bottom lip. “Both could be talking right now. So you go find out what Uncle Conan is saying to Seamus, and I’ll go listen to Mhàiri and Maegan.”
“How do you know they are not alone?”
Brenna rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion that Bonny hated. “If Maegan wasn’t talking to Mhàiri, she would have been checking on us. And if she is speaking to Mhàiri, then she told Seamus to check on Uncle Conan.”
Bonny was not sure, but it did not matter. “We meet back at the room?” she asked.
Brenna nodded and began to rub her hands together as if she were about to start an exciting game. “You tell me everything Uncle Conan said, and I will tell you everything I heard Mhàiri say.”
“And then what?” Bonny asked, seeing that her sister was up to more than just discovering what was going on.
“Then we figure out what we are going to do, because if Mama won’t help Uncle Conan win, then we will.”
Now that was the first idea Brenna had had that Bonny fully supported. With a smile and a nod, she followed her sister into the shadows of the courtyard before splitting off to the North Tower as Brenna headed for Mhàiri’s room.
Chapter Eight
Seamus slowly opened the door to Conan’s chambers and peeked in. Conan was inside, pacing in the work area of his chambers. Seamus hesitated and then thought better of it. He had been outside for over a half hour getting reamed by Maegan, who seemed to think everything that was happening was his fault as it had been his idea for Conan to deceive Mhàiri.
At first, he had been so shocked by Maegan’s tirade that he had not responded well at all. Seamus had felt his honor was being attacked and had immediately gone on both the defensive and offensive, making it clear that she was the one who should be ashamed of her actions, not him. That it was one thing for a child to eavesdrop on a private conversation, but for an adult woman to take what she had overheard and use it to embarrass and belittle a man whose family had taken her in when she had no one was inexcusable.
Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, Seamus had wished he could take them back, but it was too late. At least then he had done the smart thing and stuck with apologies and explanations, which Maegan had ignored while peppering him with more words on the delicacy of the human heart. In the end, he wondered if Maegan was going to ever talk to him again and felt his heart break when she walked away with a good-bye that felt all too final.
Knowing sleep was not possible, Seamus had sought the one other man he knew was as miserable as he was. Conan. But by the looks of things, Conan was not miserable at all. He was furious. And it was going to take a lot longer than an hour to cool the anger visibly writhing through his friend.
There was minimal room for walking, so Conan could only take a handful of steps before being forced to turn, and then a couple of seconds later he was turning once more. It was making Seamus dizzy, but asking Conan to sit or slow his pacing was not an option at the moment.
“Damn woman,” Conan growled with significant bite upon seeing Seamus, continuing his fast back-and-forth walk.
“Which one?” Seamus asked, hoping that a little levity might at least get Conan to stop and sit down. Seamus could only recall being as furious as Conan was right now a couple of times, and both of them had been over a woman. The first time it had happened, his response had been to pace as well, which had only fueled his ire, not helped it. With every step, he had repeated the words that had driven him to a fury, which eventually resulted in him punching a wooden door and nearly breaking his hand. Seamus could still remember the pain and the weeks it had taken before he could properly grip a sword with any authority again. Conan was on that same path.
“Laurel,” Conan answered. “And Mhàiri. And Maegan.” He took a few steps and stopped to glare at Seamus. “Damn them all.” He began to pace again.
“Might want to damn me as well,” Seamus said, leaning against one of the bookcases. “I encouraged you to try that bad idea to charm Mhàiri.”
“Ha! According to Laurel, I was trying to seduce Mhàiri, as if I could. Men should be warned about her. How dare she accuse me of using someone emotionally when every day she is teasing another man, toying with him, kissing him, making him believe she feels more than she does. I wish Loman the best of luck getting anything real from that woman.”
Seamus shifted his stance and began to wonder how deep Conan’s feelings were for Mhàiri. The man had refused to admit that he even liked her, but based on what Seamus was seeing and hearing, Conan did a lot more than like the woman. For his normal reaction to an angry woman was complete indifference.
“I don’t think Loman is interested in Mhàiri, nor she him.”
Conan snorted. “Then I wonder who will be next. Sean seemed eager enough when I saw him the other day.”
“Do you know what your real problem is?” Seamus posed. “You like Mhàiri. In fact, I would say you’re fascinated by her. Just admit it. You�
��ve never met anyone like her, and that’s why what she did has you so upset.”
Conan turned his back on Seamus and stared into the dark courtyard below. He could see shadows moving, but the world had quieted.
“It’s understandable,” Seamus continued. “Mhàiri is beautiful and smart and sweet. It’s impossible not to like her.”
Conan continued to stare down into the inky darkness. “Mhàiri is not sweet in the least. She is calculating and, as I discovered tonight, quite devious.”
“Aye, that was surprising, to learn she had overheard us plotting.”
Conan stopped short. “You think Laurel was right? That I was trying to swindle Mhàiri out of her things?”
Seamus shook his head and kept his expression neutral. “I don’t think so, but I can see how Mhàiri might see it that way.”
Conan narrowed his gaze and took a couple of threatening steps toward Seamus. “She got to you, didn’t she?” he asked rhetorically before waving a hand and resuming his pacing. “Maegan. I should have known she would blame you and make you feel guilty for something you didn’t even do! Murt! You like her so much you can’t even have an opinion that she won’t approve of anymore.”
Seamus pushed himself off the bookcase and was about to remind Conan with his fists that, while he could ignore most of Conan’s barbs, his tolerance did not extend to insulting Maegan. But before he could take a step, the door opened again.
Bonny entered, waved at him as she moved by, and then plopped down in the chair she always sat on when she came to visit her uncle.
Bonny sat and looked at Seamus and Uncle Conan, who were both staring at her. She wondered if she had made a mistake about joining Conan versus listening in on him like Brenna had wanted. The problem with eavesdropping was that while it was an effective way to learn what was going on, it never allowed for asking questions. And Bonny had several. She decided to start with what she thought was the easiest.
“Why are you so mad, Uncle Conan?”
“Because,” he sputtered, “your friend Mhàiri wanted to make me look like a fool.”
Bonny was still confused and pursed her lips together and nodded. “Girls don’t like it when you try to take their stuff. Maybe you should apologize,” she suggested.
“I apologize?” he repeated. “I should apologize?” he said once more, this time to Seamus, who gave a half-hearted shrug in agreement.
“What about Mhàiri?” Conan asked. “What about her listening in on my conversation? Even you,” he said, pointing to Bonny in the chair, “have more honesty about you coming in here and not hiding behind some door misinterpreting everything you hear.”
Bonny crossed her arms and thought for a second. “But it was her room she was listening to. I don’t think she would do that anywhere else.” Conan’s jaw dropped. “I mean, if she was in here with Maegan, wouldn’t you have wanted to know what was going on?”
“Were you with them, Bonny?”
She shook her head. “Only Brenna, Mhàiri, and Maegan were there. I thought you were building shelves, not trying to take all her books.”
Conan threw his hands up into the air. “I wasn’t trying to take all her books! Murt! I was really hoping for some pages or maybe, by some miracle, one book if her father brought some new ones to sell when he arrived. I know what those books mean to Mhàiri, and she should know that!” he shouted angrily.
Bonny was surprised to hear her uncle shout. It was very unlike him. Unlike the rest of the family, when he was annoyed, he did not yell. He just grumbled—a lot. Which was good, Bonny thought, because he was annoyed a lot. And yet, hearing her uncle shout right now did not bother her. In fact, she thought Brenna would think it a good thing because whenever their parents fought, it always ended up with them together.
“I don’t think Mhàiri knows that,” Bonny said. “If you told me that you weren’t really trying to take my stuff, it would make me feel better.”
“I should not have to. Mhàiri knows I plan on using vellum. Paper may be lighter and so I could carry more of it and capture more information, but eventually it would not matter. The vellum I’m preparing is much larger and, more importantly, easier to stitch together into a single large map.”
Bonny rolled her eyes upward and thought for a minute. “I think she might have forgotten that. I still think maybe,” she said, tapping her chin like her mama did when she was thinking, “you should tell her. Mhàiri cried when she thought you wanted all her stuff. Brenna says that girls only get mad at boys when they like them, and Mhàiri was really mad at you. She said that she thought you were different, but that she was wrong and you were like all the rest. I’m not sure what that means. Do you?”
Conan stared at Bonny for several long seconds before answering. “I do. It means that I need to talk to Mhàiri right now.” And then he was gone.
Bonny blinked. She was not sure that going to see Mhàiri while she was still so angry was such a good idea. Bonny had been thinking that Conan would seek Mhàiri out in the morning or tell her he was sorry over the morning meal. Regardless, Brenna was going to be very excited about this.
Thinking about her sister reminded Bonny that Brenna was actively eavesdropping on Mhàiri and would soon be listening to Conan as well. It was one thing for Brenna to tell her about what Mhàiri was saying to Maegan, but Bonny did not want to learn what Conan said to Mhàiri secondhand. It was she who had sent him there so it should be she who got to listen to how it went.
Bonny looked at Seamus, who was staring where Conan had been standing, still looking a little befuddled. “I have to go,” she announced, and then she, too, disappeared out the door. Bonny took the shortcut, glad she knew where Brenna liked to hide in the Warden’s Tower when it was only her.
* * *
Mhàiri took a deep breath when she heard the sharp knock on the door. She wanted to shout at her friend that she had meant what she had said, that she was done talking for the evening and wanted to hear no more advice.
When Maegan had joined her earlier, Mhàiri had been happy to see her nearly as angry as she was. She had been even happier to hear that Maegan had ambushed Seamus, telling him how disgusted she was with his part in all that had happened. Then Maegan had done the unthinkable and begun to defend the man. It was as if Conan were there himself, trying to minimize what he had done.
Maybe they had jumped to the wrong conclusions about what Seamus and Conan were trying to do.
Maybe it was not really as bad as they’d first thought.
Maybe they should believe Seamus and Conan, for they had looked truly shocked and betrayed by their accusations.
Maybe they should have thought things through before wanting revenge.
Maybe it was somewhat underhanded to entrap someone with only one goal—to humiliate them.
Mhàiri had finally had enough and practically shoved Maegan out her door, proclaiming she needed time to think. Unfortunately, the ceaseless knock on her door proved Maegan was not so easily gotten rid of.
Mhàiri was almost resolved to let her friend knock all night when it occurred to her that Maegan might be trying to apologize.
Ready to listen to an apology or, once again, send her friend away as politely but firmly as possible, Mhàiri opened the door. The moment she saw who was on the other side, her jaw literally dropped.
She was still in shock when Conan moved around her and entered her room without even asking. Her wits were just returning, and she was about to order him to leave when he pressed one index finger against her lips and one against his own. Then he tiptoed over to the large tapestry that hung from ceiling to floor next to the hearth. With a grand gesture, he pulled back the heavy drape and then rammed his foot on the half-sized wooden door it hid. The planks gave way and the semi-door creaked open to reveal a dark, narrow passageway.
Mhàiri realized she was looking at the very place she, Maegan, and Brenna had sat huddled together, listening to Conan as he planned to persuade her to give him all her hemp
paper.
Conan closed the door and let the tapestry fall back into place. “Good,” he announced. “We are alone. Now we can talk.”
Mhàiri crossed her arms and tilted her chin up. “I have nothing to say.”
Conan’s gaze burned into Mhàiri’s. “Aye. You do. You are going to answer my questions,” he said without equivocation.
His directness shook her, but Mhàiri did not want Conan to know he affected her at all, so she shrugged her shoulders in mock resignation. “I will never lie to you,” she said, echoing what he had told her.
“I only want to know if you really thought that I would try and take your things away from you.”
Mhàiri blinked her peridot-like eyes. She was going to declare that she did, but seeing Conan, with his blue eyes smoldering with indignation, she wondered if she had been wrong. “But I heard you,” she finally said, for it was true.
“Then let me ask you this. Before overhearing Seamus and my conversation yesterday, would you have ever thought that I would try and take your things away from you?”
Mhàiri swallowed with difficulty, but after a couple of seconds, she found her voice and once again answered honestly. “I would have thought the opposite, probably even come to your defense if somebody had accused you of such an act. But then I heard what you said,” she finished, emphasizing that it was not a simple misunderstanding, and that Conan had damned himself with his own words.
Fury began to build within Conan once again. “So all the hours we spent together, talking, sharing, and getting to know one another were just what—a lie? A waste of time?”
Mhàiri’s brow furrowed. “Of course not.”
“They must be! Because if you truly believe that I would stoop so low to steal paper, you must believe everything else we shared was a falsehood. I cannot be both your friend who would do serious bodily injury to anyone who did what you accused me of and your enemy at the same time.”
Nervously, Mhàiri bit her lip. She hated to admit it, but Conan had a point. “Then why?” she whispered, the pain she felt coming through.“Why would you say all those things about me being susceptible to your kisses? And that I should give a gift in return for these shelves? Or that it should be all my idea to give you all my paper?”
The Most Eligible Highlander in Scotland Page 19