Now confused, Brenna put the brush down on the small table beside her and asked, “Meriel, I thought you said that I was the only one you allowed to play with your hair.”
Meriel smoothed back the girl’s playful light blond curls and said, “I did say that.” And when that did not completely placate the little girl, she added in a whisper that was intentionally loud enough for Craig to hear, “Remember what I said about boys and how they think?”
Brenna’s eyes grew large and she broke into a wide grin and gave Meriel a huge hug around her neck. She whispered something back, which caused Meriel to giggle and squeeze her in return. “Unfortunately, I think your uncle wants to talk to me about stuff you will find boring and silly. So we are going to have to postpone the rest of our hair-braiding lesson for another day.”
Brenna nodded and gave Meriel another hug. Then she pivoted, stomped to the door, and waited for Craig to move out of her way. Once he did so, she crossed her arms demonstratively and gave him a loud “Hmph!” followed by “I’m going to Mama!” before sashaying out the door and down the stairwell.
The threat did not faze Craig. If anything, when Laurel discovered that he and Meriel were alone in her room, he suspected his sister-in-law would secretly be pleased at the idea. She had stopped meddling in his life overtly—for the moment—but that did not mean she was not still secretly hoping, if not planning, for things to go her way.
Craig sighed and stepped inside. “Just what is it you have been telling Brenna? And what is Laurel going to say when she learns . . . good God, what have you been doing to your hair?” he choked when Meriel turned so that he could see her straight on.
One side of her head—the side he could see when he had walked in—looked matted, as if she had been sleeping on it. He assumed this was the result of Brenna’s handiwork. But when Meriel turned to look him, he was able to see her other side, which was a cross between ghastly and terrifying. Last year when Brenna had done Meriel’s hair, the mess on top of her head had been wild, if not humorous. This time there was nothing remotely amusing about her appearance. Braids of various sizes were sprouting from all angles, so she looked like a creature that might have been spawned from the pits of hell.
Meriel raised her chin slightly and said, “I have done nothing to my hair. Brenna, however, was learning the different techniques of braiding.”
Craig took a deep breath, walked over to where she sat, and grabbed the looking glass on the table, handing it to her. Meriel furrowed her brows but took the glass. She yelped as soon as she saw her reflection and immediately sought out a brush. “I had no idea,” she murmured, her embarrassment sincere.
Craig shrugged his shoulders. “Be glad it was me who walked in here and not someone else.”
Meriel began undoing the braids. “Just who did you think was in here with me?” she asked with a frustrated squeal as she fought a nasty tangle.
Craig sheepishly frowned and took the brush from her hands. “Hamish,” he admitted, and carefully removed the strands that had gotten trapped in the brush’s bristles.
Only after he began to take pieces of her hair and slowly comb out the tangles did it occur to him that the act of brushing Meriel’s hair could be considered an incredibly intimate one. One that, if he had walked in and seen Hamish performing, might have resulted in bloodshed. Craig knew he should back off, but he could not find the will to stop the small pleasure and let it continue.
It was not as if he had never touched or stroked a woman’s hair before, and he remembered enjoying the sensation. Based on those experiences, he had always suspected Meriel’s hair would be soft to the touch, but the silky texture as it slid across his callused hands felt almost unreal. He had never experienced anything to compare. It was all he could do not to bury his hands in the mass and slowly let it fall between his fingers.
Meriel sat still and kept her face blank. She refused to let her expression reveal what Craig was doing to her as he continued brushing her hair in long strokes. He was being so gentle, and the sensation was creating a liquid warmth that coiled inside her. So much so, she never wanted it to end, but if she revealed any hint that he was generating such desires, Meriel knew Craig would immediately stop and back away.
His arrival today had been far from planned, and for once she had no idea what to say or do. But she did know that she did not want him to leave. Not yet.
“I . . . do not expect to see Hamish before this afternoon, when we are to meet in the fields. Are you going to come watch?” she asked, though she fully expected he would spy on her.
“Not sure what my plans are.”
Meriel chewed on her bottom lip. Fact was, she hoped Craig would be out there in case she needed his help. She did not know what to expect this afternoon. During the dinner picnic, Hamish had changed. Their interactions had moved beyond silly flirtations and into a true friendship. She had thought she had begun to understand the man, but now she was not so sure. Hamish had suddenly become quite charming—something completely unforeseen. Her plans had been working so well, almost flawlessly, and now, with no real explanation, things were altering course and Meriel was not sure how to react, or even if she should.
Meriel swallowed. “Fallon was looking for you earlier.”
Craig nodded. “He found me. Seems that Wyenda’s plans for snatching the hand of a rich Highlander have gone astray and she expected me to makes things right.”
Meriel held her breath. “And did you?”
“Of course!” He chortled and then leaned down to whisper in her ear, making Meriel’s chest tighten even more. “Though I doubt my suggestion that she return to her grandmother and beg for forgiveness was satisfactory. But it was either that or find another family connection to deal with her nonsense!”
Meriel’s lungs began to work again. Since she had first seen Wyenda and knew of her and Craig’s history, Meriel had wondered just how much of his original attraction lingered. Learning that not even a small amount remained sent a surge of relief through her. “Is it horrible of me that I feel nothing? I do not delight in Wyenda’s current circumstance, but neither do I feel pity—and normally I believe I would.”
“Don’t ever feel anything for that woman,” Craig spit out as he selected the last bit of hair to work out the few remaining tangles. He shook his head. “That old steward was right. The way you looked when I entered the room, you were definitely ‘very much unavailable.’”
Meriel chuckled. “Is that what Fallon said? Well, having a glimpse of what I looked like, his choice of words was kind. You should have seen his face, though. It was something akin to terror, now that I think on it.”
“I do not doubt it after seeing this,” he said, waving one of the more horrifically knotted braids.
Meriel sighed. “Brenna intercepted me last night and begged me for another hair lesson. She enjoys braiding, so I thought I would teach her different ways of twisting hair, but next time I think a session in styling might be required.”
Craig snorted. “I strongly suggest that you do not let there be any more next times,” he replied and gave Meriel back the brush. “Or better yet, tell Brenna to practice on her own hair.”
Meriel shifted in her chair to look up at Craig. “Thank you, although I am afraid helping me has detained you from your duties.”
Craig took a deep breath and settled into the chair across from her. “I actually came up to talk with you, and did not want to wait for this evening. After this afternoon’s lesson, you may not be up to walking, let alone sitting,” he said teasingly.
Meriel narrowed her eyes, for she needed no reminding of the bad fall she had taken when he had attempted to make her into a horsewoman. With a twinkle in her eye, she raised her chin defiantly and said, “I shall be ready for your apology this evening when I not only walk in without injury, but with a newly acquired skill.”
Rolling his eyes, Craig leaned back and crossed his ankles, hoping it made him appear untroubled and not as tense as he truly felt. �
��Conor is due back any day and I will want to leave very soon after. Are you ready to return home?”
Meriel sighed, put the brush on the table next to her, and eased back into the seat. “Aye, I am. I miss Papa and my sister.”
Relief filled Craig, for he had begun to wonder if Meriel did want to go home. If it had been feasible to leave right at that moment, he would have ordered their horses to be prepared. “I too cannot wait to go back to my duties. Strange, as this”—he paused to wave a finger around in a circle—“is where I grew up and lived for most of my life. But when I think about home, my mind goes to Caireoch.”
Meriel smiled and closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of the chair. “I am eager to find out how Raelynd got along without me. I do not believe she has ever appreciated my contributions.”
Craig intertwined his fingers on his stomach. “I just cannot wait to get back to my daily routine. I long for normalcy.”
Meriel shivered, keeping her eyes closed. “Not me. Returning home and doing what I did before . . . I don’t think I can do it.” She opened her eyes and, seeing that Craig was studying her intently, sat up and continued. “It’s not what I was doing so much, but how. I think I let myself become too sequestered. Coming here has made me realize that I, in many ways, acted timid when I wasn’t. I did so because it was easy and expected, but not because that was who I truly was.” Meriel closed her eyes and relaxed back against the chair again. “Aye, when I return home, I am going to surprise quite a few people, for I intend to change many habits and begin to seek out new experiences.”
Craig was in a state of shock. There was something in her tone that he recognized quite well. Obstinacy. Anyone else might have believed she sounded carefree and nonchalant—but Meriel was quite serious. “Just what changes are you talking about?” he blurted.
Meriel took a deep breath and stretched her shoulders before sitting up and answering. “Like, well, going riding in the mornings.”
“On a horse?” Craig choked.
Meriel’s brow furrowed in sincere agitation. “Of course! That’s what my riding lessons with Hamish are all about!”
Craig jumped to his feet, for that was not what they were about. Since his arrival, nothing had been simply what it was represented to be. “Enough!” he grumbled. “Enough with the ruse.”
Interested amazement sparkled in Meriel’s eyes, but the rest of her demeanor remained indifferent to his outburst. “What ruse are you referring to?”
The corner of Craig’s mouth twisted with exasperation. Which one? he thought to himself. Mo creach! “The one to make me jealous so that I will admit that I love you.”
Unfazed by his assertion, Meriel cocked her head to one side and innocently asked, “And do you? Love me?”
With one hand, Craig raked his fingers vigorously along his scalp. Then, with a look of defeat, he shrugged his shoulders. “Honestly? I feel a lot of things right now and I’m not sure I’m ready to admit any of them.”
“Me too,” Meriel replied, turning her hands up in the air.
“Really?” Craig asked as he plopped down onto the chair again. His demeanor was slowly morphing from capitulation to willingness to participate in a conversation that dealt with the one subject he had been avoiding—her and him.
“All I wanted was for us to talk about what happened. One of the things I loved about our friendship, what I thought was so unique, was that neither of us decided anything for the other—including what we could and could not discuss.”
Craig winced. He had not really thought about his reaction in those terms. Recovering, he returned to a casual sitting position and said, “Well, last night you said we ran out of things to talk about—”
“I didn’t say that, I just meant—”
“Well, there is one we have yet to discuss. Our kiss.”
Meriel steeled her features. She wanted to laugh. Craig had resumed what she secretly referred to as his debate posture. He thought it made him look calm and agreeable, and to those who did not know him well it probably did, but she knew otherwise. It meant Craig was preparing for verbal battle. The more relaxed, the more serious he was about winning. Lucky for her, she was not going to try to achieve any victories today.
Meriel licked her lips and asked, “Which one? We kissed twice if I recall correctly.”
Craig leaned forward and said with a sly smile, “Let us discuss both.”
Meriel shrugged her shoulders and linked her fingers, making a steeple. “What about them?”
Narrowing his eyes, Craig studied her for several seconds. “You really are not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
That riled Meriel. Easy for him? “Do you know the toll it has taken on my patience to even get you to this point?” she barked. “So, no, I have no intentions of making this even a little bit easy.”
Craig took a deep breath. He realized Meriel was not going to begin the conversation, and if he did not start admitting at least part of the truth, their friendship would be exactly where it had been when he entered the room—in trouble. “The kiss. The first one. I never expected it to mean anything. I truly thought it would be like when I kissed your sister. Not unpleasant, but certainly nothing memorable, let alone life changing.”
“Life changing?” Meriel echoed, clearly skeptical.
Craig ignored her. “At first it was an act—the one you suggested, by the way. But somewhere in the middle it became something more. I suddenly desired you—and I mean desired you. And when that happens, it changes everything between a man and a woman, and I was and still am determined to keep that from happening.”
“But why do you see change, especially when it comes to us, as something to be avoided?”
A glimmer of anger hovered in his eyes. “How can you ask me that after all that has happened? You left! You’ve built new friendships! I . . . well . . . I feel like I have lost you.”
Meriel shook her head, the look in her eyes not of kindness but of candor. “You didn’t lose me, Craig. I lost you. You were the one who shut down communication. You no longer wanted a friend, but a devotee who readily agreed with your opinions and accepted your silly rules about what topics could be discussed.”
Forcing his jaw to unclench, Craig said, “Well, I’ve realized my error and will never do that again.”
“Promise?”
“Only if you will tell me what you wanted to discuss the morning you came to visit. I knew you wanted to talk and I was afraid of what you would say. I’m no longer afraid.”
“Even if I say I am madly in love with you?”
Craig swallowed. “Even if,” he lied.
“Relax.” Meriel sighed. “I’m not sure I can tell you what it was I wanted that morning. I was confused and needed my best friend to help me work out the turmoil I was feeling. Until we kissed, I truly did not think that it was even possible that I was in love with you. It was shocking to discover that maybe my sister was right. That maybe my feelings for you were not just those of friendship.”
Craig took a deep breath and considered what she had just said. Meriel had not claimed to be in love with him, nor had she said she was not in love with him. And he was unsure if he wanted to ask for clarification. Love was a questionable emotion when it came to people like him. It meant things—things he was not willing to promise any woman. “And if you were in love with me,” he began, giving in to his curiosity, “what would you want? Marriage? Children? I thought you were being sincere when you told me you didn’t want those things.”
“At the time, I was being sincere. But, Craig, I was speaking out of ignorance. Until you and I kissed, I never understood how one could truly desire another.” Meriel leaned over and clasped his hand in hers. “You’ve experienced passion many times, I am sure. You know what to do with such feelings, or did you not feel any desire for me when you and I kissed?”
Craig stared at her fingers. They looked so small next to his. The memory of those fingers on his back and in his hair made his w
hole body tighten. “You know the answer to that,” he said softly.
But what he had felt was not mere simple need and desire. She was right—those emotions he had felt many times and had acted on them. But with Meriel, it was more. Hot, intense, sexual need that was both elemental and dangerous. For everything in his experience told him that such desire, even the damn near torturous kind he felt for Meriel, would eventually dissipate. And relationships based on desire did not survive when the desire faded away.
But that was just an excuse. He knew it now. Just as he knew that with Meriel he could experience the joy his brothers shared with their wives. But the way to possessing such happiness terrified him.
It was not marriage that scared him. It was marriage to Meriel. After their first kiss, Craig knew that he could not only desire her forever, but that it would render him defenseless. The idea of willingly becoming vulnerable—let alone that vulnerable—went against Craig’s very nature, and from what he had seen in his elder brothers, being in love was the ultimate form of exposure. Like his own parents, if anything happened to the wives of any of his brothers, they would be forever damned.
“So,” Craig began reluctantly, drawing out the word, “that is what you want. To be tied together. Forever.”
Hearing him speak as if in pain, Meriel gently released his hand and waited until he locked his blue eyes onto her hazel ones. “Aye. Someday. To someone who truly loves me . . . I think I would.”
She had not said her full meaning out loud, but Craig understood. Meriel wanted what her sister and his brother had. She wanted all that love had to offer her, and she deserved it all. Someone who could not just desire her, but openly love her and give her his heart and his soul. Be his very reason for living. And if he were willing, it could be him. But Craig knew he could not make himself vulnerable to anyone.
“I care for you deeply, Meriel.”
Meriel leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, followed by a small smile. “I know. Just as I will always care for you.”
Michele Sinclair - [McTiernays 05] Page 21