Meriel stood up and asked, “Would you like some help?”
Laurel waved her hand dismissively. “No, no. In truth, I like to take advantage of nights like this when Conor is away. They gravitate to him because they can jump all over him and like to believe they can wrestle him down. But I am in the mood for a good tickle fight, and they need to be reminded that I am just as worthy an opponent as their father.”
The remaining people in the small group rose in respect and lethargically began to follow her out of the Great Hall. Craig coughed into his hand and caught Meriel’s attention. “Where are you going?” he asked, attempting to sound only mildly interested in the answer.
Flashing him a brilliant smile, Meriel put her arm in his and pointed him toward the eastern wall where several comfortable chairs were set in a semicircle around the hall’s main canopied fireplace. “Right there and no farther. I knew I should not have had that last helping of mutton,” she said, and let her head fall against his shoulder as they made their way across the room.
“I know!” Craig choked, hoping she did not hear the near crack in his voice. Walking arm in arm from the dinner table was far from unusual, and while he could recall her resting her head against him as she was doing now, he did not remember it disturbing him so much. But since his arrival, every time they touched he felt his pulse race. Then his skin would spark to life, and that in turn would ignite other portions of his body, making it very hard to think, let alone maneuver. But it was not the physical discomfort that truly unsettled him. It was the fact that he alone seemed to be bothered by their proximity. How could a few weeks apart do for her what it had not done in the least for him? It was difficult to believe. He was positive that Meriel’s sudden departure from Caireoch had been because she had needed physical distance from him. Now, she treated him as if he were . . . a brother. Well, if you can disregard the sparks I know are between us, then so can I, he told himself.
Moving to sit in the chair next to her, he said cheerfully, “I also ate too much, but I couldn’t stop myself. I think I ate that whole loaf of bread.”
“And all the honey,” Meriel chided, closing her eyes as she leaned back into the comfortable chair, listening to the bustle as servants cleaned up the dinner and disassembled the trestle tables. Only the high table at the far end of the room would remain when they were done. “So, tell me all that is going on at home. It has been awhile since we have had a chance to talk.”
Awhile? Craig thought. More like forever. And the last five days had been the worst of them all. Not wanting Laurel to think that he was in any way eager to see Meriel and add fuel to her schemes to get them together, he had delayed his departure for McTiernay Castle by two days. And then after he had arrived, the warm welcome he fully expected to receive from Meriel was nonexistent. He had practically been accosted by the steward with myriad issues to be addressed and had to eat with the soldiers in the Lower Hall as everyone else already had plans with friends.
Craig suspected Meriel’s absence was part of Laurel’s scheme to bring them together, but that did not explain the next two days. Meals were back to being served in the Great Hall with the normal family gathering—usually Laurel, her children, and the families of one or two of her closest friends. But no Meriel. Only glimpses of her throughout the day. Not enough to convince him that she missed him as he did her, but too much to believe she might be avoiding him.
“It’s been a month,” he grumbled.
“That long?” Meriel sighed. “I guess you are right, but it doesn’t seem like it. I have been so busy.”
“I know!” Craig groused. “I’m glad to have finally made it to your select list of people to spend time with.”
Meriel opened one eye and shot him a playful look. “Aye. You almost didn’t as I am quite tired tonight, but Laurel said you were looking a little lost and might need some company.”
Rather than feeling the urge to retaliate, Craig felt an overwhelming sense of peace invade his body. He knew she was just teasing. Whenever he tried to assume the martyr role, instead of contradicting him Meriel would pretend to agree and sometimes, like tonight, even add to his reasons for self-pity.
He stretched out his legs and interlaced his fingers behind his head, a large grin overtaking his expression. “She did, huh? And here I thought she was scheming to keep us apart in an effort to get us together.”
A shadow of disbelief crossed Meriel’s face before she rolled her eyes to indicate exactly how ludicrous she thought he sounded. “You are impossible. I can pretty much promise you that I have met no one here who has any interest in us as a couple and that includes Lady McTiernay.”
He heard her mumble “choob” under her breath at the very end of her denial, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he settled more comfortably in his chair. He smiled inwardly. Meriel had called him an idiot. The last few days may have caused him to doubt it would be possible, but life was definitely getting back to normal. The only thing that would ease his mind more was if they were home at Caireoch Castle. Still, this was the most serene moment he had felt since Marymass. “Well, this choob made several brilliant decisions today.” And then, as if the last month had never happened, he began to tell her of what had happened over the past few days, including the variety of questions and challenges Fallon kept bringing him.
“You seem much more comfortable with the role of temporary laird. Your voice is surprisingly relaxed. The thought of standing in for your brother used to cause you serious tension.”
“You’re right,” he acknowledged, loving the ability to simply talk with Meriel and hear her respond. She had no idea how sensuous her voice sounded. “Laurel handles most of the basic needs of the clansmen. I just have to support Finn as the commander of the guard and help him oversee the soldiers.”
“And deal with Fallon.”
“Aye, the man is practically attached to my side. But it doesn’t bother me now that being a chieftain is no longer my fate. Instead of thinking I’m a burden, I actually feel like I am helping my brother and my clan.”
Meriel nodded her head, truly comprehending what he meant. The couple of times her sister had traveled with her husband to visit their northern clansmen, she had been left in charge of running Caireoch Castle. After Laurel’s painful tutelage last year, Meriel could manage the basic responsibilities without too much anxiety, but mostly that was because she no longer feared the role would someday become hers.
“I have been doing all the talking,” Craig said, fighting a yawn. “It’s your turn. Tell me what you have been doing. Just where have you been the past few nights?” he asked. “I’ve only seen you a few times since I got here and that was briefly in passing.”
“I am sorry if you felt slighted. I knew Fallon had several people he wanted you to meet with and thought you would be tired. We had thought you were to get here a couple of days earlier than you did, so I moved back my dinner plans with Maegan and her grandmother, which ended up being on that first night you arrived.”
“And last night?” Craig swallowed a groan when the pathetic and needy question slipped out. But if Meriel caught any of his unease about the delay in his being able to spend time with her, she did not act like it.
“Oh, I had promised a picnic dinner by the loch with the children, and once you make such a promise to them, there is no getting out of it, short of stormy weather.”
Craig remembered the last time Meriel was out at the loch with Brenna. She could have been killed. The wildcat had chased Raelynd, but Meriel had been just as much in danger of being mauled. The cat could have charged her and Brenna, and he had spared no words that night voicing his displeasure. The thought of Meriel out there again, and at night, sent a shiver up his spine.
“I hope someone was with you,” he murmured, hoping not to give his thoughts away by saying too much.
“Laurel came, of course. And Hamish,” she added softly, intertwining her fingers.
Hamish. Craig had been waiting all evening for t
he name to be said. The majority of times he had come across Meriel before this evening, she had been talking with Hamish in the courtyard. Which was a surprise considering that the man thought her to be a rather uninteresting person. Consequently, the third time he saw them together, Craig decided Hamish was being used by Laurel as a ploy. It would be very much like her to use his friend to try to make him jealous, in an effort to compel him to admit his feelings for Meriel. Now, he was not so sure.
Craig had waited throughout the entire dinner for Laurel to drop juicy tidbits about how close Meriel and Hamish had become, all in an effort to spark his anxiety, but not a word was said. In fact, Laurel was acting suspiciously indifferent to Meriel, Hamish, and even himself. It was almost too normal, if that was possible. Nothing his sister-in-law had done was out of character nor any different from what she would do or say when Conor was around. But Laurel acting normal made him highly suspicious. Craig began to wonder if his brother had a bet with his meddlesome wife on whether or not she could prevent herself from interfering in his life.
“Craig,” Meriel began. Her voice had gone low, reflective, and Craig wondered at the reason. He hoped she would continue to unburden her thoughts to him, but instead she changed the subject. “Do you remember when I left home, and you said I would have nothing to do?”
“ Aye.”
“Honestly, I thought the same thing. Last year there was so little to do, I actually almost reconsidered coming here. I’m so glad I didn’t. I have not been this happy in a long time. It is like you said, I feel like I am contributing here.”
“By making clothes?” Craig asked incredulously.
“Do not sound so amazed. It’s insulting,” she chided him. “Take Fiona, for example.”
“Fiona? The last time you and she were in the same room, that vicious woman was chasing you out of it, warning you of impending death should you decide to enter her kitchens again.”
Meriel laughed at the memory. “She was really mad that day, wasn’t she? But I discovered her soft spot.”
“Ha! There is no way to get that venomous woman to retract her fangs.”
Meriel issued him a disapproving look and said, “You may have to continue avoiding being bitten. I, on the other hand, made a gorgeous gown for her daughter when she gets married this spring.”
“Fiona’s daughter is getting married?” Craig asked. He vaguely remembered the girl. She had the same big-boned frame and dark eyes as her mother, but what he remembered most was that she was painfully shy.
“Aye, Fiona rarely talks about her and has made sure that she never comes near the kitchens. I don’t think she wants a cook’s life for her daughter. But she is a pretty thing and has fallen in love with a successful farmer.” Meriel waved her finger disapprovingly at Craig. “I saw that look. She is pretty and will be the envy of everyone next spring in the gown that I made.”
“If that is true, then I am no longer surprised Fiona is being so nice to you,” Craig scoffed.
Meriel suspected he was right. “I would call it more of a truce than a friendship.” She still could not venture into the kitchens without getting a scolding, but Meriel sensed that the gown meant more to the old woman than she could express. From what Meriel understood, the man Fiona’s daughter was marrying was a rather prominent farmer, and Fiona did not want anyone to think her daughter was not his equal because her mother was a castle servant—though a highly thought-of castle servant. The old woman was difficult but not mean. Merely crusty around the edges.
“I guess you have been busy,” Craig mumbled. He was glad Meriel was not miserable, but it sounded as if she wanted to stay. He had wanted her home. More importantly, he needed her to want to be home. “You know, there is no reason you could not make garments for the women at Caireoch. I am sure your father would support such an idea.”
“True, and I probably will, but I still have things to do here.”
“Such as?”
She hesitated. “I made some promises to myself that I need to take care of before I leave.”
Once again her voice held a wistful quality that seized Craig’s heart. “Such as?” he asked, nervous to hear her answer.
Meriel tucked her feet underneath her and turned to look at him with her elbows resting on one arm of the chair. “I want to go home. I love this place, but I miss my things and my sister. Yet I cannot return to the way things were.”
Craig inhaled and held it in. Here it was. An ultimatum. He had thought Meriel and he were of the same mind, but maybe not. Maybe Laurel had mistakenly convinced her that their relationship could not continue as it was before. “I understand,” he lied.
Meriel’s lips parted in wonder but then curved into an easy smile. “It’s so good to be able to talk to you again. There are things that I can tell you that I am not sure anyone else would understand. I hope we will always remain friends.”
Craig let go the breath he had been holding. Whatever was behind her hesitation, he was not the target of some devious plan to entice him into throwing off his bachelor ways. “So what kinds of things need to change?”
Meriel bit her bottom lip and returned her gaze to the fire. “I am not sure. I just cannot go back to my old routine. I need it to change. For example, I’m socializing here more and I like it. With Rowena gone and Raelynd married, you have been my primary friend, and that is not fair to either one of us.”
Craig frowned. Meriel and Rowena had been close, acting more like sisters than friends. When Rowena married Meriel’s cousin, it had brought both happiness and sorrow, for it meant moving south and away from the Highlands.
“I cannot rely on you for everything,” Meriel continued, “and I have discovered that I like making new friends and doing things with them.”
Craig knew Meriel was telling him the truth, but he also had the feeling she was holding something back. What she was keeping from him did not bother him nearly as much as the fact that Meriel now wanted to keep a secret from him. “Something is bothering you,” he finally stated, hoping to prompt her into full disclosure.
Meriel closed her eyes and gave a small shake of her head. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.” Then, with a deep sigh, she got to her feet, tilted her head, and bestowed upon him a radiant smile.
He reached out to grasp her fingers. Realizing only at the last moment his unconscious desire to touch her, he swerved his hand upward to rake his fingers in his hair. Touching her had felt like a natural thing to do, but he could not recall if physical touch truly was a part of their good-night ritual.
Then before he could come to any conclusion, he was startled as Meriel ran her fingers lightly up his arm. He was debating whether it was a sign of affection when her hand stopped and firmly squeezed his shoulder. “I am going to retire to my room, but can we do this tomorrow night? I miss our conversations,” she said, giving his shoulder one last unconscious pat.
Craig returned the smile and made himself nod, watching her as she gracefully left the room. She did not turn around once. Definitely not a caress, he told himself, trying not to feel disappointed. He should have been relieved that their nightly talks were not one of the things she wanted to change in her routine. And yet, her uncharacteristic bouts of quiet made him uneasy.
Seeing conspiracies everywhere was something his younger brother Conan did—not him. The man was too smart and thought entirely too much. Aye, when it came to Laurel, there usually was a scheme, and Craig had already confronted his sister-in-law about the sudden need for his help. But Laurel had promised that while she supported Conor’s idea of leaving immediately to seek news about their younger brother, it had not been her idea. And he believed her. Yet, he could not shake the feeling that he was being manipulated in some way.
Laurel may not have been the instigator of his arrival, but that did not mean she was not taking advantage of it. Not once in the past four days had she referred—directly or indirectly—to the kiss he had given Meriel. That alone practically proved his sister-in-law was
scheming. There was no way she would be able to say nothing.
Plus everything about tonight’s dinner had been within expectations. Meriel, after nearly a month of not seeing him, was friendly and platonic, just the way she had been before the night of Marymass. This was explainable in that both of them were trying to be as normal as possible. Then afterward, when they were finally alone, they had been able to establish an easy rapport without too much effort—though he did not believe it to be completely natural . . . which was bothersome. Meriel was the master at being able to control which emotions she displayed. So with both of them trying so hard to be “normal,” her bouts of introspection were baffling. The only explanation he could come up with was that they were not accidental, but intentional. Was Meriel involved in Laurel’s plot? It would be most unlike her, but not beyond the realm of possibility.
Craig rubbed his face vigorously, chastising himself for overthinking. With a deep sigh, he stood up and walked over behind the high table to look out one of the large arched windows into the well-lit courtyard. The corners of his mouth lifted but did not quite form a smile. Laurel was out there with Hamish, and not one of her children was in sight. She was enthusiastically waving at Meriel to join them. Immediately the three of them engaged in an animated conversation.
He knew it. Oh, they were clever in their efforts at subtlety. But did Laurel and Meriel really think that he would be jealous of Hamish? The man had never exhibited any constancy of affection to any woman. Rule one of any strategy: One must be able to influence if not control all the key players to achieve success.
The group was finally dispersing when Craig saw Hamish reach out, grab Meriel’s hand, and hold it for a moment before letting her go. The act was friendly, and knowing Hamish, it meant nothing other than a habitual, flirtatious way to say good night. But it irked Craig to know that he had had the same instinct and had restrained himself. Meriel was his best friend. If anyone was going to shake her hand good night, it was going to be him.
Michele Sinclair - [McTiernays 05] Page 10