Never Kiss a Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  Still, Hamish was wrong about not sending for more help and she had come to the great hall to think of a way to talk to him about the situation. It was clear that he had no intentions of asking Laird McTiernay for help, but Mairead could not understand why. Maybe if she did, then she would be in a better position to make a counterargument, and explain just why Foinaven needed more than just what Hamish alone could provide. If he could grasp just how short-staffed the castle guard was, as well as how inexperienced, Hamish would have to agree that he did not have the means to protect this clan and his brother’s position as leader from Ulrick when he returned.

  Mairead stood quietly and watched Hamish work on the long, deadly blade on his lap. The muscles in his back rippled with each stroke. Those women who so callously rejected him were fools. Aye, Hamish was not very handsome to look at, but Mairead had had enough suitors to know that he offered things few men could—protection, strength, and intelligence. Plus, despite what she had said, he could kiss.

  He was the first man she had met who possessed all the qualities she wanted in a man. Unfortunately, he also possessed a few aggravating characteristics as well. Still, if he were anyone but Robert’s older brother, she would consider pursuing him as a possible husband—after convincing him to shave off that beard. But their family connection made the idea of them as a couple impossible. Not because her sister was married to his brother, that would be odd but definitely surmountable. His rejection of Foinaven and his family, however, was not. To permanently cut all ties with her sister and her home was . . . unacceptable.

  And yet when he had kissed her all that had been forgotten.

  She had told Hamish that she had experienced many other kisses that were far more pleasant. That had been a lie. A big one. She had kissed and had been kissed several times over the years, but not one had stirred her emotionally. Until this afternoon, she had found the activity merely a semi-pleasant way to pass the time. She certainly had never understood why some people found kissing so entertaining. Now she fully understood. Hamish’s kiss had created sensations in her body she had never known to exist.

  Since his guarding her while she bathed, Mairead had wondered what it would be like to kiss him. It did not mean she was attracted to him, for she never did like beards, but Hamish did have an incredible body that pulled at a woman sexually. Naïvely, she had assumed his kiss would be like others of her experience, but when she had succumbed to his embrace and kissed him back, all thoughts had ceased. She honestly had not been able to think. Gone were Selah and Foinaven and all her responsibilities. Even Ulrick was a distant memory.

  Afterward, Mairead had chided herself for assuming Hamish’s kiss would be like any other. Practically from the moment they had met, she had seen the desire in his eyes and it had stirred something primal within her. And when they kissed, her body had come alive to the point that even now, hours later, it continued to yearn for something that could never be.

  Hamish dropped the wet rag on the floor and bent over to pick up a thick, dry cloth to finish polishing the blade’s edge. “I know you caught me staring at your sister tonight, but I have no interest in Selah and have not had any for many years.”

  Mairead jumped at the sound of Hamish’s voice. She had not realized he had been aware of her presence. If he believed she had been thinking about him and Selah just now, Mairead was not going to correct him. For she was not going to let him know the true direction of her thoughts.

  “I believe you,” Mairead finally offered, stepping out from the shadows. And she really did.

  He had been staring at Selah through much of dinner. And it had caused Mairead to study him, examining his expression and trying to decipher what he felt for her sister. There was a serious side to Hamish she suspected few saw because they never bothered to look past his flirtatious mask. Like his younger brother’s, Hamish’s mind never stopped. It was constantly working. Examining questions and exploring the possible answers prior to asking them. Mairead had seen it tonight, when he talked about his inability to find love as well as when he had studied her sister. There had been no desire reflected in the depth of his dark green eyes, only curiosity and perhaps a little bewilderment.

  “I do not think you would have been happy with Selah. She confuses you. I’m guessing that most women do.”

  Hearing the accuracy of her conclusion, Hamish stopped polishing and mumbled, “All men find all women confusing.” Mairead strolled up to his side. “Is there something you need?” he asked, and then made the mistake of glancing at her. Mairead was impossibly beautiful. Her hair was completely free from restraints and the dark gold waves tumbled down her back, drawing attention to her perfectly rounded bottom. Without warning, need tore through him like a dull knife.

  Mairead shrugged her shoulders. “I come in here at night sometimes before I retire to think. In this big space, I don’t feel confined and my thoughts seem to find peace where they cannot anywhere else.”

  “I can leave,” Hamish said reluctantly, even though he knew it would be a wise move.

  He bent over to grab his things and Mairead instinctively reached out to stop him. Her fingers wrapped around his forearm. She could feel the sinew of his muscles and their strength. Her heart began to pound and she quickly released him. Needing to sit down, she took a step to her right and sat in the chair next to his, glad there was a small table situated between them. “Please don’t leave. No one else is ever in here at this time, so I did not expect to find you. But it would be nice to have your company. That is if you don’t mind having mine.”

  Hamish did not move. Mairead was hard to predict. She had used deceptive tactics this afternoon, had been dismissive about his kiss, and both manipulative and contemplative during dinner. Now she was being exceptionally pleasant. The woman was just as puzzling as she was alluring. And though Hamish knew he should just take the opportunity and leave, his curiosity forced him to stay. He nodded and resumed polishing his sword.

  Mairead used her chin to point at what he was doing and asked, “Is this something you do often?” The work looked not difficult but tedious. And yet, Hamish’s expression was relaxed, not that of one forced to complete a chore. “I just . . . well, you look . . . content.”

  Hamish paused for a fraction of a second before continuing to move the cloth along the metal so that it gleamed a little more with each stroke. Only one other woman had recognized the calming effects his nightly ritual had on him. Her ability to see into the real him had almost captured his heart. Opening himself up to Mairead would be a mistake. “No use owning a sword if it is not maintained.”

  Mairead tucked her feet underneath her, situated her elbow on the chair’s arm, and then rested her chin on her hand. “I guess at the McTiernays, polishing a sword is something everyone does. Not here. I expect a lot of things are different here at Foinaven.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Do you miss your home? With the McTiernays, I mean?”

  “I do,” Hamish answered honestly. Then he looked her directly in the eye and said, “They trust me.”

  Mairead refused to flinch. Instead, she narrowed her own gaze. “I trust you.”

  Hamish scoffed and returned his focus to the blade in his lap. “No you don’t.”

  Mairead pursed her lips together in frustration. She wanted to argue but couldn’t. “Aye, you’re right,” she grudgingly admitted. “But I want to.”

  Hamish inhaled and bit back a curse. Her scent could make the lower regions of a dead man come alive. It was a mixture of fresh meadows and flowers and the effect it had on him was powerful. Just one whiff and not only did he want to bed her, but part of him was compelled to tell her anything. But that part of him was just going to have to wait for satisfaction until he returned to the McTiernays.

  He kept his gaze on the blade as he moved the cloth down its length. “But you won’t trust me until I tell you my plan, which negates the value of having someone’s trust.” He paused to look her in the eye. “You and I both know that you
don’t want to know the plan, Mairead. You want to control it.”

  “That’s not true!”

  Hamish kept his gaze steady. “Then trust me.”

  Mairead opened and closed her mouth several times before she finally admitted that she could not. “I want to. I really do, but I just cannot fathom how any plan that does not involve confronting Ulrick with an equal, if not more powerful force, will convince him to leave Foinaven and never come back. Strength and power are the only things he respects.”

  Hamish put down his rag and set aside the polished sword. He shifted in his chair so that he could give her his undivided attention. Mairead honestly thought a McTiernay army was the solution. What she needed to realize was that he had brought something much better—McTiernay knowledge and experience. “Let’s say I am persuaded to your way of thinking and I send word for Conor to send at least a hundred of his men. What is the plan then?”

  Mairead crinkled her brow. What else was there to think about? “That’s it. Nothing more would be needed. A hundred McTiernay soldiers would be more than enough to confront Ulrick when he returns.”

  “I agree. However, where exactly do you envision this confrontation taking place?”

  Mairead blinked. The answer was obvious. “I expect it would be near or just outside the castle.”

  Hamish nodded in agreement. “So we would wait with our hundred men and confront Ulrick next to the village, where anyone in the clan—men, women, even children—could come, see, and possibly get involved, such as those lads training in here today.”

  Mairead adjusted her posture, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “We would tell everyone to stay away.”

  “I’m sure we would and let’s say that even worked. A simple instruction is issued, all obey, and not a single soul from the village gets involved when Ulrick arrives,” Hamish stated without pushback. “What’s next? How do you see Ulrick reacting to seeing a hundred McTiernay soldiers outside of Foinaven?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m asking you to think it through. Do you really believe Ulrick—someone who is battle-seasoned and power-hungry—would yield without a fight? That he would see our borrowed army and then simply call out and have his newly attained mercenaries drop their weapons and surrender without even trying to attain his goal? Do you think those mercenaries would leave without payment? No, I can see by your expression you know as well as I do that would not happen. If Ulrick and his men were confronted in such a way, there would be a battle.” Hamish paused and pointed to the village located just on the other side of the great hall’s walls. “And it would not just be Ulrick and a handful of mercenaries fighting experienced McTiernay warriors. Remember many of your clansmen ride with Ulrick and when they die—because many would—you would have their wives and children to console and take care of afterward.”

  Mairead’s shoulders slumped as she envisioned the horrific picture Hamish was painting. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  “That is why I am not resisting Robert’s ‘no bloodshed’ request. That route you so desperately want me to take only holds misery for everyone.”

  Tears formed in Mairead’s eyes, which had grown dark with fear. “He knew this,” she said so softly, Hamish could barely hear her. “Ulrick knew that we would never risk so many lives. We are doomed.”

  Hamish arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought that.”

  Mairead shook her head and stared at her fingers tightly interlaced. “What can be done?” she asked rhetorically.

  Hamish leaned forward and when she finally looked at him, he let his smile grow into a wide grin. “Well, I learned from the McTiernays that you never fight those you can outsmart.”

  Mairead bit her bottom lip. Her furrowed brow indicated her lingering doubt, but her hazel eyes brightened. She still believed there was hope. “There is a way to outsmart Ulrick?”

  Hamish shrugged. He believed he could outsmart pretty much any man. He smacked his hands on his knees, then rose to his feet, picked up his sword, and gathered all of his things into a sack. “You will have to wait and see.”

  Mairead blinked. “What does that mean?”

  Hamish slung the sack over his left shoulder. “I mean that for the first time I see in your eyes a glimmer of trust. You are finally starting to believe that I might have thought this through and have a plan. That it’s conceivable I can do more than just wave a heavy sword around. That I just might be intelligent, as well as arrogant, and know what I’m doing. All you want now is proof. But I’m not going to let you in on my plan. I think I’ll just keep that to myself.”

  Mairead’s mouth opened and closed several times before she realized what she was doing and clamped her lips shut. She hated that he was right. She hated that she had no clue what his plan could be, and mostly she hated that there was no way she was going to convince him to tell her. But she was going to try anyway.

  Mairead stood up and stared at him right in the eye. “An honorable man, Hamish MacBrieve, would not keep such a plan a secret, knowing that my family and clan were at stake.”

  Hamish slid his free hand up along her arm to her shoulder and then gently cupped the back of her neck before leaning down. “And if I am not an honorable man, Mairead MacMhathain,” he whispered into her ear, “then what is to stop me from kissing you and doing possibly much more?”

  A quiver of desire went down Mairead’s back as she held her breath. Hamish was doing it again. He was making her lose control, focus, and all ability to think. And he had not even kissed her yet. This was exactly what she had promised herself she would not let happen again.

  And she was going to keep that vow.

  Mairead mustered all her willpower and tilted her head toward his. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek and then whispered back, “There’s your kiss. And just because you refuse to tell me your plan does not mean I won’t find out what it is. I may be naïve to the ways of battle, but I am an extremely clever, not to mention stubborn woman. I will haunt your every move and I will learn just what it is.”

  Hamish backed up a step and laughed out loud, praying it disguised his racing heart. “I wish you luck with your endeavors because I imagine it will be very entertaining to watch you try.”

  Then without another word, he headed for the great hall’s main doors and exited them without looking back even once.

  Chapter Five

  Mairead pulled the tartan around her to help with the biting cold. The wind had picked up since this morning, and the clouds overhead were accumulating. Soon it would be dark and the cooler night air would definitely bring rain. She entered the keep, leaned against the stone wall, and closed her eyes, fighting the inclination to bang her head out of frustration.

  Despite what Hamish thought, Mairead did trust him. And she did think he was highly intelligent. And not only did she believe he had a plan to deal with Ulrick, she also thought it more than probable it would work. But those beliefs were not nearly enough to calm her troubled thoughts. Hamish’s plan, whatever it was, solved one of her problems—keeping Ulrick from taking over the clan and ousting her sister from her home. However, whether his plan might also resolve her other problem was unknown. If it did not, she still had to find a way to protect herself. Yet if the result of Hamish’s plan rendered Ulrick unable to threaten her or anyone else again, that changed everything. It would mean she was free to choose her future—a privilege she swore never to take lightly again.

  Mairead had lain awake thinking about the possible methods a skilled warrior like Hamish might employ to confront Ulrick. Hamish might not have meant to give her clues to what he had in mind, but he had. His plan aimed to avoid bloodshed—or at least minimize it. It was clear that it did not require an army and his comments suggested that any confrontation would not happen close to Foinaven. Based on that final fact alone, Mairead could only surmise that Hamish planned to surprise Ulrick prior to his arrival, probably on the outskirts of their land. Without even a small contingent
of fellow soldiers, it was not going to be battle, but one-on-one. Hamish must have intended this fight to be between just him and Ulrick.

  At first, the image of them battling face-to-face horrified Mairead. Hamish getting injured—or even killed—was unthinkable. However, the more she mulled over the idea, the more her fears dissipated. Because no matter how she envisioned the fight, Hamish was always the victor. She had seen Ulrick train and Hamish’s brief encounter with Jaime gave her enough to compare speed and skills. Hamish would win, and he knew it—which made such a fight the only logical plan possible.

  She just needed some way to prove it.

  Upon waking this morning, Mairead realized she did not need to understand the details of what Hamish had in mind—just the basics. Just enough to verify his plan would take care of not just her family—but permanently remove Ulrick as a threat, thereby securing her freedom to marry when and whom she chose. To learn that level of information ought to be simple for it would not take much to confirm her assumptions. She had mistakenly thought that nothing was faster—or easier—than eavesdropping.

  Mairead pushed herself off the stone wall, searching for some of the positive spirit she had from earlier that morning. Her plan could still work. It just would not be nearly as easy as she had assumed. Like most men, Hamish was being incredibly uncooperative, even when he did not mean to be.

  Mairead began a slow ascent up the keep’s stairs, thinking upon the day’s events and vowing that the next time she and Hamish met, she would be doing the outwitting. This morning, she had quickly met with the most critical of the castle staff and gave them their daily instructions, including how any follow up or noncritical staff should go to the Lady of the Castle. Selah would not like it. Mairead had always handled much of the responsibilities, especially anything that was remotely confrontational. But since Robert had become ill, Selah had foisted practically all the remaining castle responsibilities onto Mairead’s shoulders as well, only to fuss later at decisions Mairead made that were not in line with her ways of doing things. But Selah’s management style was avoidance and therefore time-consuming, and Mairead had things to do.