Never Kiss a Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  Hamish waited for a second before he saw the acknowledgment of defeat in the young man’s eyes. “I heard him”—he pointed to his sparring partner—“call you Jaime. Is that your name?”

  “Aye,” the tall lad replied shakily.

  Hamish re-sheathed his dirk and held out a hand to help the young man back to his feet. “I’d focus on farming.”

  Gone was Jaime’s confidence. He now looked defeated and disheartened along with the rest of the men in the room. It was as if they just realized how completely unskilled they were against a true opponent. The drastic shift bothered Hamish. Confidence needed to be earned, but to snuff out the little these men had through embarrassment was not an honorable method of proving a point. These young men wanted to be trained and should at least be given the chance. But to give that to them now would only encourage Mairead in her pursuit to manipulate him. She had arranged for their humiliation and she was going to have to live with the guilt of achieving her goal.

  Hamish looked each young man in the eye. “I’ve accepted my brother’s request to take over as temporary commander for Ulrick until he returns. Under that authority, I will decide on what training is done, by whom, and where. Until then, all such activity in the great hall is to cease and you are to return and resume what you normally do to help support your family.”

  Without any argument, every young man grabbed his things and left the hall. Their shoulders were slumped and most looked embarrassed. Mairead, however, was outraged. Hamish even more so.

  He did not like the disdain he saw in her eyes when it was she who had intentionally orchestrated this mockery to manipulate him. “Any guilt to be felt is yours, Mairead, not mine. You arranged this absurd display. You gathered these men knowing their skills were lacking—significantly more than they believed. But what is worse, is that you intended to humiliate them to promote your cause. You’ve claimed I changed. Know this, you have too.”

  Mairead was at a loss for words and she did feel responsible for what had happened. However, she still thought it somewhat justified. “I was hoping that you see the desperation of our situation. But never,” she whispered with vehemence laced in each syllable, “never did I think you would demonstrate their absence of any skill in such a humbling way.”

  Hamish cursed under his breath. Mairead was speaking the truth. The shock in those boys’ eyes had filled hers, too. She had also believed them to be more skilled than they were. Probably even believed herself to be decent with a sword. “Do yourself a favor and don’t pick up that little sword of yours if you ever come under attack. You would only be giving the enemy a weapon to use against you.”

  “You think me weak and incapable because I am a woman?” Mairead asked coolly, finally finding her voice. She had been numb, but her emotions were returning with force.

  A shot of desire, wild and hot, roared through Hamish’s veins. Eyes blazing green, Mairead refused to yield or back down, even when she knew he had accurately called her on her feeble attempts to manipulate him. Any other woman, including Laurel, would be feeling at least some remorse. But not Mairead.

  He crossed his arms to keep him from pulling her close and kissing her into submission. “On the contrary. I like the idea of a woman being able to defend herself. Watching her pull back a bow and let go an arrow can be very erotic,” he drawled out, “if she knows what she is doing.”

  Mairead’s thoughts raced through her head. She told herself not to care what Hamish thought or said. He was a large, hairy oaf who lacked any gentlemanly behavior. But for some reason, his opinion about her ability with a sword did matter.

  She took a step closer, stopping just shy of touching him. She looked him straight in the eye and said, “I prefer the sword.”

  Hamish said nothing.

  Mairead’s cheeks were flushed and her scent was slowly undoing him. Once again her breasts were heaving with each breath she took. Hamish knew he should leave and get away from her while he still could. Swallowing, he pointed to the door. “Leave, Mairead, before I do something foolish.”

  “Why should that be any different?” Mairead taunted, ignoring the undercurrent of fury going through Hamish. The man’s entire body was taut with warning, but she refused to heed it. “What could be more foolish than coming here to take Ulrick on alone?”

  “Stay and find out,” Hamish answered through gritted teeth.

  Mairead glared at him once more. The man could be angry all he wanted, but she had reason to be angry too. “Toll-tòine,” she hissed as she tried to step around him.

  Hamish’s hand snatched her arm. He leaned down so that his lips almost touched her cheeks. “You might want to be careful when calling a man an arse, aingeal. It gives him ideas.”

  And then without hesitation, Hamish captured her head in his hands and crushed her mouth against his own. Her lips were sweet as honey and softer than anything he had ever known. Anger momentarily forgotten, need took over. Slowly Hamish let his tongue caress her lips and when he felt her resistance soften, he nudged her chin down with his thumb, and let his tongue slip inside before Mairead could guess his intent.

  Mairead involuntarily moved closer to his warmth, unaware that her arms were moving to slide around his neck until her fingers delved into his thick hair. She had been kissed before—several times between her attempts to find love and her sister’s continual crusade for her to find a husband—but no one had ever stirred one of the feelings ricocheting through her body that Hamish was creating. Her mind tried to fight the desire flooding through her, but her body refused to obey. The longer his lips caressed her, the less will she had. When she had felt the pressure from his thumb, she could only close her eyes and let her lips part for him.

  Hamish felt a shudder the moment Mairead yielded to his desires. Instinctively he deepened the kiss, pulling her even closer. His primal urges flared to life and set his body ablaze. All he could think about was what it would feel like to have her in his bed and the velvety warmth of her skin pressed fully against his.

  A loud crash of thunder shook the building and yanked him back to reality. With the last of his strength, he lifted his mouth from hers and looked down into her shimmering eyes. The emerald and gold pools reflected passion, along with a mixture of confusion and vulnerability.

  Hamish softly caressed her bottom lip with his thumb. He had wanted to kiss her practically since the moment he had seen her and now that he had, he just craved her more. “I knew those lips would be good for kissing,” he murmured.

  The words broke the spell he had woven around her and Mairead instinctively took a step back. Her eyes grew wide as she realized just what had happened and with whom. She turned and rushed to the main doors of the great hall. But she did not open them. She just stood there, holding on to the handles, fighting to regain a little of her pride.

  She turned around to look over her shoulder to find Hamish staring at her. Encouraged, she mustered her most casual tone and said, “You may have enjoyed that kiss, Hamish, but I have had many others far more pleasant. All I will remember from this experience is the feel of that frightening mess you call a beard.”

  Only after he heard the thump of the door did Hamish squeeze his eyes shut. Her little speech did not deceive him. Mairead had enjoyed it every bit as much as he did. And yet, that knowledge was not enough to prevent a surge of irrational jealousy.

  Many others, Mairead had said.

  Just how many men had she kissed?

  * * *

  Hamish finished putting a thin layer of oil along the blade of his broadsword and began to stroke the metal back and forth at an angle against the whetstone he had on his lap. To some, polishing a sword was an onerous chore that had to be done, but he found the repetitive movement relaxing, allowing his mind to flow back to the events of the day and plan for the morrow. And tonight, he had much to think about.

  Hamish flipped the blade over and pushed thoughts of Mairead aside, and instead tried to focus on dinner and some of the unexpecte
d conclusions he had made. Selah had informed him that Robert was not up to eating, so dinner had been small, limited to only himself, Selah, his nephew, and Mairead. They had dined in the great hall, which little Rab enjoyed. He had finally decided his uncle was someone who could be trusted and had shed his shy personality.

  The boy reminded Hamish of Robert as a youth in both looks and mannerisms. He was eager to learn everything and very intelligent, understanding far more than Hamish would have assumed a child could at such a young age. Like Robert did when he was young, Rab used everyone’s spoons, bowls, and plates to build a tower that defied gravity and stood upright until he was forced to dismantle it when the servants brought out their food. Without question, Rab was another true MacBrieve, loving to tinker with anything in arm’s reach while asking questions on random topics.

  After what Mairead tried to do in the great hall, it was not a surprise that she took advantage of the child’s inquisitive nature. After some simple prodding, Rab began a string of questions on battles and with Mairead’s help, even asked a few on how Hamish would defend a castle. Fortunately, being only five, Rab easily accepted the insubstantial answers being offered. He then tried to talk about what he knew of castles. Thank goodness Selah had been there to help because in the end, Hamish had learned far more than Mairead had.

  The masonry of the great hall and some of the more intricate stonework of the castle were actually designed by Robert. He had apprenticed under another mason, who upon seeing his genius, allowed him to start designing some areas himself and to oversee the construction of the curtain wall. The two had grown very close and when it came time for the mason to leave, he knew that Robert would not be able to leave with him. So he declared Robert’s apprenticeship to be over a year early.

  At one time, Robert had planned to build a gatehouse that connected the tower to the curtain wall, but after his father’s death, he had decided to just complete the wall. He wanted Foinaven to be a place that welcomed clansmen, not shut them out. Hamish had downed a full mug of ale hearing that one, wondering how two brothers’ viewpoints could be so different.

  Hamish flipped the blade again and reviewed his plan to deal with Ulrick. It was not a very complicated one—he learned from the McTiernays that most good ones weren’t. What they were was inconspicuous. And his definitely was.

  A key factor to its success, however, was its initial secrecy. Right now everything Hamish was working on could be considered part of a commander’s responsibility. And while Robert had ultimate authority, if he knew certain aspects too soon, he might overrule Hamish’s ideas and decide they were unnecessary. But with time, Hamish could build the appropriate lure to ensure Robert not only approved of the plan but hopefully was involved.

  Until then, he expected Mairead to try various ways to learn his plan. The woman obviously was incredibly stubborn and would not give up on her idea of using Conor’s army. Which meant she was going to be around—a lot.

  Balancing his sword on his right knee, Hamish raked his left hand through his loose hair. It was rare that he found himself truly regretting something he did. Life was too short to constantly second-guess one’s decisions and actions. And deep down, he felt no guilt about kissing Mairead. But he did regret it. For now that he had experienced her soft, full lips, all he wanted was to feel and taste them again.

  Hamish could not remember ever being plagued with thoughts of a woman to this degree. The only explanation he could muster for the intensity behind his desire was his self-inflicted, prolonged abstention from female companionship. Unfortunately, that was something he would not be able to rectify until back on McTiernay land. He certainly was not going to entertain the notion of finding someone to release his physical frustrations while at Foinaven. Not only was he not sure who would welcome such advances without any promise of commitment, the only woman he desired right now was the one woman he absolutely refused to have.

  Hamish put aside the whetstone and tested the blade with a piece of straw, verifying its sharp edge. Grabbing a rag, he dipped it in some water and then in a cup of vinegar, and began to rub the blade, thinking about the dull, tarnished sword one of the young men had left behind in the great hall.

  After Mairead had announced she had kissed his beard and not him, he had needed something to do. So he had aided the servants in restoring order to the hall. The purpose had been twofold. He had genuinely wanted to help as he had been the motivation behind Mairead’s request to dismantle all of the tables, but it had also given him the opportunity to casually probe the servants about what they knew of Ulrick, Robert, and their quality of life.

  Most said very little, which was fine, for their body language had conveyed more than what their words would have. They did not fear for their positions for they knew neither Robert nor Selah would ever order their removal. And while they spoke little about Robert, Hamish got the impression it was less out of respect and more because Robert was his brother. Ulrick, however, brought a different reaction.

  Answers about Ulrick were always brief and very respectful. Not a single person said anything that could not be said in front of Ulrick himself. And that alone proved several things. Even the servants who loved Laurel and Conor mumbled their frustrations when they were not within earshot. These people were afraid to even whisper. Their eyes would dart around before each reply, which only verified what Hamish suspected.

  Foinaven had a mole. And probably more than one.

  He had considered telling Selah tonight about his thoughts but decided it would have been pointless. She was incapable of believing someone might seek to harm her or Robert, especially after they had shown such kindness to all. Hamish wondered how he had ever loved a woman like her, but he had.

  For years, Selah had been the one with whom he had compared every other woman. He had believed her to be his great love. His lost chance at happiness. And she was exactly as he remembered. She spoke the same, moved the same—even had the same sweet, gentle laugh. And yet, he truly was not attracted to her. More so, he could not fathom what it was he had loved about her twelve years ago.

  Looking back, he understood why he thought he had loved Selah. At the time, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. With her easy nature and kind spirit, it was natural to think he had been in love. But Hamish now doubted that it was love he had felt. He had just been too young to realize his feelings were mostly of lust and a sprinkling of awe that someone like her would even fancy him.

  Hell, maybe he had never really loved any woman. Maybe he was not capable of the emotion. It was not like Selah was the only beautiful lady he had ever met and fallen for. Aye, the McTiernays had an infuriating habit of marrying them before he had a chance to capture their hearts. But he was certain that love existed. He had witnessed couples who were really in love. Conor and Laurel, Cole and Ellenor, even the twins had managed to find enviable women to share their lives. They were partners who challenged each other but were also fiercely loyal and supportive. Their relationships were highly passionate and possessive in nature.

  Things he had never experienced with any woman.

  Things he knew no woman had ever felt about him.

  The soft sound of a door opening and closing stalled the depressing direction of his thoughts. He did not need to turn around to know it was Mairead. Something inside him smiled.

  * * *

  Mairead stepped inside the large room and froze upon seeing Hamish sitting by the hearth. Part of her wanted to leave and scurry back to her chambers, but another part urged her to go in and sit down anyway. The great hall was her favorite room at Foinaven. Robert had designed the crossed ceiling beams in a pattern to reflect her mother’s favorite mountain, which the castle was named after. Mairead usually finished her day sitting quietly and alone in front of the large fireplace curled up in a chair until the last of embers died out, mulling over her frustrations.

  Most of the time they involved Selah and her sister’s refusal to do what was necessary to get the c
astle staff to do their jobs. Many of them, especially those assigned to the kitchens, were just in the wrong position. Poor Hellie was actually a very good cook, but her timid disposition allowed those around her to ignore her instructions or worse, bully her into following theirs. The situation required Selah’s intervention, but she just would not support Mairead’s solution—replace the servants with ones who could actually do the job. It was the same in positions throughout Foinaven, just in lesser degrees. But the castle and its staff were not on her mind tonight—her thoughts had been consumed by one particularly aggravating man.

  After Epiphany, Ulrick and his threats had been all she could think about . . . until Hamish arrived. Since then, she had felt more confused, out of control, and helpless than ever. She also had this strange sensation of hope. That if she could just get Hamish to understand what was needed, all would be well. So far she had tried arguing, silence, yelling, and pleading to persuade Hamish to send for support. She had even resorted to an ultimate low—manipulation. But it was not until dinner tonight did she realize the true folly of her approach.

  When Selah asked about the women in Hamish’s life and why he had yet to marry, he had given her an answer, but it had been scant on the details. His personally aimed jests might have fooled her sister, but Mairead sensed that Hamish had been hurt deeply by not just Selah, but several women in his life. And when he nonchalantly discussed the one who had deceived him, Mairead had felt herself grow tense and angry. For that vile woman had done one of the worst things a person can do to another—she had made Hamish doubt himself.

  That was why he had been so angry this afternoon with her. Her heart had been in the right place, but from Hamish’s point of view, she had tried to play him for the fool by gathering those boys in just to force him into admitting Foinaven needed additional help. If the positions were reversed, she would have been furious too.