Never Kiss a Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  Hamish had known Robert was going to say something, but he had not expected his own anger to rise when he did. How could his brother be so blind to the shortcomings of his wife? Of course, Mairead was angry! It was most likely her outrage that was keeping him from also being cross with the situation. “My wife’s behavior is not only appropriate, but justified,” Hamish said through gritted teeth. “And because of your wife, not only do I have to suffer through another godforsaken tough and flavorless meal, but those who are visiting do as well!”

  Robert’s jaw clenched and he reached out to grab his wife’s hand and give it a squeeze. “There is nothing wrong with this food.”

  Conor coughed in his hand with surprise at hearing that Robert was serious.

  “And that is why I’m forbidding your wife to ever go near Foinaven’s kitchens again.” Hamish did not raise his voice, but its effect was the same as if he had been yelling.

  Mairead wanted to throw her arms around him and tell Hamish how much she loved him while at the same time run out of the room in mortification. Their first family fight and they were having it not just in front of others but the McTiernays!

  With all the dignity she could muster, Mairead looked to Laurel and said, “I apologize.”

  Laurel gave her an encouraging half smile. “You forget. I love a good row. It’s nice to be the spectator. I’m usually one of the participants. And I knew from earlier today that something was brewing between you and your sister. It was a wonder that either of you have held out this long. The quality of food though, that would have done it for me as well.”

  Conor picked up the piece of hard, dried meat and let it drop. “You call this food?”

  Laurel elbowed him. “Not now, unless you want to join this ruckus.”

  Conor steepled his fingers and let go only a hrmph.

  Mairead wished Laurel’s simple dismissal could alleviate her anger, but it did not. She needed to leave before she said more to further humiliate herself. “I will talk with Hellie and see if some better fare can be brought out.” She would go, but she doubted anything could be found. All had already been prepared and ruined. It would take hours to prep the other fowl and meats, cook it, and then offer it to their guests.

  Selah watched her sister leave via the door to the kitchens and without a word, left through the main doors to the courtyard.

  Laurel popped some bread in her mouth, completely unfazed. Conor tried another piece of fowl and grunted as his teeth ground the flavorless meat. Robert just shook his head, still stunned. “Over food,” he muttered. “Who gets so angry over an overcooked meal?”

  Laurel looked at the man in disbelief. Robert’s features were very similar to Hamish’s, but to her, that was where the similarities ended. “Me,” she answered unequivocally. “If this had been served to my guests, I’m not sure just who and how many would be injured from my wrath, but I doubt it would be limited to only your wife. If what Mairead said is true and Selah did change the kitchen staff without permission, then Selah would be my first target.”

  Robert’s face turned red with fury and Laurel suspected that this was the first time anyone had ever informed him that his wife was not perfect and that she had done something to cause someone’s ire. Selah had not been exaggerating when she said that neither she nor Robert had ever raised their voices against each other. As such, neither knew what to do. Laurel felt a modicum of pity. “Your wife definitely has some explaining to do,” she began. “However, I am convinced that her intrusion on Mairead’s role as lady of the castle has far less to do with missing the responsibility as Mairead thinks, and more to do with something far more personal.”

  Laurel rose to her feet. “This should be interesting.” Then she pointed to one of the platters. “The bread and the cheese are edible, Conor.” Then after placing a kiss on his cheek, she turned to leave. “Eat those while I go meddle.”

  Conor clutched her fingers just in time. “Do you really need to get involved?”

  Laurel glanced over her shoulder and blinked at him, surprised he even needed to ask. “Of course I do! How can I refuse such a compelling invitation?”

  * * *

  Laurel found Mairead sitting in front of a fire in a small keep room. By the décor, Laurel could tell it was where both sisters went to sit and talk.

  Mairead turned her head and upon seeing Laurel, said, “Lady McTiernay, I am very sorry for my outburst earlier, but I really would like to be left alone.”

  The use of her title was definitely a hint, but Laurel ignored it. “Not surprising and I would probably feel the same way. It was fortunate that tonight it was just Conor and me, for you are right to assume other lairds might have taken offense by what was served.”

  “I think your husband did take offense,” Mairead mumbled, looking back at the fire.

  “Conor does love his food and he is not used to such fare.”

  Selah gasped behind her, feeling the intended barb. Laurel felt no regret at the harsh words. It was important the woman understood that in her effort to prove something to Mairead, there could have been serious consequences. Right now, the men were just going to be a little hungrier than they might have been. Laurel would be more concerned if Conor had not assured her that she would enjoy tomorrow’s outcome.

  Hearing the sudden intake of her sister’s breath, Mairead turned around and saw that it was indeed Selah. She shifted her gaze to Laurel. “As I told you before, Lady McTiernay, I do not wish to be disturbed.”

  Laurel entered the room and sat down beside her. “Well, fortunately for you I love Hamish like a brother, which makes you family. And as you so eloquently pointed out tonight, families interfere and usually when least wanted.”

  Selah stepped into the room as well, her arms crossed. Laurel had found her pacing in the courtyard, oblivious to the cold night air. The two sisters were furious with each other and if left on their own it would take them days, if not weeks, to finally truly speak all that was in their hearts.

  At this moment, Selah thought what she wanted was an apology and Laurel had hinted that she might get one if she went with her to see Mairead. Laurel, however, was not about to take sides. It might have seemed like she supported Mairead, but she had heard very clearly just why her older sister was in so much pain. Unlike when you were in charge of this castle, I don’t want or need your help. Ouch.

  Laurel waited for nearly a minute for either sister to seize the opportunity to speak. After a minute, it became clear that it would not happen without some prompting. “If I’d known how much trouble cleaning a room would be, I would’ve insisted Conor and I sleep in dust.”

  Mairead let go a disgusted snort. Laurel smiled.

  Keeping her gaze locked on the fire, Mairead sneered, “I know you have a reason for what you did, Selah, but I cannot think of anything to justify your actions.”

  “Justify my actions!” Selah huffed. “I’m not the one who cut two men and their families off with no support. Both were shocked and devastated when you fired them. More than that, neither has been able to find work on someone’s farms or fishing boat. I think it is you who need to justify just how you can be so heartless!”

  “Heartless? Einns is a mean drunk and working at the castle near the ale enables him to remain inebriated at all times. His family was relieved that he no longer had access, but you fell for his pleas that he was the injured party.” Selah’s jaw dropped. Her hazel eyes grew large and tears began to form. It was clear she had no idea. But Mairead was not finished. “And Einns is an angel compared to Torphin. He is lazy and actually enjoys causing problems. He grossly insults whoever he works with and threatens and berates them into doing his job. He terrorized people daily and I’ve tried for years to get you to listen to me when you had the chance to fix things. He is made from the same cloth as Ulrick. He is lucky that I only dismissed him from the castle and did not ask Hamish to banish him altogether!”

  “I . . . I . . . didn’t know,” Selah stammered, the tears in h
er eyes starting to fall. “I was just trying to help.”

  Mairead, however, was finally releasing all that she had been thinking and was not inclined to stop until she was done. “You were not trying to help, Selah, for you were content to let me do the majority of the work running this castle. Now that you do not have the responsibility, you suddenly crave it and step in every chance you have and try to assert your will over mine. It confuses the staff, it infuriates me, and mostly it creates chaos, causing poor work and embarrassing debacles like tonight’s meal.”

  Selah stood immobile. No one had ever spoken to her so strongly, but then she always prided herself on resolving problems, not causing them.

  Seeing her distress, Laurel leaned over and patted her hand. “Everyone reacts differently to pain, especially when inflicted by a family member.”

  Selah lifted her eyes to look at Laurel and Laurel realized that she had guessed correctly. This was not a play for power. This was a response to how Mairead assumed responsibility and the number of changes she was making. It was an indirect way of saying that for years she had thought her sister had done a poor job.

  Selah swallowed and looked back down at her hands. “Mairead is just so eager to change everything,” she said to Laurel. It was easier telling Laurel than directing what she was really feeling to Mairead. “I understand that this is now her home, but it was my home.”

  Mairead ignored Laurel, who rose to her feet and left the room. It was a good thing, because Mairead could feel the tension rising in her again and this time she did not want to censor her words. “Do you still want to be the lady of the castle?”

  Selah shook her head. It was a relief not to have those responsibilities. She never liked them and always felt jealous that Mairead, who was eight years younger, handled them so easily. “I’m glad you are lady of Foinaven. You naturally know what to do, where I’m a natural peacemaker.”

  Finally understanding what was at the crux of Selah’s actions, Mairead began to calm. “That is a vital part to being a laird’s wife, Selah. I would have no hope of knowing how to do that if not for you and your guidance these last twelve years. I was able to make these changes so swiftly because I had learned from you how to work with people and be empathetic to their needs. I’m far from good at it, but at least I know to try.”

  Mairead’s concession gave Selah the courage to say what really weighed on her mind and heart. “I thought that every time you made a decision you knew I would never have agreed to, you were intimating that I had done a poor job. That you were looking for ways to show me how I had failed.”

  Mairead felt her anger dissipate even more. It had been growing for so long it felt like a huge weight was being lifted. She had no idea that Selah felt this way, but now that she was looking at all her changes from her sister’s point of view, she could believe it.

  “Selah, nothing could be further from the truth. I am so sorry.”

  Laurel returned with a third chair and a large bag. “I think I filched the chair from your son’s room,” she said to Selah. “You don’t mind?” The elder sister shook her head. Laurel put it near the fire and all three women sat down. “I suspect that if you stopped looking at all the changes Mairead made, you will find that there is a lot more that she kept.”

  Mairead nodded her head and started listing them. After several minutes of hugs and reaffirmations of love and admiration, Laurel was ready to finally talk about why she had insisted on journeying north, for it was not just to meet Hamish’s bride but to see them properly married.

  “Absolutely!” Selah squealed, the depression previously weighing down on her instantly vanished. “That is what I was wanting to talk about this afternoon!”

  Mairead was not so positive. A third wedding ceremony? She was lucky that Hamish had been willing to do the first two. A third in such a short period of time would certainly make him rethink things. Aye, they were more than compatible in bed, but Hamish had yet to say that he loved her. And if he did not feel that way by now, she was not sure he ever would. “Hamish was content with a handfast and so am I. I think anything more would be . . . unwise.”

  Laurel just smiled and would not be dissuaded. “If that is all, then Father Lanaghly will just remind him that all McTiernays marry at sunset. It was the whole reason he insisted on coming, after all.”

  Mairead tried once again to explain that Hamish was not a McTiernay, but Laurel seemed too intent on what was in the bag to listen. “I’m not sure that Hamish will want another ceremony.”

  “What do you mean?” Selah posed rhetorically. “Of course Hamish will! He loves you!”

  Mairead’s eyes grew large at the mistaken claim. “Hamish cares for me, but love?”

  “If Hamish exchanged vows with you, then his love for you must be very deep and he must believe you share that sentiment,” Laurel answered without hesitation. “I’ve known him for ten years and he has never come close to marriage. Oh, he flirted with a number of women and pretended to entertain the idea of marrying one day, but he told me once very soon after we met that he was waiting for what Conor and I have. I don’t think anything could have enticed him to share vows with you if you had not fully captured his heart.”

  Mairead smiled and pretended to be convinced, and she wanted to be, but something in her yearned to know why, if Laurel was correct, Hamish did not tell her himself. He had had plenty of opportunities and he had to know how much she longed to hear him say that he loved her after hearing her whisper those words to him so often.

  Laurel reached into the bag and pulled out a beautiful gown. Both sisters gasped. Laurel giggled. “And Conor thought stopping by Cole’s was a waste of time.” She laid out the nearly complete gown across her lap and handed the top to Mairead so she could see the intricacy of the beadwork. “Someday you will get to meet the rest of Hamish’s family. Cole is one of Conor’s younger brothers and is a McTiernay laird of lands near Loch Torridon.” Mairead opened her mouth again to clarify that Hamish was a MacBrieve laird, not a McTiernay one, but did not have a chance. “Cole’s wife’s best friend used to live with us and she does the most beautiful beadwork I have ever seen. Upon my arrival and news that Hamish was going to marry, we focused on nothing else but this gown. We left the stitching open here and here because we were not sure of your size, but I did pummel the herald with enough questions to get an idea of your coloring and height.”

  Mairead fingered the garment. It was a rich burgundy with pearl beads intricately sewn along the wide collar and sleeves. It was simple and yet with her hair coloring, it would be stunning.

  Selah let go a low whistle. “It is a shame that you will not be wearing it very long.” She looked at Laurel and added with a wink, “Hamish left his last wedding celebration nearly as soon as it began.”

  Mairead had a feeling that her sister was right. This gown would make anyone look irresistible. She just wished it had the power to make Hamish admit his feelings.

  Laurel ordered her to try it on so that she could mark the hem. Selah left to wake up Foinaven’s best seamstress and put her to work.

  “I have a feeling this gown will get much use over the years.” Laurel looked thoughtfully as she stroked the luxurious material. “There are certain outfits . . . and robes . . . that let Conor know my mood and feelings.” It was true. Her robe was an especially useful tool when Conor was being most stubborn about something. “Maybe this gown will remind Hamish that some words—no matter how much the other knows them to be true—still need to be said.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Amon, Conor, and Hamish sat on their horses and examined the campfires not far in the distance. Yesterday afternoon, when the men started gathering on the ridge, they had seen the Mackays begin to make camp. The time had come. In another hour, the sun would rise and he would be facing one of the fiercest Highland lairds. Either they would part amicably and Ulrick would be removed as a presence from the Mackay clan, or blood would be shed. It was a large risk, forcing Donald Mackay t
o meet him, but Hamish was calm.

  Amon lightly pulled on his reins to keep his horse still. If someone had told him at the beginning of the year that he would give up his life as a farmer to be commander of the MacBrieve army, he would have thought them mad. It was not that he disliked being a farmer for it was not nearly as dull as he had thought it would be, but it was not the type of challenge that spoke to his soul. There were many others capable and willing to take over those duties, but that was not the case for Hamish’s burgeoning guard. Being a commander was something Amon was uniquely suited for and he had loved every minute so far. Mostly because he loved following a laird who believed it was more important to be able to outthink his opponents and not rely on outfighting them.

  Conor had been amused when Hamish had said his strategic skills came from being with the McTiernays for so many years; Conor knew otherwise. Some things could be taught, but others people were born to. And Hamish was born to lead.

  Hamish sat quietly and studied the horizon. He had no doubt his plan could work, but success hinged on one last vital component and it required Hamish to give up something he had protected for years. But if he was to grow this clan like he envisioned, making it strong and formidable, he could not be like a McTiernay . . . he needed to be a McTiernay.

  Hamish looked at Conor, who returned his steady gaze. “Any questions?”

  Conor shook his head. “None. My men know what to do.”

  “Then I just have one more thing I must ask of you, as a friend and someone whom I respect who already has my allegiance,” Hamish began solemnly. “I have no wish to meet Donald Mackay as the MacBrieve laird.”

  Amon froze. He could not believe what he was hearing.

  “I wish to meet the man as who I truly am. A McTiernay.”

  Conor smiled. “A McTiernay laird,” he corrected.