Conor shrugged and reached out to brush his fingertips along her face with incredible gentleness. “Does it matter?”
Laurel closed her eyes, cursing her traitorous body and the way it dissolved under his touch. “It matters,” she managed to get out.
Conor pushed her hair off her shoulders and let his hand wander behind her neck. He pulled her close, reveling in how she felt, all soft and vulnerable pressed up against him. “Just be glad I’m willing to be gone, unable to stop your meddling,” he murmured before he kissed the spot below her ear, sending her pulse racing. “How long will you need to”—he paused as his lips traveled lower down her neck—“prove Craig and Meriel belong with each other or”—he moved lower—“accept that they do not?”
Laurel moaned. After ten years, she was still completely and utterly lost by the potent heat of his touch. Each kiss created a fire within her that burned only for him. In moments, she would lose all ability to think and speak. “I don’t know,” she answered, beginning to return each of his kisses with one of her own. “Ask Meriel. It is her plan. She thought it was the best way to convince Craig to come here.”
He would be well along the way to the Lowlands before he recalled that bit of information. If Laurel was serious and this whole scheme was Meriel’s, then Craig was in more trouble than Conor originally believed. Despite what he told Laurel, Conor did think his brother loved Laird Schellden’s daughter. And if Meriel now had it in her mind to make Craig acknowledge it as well, Craig had little chance to avoid it.
The only good news was that Conor had escaped the mayhem that was going to accompany the days preceding and following such a revelation.
That, and Laurel had indeed been serious about not letting him sleep.
Craig stepped into his cottage, and for a brief moment the moonlight illuminated the interior before his left leg kicked the door closed with significantly more force than was needed. The thunderous sound matched his mood. And it was all Meriel Schellden’s fault.
“Ciùrradair,” he muttered to himself, knowing deep down that he was far more responsible for his current torment than Meriel, but she was not here to defend herself. For nearly three weeks Craig had called her names that if muttered by someone else would have caused him to flee for his life. But he being her best friend, and she his, had some privileges, including calling her all types of a stubborn fool.
Craig knew if he had not pricked her pride about being unable to stay away for even a fortnight, Meriel would have been home by now. They would have practically forgotten everything, and things would have returned to normal. With any other woman that would have been the outcome. But not Meriel. No one was more stubborn than she.
Most people believed her sister, Raelynd, to be the more inflexible of Rae Schellden’s daughters, but wrong would not be a strong enough word to describe just how mistaken they were. Unlike Meriel, Raelynd considered most things— including trivial ones—important; therefore, Meriel often acquiesced to her sister’s desires. However, when it came to matters of personal meaning and consequence, Meriel’s will of iron far surpassed that of anyone he knew. And that included himself.
Oh aye, he could be stubborn. He was a McTiernay, after all. They were known to be somewhat mulish about things, but all of his brothers would agree that they only acted obstinate when they had good reason or if they knew they were right. And in this particular case, Craig had no doubts about the legitimacy of his reaction to their kiss. So if Meriel wanted to continue punishing herself by staying away from her home, friends, and family, then he would not save her from such a self-inflicted wound until she asked. Unfortunately, with Meriel, just when the pain of loneliness would surpass her obstinacy was hard to determine.
For the first few days after her departure, Craig had actually welcomed her absence. Meriel could read him too easily and she would know exactly how much he was struggling with his emotions. It was a particular ability she had demonstrated from day one of their relationship. No one else could discern what he was feeling if he did not want them to—whether it was anger, lust, panic, or even love. He could still remember Meriel riding—or attempting to ride—next to him last year, inquiring just why everyone acted as if he wanted to be a laird when he truly had no desire for the responsibility.
For years, his brother Crevan had functioned as his best friend, but in truth they had both kept secrets from the other. Meriel was the only person Craig had ever been completely honest with, and that was because she could see the truth anyway. Lying was not an option around her. She had been able to see what no one else had and accepted him despite that knowledge.
Most women would think less of a man who had no desire to become laird. They would think him afraid or maybe less than capable. Not Meriel. From the beginning of their friendship, she understood and accepted him and her ability to read his thoughts had only grown in accuracy. A trait until now he had thought rather advantageous.
It was nice to be able to look across the table or room and with a single look convey a stream of thoughts, knowing they would be accurately interpreted. Too many times they had “saved” each other from an uncomfortable situation, under the guise of a chance encounter. That was before they became the cause of each other’s discomfort.
Craig untied his belt and swung it onto the table with the sword still attached, so it landed with a loud thud. It hit something and clattered to the floor. He stood there in the dark and fought the compulsion to see what it was he had knocked over. Damn woman. A year ago he would not have cared. But now she practically lived in his head. He could hear her light laughter, chiding him to see what the sword had hit, to ensure nothing important was broken or ruined.
He turned and grabbed the door handle, yanking it back open. He needed to start a fire anyway, he told himself, and bent down to grab one of the logs he kept outside. Grimacing, he noticed that the pile was once again low and he would need to replenish it soon—a particular chore he loathed. Snatching up the smallest log, he marched toward the gatehouse to light it using one of the sconces.
Craig could feel the anger in him rise, and tried to shake it. Of all his brothers, he was the least easily riled. He rarely struggled with his emotions but knew from experience that until he admitted them, at least to himself, he would never be able to suppress or eradicate them.
“Fine,” he grumbled to himself. “I am . . .” he began, but before he admitted to being the fool that had caused every bad decision of the night, another excuse popped into his head. “I am . . . no . . . I was just not in the mood. Aye, that’s right,” he said more forcefully. “Sometimes a man doesn’t want a woman—any woman—and that doesn’t mean anything more than that.”
Convinced he was right, Craig was already feeling better. He only wished the reaffirming advice he gave himself at night provided equal relief. It all came down to feelings. Did he have them for Meriel? Aye. Deep ones. Did they go beyond that of friendship? This confession was harder to make, but, aye, his feelings did go beyond those of a traditional friend. However, he and Meriel did not have a conventional friendship. Did that mean he was in love? That was one question he refused to answer, for it would not change anything. And to prove it, Craig had made sure that his routine had remained unchanged since her departure.
He trained first thing in the morning. This was followed by discussions with Rae and Crevan concerning the clan, army needs, or whatever needed their attention. The noon meal was usually a quick event coupled with some other meeting at either the castle or someone’s home during one of his rides to visit outlying clansmen and their families. Dinner remained a relatively simple affair; he ate with friends, or at the Great Hall with his brother and his wife, and Rae. Only afterward, when everyone retired, did it become difficult. Too easily had he identified a reason why: he missed Meriel’s company.
Until a year ago, he and his twin brother, Crevan, had discussed the day’s events before going to sleep. Then, after Crevan and Raelynd married, Meriel slipped into that role,
just as he had for her. Aye, he enjoyed having her as a friend and a confidante; but if someone else, like Hamish, had been there instead to fill the vacuum his brother’s marriage had created, it would be Hamish he was missing and not Meriel. Which was another reason he felt positive that his feelings for Meriel had nothing to do with the type of love everyone persisted in believing was between them. And earlier that evening, Craig had decided to confirm his conclusions by seeking out the affections of another woman; for what could be more definitive evidence against love than a duplicitous heart?
One of his men had been asking him to join his family for dinner for several months. The man had never said outright what his true intentions were, but it was not a secret that he was newly married and that he wanted to introduce his younger sister, who was living with him, to any and all available men. Craig had no plans to help the man out with his living situation, but he understood the sister to be pretty and coquettish. So what could it hurt to give the newlyweds a few hours of privacy?
The girl was pretty enough. Her face was a collection of well-defined, reasonably attractive features. But sitting there, eating dinner, he decided her eyes were unusually large and too dark, and her head was overly small for her long, thin neck. She reminded him of a snapping turtle. He tried not to look at her too often, but it was impossible to escape her laughter. He had heard worse, but the timing of her high-pitched giggles made it obvious that nothing he said made any sense to her. She was lucky his brother Conan was not in the vicinity, for Craig doubted his younger brother would have been able to keep himself from verbally slaying her . . . only she would never have known it.
But the goal of the night was not to become smitten but to satisfy certain male urges that he had been repressing for three weeks. Aye, this sudden onslaught of desire he was experiencing started with Meriel but was not because of Meriel. It was because of a kiss. It could have been with anyone. With moving, setting up a home, and all of his new responsibilities, he had not had time to be with a woman for over a year. So, since it was a kiss that had started this mess, a kiss was going to help end it.
The second he and the girl were alone, she became the aggressor, grabbing his neck and pulling his lips to hers. It took everything he had not to cringe and embarrass them both. So perhaps not just anyone could end these lustful thoughts of Meriel he had every night. Maybe he needed to replace those images with someone he already thought was attractive and knew from experience was knowledgeable in pleasuring a man.
Craig had been arriving at these conclusions while he made his way back home through the village, when he had run into Vera, a lively, voluptuous woman whom he had met on his first stay at the Schelldens’ years ago and had visited whenever he returned. Vera had scolded him about living there for nearly a year and failing to seek out her company. She had begun to think it was true that he and Meriel Schellden were in love—that is, until she heard about the kiss.
Needing no more prompting, Craig had immediately swung Vera around to the nearest secluded spot and pulled her into his arms, determined to eliminate any doubt in her or his mind that he was definitely still available.
Her arms stole around his neck and the inside of her mouth was warm and welcoming. She trembled, leaned into him, and kissed him back with growing eagerness. Too much eagerness. Too late did he realize any one of a number of men would have satisfied her at that moment. The thought had repelled him. The fact that he had also been using her made no difference. He had quickly ended the encounter and, without even attempting to make a pitiful excuse, left.
How Meriel had convinced him to kiss her, he would never know, but it had been her idea and not his. Damn woman! Who knew a simple, ingenuous kiss would ruin everything? Kissing was enjoyable, mostly because it was not emotional. It allowed one to experience the moment and move on.
The idea that his attraction to women now resided with only one—Meriel, the one woman he refused to have—angered him. Alarmed him. Terrified him. Before three weeks ago, he had never visualized being physical with Meriel, having intentionally compartmentalized their relationship in his mind. But now that he had, his thoughts constantly seemed to drift in that direction.
Returning from the gatehouse, Craig held the burning stick away from the cottage door as he opened it. He stepped inside and aimed the light to the floor, verifying that what he had knocked over was a mug and nothing more. He took a deep breath and whispered with soft intensity, “I was simply not in the mood for anyone tonight, and that most especially includes a ceannlaidir.”
“I agree,” came a deep, penetrating voice from the dark. “Don’t know anyone who would be in the mood for a self-willed, headstrong woman . . . except for maybe a McTiernay.”
Craig swung the temporary torch around to see the large figure in the corner, sitting in a chair with his feet propped up on the chair next to him. Craig had recognized the tone immediately, but it was still several seconds before his brain accepted what his eyes and ears were telling him. That his eldest brother, Conor, was sitting in his home, waiting for him in the dark, and listening to everything he said.
Narrowing his eyes, Craig marched back and yanked the chair right out from under Conor’s feet. “You best be talking about yourself and Laurel.”
“Now, who else would I be talking about?” Conor deflected as he let his legs fall to the floor only to cross them at the ankles.
Craig ignored his brother and started a small fire in the hearth, glad to have something to do. Instincts and Conor’s expression were clear signs that his brother’s unexpected visit had not been to bring Meriel home, nor was it to impart bad news, but rather to make Craig the pawn of some plot. Question was, whose?
“Well, out with it,” Craig muttered with exasperation. “By the look on your face, I’m not going to like whatever it is that drove you to my door.”
Conor stretched his arms and settled them behind his head. “Neither pleasure nor discontent. I have decided not to delay my visit to the Lowlands. With Conan away at some abbey, I’ve come to ask Rae if he can spare his commander so that you can help Laurel with clan matters in my stead.”
Craig stoked the fire and then closed his eyes. The sudden decision and need for Conor to leave his home was not just unexpected, but unorthodox this close to winter. Only a long trip would trigger a need for one of the brothers to go and stay at McTiernay Castle. That Conor had chosen him, at the same time Meriel was there visiting, was too much of a coincidence. “I thought you were going to wait to visit Colin in the spring—when it made more sense.”
Conor ignored the barb. Craig was in an unusually foul mood, and since the man would have troubles soon enough, Conor felt no brotherly compulsion to add to them. “I was, but we have not heard about Clyde for a while now, and there is enough time for a short visit if I leave now.”
Craig studied his brother. Conor’s face was grim, and the lines etched along his forehead were slightly deeper. The fierce Highland laird, who used to search for excuses to be away from McTiernay Castle, now rarely ever wanted to leave his family, and he especially did not enjoy leaving his wife. “You’ve changed, Conor,” Craig said with sad resignation.
Conor did not even try to deny the direction and accusations of Craig’s thoughts. “You will too someday . . . if you are lucky.”
Craig issued a small smirk. “I think I am just fine as I am.”
“Makes no difference to me,” Conor countered with a small shrug of his shoulders. “But somehow it does have the women stirred up.”
So it was Laurel who sent you here, Craig said to himself. She just could not accept him as a bachelor and was determined to have him be in love. And you, older brother, are probably all too happy to avoid whatever she is planning. And any other time, Craig would have found himself trying to do the same, rather than eagerly throwing himself into the path of danger. But this opportunity was exactly what he needed.
A break from his daily routine. A safe haven to prove he could be in Meriel’s company
just as before. Evidence that he was no more attracted to her than any other beautiful woman. But most of all, in the end, he would be able to bring Meriel home. “I take it you’ve spoken with Rae?”
“Aye, I have, and Rae has no qualms with you being gone for a few weeks to help ensure the safety and peace of our clan. Although I’m thinking that his daughter staying at McTiernay Castle had a little bit to do with his willingness to give you up. I do believe the man intends for you to bring his daughter home.”
“When are you leaving?”
“At daybreak, which is why I saw Rae first before coming here. I was not sure where you were sleeping at night these days. Of course, that was before I realized you were seeking out the company of ceannlaidirs.”
Craig let his brother have his little laugh. Conor might be leaving in the morning, but Craig had no intention of immediately following suit. The McTiernay clan could wait another day or two before he got there. And so could Laurel’s matchmaking schemes.
He only hoped his sister-in-law was not planning to try to make him jealous. The idea of Meriel in love with another man . . . well, it just was not possible. If she was going to be with anyone, it would be him.
Craig heaved a satisfied sigh and rubbed his full stomach. Tonight’s dinner had been exceptionally good and he had eaten too much. “Nothing beats Fiona’s cooking.”
Meriel nodded in agreement. “Just be glad you never have to deal with her. This good food comes at a serious price,” she stated with a twinkle in her eye. Meriel would never forget the look in the gruff woman’s dark eyes that afternoon when she showed her the gown she had made for Fiona’s daughter’s wedding. Fiona would deny it with her last breath, but Meriel knew she saw a tear fall in appreciation.
“I’m glad we finally had a chance to all eat together,” Laurel said with a sigh as she rose from her chair. “But, I think it best if I go and say good night to my children. All of whom appeared to have an abundant amount of energy this evening.”
Michele Sinclair - [McTiernays 05] Page 9