Chapter Ten
Mairead stared at the small knife in Hamish’s hand and tried hard to listen to what he was telling her. But she really did not want to learn to attack someone. She wanted to be able to defend herself, which is why she had asked to be trained on the dirk—not the sgian dubh. Known as the black knife due to the color of the bog wood in its handle, the small knife did not feel substantial enough to stop someone. It was made for cutting and slicing things, not for fighting. The dirk, on the other hand, was almost twenty inches and though it was nothing like a sword, it could at least do some damage. But Hamish had been adamant. No dirk. He would only train her on the sgian dubh and since she did not want to do anything that might cause him to change his mind, Mairead had quickly agreed.
She had been frightened when she heard a bang on her door early that morning. Only one person could have a reason to rouse her that early—Robert had relapsed. She had flown to the door in only her chemise, thinking it was Selah on the other side. Seeing Hamish, looking somber and still a little angry, she had stiffened, unable to move or speak.
He had taken a long look at her, his gaze traveling up and down her barely clothed frame, but when his eyes recaptured hers, they still held no warmth. Mairead felt terror then for she knew he had stopped by just to tell her he was leaving and she would not see him again. That his secret was now hers to tell, for keeping it no longer mattered. She had held her breath waiting for his crushing words, when he agreed to train her. Shock simply did not cover the range of emotions she felt.
“After the noon meal, meet me by the river where it bends sharp just north of the village. There is an odd-shaped boulder there. Do you know it?”
All Mairead had been able to do was nod. She knew the rock he was talking about. It was a large chunk of granite jutting out from the ground that had been exposed by the wind and the rain. It was near a part of River Naver that was fairly close to Foinaven but difficult to access, due to the thick, tall weeds and thistles that grew in clumps along the shoreline. When she finally emerged on the other side of the brush, Mairead realized it was an ideal spot for training. It was remote, private, protected from the wind and a large portion of the beach was exposed.
As Mairead watched Hamish move the small knife, several footprints in the sand caught her attention. They led to the water’s edge and she guessed that this was where Hamish went to bathe.
“Are you paying attention?” The tone was sharp, causing Mairead’s eyes to snap back to what Hamish was doing.
Hamish grimaced at her lack of focus. Ever since he had left her in the great hall he had been stewing. Learning that Mairead feared for her safety had sent him to the edge of reason. Mairead’s words and her beseeching look had haunted him all day and night. Everything in him screamed to resolve the problem and fix it so that she never had to be afraid again. It took him hours before he realized that no matter what he decided to do, Mairead was right about one thing. She needed to be trained and not by anyone else. Not by Davros or even Amon. He needed to ensure she had the ability and the means to defend herself at all times, which meant knowing how to fight with a sgian dubh, not a dirk. A dirk was big and could not be hidden. But a black knife could be strapped to an arm or a leg and be on her at all times.
But protecting Mairead was not going to end with knife training. Hamish intended to do whatever was necessary to ensure she never used what he was teaching her. His next steps would be decided after he learned the name of the man she feared.
“Focus, Mairead. It was you who wanted this so badly, so prove it.” Hamish frowned. He was barking instructions and being anything but kind and friendly, but he was finding it difficult to rein in his anger.
Seeing he had her full attention, Hamish forced his tone to soften. He needed her to listen, not be afraid of him. “The first thing you need to understand is that a dagger is the most intimate of all weapons. Spears as well as bows and arrows kill at a distance. Even with hand weapons like the sword and halberd, you thrust outward to cause injury. Fighting with a dagger can only be done when two people are close. When a dagger connects, your hand will practically touch flesh and because the blade is short, one has only two defenses—attack or flee.”
Mairead swallowed and Hamish could see fear in her eyes. Her look comforted him to a degree. She needed to understand that what he was telling her was nothing like what she had been doing with the sword. That was to satisfy some need for physical challenge. What he was going to show her now was about life and death. “The best defense against a dagger is just not to be there. When you see one, you leave. But if you are the one wielding the knife, use it and without hesitation. If an attacker sees you waver, he will snatch the blade out of your hands and use it against you.” He paused. Mairead’s eyes had been locked with him the entire time, but it was critical that she grasped his meaning. “Do you understand what I am saying? Because you cannot protect yourself with a sgian dubh or even a dirk. Deflecting attacks with a small blade is not feasible and you have neither the weight nor the strength to fight a man. Defending yourself with a dirk means you must know how to fight with one. It’s close and it’s bloody.”
Mairead tilted her chin up in reaction to the challenge. “I understand.” Her eyes narrowed but did not waver. “Just show me where and how to aim.”
If Hamish had any doubt before that Mairead wanted this training, the look in her hazel eyes erased it. “Here, here, here, and here,” he said, pointing to his kidneys, liver, stomach, and heart. “Do not go for the chest. These blades glance off ribs easily, and while they do damage, it would not be enough to stop a man before he was able to attack back. Then you will lose whatever advantage you have. Now point to the areas I just showed you.”
Mairead did.
“Give me your blade.” Hamish reached out and wiggled his fingers, beckoning her to hand over the weapon. When she did, he gave her a short but thick stick. “Grip this and pretend it’s the blade.” Mairead did as instructed. Centered in her palm, the branch was not visible on either side of her fist, but it still gave her the feeling of what it would be like to hold the black knife. “Now close your eyes, count to three, and when you open them, show them to me again, but use the side of your fist.”
Mairead did so and found that Hamish had moved to the side, but she quickly acclimated herself and pointed to the vulnerable spots.
“Again, but this time move faster and don’t punch, but slice. Pretend the blade is in your hand. If you don’t make contact with your thumb, you missed.”
Mairead closed her eyes and when she opened them, lunged for all four spots, but the awkward angle made it difficult. They tried several more times before Hamish mumbled something under his breath about wasting his time. “You are thinking too much before you act. If your life is in danger, you have no time to think and strategize. If you move slowly, you might as well just concede and not fight at all.”
Hamish knew he was being harsh, but he had to be. Time was not on their side. She needed to learn these moves in the next few days and then practice them over and over. They had to become second nature.
Hamish also knew that he needed his anger to remain at the surface, affecting everything he said and felt. Without it, his other emotions would take over—desire, doubt, passion, stress, longing, misery, guilt, fear—all of which he felt when near Mairead, and none that he could control.
Mairead closed her eyes, determined to increase her speed. She counted to three and this time used her other senses to know where he was, rather than just her eyesight. It worked. She was able to lunge almost immediately and her aim was true. However, she still struggled with getting her fist to make contact as it would in a fight.
“Again. But in a different order.”
Mairead nodded each time as Hamish ordered her to attack him. She did it again and again, until she was finding him and making contact without hardly thinking.
“Good. Those are the vital organs, but they are not the only places you can attack. There is the arm”—he showed her where to slice the upper forearm—“and the back of the knee. And remember, each time you make contact the result will be bloody, so grip the handle hard, else your blade will slip through your hand.”
Mairead nodded and once again they started repeating maneuvers over and over after he demonstrated them to her. He showed her how to come in at the side, from behind, how to deflect attention, and use her size and femininity to her advantage.
They continued to work as the sun started to sink. Despite the air temperature dropping by several degrees, Mairead was sweating. She was putting everything into this session and Hamish was impressed. She was nowhere close to being competent at any maneuver, but that she could repeat some of them at all was amazing. Her abilities with a sword were a tremendous advantage. She understood how to balance her body and thrust and move.
If anyone had come upon them, their close proximity would have been seen as intimate, despite there being nothing intimate in Mairead’s touch. Tension ran throughout her entire body and except for the beginning her mind had been completely focused on what they were doing and why. She was not having fun. Everything about her demeanor cried out that Mairead didn’t want to learn how to use a knife. She needed to.
Mairead sidestepped and aimed her fist for his liver, but Hamish twisted out of the way, tripping her. Mairead fell, but then targeted the back of his leg and he could feel her muddy fist swipe the back of his knee.
He chuckled to himself, wishing everyone he trained learned as quickly as she did. “I’m impressed,” Hamish said, offering his hand to help her up. She said nothing and dusted the sand off her gown.
Mo chreach, Hamish wanted to know just who it was threatening her. At first he thought it might be Ulrick, but Mairead knew that Hamish would not leave as long as he was a threat. And Mairead was not Ulrick’s type, Hamish had reminded himself repeatedly. He had seen Ulrick around women. He liked them wanton and sleazy. No, it had to be one of Ulrick’s men, someone Mairead was afraid might remain at Foinaven even after Ulrick was gone. That was why she had pressed to know his plan. Mairead had wanted to know who would stay and who would go. What she would soon learn was that it didn’t matter. Whoever she was afraid of—and he would learn his name—was not ever going to be in a position to threaten her again.
“We’re done,” Hamish said, gathering his things. “We’ll meet here again tomorrow. And I will tell you how to best avoid a blade.”
And tomorrow, you will tell me the mac na galla’s name.
* * *
“Today, your real training begins.”
Mairead quirked a brow. She did not say it aloud, but she could not keep her face and her body from showing her frustration. Just what had they been doing all day yesterday? She had returned to Foinaven exhausted but exhilarated. She knew that she would have to go over and over what Hamish showed her so that she could do the maneuvers without thought, but she had learned. Really learned. She had fallen asleep with a peaceful mind that actually held hope.
Hamish had been demanding, but he was also clear, conveying how to pivot and twist, and the advantages and disadvantages of each tactic. He had pushed her to do more than she thought she could at times, but in the end, she had surprised herself by performing all that he had asked. Her motivation was not meeting the challenge or even to make him proud. She was doing this for her.
“Yesterday was about learning how to defend yourself with a blade. Today is about defending yourself when you don’t have one.” Mairead pursed her lips together in understanding. Hamish was not teaching her how to use a dirk like she had asked. He was preparing her for what might come. He had seen her fear and even though she had refused to tell him what was its cause, he had guessed. But had he guessed who?
Hamish got out his dirk and held it like he was going to attack. “Now that you know how to attack and the movements used, it will be easier to learn how to throw an attacker off balance and use their weight to your advantage.”
Mairead’s eyes brightened as she understood Hamish’s teaching strategy. Yesterday had been just about offense and how to attack—or so she had thought. Hamish had actually been teaching her how to defend herself all along.
He handed her a sgian dubh that was sheathed. Attached to the scabbard was a long, thin strap of leather. “Cut the hem of the pocket in your dress and then strap the blade to the outside of your thigh where it will be hidden but not uncomfortable.” When she looked at him dubiously, he said, “If you are attacked, it’s doubtful you will have a dagger just sitting in your hand. Therefore, you will need to have one on you that you can get to and remove quickly.”
Mairead licked her lips and bobbed her head in agreement. “That makes sense.” She found the pocket in her gown and ripped a hole in it. She liked pockets and most of her bliauts had them. By the end of the week though they all would, and every one of them would be unusable as pockets.
Mairead then turned around, hiked up her skirt and the chemise underneath, and tied the sgian dubh to her leg. How glad she was that she had not insisted on a dirk. It would have been impossible to wear like this. The black knife, on the other hand, could be kept hidden and gave her a means of defense at all times.
“You are going to learn only three moves today. And like yesterday, we are going to go over them and over them until you can do it without thought. Muscle memory takes a while to build, but the more you do these moves, the faster and more natural your movements will feel. So practice them daily and when possible, several times throughout the day.”
Mairead tapped the side of her leg, feeling the small knife through the material. “I’m ready.”
* * *
For the next hour, Mairead practiced what to do if facing an attacker, whether they were armed or not. Then Hamish made her lie down, to learn what to do if she was asleep when ambushed. Lying on the damp sand was unpleasant and cold, and when she suggested on top of a rock, or even some of the drier grass, Hamish had refused. She could see his point—that she needed to be able to focus regardless of the conditions—but she really hated sand in her hair and quickly figured out how to unsheathe her blade while prone. She just had to commit. Hesitation was the enemy.
The third and final move was the most difficult. It was when Hamish came up from behind. She was getting frustrated and knew that she was doomed if an attacker grabbed her. She was just not strong enough to get her hand free to access the sgian dubh and get an advantage.
“Relax,” Hamish murmured softly against her cheek. “Relax your entire body.”
Tension rolled over her. The last thing Mairead could do was relax. She hated the feeling of being out of control and Hamish whispering in her ear did not help. Yesterday had been all about stabbing and slicing. It was harder to keep that level of focus with Hamish’s arms around her. “I can’t.”
“Aye, you can. Don’t think of it as a lack of control, but a way to gain it back. A body that is completely limp is very difficult to keep ahold of, let alone dominate. An attacker will have to let go to get a better grip, giving you a chance to get to your knife.”
Mairead took a deep breath and forced her limbs to ease. When she could feel them respond, she told her body to go limp. When it worked, she shrieked, “I did it!” instead of remembering that she was fighting off an attacker.
Hamish chuckled and again it was next to her ear. “Aye, aingeal, you did it. But I still have you.”
Mairead tilted her head to the right and cracked her neck. Then with a nod, she said, “Again.”
Hamish smiled hearing her use the word. Mairead struggled for a minute and then all at once went limp. But she took too long going for her knife. She needed more seconds than that one maneuver would allow. “Remember, even at your size and weight, you can fight using more than just a knife. An attacker will be focused on using his own blade and expecting it to create panic. Use that to your advantage. Stomp your heel down on the top of the foot. Does that make sense?”
The only hint that Mairead was about to demonstrate just how much sense it made was her smile. It flashed just as her heel came down on his toes. Hamish winced and fought the desire to hop around and moan in pain. He thought Mairead would at least look apologetic, but all she said was, “Be glad I didn’t aim for your groin.”
Hamish did moan then. “You do that and training will be over.”
Mairead bit back a smile and turned around so that he could grab her again. She went limp and then surprised him by stomping on his foot again. He had not been expecting her to aim at the same foot and was mentally berating himself for underestimating her. “That was, uh, good. But you stopped. Once free, kick again and anywhere that is vulnerable—the shin, the calf, and the knee. You obviously already know about where you can cause the most pain, but you need to kick hard. Remember, the point is to give you enough time to get your knife free.”
Mairead narrowed her gaze, unconvinced that he really meant for her to do that during training. “But I’ll hurt you.”
“No, you won’t. I won’t let you, but you need to try.”
Mairead arched her brows and shrugged her shoulders. Hamish held her once more. “Now, use anything that can move to your advantage. Your fingers can stab eyes or—”
Mairead understood what he meant and had an idea. She rammed her head under his chin, slamming his jaw shut. Hamish immediately let go. “Ow!” And before he realized it Mairead had the blade in her hand and was ready to attack.
When she saw him rubbing his chin, grimacing, she immediately put her arm down. Worry overtook her expression. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he groaned, wiggling his jaw. “That . . . that was good. Just not hard enough. If this were real, try to break it.”
Mairead’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Rebellion shined in the hazel depths. “We are not practicing that!”
“No. We certainly are not.”
Mairead waited a minute until Hamish looked like he was feeling better. “Can we do it again? And this time, I want you to try hard. Really hard to keep me from getting free.”
He had expected her to ask her to quit. That she might have been too afraid of hurting him to want to continue, but Mairead was driven by fear and it was overruling every other emotion. It was a cold reminder that she was not doing this for a lark, but that she truly thought this might save her life. “You’ll bruise.”
“Then bruise me.”
Hamish nodded and she turned around. A second later, he had a hold on her, pinning her arms and body against his chest. Mairead instinctively began to squirm. The more she struggled, the tighter his grip became. She flailed her legs and tossed her head around. She tried to bite but could find no flesh and then without any warning, she collapsed and slipped right out of his grasp.
Immediately she jumped to her feet and reached into her bliaut for her knife while at the same time going for his foot. He shifted and she missed, but she used the momentum to swing her leg around and connect it with the back of his thigh. An inch lower, it would have caught his knee and he would have gone down. But it didn’t matter, his momentary shock gave her enough time to free her knife. Mairead spun around to face him, ready for his next move.
Hamish smiled, enjoying the challenge, and unsheathed his own dirk. Mairead kept her gaze locked on his eyes, ignoring how he was palming the blade. She slowly began to move in a circle to the right. He followed suit. He knew she was not going to attack. She may have known some moves, but none well enough to feel confident in them. But Mairead was quick and she had picked up how to guard against a frontal attack extraordinarily fast. And she knew it.
Hamish lunged, but Mairead had seen him shift his weight and had been prepared for it, easily stepping aside. “Good,” he said with a hint of condescension, “but remember, all of this will feel much different when you are scared.”
Mairead glared at him. She knew he was right just as she knew Hamish was not going to attack her for real.
Hamish and Mairead resumed their slow circle as they faced each other. “Who are you so scared of, aingeal?”
Tension ran through Mairead. “After today, I won’t need to be scared of anyone, will I?” she quipped.
“Is it Ulrick?” he asked. His breath stuck in his throat as he waited for the answer.
“You are trying to distract me.”
Hamish gave her a half grin. “Coming from an expert, that is a compliment.”
Mairead’s brows furrowed, but her concentration did not waver. “What do you mean by that?”
“Yesterday?” he answered in an effort to sound light and playful, but it rang untrue. There was something dark about his tone. “Or when you were sparring the other day? All that flirting?”
“You sound jealous.” Mairead smiled. She couldn’t help it.
“Of a muddy creature like yourself?” He cackled. “Maybe you would like to take a dip in the cool waters.”
At the same time, he faked a lunge, but Mairead had easily avoided the maneuver. She knew he was trying to distract her just as she knew that she was also very dirty. “Do not worry. Before I left today I told the servants to have a bath waiting for me.”
“Kicking everyone out of the kitchens again?”
Mairead attempted a withering gaze. That had been the only time she had ever bathed anywhere but her chambers, but she knew he would never believe her. So instead of going on defense, she decided to poke back. “With you as chaperone?”
“Of course,” he replied without delay.
“Then I’ll decline. I think I should just continue bathing in my room and let you bathe here, where it’s cold.”
Hamish grinned, showing off his dimples. “What can I say? I hate dirty feet.”
“Then you must be miserable right now.”
He just shrugged.
Mairead knew that this banter was not working. Any minute he was going to say something that really distracted her to get the advantage. She needed to do it first. “Are all the McTiernays married? Even Conan? I understand that he is the most attractive brother.”
Hamish froze for a second and Mairead immediately lunged. It was far from perfect, but it might have worked if his instinct had not kicked in. She frowned and he knew that her frustration was mounting. “What do you want to know about Conan?”
Mairead shrugged, refusing to give up. “Just wondering if what I heard about him is true. He is supposed to be the smartest of the McTiernays as well as irresistibly good-looking. I would love to personally see if the rumors are true.”
Hamish stumbled at the image of Mairead and Conan together. He would eventually get bored with her as he did with all women, but by then he would have enjoyed her kisses and much more many times.
Mairead tried to take advantage of his misstep, but she had been just a fraction too slow, giving him a chance to recover. He knew she was goading him, but now she knew it was working. But her words were hard to ignore. It rankled that the McTiernay brothers did not even have to be present to get a woman’s attention.
They were back to facing each other.
“If you have heard rumors about Conan,” Hamish began, “then you also know that he is a pain to everyone, but to women, he can be unfeeling and even cruel.”
Mairead shrugged. “It is sad, really, for even a very smart man could learn a lot from a woman.”
“Conan is a very smart man. By far, the smartest I have ever met and he applies that intelligence every time he wields a weapon.”
Mairead licked her bottom lip slowly, sensually. “But you could beat him.”
Hamish swallowed. He could beat Conan. The second to youngest McTiernay was fast and accurate, but Hamish was stronger and had more stamina. He practiced with weapons daily, while Conan no longer did. In a fight, that would matter. “Aye, I could, but you need not inflate my ego.” This time Hamish lunged unexpectedly and with all the speed he would use against a McTiernay.
Mairead saw it at the last moment and spun low. Hamish had been prepared and aimed down. She moved to avoid his thrust and had almost succeeded in getting out of the way when the edge of his blade caught her upper arm. It sliced through the thick material of her bliaut and it felt like it went deep.
Mairead cried out and fell to her knees, clutching her arm. Hamish flung the blade down and pulled her close to him.“Ó dhìol! Murt! Gabh mo leisgeul!” he cursed, and did so again upon seeing blood begin to seep through her fingers.
Mairead knew Hamish felt guilty, but he had given her what she wanted. What it would be like if he did not hold back. “It’s not bad, Hamish. Really.”
“Let me see, aingeal.” He tried prying her fingers off her arm but was afraid to hurt her any more by forcing her.
Mairead shook her head and wiggled until he let her go. She rose to her feet and with everything she could muster, she let her arm go and waved it around. “See? It barely hurts. It is probably just a scratch, but I probably should get cleaned up and make sure.” Mairead picked her fallen sgian dubh and did her best to sheathe it without wincing. “If I’m wrong I’ll let you know. Stay. Bathe. I know you are dying to clean those feet. Besides, we shouldn’t return together, especially in the filthy state I am in. Would cause too many questions.” Mairead knew she was rambling, but she made sure that she was also smiling. “I’ll see you at dinner!”
“At dinner, aingeal.” His tone was laced with promise that if she was not there, then he would find her.
She flashed him her biggest and brightest smile. “Dinner.” Then she left, praying that the pain receded some, else she was going to have to put on her best performance to convince him that she was fine.
* * *
Hamish knocked once and then pushed open Mairead’s door. He had noticed the other night that she did not bar it, and remembered her saying at dinner one night that little Rab often came into her room to cuddle when he was scared.
He closed the door and slid the wooden bar into place to prevent anyone else from doing what he’d just done. Entering her chambers without permission. But he really did not care if he was caught. He did not care if Selah came by or even if Rab called out, forcing his presence in Mairead’s chambers to be known. She had not come down for dinner and after lying awake for hours, Hamish knew he could not wait until morning to ensure she was well.
Mairead was asleep on her bed. Her hair was down, and sleeping on it unbraided, it was a mess. Her arms were exposed and he could see that the left one was wrapped. She was wearing only a chemise, which was tangled up to her knees, leaving her feet and calves exposed. Hamish just stood there, ogling her in the firelight. She was so beautiful that she took his breath away.
He took another step toward her and the sound caused her to stir. Her eyes opened and she blinked as if she could not believe what she was seeing. “Hamish?”
He nodded. “Aye.” He was about to give her an angry lecture on the hell she had put him through when he saw her wince as she pushed herself to a sitting position. “Mo chreach, Mairead. You promised to tell me if this was more than a scratch.”
“It is a scratch.”
Hamish sat down beside her and began to unwrap the bandage. He could see from the amount of blood on the cloth he was removing that it was far more than a scratch, but he was not going to argue. “How bad does it hurt?”
“Just a little, Hamish, really.” Her words said one thing, but the fact that she was not fighting his efforts was not a good sign.
“Then why were you not down at dinner tonight?” He tugged lightly on the last bit, which had partially dried to her injury, and she fought from crying out. Tears, however, escaped her eyes. Hamish brushed them with his thumbs and then kissed her forehead. He was relieved. There was no fever. Hopefully, he was in time and there wouldn’t be. “You will feel better soon, aingeal. I promise.”
Mairead watched as he picked up a very small bag that he must have put down when he sat beside her. “What is that?”
“Something for you.”
Mairead recoiled. The cut was painful and it was longer than she had thought, but it thankfully was not very deep. However, she was not certain that Hamish would agree. If he had a needle and thread in that bag, there was no way she was going to let him touch her.
Hamish could see the spirit of non-cooperation grow in her eyes. “I’m going to only look at it, aingeal, so you might as well yield now.”
Before she could stop him, Hamish reached out and grabbed her waist and pulled her back toward him. Mairead squirmed to get free. “Mo chreach-sa a thàinig, Mairead! You are hurt and I will be taking a look at that arm.”
Mairead pointed to the small sack with her good arm. “What’s in the bag?” she demanded with bite.
Rolling his eyes, he let her go and opened it. He pushed it under her nose so that she could smell it. “It’s just some herbs that Laurel gave me before I left. It’s something she uses to patch up all the McTiernay soldiers and we carry it with us because you never know when a blade might get you. I’m not sure what it is, but I can tell you from experience that it speeds the healing and usually keeps any fever away.”
Mairead swallowed. “That’s all. Herbs and no . . . needle?”
He looked at her questioningly and back at her arm. It did not seem that deep, but if she was scared that it needed to be stitched, perhaps it was. “Do you need one?”
“No! I absolutely do not!”
Hamish smiled. Mairead was scared of needles. Hell, he did not like the damn things either. “No needles,” he promised.
He went to the small bowl on the table and poured some water in it. He grabbed a small square cloth next to the bowl and waved it. “Have you used this for anything?”
Mairead shook her head. “It was just laundered.”
He nodded, dipped it in the water so that it was saturated, and then looked around. There was a mug on a table. He sniffed it and was glad it held water, not ale. He dumped the contents and shook some of the herbs into the mug before adding fresh water. He swirled it with his finger. “Where’s some clean cloth I can wrap your arm in?”
Mairead pointed to an open chest. In it were several strips of linen cloth. He grabbed one, the wet cloth, and the mug, then moved to sit beside her. He dabbed the wound and examined it further. It was not as deep as he feared, but if Laurel were there, she’d probably insist on stitches. He didn’t think they were necessary. The poultice definitely was though and it would help reduce the chance for fever. He quickly smeared the paste on and then used the strip of linen to redress the wound.
Mairead moved her arm. It felt a lot better. She had bandaged it earlier by herself and had made it too tight. “Thank you.”
Hamish tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you, aingeal.”
Mairead looked at him. Her eyes were large and he could see no anger, no resentment. “I’m not. What you did . . . what you showed me, it means a lot, Hamish.”
Hamish swallowed. It was time to stop denying the truth. When she had not answered him during the standoff he knew without a doubt whom Mairead was afraid of. “What did Ulrick do to you, Mairead? Did he hurt you?”
Mairead stiffened. “Ulrick didn’t do anything.”
He did not believe her. “Then tell me who.”
“I cannot.” She tried to scoot away from him, but Hamish would not let her. “And it probably will not matter in a few weeks. Your plan will work and all will be fine.”
“And if all is not fine?”
Mairead looked down at the blanket she was twisting in her right hand. “Then I can now protect myself.”
Hamish wanted to say, There will be no need. I will protect you. But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be true for he was leaving and he would not be coming back.
Suddenly Mairead turned her head and looked at him straight in the eye. “Kiss me, Hamish. One last time. Kiss me so that I never forget what it feels like to be in your arms. Please. Just one more time.”
She was ripping away all his carefully constructed defenses. He wanted Mairead. He wanted her more than he had ever desired anything or anyone. But to touch her and know her the way he did in his dreams would trap them both. One kiss. That is what they said last time and it had been almost much, much more. And yet he could not bring himself to leave her side. All he could think was that if Mairead never wanted to forget him, then he would make sure she never did.
Mairead’s lips parted in anticipation. When he caught her face between his hands, her breath stilled as she waited to feel the warmth of his lips against her own. And when they did, they sparked an ache deep inside her that she knew would never be extinguished.
Hamish was not soft and gentle. His mouth was voracious, his tongue plunged inside, tasting, teasing, drinking in the essence of her. This kiss was not intended to melt her insides when fondly remembered. It was blatantly erotic, demanding everything she had and Mairead surrendered to his claiming. Her entire being vibrated with desire. Her mind was awash with need and could only form one word—“more.”
Her hands stole around his neck in an effort to get closer. Hamish complied, deepening the kiss as his own hands moved from her cheeks to the side of her neck where his thumbs caressed her wild pulse. Her soft moans were both a salve and a torment to his soul. They were doing nothing more than kissing, and yet her innocent but eager response to his every touch was torment. He never wanted to stop. He needed more. Craved more. He wanted to know what it was to have a woman completely fall apart in his arms. To revel in his touch and think of nothing else.
Slowly he moved his hand down her nape, brushing her soft skin, until at last he found her breast. He cupped it tentatively, almost reverently, detecting the hard bud through the thin material of her chemise. His thumb stroked it as his tongue mated with hers. The double sensation wrenched a moan from both of them.
When Hamish covered her breast with his hand, Mairead’s whole body quivered in response. Then he began to tease and flick each nub in turn, causing the ache between her legs to intensify. Her skin ached for his touch and she instinctively arched into his palm, demanding more.
Hamish continued his double assault until he could feel Mairead growing mindless with wanting more. She was not alone. Deep down, he had known that a kiss would not be enough. It would never be enough. He dreamed about her every night. Kissing her, touching her, tasting her. She was better than his most vivid fantasies. And he did not need to pretend. Mairead was here, with him and could be with him forever if he would just accept what she was offering—herself. And he wanted to. God how he wanted to.
His kneading fingers were sending currents of longing throughout her body. Her nipples were growing painfully hard under his palm and the pressure was no longer enough. Mairead did not know what to do with the onslaught of sensations consuming her. She felt everywhere, places she did not know she could feel. It almost seemed too much, and yet the idea of ending this was unfathomable and she moaned as much between kisses.
“Not yet, m’ aingeal,” he whispered against her cheek and pulled her onto his lap, so that she sat across his legs.
Mairead closed her eyes as she felt his lips caress her ear, then slowly move to the responsive spot just below. She forgot everything except that he was kissing her, giving herself up to the sensations he was creating. Knowing he did not want to stop with just a kiss, she arched her back, requesting more. Hamish complied.
He buried his face in the waves of her freshly cleaned hair and inhaled. All mine. There was no scent like hers. Nothing as intoxicating. Then slowly, his lips trailed down the veins of her neck as his hands edged aside her chemise, exposing the curve of her shoulders. He kissed her there, lightly, and then slipped his tongue under the neckline to trace the upper part of her breast. She was perfect and having her in his arms, knowing that he was never going to let her go, was almost overwhelming.
Mairead held her breath when Hamish paused. She was afraid he was hesitating, uncertain on whether he should continue. Somewhere inside a piece of her said that what was happening between them could be perilous—not to her body, not even to her future—but to her heart. But it also said that this could be just the beginning. That if she fought hard, Hamish could be hers, for she was already his and had been for a while. Hamish had her heart, completely and forever.
“Please don’t stop,” Mairead whispered, trembling in anticipation.
Hamish then began to move once more. He slid his mouth a little lower and just before he enveloped the beckoning nub, said, “I don’t plan to.”
He dipped his head and took one hard nipple in his mouth. She gasped as he ran his tongue across the tip. The sensation was almost overwhelming. Never had Mairead felt so much pleasure. She arched against him and thrust her fingers into his hair pulling him closer.
Hamish groaned with barely leashed need as she began to writhe in his lap, grinding her hips against him. He swirled his tongue over the taut peak and then suckled harder. Feeling her, tasting her, it was torture on his control. Replacing his lips with his thumb on the swollen nub, he moved to the other breast, kissing a soft line to that nipple, before flicking it with his hot tongue and then pulling it fully into his mouth.
The desire coiled so tightly in Mairead’s body since Hamish first kissed her was now spinning out of control. Her body was screaming for more. Shivers of anticipation raced over her skin.
Hamish hungrily nipped at the soft flesh of her bosom as he returned to her other breast, replacing the caresses of his thumb with masterful strokes of his tongue. “You’re so beautiful . . . so very beautiful . . .” he murmured over and over. “No woman can ever compare to you.”
Mairead made another soft moan that drove him to the brink of insanity. The passion building within her was continuously growing, and Hamish reveled in it—the arch of her back, the innocent but demanding pressure of her hips as they kneaded his groin. He wanted to lavish kisses over every inch of her skin. Know her intimately as none other ever had. To brand her to him for all time.
Momentarily he raised his head and he stared into her passion-filled eyes. She was so beautiful and she was all his.
He lowered his hand down to her leg to palm her calf.
“Please . . .” she begged, her voice a sighing whisper, her hands entangling in his thick curls, pulling him back down to her heart.
A satisfied grin spread across his face as he lowered his hand down to the calf of her leg, under the hem of her gown. Mairead was unaware of what she wanted so badly, but he knew and before she could sense what he was doing, his fingers caressed up the side of her thigh until they met the heart of her own fire. Tonight he would give her a hint of what they would share once they were married.
Mairead suddenly became aware of his hand and just where it was. His fingers lightly brushed the soft hair of her mound and she began to shake. “Oh, God,” she moaned. Blood pounded in her veins and her entire body arched against him as it trembled with never-before-known desire.
Then she felt his mouth against hers and once again she was drowning in his kiss. It was long and hot, flooding her with sensations so that she could not pull away. He pulled her tighter against his torso, and Mairead could feel the throbbing mass of his erection, but instead of scaring her, it filled her with feminine power. Hamish wanted her—her—little Mairead, Selah’s sister, the woman forever attached to a place he wanted to forget—he still wanted her.
Lacing her fingers through his auburn locks, she met his driving tongue, thrust for thrust, taking and giving back in turn.
Hamish felt the shift in their kiss. It deepened. It was as if she knew that every kiss before was a mere prelude to what was about to follow. When he broke away to look at her, all her shyness was gone. Her hazel eyes had turned an incredible shade of gold and were filled with longing for him. Mairead was who he had been seeking all these years. Someone who looked at him with trust and desire that was only for him. Someone who looked at him with love.
Hamish temporarily moved his hand to cup her cheek. “Stay with me, Mairead. I am about to take you to the heavens.”
Before she could answer, his mouth crushed on hers once more. Mairead felt completely claimed as he kissed her with so much desire and passion, it completely consumed her.
Once again his fingers found her thigh and moved upward, skimming over her warmth as his tongue teased hers. He felt her shiver in his arms, but she did not pull away. Instead, she pressed into his palm, her body demanding relief.
Hamish was controlling every wild pulse, every sensation. He would not rush this. Mairead deserved much more than what he could give her. But she had chosen him over everything—her home, her sister.
Mairead’s blood raced in the shock of his touch, her soul ready to permit him every advantage. But when his palm once more pushed against her sensitive core, the pressure was no longer enough. Unable to stop herself, she rocked her hips against his hand until slowly he parted her with one finger, sliding into her. She went completely still.
“My God, Mairead,” he said with an almost painful groan as her tight sheath clenched around his finger.
Mairead couldn’t believe the pleasure streaking through her. No one had ever touched her like that, but Hamish had only begun.
His mouth claimed hers just as his finger began to move within her liquid warmth. Ever so slightly, he stroked her outer flesh with a careful thumb, loving how she melted into his broad shoulders.
Mairead was overwhelmed and yet full of a growing but unfulfilled need. When she felt a second finger enter her, she stopped trying to rationalize what was happening and just surrendered to the almost painful pleasure.
Rocking her against him, Hamish kissed her mouth, neck, and then ear as he began to move his fingers. Her body was quivering and his own throbbed excruciatingly, but there was nothing he wanted more than this. A blissful, soul-searing reward that she was giving him. Her surrender in this one and only siege.
Mairead was undulating her hips to his torturous fingers and their maddening movements along her sex. Something was building within her, making her breaths short and fast and her heart pound against the wall of her chest. She wanted to scream out her feelings for him. To let him know that memories were no longer enough. That she needed him and wanted a future with him. To tell him the truth—everything—and have faith that he would find a way to keep everyone safe. But no words would come out.
Hamish continued his onslaught as she clung to him. He heard her utter his name, but he remained merciless as she writhed in his arms. Then reality disappeared as her body tightened. Hamish swallowed her cry as she shattered into a million glowing stars.
Breathing heavily, Mairead leaned back, seeking the heat and strength of his body. Hamish’s thick arousal pressed into her buttocks as shudders continued to pass through her. Only when he heard her ragged sigh did he reluctantly ease his hand away from her.
Mairead curled on his lap and nestled her cheek into his chest. Hamish closed his eyes and he relished the sensation. His loins throbbed with want and it took everything he had not to lay her down and bring her to even greater heights of ecstasy. Nothing had felt so right as Mairead being in his arms.
“Are you all right?” he asked gently. He brushed her hair with his hand, his dark green gaze searching hers soberly.
She nodded and smiled at him. “Thank you. I never knew.”
He kissed her forehead. “We need to talk.”
“Aye, we do,” she said dreamily. “Now you cannot leave me.”
Every muscle in Hamish seized simultaneously. He had been a fool to think Mairead would be willing to leave her life and all that she loved for him. Did she think that their passion would somehow enable him to tolerate working under his brother? She had to know that would make him miserable. Did she not care? Did she really think that his feelings for her would make him a fool? Hamish forced her to sit up. “This cannot happen again.” He tried to keep his tone from sounding bitter. “And the only way to ensure that is if we no longer see each other. At least not privately.” He shifted her off his lap and onto the bed. He rose to his feet.
Mairead felt her throat close off. “But you said . . .”
Hamish forced himself to look into her eyes, glad that he had not revealed what he had been feeling. “And I meant all those things, but it doesn’t change the facts. Robert’s in charge and I cannot work for him. We are too different. Your home is here at Foinaven and you’ve made it clear that you never want to leave, and nor should you.”
Mairead could feel her perfect world start to shatter. This couldn’t be happening. She had to be wrong. “But what we just shared, you cannot leave me. . . .”
“You may be less naïve, but you are still chaste, Mairead.” She looked at him. He misunderstood what she had meant and she wondered if it was not intentional. “Soon you will forget about me, marry, and your husband need never know what happened here tonight. And I promise to never return and remind you.”
Mairead reached out and clutched one of his hands in her own. “Please don’t go, Hamish. I need you.”
Hamish closed his eyes. Her “please” was almost enough to make him want to stay. But in the end, that would make them both miserable. “Don’t ask me that, m’ aingeal. I can’t.” He opened his eyes and looked beseechingly at her. “Not even for you.”
“Then don’t stay, just . . .” Her voice trailed off as she thought everything she wanted to say. That a future with him meant more to her than her home, than her family. That he was all that she had ever dreamed if he loved her in return. But if he did, then he would be begging her to be with him. Hamish had said he didn’t have the ability to love anymore. What if he had been right?
“Just what?”
Tears fell down her cheeks. “Just be happy. I want you to be happy.”
Her soft whimper was killing him. “And that is what I want for you, Mairead. More than you know.” He freed his hand, stepped forward, and bent down to give her a final kiss on the forehead. Slowly he straightened and then headed for the door. He removed the bar, opened it, and then paused. “This is not good-bye. Not yet,” he lied. It was good-bye and they both knew it. They would see each other at dinner or in passing in the courtyard. Maybe even other times when Selah and Robert were around, but never again alone.
Mairead watched the man who held her heart walk out of her room, and probably her life, forever.