Never Kiss a Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  One just had to look at Selah to know that Mairead was not the only one anticipating Hamish’s arrival. Her sister had bound hair and dressed herself as a properly married woman. Her barbette was neatly tucked around her chin and pinned at the top of her head, the ends hidden under her prettiest filet. She was not wearing a veil, but one only had to glance at her to know her marital status.

  Mairead thought the ensemble incredibly restrictive and completely unnecessary. When she married, nothing would get her to wear one of those headdresses. Everyone had seen her hair either loose or in a simple braid for years. The idea that marriage required noblewomen to hide their hair made no sense and she would refuse to succumb to such nonsense. Especially when it meant constant discomfort.

  A moment later Mairead felt a twinge in her neck due to the weight of the complicated braid pulled into an intricate knot. Instantly she felt regret at being such a hypocrite and reached up to rub her neck. “You do not have to wait with me, Selah.”

  “I do not mind.”

  Mairead gave her older sister a knowing look. “You do not fool me. You followed me in here and have done little but needle me about looking out the window, while sneaking a peek yourself. Your actions only prove your interest in whether Hamish has arrived is just as great as mine. I’m just not making you admit it out loud,” Mairead said saucily.

  Eight years separated them in age and because their mother died of illness a year after their father, Selah had been her guardian, mentor, and counselor since she was eleven. She had taught Mairead all she knew on what it was to be a woman, a friend, and someday a wife. Her efforts were appreciated and many of the lessons taken to heart, but their personalities were too dissimilar for Mairead to adhere to—or even believe in—all the advice Selah continually bestowed.

  While her sister was predisposed to be unusually compassionate, Mairead was inclined to be candid. Sometimes Selah hinted that she might be a little too honest. If she was, Mairead blamed Selah and her husband, Robert. Growing up constantly trying to interpret what they truly thought had been tiresome. Mairead wanted no one to misinterpret her opinion.

  “I do not know what you mean. I only came to keep you company while little Rab is napping. He rose rather early this morning,” Selah replied, neither confirming nor denying her anticipation.

  Mairead grimaced and quickly turned away before Selah could see. Her five-year-old nephew was not the only one who had been awakened by his father’s hacking cough. All in the keep had been. “How is Robert doing?”

  “Resting finally,” Selah said with a sigh, trying not to sound worried. “I just pray that he will stay in bed this year until it passes.”

  Mairead nodded and looked back out the window at the busy courtyard below. Every year, her sister’s husband became ill when the cold weather came. This year had been no different. The day after Epiphany, Robert worked with a sore throat, and as expected a couple days later, he had a hacking cough and found it difficult to breathe. It usually lasted two or three weeks—if he rested—and then he would be well again until the next year.

  “Does the constant drumming help you search?” Selah asked as she forcefully plunged her needle down into the cloth, signaling that the noise irritated her.

  Mairead gripped the side of the window frame to still her fingers. “The sun has been up for nearly three hours and it is almost time for the midday meal.”

  “And how is that relevant to your search?”

  Mairead glanced back over her shoulder with a scowl. “It means that Hamish should have arrived by now. I could have ridden to Amon’s and returned twice by now.”

  Selah shrugged. “Perhaps Davros only thought he saw Hamish. He has never actually met Robert’s brother. It could have been someone else entering Amon’s home last night.”

  Mairead knew Selah was needling her. “Davros has the eyesight of one of his falcons and he said the man had the same height and coloring as Robert. He was also on horseback, had been traveling, and was carrying a sword. It was Hamish,” Mairead exerted. Then with a touch of cynicism, she added, “Which also means your and Robert’s ridiculous plan to get his brother to come home worked.”

  Selah bristled. “I completely support my husband’s decision on what to do concerning his brother,” she said crisply, a clear hint that she thought Mairead’s condemnation a step too far.

  Mairead rolled her eyes. She did not want to argue with Selah. Neither did she want to live with the results of her inept brother-in-law’s actions. However, his latest plea to have Hamish return home was one that she not only secretly supported but also had prayed for. When the herald had returned letting them know that Hamish had sent him ahead to warn them of his arrival, her heart had soared. Not with joy, but relief. For nothing short of Hamish and his army could save them all from a horrible fate.

  Mairead tilted her head to lean against the window frame and continued to study the busy courtyard. In the early morning hours, as many temporary structures that could fit within the castle walls had been erected. It seemed like the whole village had come to Foinaven to trade, barter, and buy goods. The crowds were now so thick it made it difficult to identify those whom she knew very well, let alone a man she had not seen in years.

  Mairead had been only ten when Hamish had decided to leave Foinaven, his family, and his claim to lead the newly combined MacBrieve/MacMhathain clan. But the years had not erased her memory of him or the kindness he had shown her. It had been Hamish who had told her of her father’s death. He had taken her out and shown her how to skip stones along the water, answering all her questions even though her mother thought ten years old was too young to understand such loss. The following year, when her mother passed away, it was the memory of his words she had used for comfort and strength.

  Hamish had told Mairead to stop trying to imitate her sister and just enjoy being the person she was. That the light-colored freckles sprinkled along her nose and cheeks made her appear more interesting, and her propensity for “unnecessary truthfulness” would someday be appreciated by a self-reliant man, who would find the trait far more appealing than meekness. She had known that what he said at the time had been just to make her feel better, but nevertheless, she had clung to his words throughout the years, especially in periods of self-doubt.

  Hamish had been huge and strong, able to make anyone who threatened him or those he loved tremble with fear. He had shown her that men were capable of both strength and kindness.

  Then he had left, only to never come back. And despite her young age, she had understood why.

  Throughout the years, tidbits about Hamish trickled in from time to time. Traveling merchants always brought news of the larger clans—the McTiernays in particular—knowing Robert’s interest. The fact that Hamish remained unwed after twelve years mystified her sister and brother-in-law. But not Mairead.

  It was clear part of Hamish still loved Selah. Nothing else explained both his prolonged absence and his remaining a bachelor for so long. It also meant that Hamish would not stay but leave as soon as he could—and for the very same reason he had departed more than a decade ago.

  All this Mairead understood and accepted as inevitable. But it did not matter, for Hamish was bringing with him hope and the chance to actually save not just the clan, but herself.

  “I think I might go down there,” Mairead said, and lifted her head off the windowsill. When she did, several dark gold strands of the intricate weave along the back of her nape got caught on a crevice and were pulled free. “This is why it is pointless for me to do my hair!” she groused. “I spent a good hour in a chair this morning letting Annot yank on my scalp for nothing. I should have just tied it back like I always do.”

  Seeing Mairead reach up to take the whole thing down, Selah jumped to her feet and exclaimed, “Stop! It is not that bad. Give me a chance to fix it before you do something rash.”

  Mairead ignored her sister and kept working at the tresses until they were free. She swung her head back and
forth, feeling relief now that the heavy mass was loose about her shoulders.

  “Come here,” Selah said, pointing to the chair she had just occupied.

  Mairead’s eyes narrowed with distrust. “It’s too uncomfortable and you and I both know that it would not stay. Something would cause it to come down again. My hair is impossible. I’ve accepted it. So should you.”

  “At least sit and let me brush it out. Right now it is a mess and you would never have allowed Annot near your hair this morning if you were so disinterested in your appearance.”

  Mairead pursed her lips, then pushed Selah’s needlework aside and sat down. Immediately Selah retrieved a brush and began to fuss. “Your hair is so beautiful. It’s such a rich color and seems to shine on its own. Even when you leave it down, as it is now, you could attract any man you wanted . . . if you but tried.”

  Normally Mairead would have mocked the idea. Mostly because catching a man’s eye had never been an issue, though Mairead sometimes wondered how many of the men who had sought her affections actually liked her, or just sought what a marriage to her might give them. It was an immaterial point as she had never met anyone whom she could share what her sister had with Robert—true love.

  “I have no desire in attracting a man,” Mairead lied, unwilling to answer the questions to follow if her sister suspected the truth.

  Selah scoffed. “You’re allowing me to brush your hair and I noticed that right after Davros told us that he saw Hamish entering Amon’s last night, you went and found Annot to have her work on your hair. And you changed into your most flattering gown.”

  Feeling caught, Mairead licked her lips. She still refused to admit to her sister the real nature of her intentions. Selah could never know the threat Ulrick had made just before he left. She would feel responsible to do something and whatever conciliatory thing Robert and she devised, Mairead was positive it would only make things worse.

  Though she hated it, Mairead had no choice. She had to continue to lie. “It is not what you are thinking, Selah. I simply wanted to look my best for Robert’s sake as well as yours when Hamish arrived.”

  Mairead looked down to avoid looking at her sister and smoothed out the gown. She remembered vividly the response she got the last time she wore it. That night and the week after, she had received much male attention—even a couple offers of marriage. They had not been the first to seek her hand, nor had they been her last. If marriage were all it took to save her, there was always a widower in the need of a mother for his children.

  No, the man she married could not just be anyone. He had to be someone whom Ulrick would be afraid of. And if this gown she was wearing could still elicit the same power of appeal, that someone would be arriving today.

  The ankle-length chainse was a shimmering gold and had a rich green-colored, knee-length bliaut over it that brought out the color of her eyes. A band of intricate needlework circled the long sleeves of the tunic. The golden color enhanced the tawny strands of her hair and complemented her olive skin tone, but the cut also highlighted her curvaceous figure—which made Mairead feel at unease.

  She and Selah were undoubtedly sisters. Both were of the same height, possessed golden brown hair and hazel eyes, but where Selah’s skin was flawless, Mairead had freckles scattered along her nose and cheeks. Where Selah’s hair was straight, Mairead’s was wild and untamable, but at least she could braid it down her back. Her shapeliness, however, was impossible to disguise. It was the one thing that kept anyone from mistaking one from the other—even at a distance. Where Selah’s thin frame made her appear delicate and graceful, Mairead possessed a much fuller figure, with curves and breasts that were forever getting in the way.

  “I would not be surprised if one of Hamish’s men took one look at you and spirited you away from Foinaven.”

  “Selah . . .” Mairead said hesitantly.

  Selah shook her head. “I’m in earnest. In this dress, you are going to catch the eye of every man coming with Hamish. It is possible that one of them might catch yours as well,” Selah said as she continued to brush the wayward strands.

  Mairead sat completely still, wondering if she was really that transparent.

  “If it happens, just remember to charm the man a little, and I promise he will be yours,” Selah encouraged. “It only took a few days with Robert to know he was my destiny. When the right man comes along, you will know it too. Don’t resist it, little sister. I want you to be happy and this might be your chance.”

  Mairead blinked. How could she be so blind? Was this the reason behind Robert’s insane idea to send Ulrick off and cause their clan to be so vulnerable? To get Hamish to return with eligible men for Mairead to marry? It was ludicrous, but then so was sending off the majority of one’s army to fetch a priest.

  Pride shouted for her to refuse to participate. She would marry someday, but on her terms and not for convenience. She wanted someone she could trust. Someone she could rely on to be dependable and make hard decisions and stand behind them. She wanted someone she did not have to guide and encourage or worry if a strongly worded phrase would cause them to retreat. She wanted someone she could be proud of, whom she could support and love. In return, she wanted to be appreciated and respected. Most of all she wanted what Selah had with Robert. A partner who understood and loved her and someone she loved in return.

  But that dream was not to be and her pride had to accept that destiny had other plans. If anything, she was fortunate that Selah and Robert had created this opportunity. She might have wanted a man to love, but what she needed was a man who lived far away. Such as a man who lived with the McTiernays.

  Mairead started to squirm and Selah reached out to clutch the sides of her face to keep her still. Mairead sighed with resignation as she felt the familiar tugs on her scalp. Selah was braiding her hair. Mairead was shocked when less than a handful of minutes later, her sister took a step back.

  “There,” Selah said, and smiled at her handiwork. “I just brought the sides back to allow everyone see your lovely face. Not a man in sight could resist you.”

  Mairead patted the back of her hair. Two braids on each side were tied together allowing her hair to fall in waves down her back. “More than likely, the only males who’ll find me irresistible will be the merchants, which makes a pretty gown and fixing my hair a waste of time. They would think I was attractive with matted hair and rotten teeth.”

  Selah ignored her. And pulled free one small lock from one of the braids so that it fell down the side of her cheek. “Even better.”

  Mairead darted her eyes upward, still unconvinced. “I’m just going down to talk with Davros, Selah. And he cares not about my hair.” And before Selah could reply, Mairead escaped to the hall. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the closed door, finally free to feel the fear she felt inside.

  Taking a deep breath, she began her descent, reminding herself that all she needed to find was one man in Hamish’s army willing to marry her and take her back with him.

  Mairead suddenly stopped her descent. Her thinking had been completely wrong.

  Oh, she was right about having to let her dream of marrying for true love go, but that was not the only one she had. There were others—one of which she had given up on. She did not have to leave her beloved home and family. She could stay at Foinaven and even help ensure her family remained at its head.

  All she needed was a Highland warrior from a powerful Highland clan. Several such men would be arriving with Hamish. How hard could it be to convince one of them to marry her?

  * * *

  Hamish tried to think of another song—any chant or verse—to replace the one he had been humming all morning. He did not know the words, but little Fulanna had been singing it this morning and the haunting melody refused to stop plaguing his thoughts.

  He gazed up ahead. Foinaven was not far now and he soon would be within its walls. His stomach growled reminding him that it was at least an hour, probably more like two, past the ti
me for midday meal. Normally he would have stopped to eat, but he was already much later in arriving than he had intended.

  He and Amon had left early in the morning to meet with several of the men who used to be part of his father’s guard. Their discussions had been enlightening and only supported what Amon had told him the night before. They had spoken of their frustrations with Ulrick and his tactics and many offered suggestions, most of which included some variation of sending for help from the McTiernays and permanently taking over as commander. Hamish had made it abundantly clear that he refused to entertain any ideas of this nature.

  Living with the McTiernays, Hamish had learned to always have many options when walking into a situation. He may have come north alone, but he had not come devoid of ideas. He was here to free his brother from Ulrick’s clutches and give his clansmen a chance at security. Afterward, it would be their responsibility to ensure this one-time-only opportunity was not wasted. Amon agreed with Hamish’s desire to keep his plan confidential while secretly helping it come to fruition until the time came to let others know.

  Hamish approached the castle and paused to stare incredulously at the point of entry through Foinaven’s curtain wall. The stone walls themselves were thick, solid, and extremely well built. They were tall and formidable and Hamish would have been impressed if the protection they provided was not completely negated by a massive weakness—two large wooden doors that were currently wide open, allowing anyone entry. There was no barbican, no portcullis, not even a gatehouse that could effectively keep anyone inside safe from those outside.

  Hamish let go a deep sigh as people stepped aside to avoid him as they moved freely in and out of the castle. Such defense structures were meaningless if throngs of people were allowed to come and go inside at will. Hamish wondered at the point of having a castle, let alone an expensive stone one, with such a weakness. He found it difficult to believe his father would have agreed to such a key requirement to the castle’s security.