The Most Eligible Highlander in Scotland

by Michele Sinclair

  “Brenna,” Maegan began, trying to ignore the little girl’s hopeful look. “I think it is sweet that you want to bring Mhàiri and Conan together, but it will never work.”

  Brenna giggled. “But it is working.” Seeing the continued doubt in Maegan’s eyes, she gave her best evidence to prove she was right. “Mhàiri and Conan almost kissed today. Their mouths were that far apart.” She created an inch of space between her index finger and her thumb. “And they would have if Mhàiri had not taken a step back.”

  Maegan licked her lips. Mhàiri had forgotten to include that little detail in her summary of what had transpired after she, Bonny, and Nairne had left for the warmth of the castle’s fires. “How do you know?”

  Brenna raised her shoulders along with her hands. “I was there,” she answered with an impish grin.

  Maegan closed her eyes and looked upward, praying silently for both patience and guidance. Someday, Brenna was going to hear something she should not and get into serious trouble. Her only hope to avoid that fate was to break this awful habit of hers.

  “Brenna, you were out there that entire time?” When she nodded, Maegan sought for calm and said, “It’s too cold to be outside for so long, and you could have gotten very ill. But more importantly, your uncle would have been furious to learn that you had been spying on him out there.”

  “It’s not like I wanted to be there,” Brenna announced in her defense. “But there was no other way to know if our plan was working or if we had to do honorable all over again. But it did work.” Brenna got to her feet and held out four fingers. “Mhàiri wanted someone who was honest”—Brenna pulled down one finger, “kind”—a second finger disappeared—“honorable”—down came a third—“and a hero.” She waved her remaining index finger at Maegan. “That’s the only one we still need to do to prove to Mhàiri that she can fall in love with Uncle Conan.”

  Maegan slunk back into her chair. With her elbow on the sidearm, she rested her forehead in her hand. If only love were that easy to turn off and on. Sometimes she wished she could simply dismiss what she felt for Clyde and find happiness and love with someone else . . . maybe even Seamus. But it was not that easy.

  Peeking out from her hand, she asked, “Why do you want them together so badly?”

  Brenna breathed in deeply and exhaled. “I want Uncle Conan to be happy before he leaves. It is his turn to fall in love and get married. Until Mhàiri, I didn’t think it possible, but she liked him when no one else ever did. She just needs to fall in love with him.”

  “But how do you know that Conan loves her?”

  “He keeps kissing her,” Bonny answered.

  Maegan swung around. “What does that prove? Lots of men kiss women, and while you may want it to mean love, it often doesn’t . . . especially in the case of your uncle.”

  Bonny, who was lying on her stomach with her head on the heels of her palms, shook her head. “They all kissed him. He never kissed them. The only women he ever kissed were the two widows that live outside the village.”

  Maegan’s jaw dropped an inch. “How . . . how do you know them?” she asked even though she knew the answer.

  “I heard him tell Seamus once,” Bonny replied. “Uncle Conan was mad that Seamus believed all the soldiers’ chatter about him being with lots of women just because lots of women had chased him.”

  Maegan was shocked. She had been one of those people, and she was sure that Laurel was among them as well. “Why did Conan never say anything?”

  “He didn’t want to,” Bonny answered. “He thought the rumors would help keep women away and he especially didn’t want Mama to find him a wife.”

  Maegan felt her jaw tighten. Once again, she had been played. It did not matter that she understood Conan’s reasons, but that he had successfully fooled all of them about his nonexistent exploits was rankling. “So you think because Mhàiri is the first one he has kissed—”

  “More than once,” Brenna chimed in.

  “—more than once, that Conan is in love with her.”

  Brenna nodded. Maegan looked back at Bonny, who was also nodding. “I don’t think he knows it though,” the seven-year-old added. “Or if he even wants to be, but he looks exactly like Uncle Craig and Uncle Crevan did when they were in love.”

  A disturbing thought came to Maegan. “How do you know they kissed before?”

  “Mhàiri told you about the one that happened just before she went on a picnic and I saw the last one. If you had seen them, you would want them together, too. They kiss like Mama and Papa do.”

  Maegan swallowed at the idea that Brenna, whom she loved like a little sister, had secretly witnessed what sounded to be a very heated embrace. “You were there? Because Mhàiri told me she had opened the passageway and made sure you were not around.”

  Brenna bit her bottom lip, realizing her mistake.

  “There is more than one secret area in a lot of rooms. I don’t know where they all are either. She won’t tell even me,” Bonny chimed in, hoping to make Maegan feel better for not knowing about the second secret hiding spot. “Why don’t you want Mhàiri and Uncle Conan to be together?”

  Maegan’s eyebrows rose as she searched for an adequate answer. Finding none, she finally said, “It’s not that I don’t want them together. I just think they would get mad if they found out that people were trying to trick them into falling in love. Love should find its own way.”

  Brenna scoffed and crossed her arms. “Then it will never happen. They don’t have years, like Craig and Meriel did, to figure out that they should be more than friends. Mhàiri and Conan are leaving in the spring! That’s why they need our help.”

  “Uncle Conan won’t be mad if Mhàiri and he get together. He’s nicer when he’s around her. And Mhàiri would be happier if she were with Conan. She doesn’t really want to go with her father.”

  Now that was something Maegan knew for certain was incorrect. “Aye, she does. Mhàiri has told me several times how she never wanted to marry.”

  Bonny looked unconcerned. “She just doesn’t want to live in a house and never go anywhere. Uncle Conan is never going to live in one place and is going to travel all the time. He could make her happy, but she won’t believe it unless we can finish her list.”

  Maegan realized she was nodding her head and immediately stopped. She could not believe she was being sucked into their logic.

  “And that’s why we need your help. All we have left is hero, and we can’t prove Uncle Conan is one without you.”

  Maegan rose to her feet and wagged her finger. “But it’s not me you really want. You think I can get Seamus to agree, but he won’t. It will be a waste of time even asking. I can promise you there is no way he would agree to any part of your plan.”

  Brenna would not be daunted. “He would if you asked him.”

  Maegan pursed her lips together. She believed Brenna was wrong, but part of her wondered if she really did have that kind of power over Seamus.

  Since she could remember, she had loved Clyde. And she still did. But lately, it had been very hard to keep from also falling for Seamus. The man was kind, handsome, funny, and most importantly, here. And something deep inside her knew that he would always be there for her. Whereas Clyde had proven that he would not. She refused to let Clyde go, yet she did not want to even entertain the notion of seeing Seamus woo another woman. Even if it was all part of Brenna’s crazy plan.

  “Maybe, but I’m not going to put him in a position of saying no.” Even though that was what she would want to hear, he might say yes if only to keep from disappointing her. It was truly a no-win situation for both her and him.

  Brenna’s expression hardened, and her normally clear gray eyes turned into dark storm clouds as frustration sank in. She had to find something to convince Maegan to help Mhàiri, and as that thought entered her mind, another did as well. Something she remembered her mama telling her friend Aileen. The easiest way to persuade someone to do something was to show them why
it was in their best interest.

  Brenna began to pace, thinking of all the things Maegan wanted that were in her power to give or make happen. Problem was she was only ten years old. She had no power . . . only information.

  Brenna stopped in front of Maegan and looked her dead in the eye. “What if I promised not to listen to you again while Mhàiri and Conan are still here?”

  Maegan opened her mouth to dismiss the bribe, but then closed it again when she was struck with the possibilities. This potential compromise had enormous merit. “Promise me forever.”

  Brenna’s eyes got huge. “Forever?” she wailed softly in pain. “That’s a very long time.”

  Maegan nodded. “It’s forever. As in never again.” Just the sound of it was making Maegan excited. Privacy. She had not realized until tonight how little of it she had if Brenna had a mind to spy on her. She suddenly wanted this deal quite badly. “If I ask Seamus to help, you promise to not spy on me for the rest of your life, even if he refuses.”

  Brenna’s shoulders slumped even more. “But you have to really try and convince him.”

  Maegan smiled an evil smile. “I think I could if you are willing to make the same promise to him. If Seamus agrees to do his part in your little plan, you have to promise never to eavesdrop on him either.”

  Brenna threw her head back as if she was struck. “That’s not fair. After Mhàiri and Conan leave, you and Seamus will be the only interesting people around here.”

  Maegan licked her lips, worried that her harsh stipulations might be too onerous for someone who thrived on listening to gossip. But the idea of Brenna never eavesdropping on her again was a prize she desperately wanted. “If you find yourself too bored, you could always ask to visit your uncle Cole. Fàire Creachann is a huge castle, and you know a lot of people there—Jaime, Donald, Brighid, and your aunt Ellenor. Just imagine what fun you could have visiting them.”

  Maegan felt a twinge of remorse because she had no doubt that because of her suggestion, Brenna would somehow find her way north to her uncle’s home for an extended visit.

  Brenna’s head snapped back up as if the weight of the world was no longer on her shoulders. Her gray eyes were twinkling, and Maegan’s guilt melted away when she heard two words.

  “I agree.”

  * * *

  “You want me to do what?” Seamus sneered in disbelief. “You must be mad.” He blinked and shook his head as the dozens of reasons why her suggestion was inconceivable ran through his mind.

  Maegan waved her hands back and forth in denial. “I don’t want you to do anything. Brenna and Bonny do.”

  “But you must want me to agree to be asking.”

  “That’s not true,” Maegan strongly denied and reached out to clutch his forearm so he could feel the truth. “I think their plan is as outrageous as you do. I refused to get involved, but then Brenna promised me that she would never eavesdrop on me again.” Her sky-blue eyes were large with delight at the concept. “How could I refuse just for asking you a question?”

  “That I can understand, but there is no way I am going to seek out Mhàiri and pretend to be interested in her during the festivities in order to make Conan jealous.”

  Maegan winced. “It’s a little more than that. You have to try and kiss her. Brenna has some notion that if Conan witnessed this, that he would step in and become the ‘hero’ they believe Mhàiri wants.”

  Seamus stood frozen with his arms crossed, unblinking, for several long seconds at Maegan. “You cannot be serious.”

  Maegan bit her bottom lip. “They believe Mhàiri loves him but will only admit it once they prove Conan is honest, kind, honorable, and a hero. They say they’ve done the first three, and all they need now is to show that he is indeed a hero. Hence, Mhàiri needs to be ‘saved’ from your advances.”

  Seamus tilted his head upward and studied the ceiling rafters of the lower hall. It was the one place Conor had made sure there were no secret passageways, hidden rooms, or obscure places for Brenna to hide in. This was where he held his meetings with his commanders and other lairds when they were visiting and the discussion was serious. He had not barred the hidden spots in the Star Tower. It was rare, but if a fire broke out and the stairwell was blocked—or if, God forbid, the castle was attacked and somehow invaded—Conor wanted a way to get his family out of the tower, from any room, to safety.

  “I doubt they’ve proven he’s kind,” Seamus mumbled. “And as far as jealousy? I don’t think Conan is capable of the emotion.”

  “Simply because someone has not been jealous over someone before does not mean he wouldn’t be.”

  Seamus looked back down. “Are you talking about you or Conan?” A piece of him hoped Maegan would admit that she would not like seeing him seek the attentions of another woman.

  Maegan lifted her chin. “Conan of course.” She may not think Brenna’s idea would work, but she did believe Conan felt something a lot more than friendship for Mhàiri based on his reactions both during and after their fights. “Why would I be jealous when I know it is all a ruse?”

  Seamus lifted a single brow. “You really think Conan is going to stop me from kissing Mhàiri when he didn’t with Loman.”

  Maegan took a step back and threw up her hands. “What do we care if it works? Brenna’s promise is not based on success. We simply need to try. The only reason I am doing this is for privacy. I would think you might want that too.”

  Seamus looked back down and studied Maegan as if he was trying to discern whether he should read more meaning into her last comment. Agreeing would mean they would both have privacy. Something he would definitely want and be willing to do almost anything to get, with Brenna seemingly everywhere. But only if Maegan was seriously considering letting go of the possibility of Clyde ever returning.

  “And why would I want privacy, Maegan? Right now, I’m not doing anything Brenna would care to listen to, so are you saying that might change?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “But all this talk about Mhàiri and Conan deserving to be happy is making me think that I deserve that too.”

  Seamus took a step forward and leaned down until his face neared hers. “Assuming that’s true, I’ll do it. But when this is all over, be prepared, Maegan.”

  Maegan stared into his eyes and swallowed. She did not need to ask what he meant.

  She knew.

  Chapter Eleven

  “The sword dance is next,” Callum said with a wink, handing Mhàiri a mug of ale. “Dance with me?”

  Mhàiri laughed and her eyes began to gleam with anticipation. “You mean dance against you!” she said, taking the cup. “I think the only reason you like to dance next to me is that I make you look good.”

  “I am good, and that is not the only reason I like to dance next to you. It’s because I am the envy of every man in the room when I do.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  Callum winked. “I’m going to get the swords.”

  He disappeared into the crowd. Mhàiri leaned back against the wall of the great hall and took a sip of the cool ale. Tomorrow was Epiphany and the last day of the Christmastide festivities. She did not want to think about all the merriment coming to an end. The holiday season could last another week, and she would still not want it to be over. Never had she had so much fun, and it saddened her to think that this might be her only chance to enjoy the twelve days of Christmas as they were meant to be experienced. Traveling merchants did not have celebrations with large bonfires, dancing, and feasts like those held by clans.

  Long-time McTiernay ally Rae Schellden, his two daughters who had married twin McTiernay brothers, and his grandson Shaun had arrived the night the celebrations started. Unfortunately, their stay was not going to be an extended one. Though Mhàiri had only met Raelynd and Meriel—Crevan and Craig’s wives—a few days ago, she already considered them friends. Both women were not just lovely, but also highly spirited and mischievous. Nothing was more comical t
han watching them interact with their husbands.

  They had the kind of relationship she would want—if she ever were inclined to make a marital commitment. Neither wife nor husband capitulated to the other when riled, and one could not help but see the great love and respect the two couples had for each other. They gave and supported, but when provoked, they also stood up to the other. Craig and Crevan did not dictate to their wives—though they periodically tried—and Meriel and Raelynd did not harangue their husbands, though they were not above various forms of persuasion.

  The most joyful of the four was Raelynd. She was pregnant with her first child, which was due in late spring. It had been quite a massive effort for Raelynd to convince Crevan to let her come. She had been pregnant before and lost the child, and that fear never really quite left either of their minds. So Raelynd did not argue when Crevan announced that they would be leaving the day after Epiphany. But, like Mhàiri, Raelynd did not want to think about the days after the merriment was over; she only wished to focus on enjoying the little time there was left.

  Raelynd had sat with the similarly pregnant Laurel in the great hall much of the time, each keeping the other company, watching everyone as they drank and danced. Mhàiri found watching them amusing, especially Laurel. Lady McTiernay, despite growing large with child, practically danced from her chair. Her light blond hair swung about, for she could not keep her feet still when the music played. But it was when the swords began to appear that a much greater level of excitement shone in her normally storm-colored eyes.

  The sword dance had grown into something of a unique rivalry between the Schellden and McTiernay clans, having evolved into a challenge of endurance. The music would start and members of each clan would pound the floor to an ever-increasing tempo, deftly hopping among the quarters made by crossing two broadswords. The music would continue until only one person was left and declared the champion. The clan that claimed the winner also claimed bragging rights that they exercised whenever possible until the next festivity and sword dance.