She had planned to spend the first part of the morning observing Hamish and had immediately gone to find him, thinking he would be in discussions with one of his guards. But no one had seen him. Even the soldiers she had assumed he was with had not spoken with him. Mairead had just come to the conclusion that she must have missed him when Hellie informed her that if it was like the previous two mornings, he was still in his bedchambers! Hours after everyone had risen! What was he doing in the mornings? With all the noise about, it could not be sleeping.
Mairead eyed the keep’s door for almost another half an hour before she finally gave up and went to meet with the farmers who supplied the majority of food to the castle’s guard. Candlemas was fast approaching and the day after the feast marked the beginning of the growing season. Everyone needed to be prepared.
These particular decisions were usually something Robert handled, but her knowledge on castle and general clan needs meant she was usually involved in the discussion. Her brother-in-law was a very passive man when it came to fighting, but he excelled at anything financial and always seemed to find a resolution that made everyone happy. It was one of the primary reasons so many had flocked to Foinaven and stayed, despite Robert’s overall weak leadership style.
Today, Mairead was very glad Robert had requested her presence the past couple of years. Overall the meeting had gone smoothly and quickly, despite her being a woman. No doubt because there was not enough time to wait for Robert to recover and everyone knew that these decisions and agreements had to be made.
She had been about to begin the short trek back to the castle to spy on what she had hoped was an awake and active Hamish when she stopped short. He was standing by the village well—far from where she assumed he would be—at the castle, either still in his bedchambers or with the guards swapping stories. But what caught her by surprise was that he was not alone.
Quickly Mairead had ducked around the corner behind the cottage from which she had just emerged and peeked out to see what Hamish was doing. She was not quite close enough to hear what he was saying, but she knew it had nothing to do with his plans for handling Ulrick. He was smiling and chatting with two women who looked completely uninterested in getting water. It was not long before their small group started to grow. Doors opened and several more clanswomen headed to the well, all carrying empty water buckets they had no intention of filling.
Mairead had kept hidden, watching the spectacle that Hamish was not just causing, but enjoying. Almost half of the women who had gathered were unmarried, and most of them were younger than her. What did they see in him? Aye, the man was large, but he was hardly attractive! But deep down, Mairead knew the answer. Something about Hamish drew a woman to him. And to her mortification, she was not completely immune. But unlike the foolish women flocking to his side, she had no difficulty controlling those impulses. His mysterious allure did not negate the fact that he was the most frustrating, uncooperative, and secretive man she had ever met!
Mairead had forced herself to look away. Closing her eyes, she fought back the compulsion to stomp out and snatch Hamish from those possessive, seducing looks and smiles. But that act would make everyone think she was jealous—including Hamish. And it was most certainly not jealousy she felt. If she had to name her emotion it would be resentment. Aye, they were keeping him from her goal. For as long as he was with them, it was pointless spying on him!
Several high-pitched voices coming toward her had caused Mairead’s eyes to pop open with alarm. Immediately, she had changed her expression and had tried to look deep in thought, but it had not mattered. She doubted if a single one of them even saw her as they passed by, all talking over one another about their encounter with Hamish. Mairead had only been able to pick out bits and pieces. Some of the single women were arguing with those already married whether Hamish meant something more with his compliments, for it seemed he had been flirtatious with all of them. The one thing that all of them had agreed was that he was the biggest and most thrilling Highlander they had ever met.
After all of them had passed by, Mairead had slowly looked around the corner for another glimpse. Hamish had left the well’s edge and thankfully started to saunter away from where she was hidden. Able to keep from being spotted, Mairead had covertly followed him for several minutes, unable to decide whether she was envious or pleased with what she was witnessing.
Clansmen and women who would normally never stop to talk to anyone—let alone a stranger—did so, again and again. Foinaven was a collection of clans pulled together out of necessity. It created an atmosphere that could not be characterized as distrust, but wariness. People were cautious around those they saw every day. But to outsiders? They were between unfriendly and hostile. And yet, Hamish had moved with ease and his welcoming demeanor seemed to invite passersby to say hello. It made no sense. Aye, he was a MacBrieve and came from this region, but most of the clansmen stopping to talk with him had not been with the clan twelve years ago. Something Hamish did or said somehow convinced one person after another, regardless of age or gender, to stop and engage him in a minute of conversation.
When Hamish returned to the castle, his puzzling behavior only got more baffling as he went from engaging and friendly to unaffected, silent observer!
One of the farmers who had come to deliver meat from that morning’s butchering directed his mule to turn too sharply, causing the empty cart to fall over. It not only startled the jenny, the accident also freed it, enabling the bucking animal to run all over the place, wrecking anything in its path. Instead of helping the stable boy and the hobbling farmer to rein the animal in, Hamish just moved to the side to keep out of the lad’s way. Mairead had felt her jaw actually drop in shock.
When the bottler and the castle carpenter argued, Mairead found herself praying it would come to physical blows, thinking only a man of Hamish’s size could stop them. The argument never did escalate beyond a string of heated words and when it was over, Mairead wondered if it was fortunate that her prayer had been unanswered. The two men might have pummeled each other into bloody masses with Hamish on the sidelines thinking “that’s how men work out their differences.”
Then there was the last incident where Mairead had been sure Hamish was going to intervene. Several older children were playing chase nearby, causing a ruckus to all those working in the vicinity. Despite shouts by their elders for them to stop, they continued dodging in and out of stalls and jumping over crates and barrels all the while ignoring all cries for them to behave. Hamish just avoided them as he headed to the kitchens, only to emerge with a partial loaf of bread. Within minutes he was back in the middle of the courtyard, by himself, quietly eating his bread, just watching the fracas be resolved by one of the older servants.
Most of those bustling around the castle sent him several cautious glances, their mannerisms a mixture of wariness and curiosity. Like she, they wondered why he just casually stood nearby, never interfering. But the longer Hamish remained, looking unconcerned with much of what was going on around him, the more everyone returned to their daily routine with no concerns about his interfering in their affairs.
Mairead had not been able to see Hamish’s eyes due to the distance and her vantage point, but she could tell that he was studying everything and everyone. Probably had been since the moment he walked into Foinaven. And yet no one realized that Hamish was mentally logging every detail of their lives. And while she was impressed at his ability to observe life in Foinaven as if he were not there, it still grated her that he was not doing more.
Foinaven and its people were desperate for strong leadership—even if just for a few days or weeks until Robert recovered. And Hamish could give that to them, but not if he continued to refuse to offer guidance or establish order on the even simplest of things!
When another cart came in disrupting her line of sight, Mairead had decided she needed a better vantage point and had taken a step back in order to maneuver closer to the stables. She froze when her back
came into contact with something large, bulky, and warm. She inhaled, knowing immediately not what—but who—it was.
Turning around, Mairead stared at Hamish’s chest, refusing to look up. She wondered just how long he had been aware of her watching him. Forcing herself to answer his gaze, she tried her best to put on a slightly surprised but relaxed expression. It immediately turned into a grimace.
Hamish was bestowing on her one of his largest and most triumphant grins. No longer was there any doubt whether he had seen her following him around. Only question was when had he caught her and her gut said it had been some time ago. Along with everyone else he had been observing, she had somehow captured his attention.
Seeing her scowl, Hamish widened his grin. “I’m going to talk to the candlemaker and ask him for some additional candles for my room. Want to introduce me? Or do you prefer watching me from a distance?”
Mairead had forced herself to unclench her jaw and smile back. “The candlemaker’s name is Conley. You can find him in the north wing over there,” she said, pointing across the courtyard, “next to the silversmith.”
“Coming?” He used his thumb to point where she told him to go.
“Um, I’m too busy standing here doing nothing but stare at people. The importance of which is something I am sure you understand,” Mairead replied, refusing to pretend she had not been watching him. Impossibly, his smile only grew. She bet she could count all his teeth.
Hamish rocked back on his heels. “Well, just in case you are tempted to follow me again, when I leave the candlemaker, I’m going to the buttery and get a drink, and then I’m going to visit Robert.” He then crossed his arms and leaned down to whisper, “I won’t be meeting the guards until the morning and I’ll start with those in the towers. You can follow me if you want again tomorrow, but up by the battlements might make it pretty difficult to eavesdrop.”
Then he had winked at her.
Just the memory of it made Mairead want to bang her head on the stone wall. The man defined what it meant to be infuriating. She was not sure how Hamish did it, but he always seemed to be one step ahead. Mairead did not consider herself to be a controlling person, but typically she was the one who knew all that was around her. Inexplicably, Hamish now had that power and if she did not find some means to yank that control back, her sanity would soon be in jeopardy.
Mairead paused just as she was about to push open the door to her chamber. A smile she had not felt all day curled her lips as an idea came to mind. It was not the cleverest of ideas, but it could not be any worse than eavesdropping had proven to be.
Best part was that even if it did not work, it would teach Hamish what it was like to be at the mercy of something he could not control.
* * *
Hamish heard the door open and smiled to himself as he heard Mairead’s footsteps come toward the large hearth. He had just finished polishing his sword, which had been desperately in need of his attention. The entire time he had been working the metal back to a deadly shine, he had been thinking about her and their short encounter that afternoon.
He had asked Mairead to join him to see the candlemaker for two reasons. Partially, because making her realize that she had been caught spying would rankle her. As anticipated, her eyes had come alive and she had bristled with energy. Mairead was naturally pretty, but mad, she was gorgeous. However, the main reason he had wanted to aggravate her was something he would never let anyone—especially Mairead—know. The woman was incredibly good at spying.
It has been by pure chance that he had observed her behind him. Hamish doubted anyone else in the castle had known she was in the courtyard. Once he had realized what she was doing, he had decided to see just how good she was at reconnoitering. What he discovered was both impressive and disconcerting. Mairead was a natural. She moved neither too late or too early and she always had a place to go where she could remain hidden and yet have a line of sight to him. It was a miracle he had spotted her.
He could not afford to let her continue this latest strategy of hers. Sooner or later it would work and everyone would be aware of details before he was ready. Just when his brother learned certain aspects of his plan were critical to its success. Hamish’s best option had been to make Mairead believe her spying was a hopeless act and to give it up.
He had thought it had worked too when she had left his side in the courtyard. At dinner, however, he was not so sure. Mairead had cheerfully enjoyed their less than tasty meal, oozing with a blend of satisfaction and confidence. Her expression was identical to the one Laurel McTiernay wore when she was about to teach Conor a lesson. Hamish’s instincts all screamed that he was about to be taught something he had no intention of learning. And yet he could not wait to discover what it was.
Hamish hummed as he heard Mairead enter the great hall. Seems it would not have to wait. When her footsteps neared, he pointed to the chair she had sat in last time as he glanced over his shoulder. He was about to ask her to join him when he saw that Mairead was carrying a small bag in her hand. She was swinging it back and forth and the mischievous smile she wore should have made him wary. Instead, he found himself entranced.
She had changed into a simple dark green bliaut that hugged her curves perfectly. Her hair was no longer in a complicated knot but down, hanging over her shoulder in a very loose braid. He had thought Mairead could not be more beautiful than when she was angry, but the woman standing before him now took his breath away. Her hazel eyes snapped with excitement and in the firelight, she practically glowed with anticipation. The scent of her fragrant soap settled around him and he knew that if she came within arm’s reach, he would be unable to stop himself from pulling her into his lap and kissing her. And in his current state of mind, she would only have to offer a fragment of the passion she displayed a couple days ago before he disclosed anything she wanted to know.
Hamish cleared his throat. “What do you have there?” he asked, setting aside his sword and cleaning tools.
Mairead bit her bottom lip and wiggled her eyebrows. She moved the small side table so that it was in between the two hearth chairs and then dumped out the contents of the bag. “For someone who prefers to be in control—” Hamish coughed into his hand, causing her to glance his way. Seeing his left brow in a high arch, she quickly amended her statement. “For two people used to being in control, I thought it would be interesting to see what would happen if we let fate—not your obstinacy or my inquisitive nature—decide just what each other knows.”
Hamish eyed Mairead carefully and then picked up the knucklebones to study them. “Determination and persistence. Fantastic qualities rarely found in a woman.”
“What about curiosity?”
“Interesting choice of words. Most would call what you do spying.”
Mairead stared at him pointedly and then glanced at the bones in his hands. She tried not to look too eager, but Hamish had yet to agree to play. “If you agree to play, I will have no reason to observe you anymore.”
Hamish laughed as he rolled the playing pieces in his hand, realizing that if he did agree, her presence would be a sensual form of torture. And yet sending her away was impossible. It had been too long since he had felt anything and what Mairead stirred inside of him was something he was not willing to let go—at least not yet.
Nodding, he pointed at her chair again. “So what rules are we playing by?”
“Whoever wins the round gets to ask the other a question,” Mairead stated simply.
His agreement had come suspiciously easily and much too quickly. It was unnecessary to say that the other must not only answer, but do so honestly. And until just a moment ago, she had not been afraid that Hamish would tell an untruth, but that he might not agree to play. Now she wondered what element of her brilliant plan was amiss. The smile Hamish was wearing was far too genuine.
“Count by knuckle or set?”
Mairead licked her lips and smiled. “Set of course.”
“Who goes first?”
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“You,” Mairead answered. “You’re the guest.”
Hamish shrugged and then shook the four small bones in his hand before dropping them. Each sheep knuckle could land in a way that provided one of four results: flat, twisted, concave, or convex. There were various ways to play with the pieces. Counting by set meant that rather than each bone holding a value, the combination of all four determined one’s score.
Mairead looked down and frowned. Hamish had rolled one of each shape—the highest scoring combination. She swept the bones into her hand and tossed them on the table. She rolled a dog—four concave shapes—which of course, was the lowest of all set values. She sat back and asked, “Your question?”
Hamish studied her and found himself wishing they were playing another type of knucklebone game—one that involved the removal of clothes. His lower body immediately reacted to the thought. He quickly adjusted his seat and said the first subject that popped into his mind. “Why do Foinaven kitchens function so poorly?”
The question took Mairead by surprise. She had thought he would ask about that afternoon and what she was doing in the courtyard to which she had already planned a truthful but innocuous reply. But no, his mind was like that of all other men—either on women or his stomach. She had hoped it would be her as the dress she chose normally attracted a man’s attention, but it seemed Hamish was immune. “Is the food really that bad?”
Hamish blinked. One of Mairead’s semi-loose curls had fully escaped and now hung across her forehead. “Um, well, I’m used to Fiona’s cooking—she runs the McTiernay kitchens—and she is one of the best in the Highlands.”
Mairead watched his face change to one of longing as he thought about the McTiernay cook and her food. “So, aye, it is that bad. At least compared to what you are used to.”
Hamish suddenly felt a little guilty. “Aye, but there is a price to pay for good food. Fiona’s a tyrant to all who enter her kitchens—it doesn’t matter who. I have even seen her speak sharply to the laird.”
Never Kiss a Highlander Page 13